Roderick was cleaning up a
cardboard box in his cramped attic. He took out various things from inside;
dusty books, photo albums, old game cartridges, Magic trading cards. All of
these things were piled next to his best friend, Simon, who was admiring the
vintage feel, especially the literature.
He asked Roderick about buying off the stack of Huxley
novels. “He’s a brilliant one. I’ve been looking for Doors of Perception for
quite awhile now.”
Roderick ignored Simon and proceeded to go through even
more photo albums. It was the bottom of the box and a smile crawled across his
face. More legroom here meant more alone time. Something Roderick desired since
his new neighbors moved in with a nightclub’s trance lineup.
He picked up a photo album from the box, flipping through
the well-aged pages. Many of the photos were from his high school years; from
football games to the senior prom. The Casanova of four teenage years with more
drama than daytime soap operas and yet he embraced those years. After that, reality
decided that he had little to be popular for and gave him meager pay to be the
bastion of everyday grumpiness.
He flipped through the photos a second time, admiring the
varsity victories and homecomings once more. Then, the flipping stopped. Roderick
gazed at a photo; monochrome in all its glory and on a page all to itself. It
was a senior prom photo with him and his partner on the dance floor.
Roderick thought back to that night; dinner, dancing, and
the love of his teenage life. It was the first outing he ever had with her,
which turned out to be the only outing after word was spread about the years of
dedication he put into obsessing over her. This was more or less business as
usual for Sir Stud Roderick, as Simon called him. Ironically Roderick blamed
him for his failed dates.
“So, how much for the books,” Simon asked.
Roderick threw the album across the attic floor, ending
up at the tips of Simon’s shoes. He looked down at the famed picture.
“Lost in time again,” He asked. “You have to move on at
some point. Higher academics, career ladders, new relationships, you can have
something better than high school if you just build foundations.”
Roderick grunted, “But she was my life!”
“Like the many other women
you dated during high school. I remember the speech about the ‘centers of your
world’. How many times was I forced to hear that? Oh yeah! Countless!”
“Well maybe if you
understood-”
“What is there to understand;
that I was to be at beck and call when you broke up?”
“What about understanding
what it means to be my friend? Have you ever thought about what’s in it for me,
ever!?”
Simon remained silent, thinking about their high school
friendship. He had a less optimistic view about their relationship even with
the good bits at the pizza place in the mall. Most of the conversations had
more to deal with Roderick’s woman-finding skills more than anything else and
they were not the best either. Simon was consulted many times to conclude the
woman search episode of Roderick’s high school life.
Cassandra Volpe, Roderick’s senior prom date, was the
only success story from those countless search requests. Only successful
because of the combination of threats Simon received from Roderick going beyond
the hopelessly desperate romantic speech. He played as a go-between between
Cassandra and Roderick. The latter giving out the most love notes in a game of
hard-to-get over with. Cassandra tried to negotiate her way out of this ordeal.
“He’s such a stalker,” She said. “He’d probably ogle me
the whole time with his lame jokes.”
Simon, who couldn’t agree more with her sentiments, had
no other choice. Those fists did major damage and a neuron massacre was out of
the question.
“Sorry, but Sir Stud has spoken,” He said, trying to
imitate a royal servant.
Nothing happened between the three parties until prom
night. Simon hid among the dinner tables with Sophie; a best friend he could
depend on. Roderick was not playing games. He prowled the venue looking for his
servant and his mistress. Not like a lion or panther, but more like a bagger
with forgotten items in tow.
Simon was not worried about an impending doom at
Roderick’s fists. He drank his punch, pinky up, and chatted about with Sophie. However,
instead of talking of high school drama, celebrity gossip, or the marvels of
the BBC, it was all about Lady Volpe.
“I thought she was a ‘hell no’,” Sophie said, glancing
behind at another table.
“Tells you what I know,” Simon replied, sigh of relief on
its way. “At least I wasn’t punched to death. That would have sucked big time.”
“But then what happened?”
“You think,” He paused,
looking left and right then leaning in. “Sir Stud went mad?”
Sophie shrugged, “Probably. I don’t know. I thought you
were his bro-in-arms or something.”
“But would a ‘bro-in-arms’
just use his friend as a punching bag and a hook-up professional? I’ve got
standards you know-”
“Yeah yeah,”
The
lights were dimming and a man appeared on stage. The spotlight shined down. The
dinner party of high school seniors remained silent; it was as if their
favorite rapper entered the room.
“Ladies
and gentlemen,” He bellowed. “The votes are in and the Prom King and Queen
are…”
The
silence of anticipation.
“Roderick
Holland and Cassandra Volpe! A royal dream come true!”
The silence
broke into whoops and cheers. The applause was as deafening as a heavy metal
concert in a crowded room. Simon and Sophie looked at each other, surprised and
baffled.
Baffling
was also the same thing Simon thought about Roderick’s ‘what’s in it for me’.
He stared intently at the picture then closed the photo album.
“As a
friend, I’ll give you advice,” He said. “Being a Prom King doesn’t work on a
resume."
For Flash Fiction Project Prompt 35
