And You Can't Tell Anyone (Track Twelve: III) 2, chapter 24

*Wren*

Billie Joe fiddled with the keychain that dangled from the ignition. "I don't really know," he sighed. "We don't exactly sit around and go 'Oh by the way, I have the hots for you.' or anything like that." He mussed his hair thoughtfully before gnawing on his lip.

Assailed by guilt, Wren muttered, "never mind. I'm just being paranoid."

"No. You wanted to know, so I'll tell you what I think. You should ask Mike. You know what happens if you assume--"

"You make an ass out of You and Me," she chimed in dutifully. Unhappily, she stared out her window. "I'm screwed if I do and screwed if I don't."

"That's the way the world works," Billie Joe grumbled. "If you don't, you wonder. If you do, and then they shoot you down, you feel worse."

A smile worked its way onto Wren's face. "Are we talking about me? Or are we talking about you? Too shy?"

"No--" He stopped in midsentence, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. "Here they come." He started the car.

Wren got out, shocked to see the condition both of the boys were in. Tré was cradling his arm close to his body, while Mike was walking with a prominent limp. Instantly, she ran over to them. "What the hell happened to you two? No don't answer that. Let's get out of here."

"Whatever for?" Tré asked cheekily."We were just starting to have fun."

"Yeah looks like--you're bleeding!" Wren interrupted herself. "Both of you!" She stared at Mike's bloody pants. The blood was still trickling out of a long gash. "How come you walked all this way?" She demanded while scowling at Tré, who was trying to use the shreds of his shirt to hide his own lacerations. "C'mon. Let's get out of here before we get arrested. Then, I get to tie you both up and pour a whole bunch of salt over those cuts."

"I'm all for the tying up and sadism," Tré responded, "But...not tonight. I'm kind of tired from drinking all that chlorine." To enhance the statement, he yawned and rubbed his extremely bloodshot eyes. Without another word, he and Mike slunk into the car.

Wren was pleased to note that Mike chose to sit in the back with her, instead of sulking in the front. Heading home, Billie Joe asked, "What the hell happened?"

Mike shifted so he could lean against Wren. "I got there and Tré was beside the pool all wet and shit. And there was this huge ass dog."

"Yeah, puppy wanted to play chew toy with me," Tré grumbled. "Of course, he didn't wait until I woke up. Kinda like getting laid. Wake up, and there's this bitch chewing on me...and I'm going 'What the fuck are you doing?' Then she goes, 'You.' And I go...'Hell yeah.'" A smile lounged on his face as everyone else stared at him in shock. He shook his head sharply, "But actually, with this whole thing it was like, 'I NEED TO BREATHE!' then followed by, 'Ow.' Then, 'What the fuck?' " Tré paused with a smirk on his face. Wren groaned as the rest of the dialogue automatically repeated itself in her mind. Judging from everyone else's shudders and similar noises of complaint, they were thinking the same thing.

"I need a brain eraser, because that is the sickest word picture I've ever seen," Wren commented.

"As much as we're all not enjoying this," Billie Joe interjected, "Can you explain how come you're so wet?"

"Well, I found the pool." Billie Joe wrinkled his nose in disgusted delight as Tré spoke authoritively. "And I was in the process of contaminating it--"

"Wait," Mike cocked his head in confusion, "Contaminating? With what?"

"Let's just say, that the stuff was the shitz. It came from the dark side of the force. I'm the Emperor after all."

A bark of laughter exploded out of Billie Joe's mouth. "Tré, man, you're the sickest, smartest fuck I've ever known."

"Dookie? You were taking a shit in the pool!" Mike burst out laughing.

Wren could do nothing but shake her head. Boys.

"Wait a minute," Mike wiped tears from the corners of his blue eyes. "Your pants weren't down when I picked you up."

"That's 'cause I pulled them up before I went bobbing for shit."

"So you just fell in the pool?" Wren had trouble believing that Tré could be so clumsy.

"Well yeah. I sure as hell didn't jump in."

"How? Did you slip or something?" Mike inquired as Wren leaned forward to look at his leg.

"In a round about way...yes. I was testing out their diving board and I fell in. Which was kind of fun to tell the truth. You know, trying to fall without landing in the, uh, contamination. I think I sprained my back doing that. So, yeah, I went swimming."

"It still doesn't explain how you wound up passed out with the dog," Mike commented.

"Now that's where things get interesting. I was getting out of the pool and had a severe gravity attack. Smacked my damn head and fell in the fucking pool again!" He grinned winningly. "Yes, I'm Mr. Ballerina, so graceful. But that's where things get black and all watery. Mike's turn to tell the story."

"There's not much to say. I convinced Fido to go take a swim, and then I dragged Tré out to the road."

"Wait a minute," Wren pointed out, "Your stories don't match. How'd Tré get to being chewed on by the dog if he was passed out in the pool? Let me see, you big dork!" She gave Mike a slap on the shoulder when he tried to hide his leg from her.

Tré scratched his head, "Hmmm. We may never know. The last I remember, I was in the pool."

Mike hissed in a breath as Wren pulled aside his torn pants, jostling his leg. "Fuck. Gentler will you? Well, I didn't pull you out," he told Tré.

"Somehow I got out of the pool, and if it wasn't me, and it wasn't you, who was it?"

"Perhaps it was the spirit of Mr. Gigglesticks, come back to help you one last time," Wren suggested.

Tré shook his head and whispered. "I don't think so. He'd probably be still pissed for me murdering him. He probably pushed me in." He rolled down the window, stuck his head out and yelled, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! PULLEASE FORGIVE ME!" He put his head back in the car and said, "It's hard to sleep at night with that on my conscience."