Dribbles - 12. Presentation

"I told you this would happen!"

"How in the hell was I supposed to know the train was going to be so late, Yost?" Malachite ran a hand through his hair, brushing the rain off before it could flatten his careful hairdo that he spent twenty minutes making it look like he didn't do anything to it at all after rolling out of bed.

His braid was neat and tidy, Mal noted, hating how put together Yost always was. He went by his last name, was never late, never missed an assignment. Well, they'd been put together for this skit in the presentation. Mal's grade was assured in the class, he was a natural actor. Yost, on the other hand, was stiff as a board on set.

Hailing a cab took way longer than it should have and when Yost reached back for some of their props Malachite leaned down to whisper in the cabbie's ear. He slid in the backseat, leaving Yost to put the things in the trunk.

"Thanks for the help," Yost grumbled. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared out his window.

Mal, on the other hand, was leaned back and comfortable, watching the frown grow on Yost's face. Mr. Perfect was going to be pissed off when he found out what Mal did. Maybe this time he'd finally get back a reaction. Mal sat eagerly, waiting for Yost to explode when the harbor came into view.

Those glittering eyes turned his way. The snide lips were pressed flat. The pale cheeks of someone who never goes outside flared red with two spots of color high on his cheekbones. Mal just smirked.

"Why would you do this? Why? I need this course for college, you vile cretin..."

Mal shook his head. "Geez! Even your insults suck. Serves you right." Mal glared at him. "We'll get to the precious presentation, when I'm ready. Right about when you get an F."

                                                                                     ***

Yost clenched his hands but knew that he wouldn't be able to bribe the cabby. There was nothing on the earth strong enough to make him like Malachite Reynolds. In fact, he hated him. He hated everything about him. He focused on the view intently, high school was almost over and along with it, his need to deal with the Mal's of the world. He just had to get through this one cab ride first.

He could hear the quiet sniggers of the teenager beside him and his muscles clenched. Damn it! Why did he get stuck with the arrogant jock or preppy rich boy? Why did it seem like he always got paired with one of them? He either had to do all the work or put up with nastiness. That's it! He was done taking it silently.

He pulled out his phone and hit speed dial.

"Hey. Yeah. Again. Option number one." He hung up and stared out the window, hands clenched back into fists at his side.

Malachite glared at him. "What the hell was that? Code?"

Yost refused to look at him. "Yes," he said shortly.

He knew he still looked angry, he had to keep his growing smirk inside. Not all the jocks were jerks. He had one friend... One that would be waiting with a very interesting dye loaded into balloon that would be easy for a pitcher to aim accurately from a hidden window. Yost might get an F but the preppy boy beside him would have a day way worse than his once this damn taxi ride was over.

Way worse.