I know I keep doing a lot of excerpts for Julian Files–sorry. Hopefully there will be some new material you haven’t read yet when it’s finally finished ^^;
But the thing is, I love writing Cedrick with Boyd. He messed with that kid so much sometimes XD It amuses me to imagine. Another excerpt is below, in which Cedrick and Boyd basically fuck with each other because they’re both stubborn dorks.
As always, unedited and possibly will change in the final book.
Cedrick roamed the Sun’s parking lot looking for a space left. After the second aisle, he saw an open space and started to pull into it. Boyd daintily ate that gross ass bran muffin he’d insisted on, and Cedrick lamented once again about his family’s lack of taste.
“Are you sure that’s what you wanted for your birthday?” Cedrick asked for the third time. “You’re seven today–don’t you think that deserves some ice cream or something?”
Boyd licked some crumbs off his thumb. “There’s no good ice cream.”
Cedrick gasped dramatically, and slammed on the brakes as he threw the car into park. “You take that back, young man! What a scandal!”
“Take note right now! Headlines across Lexington will soon read: Father Shocked To Death By Son’s Insane Declaration Of War Against Ice Cream.”
“No, they won’t. That’s way too long.”
“Boyd!” Cedrick turned to his son with round eyes. “You are a sassy little scoundrel today. How dare you!”
“It’s true. Even I know they’re shorter than that, Dad. You have to say it would say Dad Dead ‘Cause He’s Weird.”
Boyd looked at Cedrick calmly, but Cedrick recognized the spark in his kid’s eyes. That deadpan sense of humor he had that came out of nowhere from his adorable little kid face. What a little bastard. Surely he got that from his Moreau side.
Cedrick scoffed. “Shows what you know. That headline does nothing to explain the theme of the article. Plus, it’s misleading, seeing as you’re the weird one.”
Boyd made a baby-Vivienne snorting sound and started to unbuckle his seat belt, but Cedrick stopped him with a hand on his wrist. Boyd looked at him curiously, and Cedrick peered at him.
“We’re playing a game first. It’s called Answer What Ifs And You Can Leave The Car.”
“That’s a long name too.”
“You’re a long name.”
“Nuh-uh! Yours is longer!”
“No, it isn’t! My name’s clearly only spelled with three letters, and yours is a whole four.”
“No, it isn’t! I know your name! Cedrick is a lot more letters.”
“Nuh-uh! You spell it C-E-D.”
“That’s not your name! It’s a nickname.”
“No, it’s my full name. It’s about time you know that you’ve been lied to since you were a child.”
Boyd eyed him skeptically but didn’t say anything.
“Such doubt! You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well!” Cedrick huffed, and crossed his arms.
He eyed his kid, trying to keep a straight face through all of this. Messing with Boyd was one of his favorite things to do. The kid pulled into himself so easily that joking with him was the best way to pull him out and–when Cedrick was lucky–make him laugh. He knew Boyd liked it, too. As much as he acted like he was getting more stubborn as their debates continued, Boyd really liked the attention. He liked getting into arguments for the sake of trying to always be right. It was so adorably a combination of Vivienne’s bullheadedness and Cedrick’s own inability to let a topic die, that Cedrick loved his son even more every time they did this.
“Okay, we’re doing the game now. What if there was an ice cream flavor you liked? Would you eat it then?”
Boyd considered that with a severe sense of gravity. At length, he said, “What kinds of flavor?”
“I don’t know. What would you like?”
Boyd scrunched up his face. “Broccoli?”
Boyd frowned. “Umm… Cheese?”
Cedrick gagged louder and fell over in his seat. He landed one arm dramatically across Boyd.
Boyd glared and shoved at his dad’s arm. “It’s maybe good!”
“That would be disgusting. Good God, what kind of taste buds did you get? Do you have any? Are you maybe an alien after all?”
“I’m not an alien! I bet it’d be good!”
“No! I refuse to believe broccoli or cheese ice cream would be good. This is sacrilegious!”
“Do you even know what sacrilegious means?” Cedrick asked with raised eyebrows.
“No, but you’re still wrong,” Boyd said mulishly. He crossed his arms and tipped his chin up. “I’m gonna find cheese ice cream and I’m gonna eat it in front of you.”
“No! This is the worst!”
“And then when it’s really, really, really, really, really good, you’re gonna be jealous ’cause I won’t give any to you ’cause you’re wrong and mean!”
“I’m not mean, I’m realistic. Jesus. I can’t even imagine the horror of broccoli ice cream. You’re ruining ice cream for everyone, Boyd! Apologize right now. Apologize to the world.”
“I won’t! Ice cream’s gross unless it’s broccoli or cheese!”
Cedrick shook his head in horror and opened the door. They both got out of the car, gathering their bags and heading toward the building while they continued talking.
“This can’t be. You cannot possibly be my child. I swear, you were switched at birth.”
“Maybe you were switched at my birth.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Maybe you make no sense.”
“Yeah well, maybe you’re weird.”
“Maybe you’re weirder.”
“Maybe you need new material.”
“Maybe, umm…” Boyd frowned and looked around as if seeking inspiration as they walked into the building.
Cedrick hit the up-button for the elevator with triumph. “Ha. You can’t do anything but parrot back my insults. Such a child.”
“Maybe!” Boyd gripped his backpack straps and strode into the elevator. “Maybe you’re wrong!”
“Wow. All that time waiting for that? You can do better, son. Come on. Try a little harder.”