High School Duke

When we got in the limousine, my body simply shut down. My head fell against the always tempting and comfortable corner where the door and the car seat meet and my body melted into the plush upholstery. It was such a tension filled day, I didn't even feel the deep as the Grand Canyon pothole every car inevitably runs over while exiting the school parking lot.

Suddenly, there was a female voice and a pair of hands on me. The words didn't even register as my arms instinctively covered my head and my knees came up to complete the fetal position as I went into a panic. "I'm sorry, Mom! Whatever I did, I'm sorry!" I was upset at myself for not locking my bedroom door before I went to bed. How could I be so absent minded?

After a few horror filled moments, I noticed the voice was silent and the touching had ceased. It occurred to me that my body was in a seated position and not lying down. I squinted one eye open and saw the interior of the limousine. I tentatively lowered one of my arms to peek around the other. I saw Abigail. She looked as if she was on the verge of tears. My body relaxed and I wiped the sleep from my eyes. "Sorry about that; too many bad experiences getting woken up." I then looked around, "Where are we?"

Abigail took a deep breath and her face went somewhat back to normal. Her eyes told me she would send a team of fire ants into my bed before she touched or spoke to wake me up again. "We're at the cinema."

"Why?" Believe it or not I have never been to a movie theatre. That's what happens when you're adopted and the parents do the bare minimum just to keep getting state checks.

"Because this is the first stop on our first date." Abigail's smile was mischievous. "Now get out and open the door for me."

Apparently, she took my silence about the subject of dating as a 'Yes, absolutely we can go out on a date. I'm so excited, let's go right now!' And don't think I didn't notice that she gave this date a number, meaning she had more of these planned in my future. I rolled my eyes, but still exited the limousine. There was a small crowd gawking as I strode to the other side. I kept my head lowered to keep from being identified. Not like that would make a difference. I opened the door and offered my hand. I may not have ever been on a date before, but I have seen a myriad of sappy, romantic movies to know how to be gentleman.

Abigail accepted my hand with a warm smile and a whisper, "Good start."

It's startling to know just how uncomfortable I was. We had went out together every day this past weekend but somehow saying this was a 'date' made my uneasiness expand exponentially. Despite my nerves, I still tried. I let Abigail pick the movie. It was an action flick, which surprised me, as I knew there was a new romantic comedy that just came out. I wonder if it had anything to do with her IRA past?

After the movie, we went to dinner at Giovanni's, a fancy Italian restaurant. It was exquisite. There I pulled out Abigail's chair. Our conversation flowed and I was surprised at how much we had in common. Or was it that she was just caressing my ego by letting me believe things were going well? When the check came, I quickly snatched it. A guy should pay for his date, right? I opened the little black booklet. $96.32. Plus tip. I knew I should have been skeptical when I noticed there weren't any prices on the menu. I stared wide eyed at the number knowing I had $32.00 and some change on me. Abigail chuckled and I looked up to see her amused expression.

"Relax Your Grace," Abigail took the black booklet and placed her credit card in the fold. "You're still paying for the meal even if we use my card."

Typical female.

The last stop of our evening was dancing. And not some twenty one and under club with music so loud you can't hear yourself think. No, we went ballroom dancing. I felt out of place... and I reeked of chlorine. Even the guy at the door gave me a disapproving glare. But Abigail was undeterred and with a money filled handshake, we were in. They say money cannot buy happiness, which I firmly believe in, but after a few days of being a Duke, I learned money can buy a plethora of everything else.

Abigail led me to the dance floor, my nerves long since shot. How am I going to get through this? I never danced in my life, how am I supposed to lead? My partner, however, exuded pure confidence. I'm sure that will change when I accidentally step on her foot.

Abigail positioned my feet parallel with hers, placed one of my hands on her lower back and the other in her hand. She even told me the proper grip in which to hold hers. She then placed her other hand on my hip.

"Follow my steps and relax," Abigail whispered in my ear and then suddenly her foot took a step to the right.

After a minute or two, I understood. It was geometry. The dance floor was my problem and the moves we made were the answers. Each individual step was an angle. Each group of steps created a shape on the floor. I started to get into it. My personal goal was to create an icosahedron with our movements, but that didn't come to fruition.

If I was enjoying myself, Abigail was in heaven. Gazing at the woman in my arms made me feel something. What, I wasn't sure. But something. She was breathtakingly beautiful and seemed to have the time of her life. She was laughing and smiling because of me and I because of her. It was supposed to be a façade. A fake date. But I felt it turned into something more.

We finished dancing and went back to the hotel. We let our smiles do the talking, each taking solace in the other one. She was proud of me and I was pleased the date didn't end in a nuclear holocaust. As we ascended in the elevator, her hand entwined with mine. I didn't even flinch in hesitation at the contact. I wanted to believe we were sharing something other than the static enriched classical music that was playing.

As expensive as the Dunesbury hotel is, you'd think they could get that fixed.

We came to our floor and Abigail released me. We crossed the hall and she slipped the card into the door. "You did well, Your Grace."

I suddenly realized I didn't mind going on a date with Abigail. She was sweet, caring, and feminine. And that last one didn't even bother me. I did not need to fear her.

Then the next day Abigail nearly snapped the arm of Becky Hargrove in half for trying to give me an unwanted kiss. How feminine... It was Becky's new tactic as yesterdays failed. There were definitely two sides to Abigail Parker. But that wasn't a problem for me because she did it to protect me. And the result was extremely positive on the student populous. Sure, I still had a few people who have never uttered one word to me in my entire eighteen-year existence who all of a sudden wanted to be my best friend, but for the most part, I was left alone. The solitary exception was Penelope in my third hour Advanced Placement English class. She switched seats so she could sit next to me. Abigail, who was seated on the other side of me, raised her eyebrows and gave me a 'Go on' head nod when she became aware Penelope did that; though something behind her eyes made me think that was just for show.

I doubt I'll ever understand women.

Penelope and I ended up in an animated political discussion over foreign affairs and hadn't even noticed the bell had sounded to begin class. Actually, we didn't even stop our conversation, despite the unheard warning that was delivered by Mrs. Proctor. Only when Abigail lightly swatted my arm to get my attention did we become cognizant that we were being disruptive and our teacher was standing right in front of us with matching detention slips.

I found it ironic that the two most unobtrusive and quiet students perhaps to ever grace Hilldale High's halls were sent to detention for talking. And we almost received a second day for our conversing in there as well. It dawned on me that I liked Penelope. She became my first real friend and the only one in my age group not trying to molest me. It astonished me that after being petrified of women all my life, the two closest people to me are female. Go figure.

After detention, Abigail and I went to the limousine. When we exited the school parking lot, I noticed we were not heading toward the hotel.

"Where are we going?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Date number two," Abigail retorted in the most nonchalant way.

I thought I had passed yesterday with flying colors but apparently Abigail felt I still needed more seasoning. When we arrived, without being prompted, I got out and opened the door for her. We were at the art museum. We had a wonderful time walking the cultured halls for a few hours. She really enjoyed the impressionist wing and I the classic renaissance period. At first, she seemed shocked at how much I knew about the artwork, but we soon fell into a rhythm, her stopping at a picture and me romanticizing it. We held hands most of the way, but when we entered the Rivera Court, Abigail wrapped both her arms around one of mine and placed her head on my shoulder. She let out a contented little mewl at the closeness and I didn't fidget.

Next, we went to dinner, this time at an extravagant French restaurant, Moreau's. I had never had escargot before and once I finally had the nerve to take a bite, I found it quite tasty. We easily talked over our meal and I could tell Abigail was enjoying herself. She was lively and energetic as we conversed on everything from history to rock bands. She knew a little about a lot and we filled in each other's blanks on the subjects.

Afterward, we went to an arcade. I found the choice interesting. I mean who really does the museum, fine dining, and the arcade in a single day. Culture, culture, and then... teenage hangout? I suppose we did it yesterday as well. Movies, fine dining, and then ballroom dancing. Abigail's randomness had an endearing quality to it. We played a few games together and I found Abigail to be extremely competitive. She won in car racing and some martial arts game before we arrived at a shooting game. We each pulled a gun and started hunting the animals on the screen.

When it was over, Abigail inspected her gun. "Damn it, my sights off," she growled her disapproval of the plastic weapon.

I snickered as I finally beat her in something. It wasn't even close. "Maybe you should stick to car racing?"

Abigail's response was to grab my arm and drag me to the next shooting game, this time we were to save the world by blasting zombies. Thirty seconds into the game, I froze and just watched Abigail play. She became Simo Hayha incarnate. Because I quit, she had double the enemies to shoot but it didn't matter. She cleared the level easily.

"The sights off on this one too, but only slightly," Abigail mumbled before turning to me with a smile. "Why did you stop?"

I cleared my throat, still amazed as her shot accuracy showed 100% on the screen. "Too impressed watching you."

"Do you still want to play?"

"I think I'll watch."

Abigail held out her hand and I handed her my weapon. The game announced, "Level two. Go."

Abigail jerked toward the screen and began her destruction. For forty-five minutes, I watched her play the game, level after level the red gun in her right hand always had 100% accuracy while the blue one in her left was at 99%.

And she was disappointed with that.

I was amazed.

When she finally beat the game, on one token mind you, applause erupted. She had gathered quite a large crowd at the show she was putting on.

Heading up the elevator at the hotel, our hands embraced again. As we approached the top, we turned and faced each other.

"Thank you, Abigail. Today was the best day of my life." It was absolute truth.

Abigail responded by bringing her lips to mine. It was only my second kiss, but I put everything Jocelyn taught me taught me when she put her name in the hat. We stood in our own heaven, each putting a sense of our being into the other. It was magical. It is how I wanted my first kiss to be. Only the ding from the elevator signaling our arrival to our floor separated us.

I didn't know what to say, but I'm sure I looked like the village idiot with the grin that was plastered to my face. Abigail, however, looked horrified. "I apologize, Your Grace." Her hand went to her lips. "I should not have done that. You don't need... I am not good for..." She exited quickly and entered the suite just as fast. As the door shut, I heard her the last of her half a sentences from her faint voice, "He deserves someone..."

I was at a loss and almost made a return trip back to the lobby before I stuck my hand out at the last second to cause the elevator doors to reopen. I charged into the suite. "Abigail," I called to the empty foyer. I shook my head as it occurred to me I was actually chasing a female. I went to the door that led to her room. It was locked, so I knocked. "Abigail?"

Abigail's voice was broken by tears, "Forgive me Your Grace, but I'm off the clock. If you require anything, Smythe will be happy to accommodate you."

"I just want to talk to you," I pleaded to the wooden door.

"Perhaps in the morning, Your Grace."

I didn't know what to do. It was such a fantastic night, the past two evenings actually, and to have it marred by a kiss. A kiss I enjoyed. It didn't seem right. I trudged to my room, unclear of anything, and lay on my bed. For the first time, I missed the comforts of my old bed. I thought about calling home to get back there despite the repercussions I would most certainly endure. I just didn't understand what happened. It was a fitful night's slumber to say the least.

Sitting through Mrs. Harris' first period math lecture was normally something I looked forward to and why not? She was engaging and I loved math. But today was different. I only heard every couple of words as my mind dwelled on Abigail. She was gone before I woke up this morning; off to a business meeting I didn't even know she had. At my side today was Smythe and there couldn't be two polar opposite views on being my bodyguard. As Abigail's expression was soft, Smythe's was stern. Abigail was open and inviting, Smythe was closed and standoffish. And then there's...

"Dean," Mrs. Harris called out. "What formula would you use to solve this equation?"

Smythe stood, glaring harshly at the woman who dared ask me a question while he opened his suit coat to reveal his gun.

"Uh," Mrs. Harris stumbled back, bumping into her chair, which caused her to fall into it.

And then there's that. He was uncompromising, demanding, and all without uttering a single syllable. I rolled my eyes and my head landed with a thud on my desk.

"Um, never mind," Mrs. Harris relented. Smythe retook his seat.

I took a quick glance at Smythe and then at my petrified teacher. "You would use the quotient rule."

"Uh, yeah, that's correct Mr. Franklin," Mrs. Harris sighed. "Thank you."

Smythe didn't show any contempt that I disregarded his protest in my being called to answer a question. Not that I would be able to tell the difference. It appeared he just wanted to protect me from all forms of possible attacks.

I was getting used to the stoic form constantly next to me when Smythe did something unexpected as we entered my English class. I sat in my usual seat while Smythe bypassed the one Abigail sat in. Instead, he went for the other seat next to me, and Penelope. He loomed over the now frightened girl and I was just about to say something when he slammed both of his hands on her desk, jarring her with his force.

I grabbed his arm, "What are you doing?"

Smythe just stared at me and then at my hand.

And I thought I was afraid of women. The stare alone made me release his arm.

Smythe straightened his jacket before moving back to the original seat he was supposed to sit in.

I glanced over to Penelope, "I apologize for that."

Penelope's reaction was surprising as her smile was ear to ear. "Not a problem."

What was with that smile? "Huh?"

"Nothing."

I shook my head and chalked it up to me not understanding the female species... Isn't that true of all men concerning women?

The school day was brutally long... all thanks to Smythe. Unlike Abigail, who only reacted to physical attempts to get to me, Smythe wouldn't let anyone even talk to me. It felt like I was the owner of a pit bull without a leash.

I was grateful that the final school bell rang. My new shadow will be far less intrusive of me at the hotel... or at least I hoped so. Definitely don't want him curling up next to me in bed.

I was surprised to see Penelope standing by the limousine. I was then nervous that Smythe would maim her just for having the audacity for standing next to my limousine.

Where's his leash?

But it was all for not as I was then stunned as Smythe's only reaction was to open the door and let her in the limousine. I paused at the door and glanced at the behemoth of a man. "So what's going on?"

I don't know why I asked. I already knew what his response was going to be... and he gave it to me; which was absolutely nothing. I broke eye contact and shook my head as I entered the limousine and the door immediately slammed shut behind me.

Penelope looked as if she were sitting on a tightly wound spring; her eyes were darting to every nook and cranny investigating all the interior had to offer.

"First time in a limo?"

Penelope shied back, brushing a tendril of hair behind her ear. "Um, yeah." She gave a slight giggle as she spoke. Cute, really.

"It's just a car; something to take you from point A to point B. Consider it a way of spanning the Pythagorean Theorem." I paused for a moment as I stared at her. "So what's going on?"

It was obvious Penelope was bewildered by my question. "Uh, I thought you invited me to go on a date."

There's that word again... 'date.' As if on cue, Smythe opened the door. We were at the movies; or cinema as Abigail would call it.

"Of course." It's not what I wanted to say but I did offer a diplomatic response so I wouldn't hurt my only friend's feelings. After all, I am a Duke now; I should practice. In all honesty, I just wanted to get back to the hotel and hopefully Abigail, but alas, Smythe wasn't going to let that happen. Wasn't he supposed to be working for me?

It was a typical high school date. We saw the new romantic comedy and then went to dinner. Everything was as you would expect between Penelope and I. Friends. Good friends. I did know, however, that this was obviously Abigail's doing and that Penelope was her ultimate goal for me. Could I love her as Abigail wanted? I do not know. What I did know was the day felt incomplete without Abigail and I didn't like it.

When I arrived back at the Dunesbury Hotel, there was a young Pacific Islander woman exquisitely dressed in a crimson strapless evening gown that majestically hugged her curves. It began at her cleavage, which is where her extravagant diamond necklace ended, and tapered down to her ankles that were propped up with matching two inch high heels. She wore satin gloves that came up to her elbows with her right hand sporting a decadent diamond ring and on her left wrist was the corresponding bracelet. Her raven black hair was meticulously styled and her makeup appeared as if it was done by a team of professionals. She even had a behemoth of a bodyguard standing next to her.

Is there an assembly line where these guys come from?

The woman was the epitome of class and beauty. A socialite who screamed wealth and refinement.

Except she was screaming at the concierge.

Loudly.

In two languages no less.

I honestly felt bad for the concierge. Harriet has been nothing but kind and gracious. She seemed to be one of the few people in the service industry who actually cared for her patrons. I'm certain she didn't deserve whatever this was.