PART THREE

"The next day, things took a turn for the scandalous," Matthew said, wiggling his eyebrows and holding up the next sign. "Which brings us to Part Three: A Lady's Choice, and a Gentleman's Agreement."

/

Elizaveta screeched to a halt on her motorcycle, looking up at the large house as she stepped forward to knock timidly on the door. Arthur swung it open, eying her with a smile.

"Hi...is there a Matt here?" she asked slowly.

"You're standing on one," Arthur replied wittily, gesturing at the doormat. Elizaveta blinked, shifting her weight.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry...I must have the wrong address..."

"I'm just kidding, love, come on in!" Arthur pulled her in. "Any friend of Matt's is a friend of our son's."

Elizaveta said nothing, shell-shocked. Arthur trotted to the foot of the stairs, calling up in a terrible version of a Southern debutante accent:

"Matthew, darling! There's a young lady here to see you. She said something about...carrying your baby!"

"Oh happy day, father!" Matthew replied, appearing from his room with feigned joy and the same corny accent. He jumped down the stairs, grabbing Elizaveta's hand and dragging her up to his room. "I thought I'd have to spend my widow's dowry on the drink so that I may die of loneliness, and without a heir! Finally, a lady- hooray!"

Francis, with Michelle piggybacking, appeared, glancing up at the stairs at the noise, and then over at his spouse.

"What's that?"

"Matthew has a girl in his room."

Papa gasped. "A girl?"

"A girl."

"Wow...a girl."

Arthur pushed his shoulder playfully. "A girl."

"Wow."

/

"Welcome!" Matthew gestured with a sweeping arm over his room, opening the door for Elizaveta. "This is where the magic happens. And as you well know by magic, I mean nothing."

He plunked down on his bed, patting the spot next to him, but Elizaveta got straight to the point.

"Do you wanna go out with me?" she asked in one breath.

"What?"

"Like, do you wanna be...my boyfriend?"

Matthew's eyebrows slowly descended, the playfulness wiping from his face. "Uh, Liz, just a couple hours ago you told me you were Kinsey 6 gay."

"True, but you said I should pretend to be straight, so..."

"Yeah, I didn't mean with me!" he insisted. Hell, he wasn't even straight! "I mean, you're a nice girl and all, but you're not really...my type."

"You're not really my type either," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, I know that! I got that P where you'd rather see a V!"

"Do you wanna have sex with me or not?" Elizaveta sighed, exasperated.

"Oh my god." Matthew stood from his bed, gesturing frustratedly. "You completely missed the point of that. That's not what I was saying. At all."

"No, I know what you were saying. You were saying I should act straight until I get out of this hellhole, and then I can be whoever I want to be. And I get that."

He leant against his desk. "And you know that I didn't really have sex with a college girl, right? I just told everybody I did. Well, actually, I told one person I did and-...you know how these things work, it's like wildfire."

"So you're saying I shouldn't really have sex," Elizaveta clarified. "I should just say I had sex with someone. A guy."

"Yes. Yes!" Matthew nodded enthusiastically, but then he realized his friend was looking at him expectantly and biting her lip. "Oh. Oh, no."

"Wait-"

"Oh, no no no no. No no."

"Just-"

"No no no."

"Just-!"

"No way! Nope!

"Wait, wait, stop it!" she protested over his denial, clasping her hands together and pleading him.

"Absolutely not!"

"Just, think about it! Think about it!" she shouted. "We could help each other out!"

"No!"

"You want to maintain this floozy, uber-straight facade, I don't wanna get pushed into shit every day and get drooled at by fetishizing monkeys, it's a win-win situation!"

"How do you know I like being thought of as a floozy?"

"Because at least you're being thought of," sneered Elizaveta. "Just one good imaginary bonk."

"You are on crack, alright?" Matthew cried. "And not the good kind!"

"Okay, it doesn't have to be a bonk. It could be anything: an imaginary butter bean, a lemon squeeze, a cowbell..."

"I don't know what any of that means."

His friend grinned in a motherly way. "Well, that's because you're a virgin."

"Okay, you know what, this is not the answer. At all."

"I'll pay you," she begged. "I'll pay you whatever you want!"

"I don't want your money, Elizaveta!" he responded. Elizaveta closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as he continued: "Why don't you just do what I did and make somebody up?"

"Who's going to believe me?" she stammered, gesturing angrily. Her voice began cracking, her lower lip trembling. "Look, you're not out. You don't understand how hard it is, alright? I'm...tormented every day at- at school. It's like being suffocated. And sure, we can sit and fantasize all we want, about how things are gonna be different one day, but this is today. And it sucks."

Matthew swore that, in that moment, his heart broke. Because he imagined what life would be like if Gilbert were out of the closet. Would he lose his super-cool social status? Would he be pushed into things and made a laughingstock, like Elizaveta?

"Alright?" she said after a moment's pause, clearing the knot from her throat. "And there's only one way around it, and you were smart enough to think of it. So please, just help me. Because I can't...take another day of this. I don't know what I'll do."

Matthew sighed, looking away for a second. Finally he looked back, blue eyes serious as he slowly stood from his seat against the desk. "I don't do anything half-assed, alright? It'll have to be a public event. Peter Kirkland is throwing a party tomorrow night-"

Elizaveta gasped quiet thank you's, bringing her hands to the sky as Matthew plotted aloud.

"All of your tormentors will be there, and you and I are going together, alright?" he pointed a finger at his friend, who was bowing to him and grinning ecstatically. "You have to do everything I say, and tell everyone I was sensational!"

"Thank you, thank so much for doing this," Elizaveta praised happily, jumping up and down like a child.

"Just...make sure you're ready to live with the consequences."

She nodded, and the two just stared at each other before Matthew blurted:

"What the hell is a lemon squeeze?"

"It's like a backwards melon bag."

"I don't even know any of these..."

/

"The next night was the party at Peter Kirkland's house. He is the most popular guy in school. It's partly because he's manipulative and has perfect eyebrows, but mostly because his parents let him have these huge parties every time he catches them 'doing it' in the pool." Matthew made a face. "Which is...every week, apparently. Elizaveta and I showed up when it was in full swing. Elizaveta borrowed a dress from my older sister, I borrowed a jacket from Papa, and we put on a little show."

/

"Hey, Matthew and...Elizaveta..." Peter greeted.

"Sup?" Elizaveta nodded.

"I hope you don't mind, but we had a few pre-cocktail-party cocktails? Like, before the cocktail party? With cocktails?" Matthew slurred in a drunk, gravelly voice. He leaned forward toward Peter, who jumped back at smelling the other's breath. "Listen, here's the sitch, Peter Kirkland. Elizaveta was just in the middle of telling me this really funny thing which is really funny, and I was just wondering if there was a room where we could go? Where she could finish telling me this...thing that's funny? If you know what I mean?"

Peter pushed the other blond away, grimacing a smile and pointing down the hallway. "You can use my room. Down the hall, to the left."

"Is that Matthew with Elizaveta?" someone asked as the two made kissy face at each other and stumbled down the hallway.

"I know! What the hell, right?" Peter scoffed contemptuously.

"Thaaaaanks!" Matthew hiccuped behind him as he slammed shut the door. As soon as he did, he was all business. He pointed to the windows. "Close the shades."

As he reached into his pants, fishing around for what he had brought, Elizaveta turned back around and widened her eyes. "Whoa whoa whoa, what are you doing?"

"Relax!" he insisted, pulling a lacy thong he had stolen from his sister from the waistband of his too-tight jeans. It was too big to fit in his pocket. "Jesus, what is with you lesbians? Are you really that repulsed by man parts? What do you think I have down there, a gnome?"

He hung it over the doorknob, covering the keyhole, and then flopped down on the bed, pulling his jacket off, Elizaveta was busy admiring a poster of a sports car on the wall.

"Ooh, that's nice. What is that, a '72? It's cool."

"What're you doing?" Matthew hissed. "Can you come here, please? Shoes off, c'mon."

The other waddled over- the stumbling hadn't been an act, she just really couldn't walk in these shoes -sitting down next to him and pulling them off obediently. Matthew swung around so that he was cross-legged on the bed, and the brunette copied him.

"Alright, now, moan. And make it convincing," he added with a glance at the door, knowing half of their high school was listening.

"Haaaaghhh," tried Elizaveta. Matthew just snorted.

"I said moan, not growl. Moan."

As the attempts got worse and worse, Matthew continued to coach: "Really groan. Like, sex noises! C'mon! God, you are pathetic."

Finally, tired of it, he slapped the other across the face, and she cried out in pain. Matthew nodded, grinning, and she continued; it definitely sounded more convincing. He made a thumbs up and joined in, grunting and interjecting every once in awhile with an 'oh god' or an 'oooh, yeah'. Looking around for inspiration, he grabbed a book from the nightstand and smacked her arm with that. Elizaveta glared at him.

"Hey!" she growled.

"Oh, you don't like that?" Matthew said loudly for their peers to hear.

"No, no I don't like that," the other snarled in between moans.

"How about THAT? You like THAT?" He cackled, slapping her knee. "Ohhh, yeah!"

He gestured for her to get up, and they stood on the bed, bouncing so that the springs creaked.

"Oh, don't stop!" Elizaveta yelled as Matthew pounded the walls.

"Yeah, I won't stop!" he responded, mouthing: "Say more."

"Don't stop! I really like that, because, you're takin me from the back! Yeah!"

Matthew paused, looking at her. "Yeah, that's not gonna make people think you're straight."

They continued in bouncing as Elizaveta tried again. "Nevermind that! I like it this way! Because I'm a straight girl! Roar!"

Her friend turned and pushed her shoulder, rolling his eyes. She giggled. Following Matthew's lead, the two got progressively louder, screaming at the top of their lungs and jumping on the bed like a sick childrens' game.

"Do you smell that? Do you smell that?" shrieked our lesbian friend.

"Ew. Ew ew ew ew." Matthew smacked her arm. "Gross, gross!"

"Isn't it supposed to smell?"

"I dunno, but if it does you're not supposed to comment on it!" he said as they bounced. He stopped, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Ready for the grand finale?"

When she nodded, Matthew mumbled an apology, curled his right hand into a fist, and punched her straight in the breast. Of course, Elizaveta yelped in protest, but Matthew slapped a hand over her mouth so that it turned into a climactic gasp and groan. He added his own noises, and eventually removed his hand. He jumped from the bed as Elizaveta nursed it, stumbling forward to his vehement gesturing. Matthew mussed her hair and slipped one of her dress straps down. She held her shoes in her hand.

"Go forth, my child," he panted, tired from all the bed jumping. "You are a slut now."

She paused, smiling gratefully. "Thank you. Seriously, thanks."

Matthew grabbed the thong from the door and handed it to her, winking. Elizaveta made a face (hell, she would never wear it, but Matthew couldn't exactly give it back to Madeline now) and tucked it into her bra, stumbling and dancing out into the hallway.

Lien Chung appeared, throwing an arm around Elizaveta and grinning with that wide smile of hers. "How was he?"

"Huh, well, let's just say I'll be walkin' funny tomorrow," she sang. Lien paused, looking suspicious, but the other covered well by throwing the thong in the air and screaming: "I'm drunk, what's up, bitches!"

Lien pushed her into the crowd of snobby girls with a grin, and they immediately began chattering and giggling around her, touching her hair and asking questions about it and gossipping in that way that teenage girls did when they made a new friend that shared an interest of theirs.

Matthew, meanwhile, walked an awkward strut of shame. He would've thought being a super-cool manwhore would've been, y'know, a little less lonely. As he continued toward the door, head down, he bumped into someone. Looking up to apologize, his heart dropped to his feet as he realized it was none other than Gilbert (who, in Matthew's humble opinion, looked fantastic in this low light).

"Gil. Hi." Matthew coughed. "Uh, what're you doing here? I thought you were at your cousin's rehearsal dinner."

"It was a quick rehearsal," the other responded, smiling and gesturing with his blue party cup in hand. "I only had one line."

Matthew glanced towards the door and then back to Gilbert. Oh man, these were not the circumstances in which he wanted to bump into this guy.

"Oof, that was a joke." Gilbert sighed when Matthew didn't reply.

"Oh, uh, I know. Haha," he chuckled lamely.

"How's it going?"

Matthew stuck his hands in his pockets. "Oh, uh, y'know...I'm here..."

"Can I get you a beer?" the other offered.

"That rhymed," said Matthew with a small grin. "I liked it."

But Gil was looking past him, to a group of immature guys who were mimicking humping and slapping, laughing and pointing at Matthew. Matthew turned around just in time to see them, trying to suppress the angry blush that was rising to his face.

"I'm gonna go."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Bye."

He pushed past Gilbert, practically sprinting out the door. He couldn't have imagined a more embarrassing situation if he tried.

/

"Maybe this is gonna sound stupid," Matthew mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "And, believe me, it's not like I was expecting fireworks, or a string quartet, or anything, but...I always thought pretending to lose my virginity would be a little more- I dunno, special? Judy Blume should've prepared me for that, hm?"

/

Later that night, Matthew sat alone in his room, strumming his guitar loudly and without any real purpose. Alfred had gotten him this as a birthday present a few years back, perhaps in hoping it might make the two of them a little cooler, but Matthew had never bothered to learn how to play it.

"That is so beautiful," crooned Arthur facetiously as he wandered in, a lime green-wrapped box in hand.

"I've never even had one lesson," Matthew replied with a wink, setting down his guitar so that he could talk to his dad.

"That girl from yesterday just dropped this off for you," he said, holding out the box.

"Well, put it in the pile of gifts from my other maidens."

Arthur set it down on the other's bed, but instead of leaving, he sat down. "She seems like a nice kid."

Matthew grinned.

"She seemed a little incredibly gay," continued Arthur.

"Dyed from the wool of homosexual, that girl is," responded his son with a nod, not missing a beat.

"I just want to let you know that your Papa and I are totally supportive." He smiled, patting Matthew's shoulder. "We love you no matter what the sexual orientation of your opposite sex sex partner."

"We're not...dating, Dad." Matthew made a face.

"And don't worry," Arthur barreled on. "About not making us grandparents. Although we were kinda hopin you'd get some girl knocked up. So we'd have a second shot at raising kids. Really do it right this time."

"Bye now," Matthew insisted, but his dad reclined back on the bed, still talking.

"Y'know, I dated a girl once," he reminisced. "For a long time, actually. A long time."

"Dear God, dear lord tell me you did not marry and have children with her."

Arthur laughed. "No."

Matthew sighed, relieved.

"No, no. Your father and I are as gay as they come. A little too gay, if you know what I mean, dude," he added in a terrible American accent. His parents were so European it hurt sometimes.

"I don't." replied Matthew, nodding towards to door. "Close the door on your way out."

Arthur beatboxed and danced a slow path out of the room, failing all attempts to be funny and/or cool. As usual.

"Ooookay, door's right over there...keep going...go take that out to Papa."

As soon as the door has swung closed, Matthew dove onto his bed, next to one of Papa's cats who sat happily unnoticed next to the box. The teenager grabbed his present and opened it excitedly. A crisp, white envelope sat on top of the pink and gold wrapping tissue, so he opened that first. A Target gift card fell out, and he read what was written on the white card aloud:

"Just in case you don't shop at Target. Then you can go screw yourself. Elizaveta."

He picked up what was in the box, immediately laughing at its shape and size. Leave it to Elizaveta to get him a vibrating dildo. Just as he was cackling at his friend's wit, his phone rang. He looked up, seeing that it had bounced all the way across the bed when he had jumped on it. He hastily stashed his present back in the box and answered it.

"Hi, Al." he said.

"Is it true you got with Elizaveta at Peter Kirk-lame's party?" Alfred accused without bothering to greet his best friend.

"Uh, is that what people are saying happened?" Papa's cat nosed into the box on the bed, causing it to start vibrating and making an awful fuss. Matthew nudged it a couple of times until it stopped.

"That's what everyone is saying happened."

"Well then I guess that's true," mused the other diplomatically.

"Just because you've lost your virginity doesn't mean you have to go around throwing your rooster at everybody," snarled Alfred.

"I'm not...throwing my rooster at everybody?"

"I had to hear from Feliciano Vargas. Do you know how embarrassing that is? Finding out you slept with some lesbian from Feliciano Vargas?!"

"That must've been pretty embarrassing."

"And why didn't you tell me you were going to the party? I would've come with and held your little girlfriend's hair or something!"

Matthew scoffed incredulously. "Are you really making this about you right now?"

"Y'know, you're starting to get a reputation."

"And you're coming off as a little pius. You're kind of pissing me off a little more than usual." He curled his hands into fists, pacing around his room.

"I'm sorry if I think it's a best friend's duty to let him know that everyone," Alfred snarled, "And, I do mean everyone, is calling him a dirty whore."

"Well...do you think I'm a dirty whore?"

"Y'know, I didn't want to believe it, but I guess it's true. That is your identifier."

Matthew laughed in an angry, flown-off-the-hinge way. "And you're a jealous virgin. So...ugh!"

He hung up with lack of a better insult, and threw his phone onto his bed with a loud noise of disgust.

/

"People thought I was a dirty whore? Fine." Matthew grinned wryly into the camera. "I was going to be the dirtiest whore they'd ever seen."

/

Matthew flung the entirety of his closet onto the floor, and then ran out and came back with bags and bags of clothes from the grossest, manliest store he could think of. Inside were heaps of starched shirts, thin ties, slacks that would make his butt look better than Michelle's, too-expensive shoes, and sunglasses. He had also bought a bolt of red cotton from the local fabric store, which he took out now and began ripping to shreds with grunts and growls. Oh boy, was he going to show Alfred a whore. He sewed and sewed, not caring when the needle pricked him and ripping mistakes with his teeth. Eventually Papa opened the door.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, his reading glasses still on. He took them off now as he studied the clothes strewn around the room. "It sounds like you're having sex in here. Which I know can't be true due to the fact you have a homosexual girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," Matthew sighed, frustrated.

"Hey, no judgement. All God's children. It's fine. Even I was straight once. For a while. No big deal. We all experiment. It's okay."

"Papa, can you just...shut the door, please."

Francis cocked his head at his son. "Are you okay, cher?"

Matthew inhaled deeply, shoulders slouching. "Yeah."

Papa nodded. "Give 'em hell."

Matthew smiled at him, going back to work more inspired, if not slower and more careful.

Matthew strolled down the hallways Monday at school, a grin on his face, his eyes smug beneath his sunglasses, and his hands in his pockets. His new suit was making heads turn left and right, following him as far as their owlish eyes could turn. Although, it may not have been the suit that made heads turn. Sewn on his breast pocket was a big, red letter 'A'. Alfred was talking to a boy down the hallway, but halted mid-conversation as Matthew appeared. His and the other boy's jaws dropped.

"Hey handsome," Matthew purred to Alfred's friend, taking off his sunglasses so he could wink at him. "Y'know what the funniest thing is? My initials are an anagram for mwah."

He made a kissing sound. Alfred scoffed and crossed his arms.

"What's an anagram?" asked the boy.

"Look it up, big guy," Matthew replied, chewing on the end of his glasses before turning to Alfred. "What's your problem?"

"You really wanna know what my problem is?" growled the other.

"No, that was a rhetorical question. I don't want to know anything from you."

"We're not friends anymore," Alfred snarled.

"Aw," responded Matthew apathetically. He turned on his heel and continued down the hallway.

"We are officially over!" Alfred continued at Matthew's back.

"Aw, rats."

"Hey, I want my Levis back!" He screamed. "It's way too loose around your crotch, anyways!"

"Ooh, burn," Matthew called facetiously, putting his sunglasses on and not bothering to turn around. His swaggering stride wasn't even broken.

In the lunchroom, Matthew turned his head to see several people, guys and girls alike, staring at him in marvel. He piled mashed potatoes on his plate, took a spoonful, and slowly sucked it from the utensil.

"Mm," he hummed, running his tongue across it in a sultry sort of way. One girl in back fainted. He turned back around to see Oliver, who made a disgusted face at him. Matthew continued sucking on the spoon, mocking him, until he heard a familiar voice behind him say:

"What are you doing?"

Matthew whirled to face his English teacher, pulling the spoon from his mouth at light speed.

"Nothing."

was silent for a long, torturous moment, studying Matthew's wardrobe. Finally, he left with one of his teacher-isms:

"Don't forget, tomorrow is Earth Day."

And with that he was gone.

/

Oliver and his band of Jesus-freaks- oops, the Cross Your Heart club -sat in a circle, holding hands.

"Guys, we have a problem. Matthew Williams. We need to pray for him."

"Amen," replied the circle in unison.

"But, we also need to get him the hell out of here."

"Amen," they repeated.

"I'm sure you guys heard what happened at Peter's party."

"I was there," boasted one. "I heard the whole thing."

"That's not something you need to advertise, Antonio."

The blond between Antonio and Oliver stared the brunet down.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "But I was."

Oliver kept preaching. "I tried to witness to him, but this boy is defiant to any type of help. Does anybody here think they can talk to him in a way that might get him to understand what he's doing is wrong?"

A tear rolled down his face, and the girl next to him and Roderich on his other side grabbed his hands, patting him and consoling him.

"I'm sorry, guys," he sobbed. "I know this is stupid."

"No, it's not, Oliver," insisted the blonde girl. "It's real."

"Jesus tells us to love everyone, I mean, even the whores and the homosexuals, but it's just so hard! It's so hard because they just keep doing it over and over again!" He sniffled, composing himself. "Make me a promise. Make God a promise, right here and right now, that we will remain pure and chaste until marriage."

"We promise," they replied together.

"Awesome, awesome, awesome. I love you guys, God loves you guys, now let's change lives today. Amelia?"

The blond pulled out her guitar and gave a preparatory strum. No one paid any attention to the singing circle of religious kids as they went about their day.

/

"I didn't know what they were so upset about," Matthew mused, chewing on the end of a pencil. "I put an A on my wardrobe, just like they asked. Maybe it was because I was wearing the shirts unbuttoned halfway down…"

/

Matthew strutted down past the pool with his newly decked out P.E. uniform; the top was cut so that you could see his collarbones, his shorts too high to be comfortable. And, of course, over his heart there was a red 'A'.

"Hey, Matthew!"

Matthew looked up, surprised to see Gilbert climbing out of the pool. The latter smiled at him as he grabbed his towel from the concrete and rubbed his sopping white hair.

"You left your glass slipper at the party the other night."

Gosh, he was handsome. And shirtless.

"Yeah, and I got pumpkin all over my dress, too," Matthew fired back, shrugging sarcastically. "C'est la vie."

"La vie.
"Nice. Solid joke."

Gilbert chuckled. "It sucks, because we could've revisited Peter's bedroom."

Matthew gasped, memories of middle school suddenly flooding back to him. "That's right! Oh my god, that was Peter Kirkland's house."

They smiled at each other for another minute before Matthew added: "I can't believe you remember that."

"Yeah, c'mon, who doesn't remember their first almost-kiss?"

Still toweling his dripping hair, Gilbert pushed the other's shoulder playfully and wandered away. Matthew stared after him in awe for awhile longer.

"Hey Matthew," was what shook him from his thoughts.

A boy who couldn't have been more opposite than Gilbert stood behind him, dreadlocks sopping.

"Hey, Carlos. What's rockin?"

He shifted his weight. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Yeah. What's up?"

Carlos shuffled a little closer, grinning. "Don't get mad, but...Elizaveta told me what you did for her."

"Oh," Matthew winked. "Rest assured, it was equally as thrilling for me."

"No, no. She told me the truth."

The blond's face fell, floozy facade ruined and lies exposed.

"I was just hoping that...maybe you could do the same for me?"

"Goodbye, Carlos," Matthew insisted, turning on his heel to leave.

"Wait, wait!" he pleaded. "I can pay you!"

He whirled back around, eyes narrowed. It was time to put an end to this. He wasn't about to get bullied into this, again. Especially with a boy this time. "I am about six seconds away from slapping you so hard your teeth will bleed."

Carlos blinked. "Can you do it in front of everyone?"

Matthew fumed, unable to get out coherent words. He turned again, shoulders hunched and fists clenched.

"I don't need your permission, you know," said the chubby, dark-skinned boy pompously.

"What?"

"I-I mean...at the rate you're going, I just don't see how people won't believe it."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'll give you a hundred bucks."

"You are repugnant."

"Uh, duh!" The other gestured at himself. "That's the problem!"

The two stared each other down for a moment before Carlos sighed.

"Nevermind. Sorry I asked."

Matthew watched as Carlos wandered over to where his backpack sat on the bleachers. He took out a Snickers bar, ran a hand through his hair, and quietly cursed himself.

"I knew it wouldn't work. I'm just a fat piece of shit. Why won't high school end already?"

The blond stared, piteous for this poor guy, and seeing himself in the other. After a moment of hesitation, he stomped over to Carlos.

"I want a one hundred dollar gift card, deposited into my locker by one tomorrow," he instructed in a hushed tone. "Preferably to The Gap, but I will also take or OfficeMax- actually, make it OfficeMax. I have my eye on a label-maker."

Carlos looked up slowly, facial expression transforming from disappointed to amazed as Matthew continued.

"We did not have sex, okay? We gave each other handjobs, and it was a glorious moment for you, unmatched by anything you have heretoforth experienced. Including cake."

"But wait a minute. A hundred bucks for second base?" said Carlos, too loud.

"Shh, ay, yeah," hissed Matthew.

"Doesn't that seem a little steep? Can't we throw in, like, some butt action or- or French kissing or..?

"What are you, nine?"

"Whatever. Are you in?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

"Deal, then." Carlos smiled, adding: "Thanks, Matt."

Matthew's tone softened. "Y'know, the sad thing is, Carlos...if you had been a gentleman, and maybe asked me on a date? I might've said yes."

"Wh- really? Do you wanna go out with me?!"

"Not now I don't, shitdick."

/

"It should come as no surprise that the rumor I was soliciting sex for money spread around the school faster than… Well, faster than the first rumor about me spread." Matthew looked disgusted just thinking about it. "And for people who knew the truth, I was open for business- and, whether I liked it or not, I had a lot of customers. Feliks Łukasiewicz gave me a hundred dollars to Best Buy to tell people we hooked up behind the library. I got fifty dollars from T.J. Maxx so that Vash Zwingli could say that we got it on during chemistry. Ninety dollars from Panda Express so Natalia Arlovskaya could tell people I showed her mine, but she did not show me hers. Toris Laurinaitus, big spender that he is, gave me forty dollars worth of movie passes for my pretend cowbell. They had an expiration date, and they were only good at this stupid foreign movie theater. At least that's better than Berwald Oxenstierna- a coupon, ugh, 20% off at Bath and Body Works. I fake rocked his world."

Matthew was frustrated now, rubbing his temples angrily. He looked up at the camera, inhaling and exhaling deeply. His eyes were dreamy, far away. "Whatever happened to chivalry? Does it only exist in 80's movies? I want John Cusack, holding a boombox outside my window. I wanna ride off on a lawnmower with Patrick Dempsey. I want Jake, from Sixteen Candles, waiting outside the church for me. I want Jud Nelson, thrusting his fist into the air because he knows he got me- just once, I want my life to be like an 80's movie. Preferably, one with a really awesome musical number. For no apparent reason. But no, no. John Hughes did not direct my life, so, instead of all of that I get to save fifteen cents on a bottle of Juniper Breeze antibacterial gel."

The blond in front of the webcam took a precious moment to apply some, rubbing the gel between his hands. He continued with a nod.

"So! If you're still with me- and I'm hoping that most of you are -this brings us to Part Four: How I, Matthew Williams, Went From Assumed Trollop to an Actual Home-Wrecker."