Adelaide's Perspective

So, it’s a normal, run-of-the-mill Wednesday, and I’m sitting in lunch with my best friend Dallas, and if you really need to know, her last name is Frasier. I’m being serious guys. Her parents are, like, Cowboys super-fans or something. And the worst part of it is they hate the Ravens. How can you live in Baltimore and hate the Ravens? Well, it could be worse. She could be a Steelers fan.

So anyway, it’s Wednesday, we’re eating lunch from home, I introduced Dallas… What am I forgetting…? Oh yeah! Me. Duh. My name is Adelaide Quinn and I love the letter Q (although Dallas hates Q. I don’t know, she’s weird.) and the Ravens are my favourite team because, hello, we live in Baltimore… And my dad is a mega-super-fan… Anyway…!

So, Dallas and I are in the cafeteria and she is non-stop talking my ear off about this stupid band she loves that, personally, I don’t give a snap about. (Yes, I did just say snap. I don’t curse because I’m a good Christian girl. Just kidding. According to my friends, I live a sheltered life. But what do they know? Some of them are a bunch of sailors.) Throughout our conversations, I’ve gathered about this much information: The band is called All Time Low, their hometown is Baltimore, and she’s “in love” with the bassist whose name is Zack Merrick. The reason why I know so little, you ask? Well, it’s not because she doesn’t talk about them 24/7, (which she does) it’s because I’ve learned to pretty much tune her out when she goes off on one of her little rants. And speak of the Devil…

“Delly.” Shake.

“Jelly-Delly.” Hard shake.

“JELL-O SHOT!” Push. “Are you even listening to me!?”

I rub my shoulder and frown at it before looking up, “Uh, if you want me to, then yes, yes I was totally listening to you rant.” Cue liar’s smile.

Shove. “No you weren’t, missy! I recognize that smile!” Head shake. “Tsk tsk tsk… I expected better from my best friend, Adelady.”

“But you were talking about All Time Low again, and you know I don’t like them, Dally!” I whine.

“But I love them!” She squeaks.

“I know. Especially the bassist.” I deadpan.

She groans. “Seriously, you haven’t even listened to their songs yet!”

“But I don’t like that style of music!”

“So? Don't you always say that you’ll try anything once?”

“Ugh.” She made a good point. “Fine. I’ll give ‘em a go.” I stick out my hand after rolling my eyes, “Toss me your Pod.”

She looks at me confused, “My what?” and tilts her head like the blonde she is.

I groan again, “Your iPod. Hand it over.”

“Oh! Okay!” she rummages in her purse (which I never understood the purpose of) until she finds it and tosses it at my head.

Good thing I have quick reflexes- I catch it at the last second and shoot Dallas a glare. She gives me an apologetic look. I just shake my head and pop the buds in before I put the band on shuffle and wait for a song to come on.

Subconsciously, I start to nod my head to the beat before the lyrics kick in:

Caught in a cold sweat, stuck splitting hairs, and drinking too much I’m on my way to striking out…

I have to admit, I kind of enjoyed the song. Kind of. But I’ve got to stick to my guns here… I’ve gotta tell Dallas that I didn’t like it at all. Here goes…

Ripping the buds out, I tell her, “I do not like them, Sam-I-Am, I do not like your favourite band.”

She takes the iPod back and says with a disbelieving smirk and hands on her hips, “Nu-uh, you’re totally lying. I so saw your head bobbing! You like them, at least a little bitty bit.”

“Okay, okay. I admit that I like the song.”

She smiles excessively in a way only Dallas Frasier can and claps a few times, “Yayness!”

I hold up a hand to silence her, “Don't get too excited. It's just one song.” Her smile retreats as I speak. “I'll listen to them more after school, I promise.”

At that she just smiles.

-Last period bell ring-

Bringgggg!

“Okay everyone,” Mrs. Barton, everyone's favourite math teacher, says as we pack up for the day, “Don't forget to do your homework! Pages 337 to 338 in your works books are due on Friday!”

The class groans.

“Don't get upset, you all know you love me.” It's true, we really do. She's awesome.

I laugh at something silly Dallas says and throw my backpack over my shoulder as I stand up. We say goodbye to Mrs. Barton and then we're off.

We fill the walk through the halls to our shared locker with mindless chatter, but when we get outside and Dallas is still walking with me, I have to stop.

“Hey, why'd you stop?”

“Your bus is back there. Plus, your house is in the other direction.”

“Oh! I didn't tell you? I'm coming over today to 'study' (as she makes actual air quotes) and most importantly to make sure you listen to All Time Low like you said!”

I facepalm, “Let me text my dad...” I pull out my phone and start to walk.

“Okay!” She skips after me.

“You're lucky my dad loves you, Dally-Anne. You're like the daughter he never had but always wanted.”

“I know.” She laughs and runs ahead of me.

I just roll my eyes and run after her. “Hey! Wait up!”

Notes

title credit: Panic! At the Disco - I Wanna Be Free

Thanks goes to gamble with desire. for all the help and support you've given me for this! Also, the character Dallas is based off of her. Read her stories, maybe?