Pop Kids

by Havok, Davey

  “You. Need. To settle.” He turns up his voice with The Stooges. “Nasts like that get beaten up all the time. It was probably just another night out for him. Focus on your future man. You’ve got a huge party, a hot girlfriend, and a virgin with a vibrator who’s begging you to be the one. You’d better start dealing with that cuz if you don’t make it happen soon, someone else will.” He points to himself.

  “Fucking yeah, dumbass!” Alvin springs up from the backseat.

  I didn’t even know that he was here. Checking my hair in the sun visor, I sigh.

  “I know. If I’d just hung out with Holly on Saturday, I’d have nothing to worry about now.” I pull open my eyelid and drop in Visine. I’m getting better at this. “I called her last night to see if she wanted to come over to touch or just hang and talk or whatever, but she had too much homework.” I palm the saline tears from my face. “We were on the phone for an hour. She didn’t say anything about our date or The Premiere.” I sniffle. “…Did you know that there are invisible sharks?”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Lynch stops one-handedly texting and points his phone at me.

  “It’s just the eye drops—”

  “I’m talking about fucking a virgin and you’re talking about marine fucking biology. You called her to see if she wanted to come over to ‘hang and talk?’ What are you? In love?”

  “C’mon man.” Blinking in the mirror, I see Alvin filming the Sweater Girls, walking up the hill in their rain boots. “I just want to be first. With a girl like her you can’t just—”

  “Oh can’t you? Or are you just in fucking love? You are, aren’t you Mike!” Throwing himself over our seat, Al turns his camera on me. “What’s it like being in fucking love? It’s like Black fucking Sabbath ALL the fucking time, right? Right. I know. Do you wanna have babies? Little bleached blonde babies with green contacts? You’re getting old fucker, time to breed!”

  I snatch The Flip cam, turn it off, and toss it in the backseat. Silencing, Al fetches it and resumes filming. The Grave-cutters at the cemetery gates strike tragic poses.

  “Woah! Wait! He’s right! Your birthday’s this week, Hugh Grant! Eighteen!”

  I’d almost forgotten. It’s this Friday. I wonder if Holly knows.

  Lynch shakes me by the shoulder.

  “We’re doing it big this weekend Mike! Three in a row! Sunday matinee!” He pounds the steering wheel detailing our duty. “For your birthday! It must BE!”

  “I’m totally in!” Alvin turns the camera back on me. “Fucker?”

  I was planning to spend the entire upcoming weekend with Holly. But I mustn’t be short sighted. If we can pull off three Premieres in a row, it would be like the Oscars, VMAs, and AVAs all rolled into one. And if Blake heard about it, he’d for sure want to do a show about me.

  I put on my shades and smile to the camera.

  “I’m in!”

  “Fuck yeah.” The brothers rejoice in unison.

  It begins to rain as we cruise into Valley View.

  Chapter 57

  The buzz about my video has died down. I only miss it a little. With the way things have been going, I’m thankful that a ‘Live From the Fuck-it Premiere: It’s Teen Orgies and Murder’ video clip didn’t mysteriously appear on Stella’s blog this morning. When the break bell rings and the phones come out, I toss my D+ into the lab’s recycling bin and try to catch up to her. “Hey Babe, wait up.” She doesn’t stop. I wonder what her problem is.

  “Babe!” I call out again then watch her curvy pink pea coat disappear toward the art buildings.

  It’s fine. I’ll tell her about my birthday aspirations later.

  Beneath my old Sponge Bob umbrella, I pull my Cherie Cherie bag from my Sherman and stroll toward the cafeteria. Someone is sitting at my spot against the wall. She’s slouched over. Oh, and she’s sobbing. Great.

  “Hey Ash.” Hovering over The Twin looking down and chewing dried cranberry, I hold my scone out as an offering. “What’s going on?”

  “Michelle’s gone, Mike.” She looks up. There’s a clarity in her puffy blue eyes that hasn’t been there in months. Her hair is soaked. She’s shaking. “Mom and Dad sent her away.”

  “Why?” Fearfully, I wave my pastry like a crumby magic wand. “They didn’t find out about the party did they?”

  “No.” She bristles. I exhale.

  Terribly relieved that my scone spell worked retroactively, I take another bite as she turns away to stare through the drizzle and into the gloom of the empty campus.

  “They found out that she’s pregnant. Michelle is pregnant and they found our pills. They took away our fucking pills.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “Good?” As if I’d ratted out Roxy, Ash turns back to me with a terribly hateful glare. “How is that good?”

  “Oh, um…” Covering my mouth, I chew and clarify. “I just meant that it’s good that your parents don’t know about the party … and that you guys are off the pills. It’s sucks about MK, though, for sure. … You’re not thinking about telling them how it happened are you?”

  “Of course not.” She seethes.

  I wonder when she stopped wearing her crucifix.

  “And stop calling her MK you fucking freak. Her name’s Michelle.” She palms her red cheeks. ”They sent her to live with my crazy fucking aunt in Florida. They want us separated and they’re talking about rehab and exorcisms. …” She looks away. “But I’m not sticking around for that bullshit.”

  “No, no of course not,” I say, because I don’t know what else to say.

  I dodge her sober glare, checking to see if the straggling snackers are alarmed.

  The rain has driven most of school indoors. The few students braving the elements are running beneath umbrellas to find shelter. Ash sobs again. Crying, the mascara-smeared twin in four-hundred-dollar jeans melts in a rain puddle. The storm is building. This is bad. Moving in, clicking my lighter, I shield her from public view.

  “I’m gonna get her out of there.” Over my metallic cry for salvation, with muted impunity, she defiantly insists, “Star is gonna help me. I’m leaving tomorrow. And I’m not coming back.”

  “That’s good. That’s fabulous.” I soothe, supporting the runaway. “You two shouldn’t be apart … and Star’s cool. She’s like full on adult. And she’s loaded. It’s f—”

  Sinatra’s voice crackles through the school’s PA. My skin shrinks.

  “Do you hear that?” I pan the campus in horror.

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “Um…”

  The song disappears beneath the warning bell.

  ”I mean … we should probably go to class.”

  Ignoring me, the leftover twin digs a little box from her purse and pops a pill.

  “Okay, well, I can’t be late for Pope. He’s such a hard-ass.” I back-step. “So … message me. Tell your sister to message me too.”

  As I flee, I begin to recall all the good times I’ve had with the excommunicated.

  “Um … hey…” Pausing, I turn back to her and hesitantly ask, “Is MK having the baby?”

  “They say she has to.” Ash stares down, through the rain, tapping out a text.

  “Do you know whose it is?”

  “No Mike.” Snapping her head up, she threatens a life sentence. “We don’t know. How the fuck could we? Maybe it’s yours.”

  Okay. Solemnly, I nod in acquiescence. Then retreat.

  It’s fine. I’ve survived last weekend. This is nothing.

  “Hey, Mr. Pope.” Happy to be the first to show up for Calculus, I shake out the thick layer of black moths trapped under my yellow umbrella.

  “Mike!” My teacher turns from his sprawling chalky equation. His face drops. “Are you okay? Are you crying?”

  “Oh, no.” I dab my cheeks with my bandana. “It’s just really coming down out there. Everything’s fine.”

  Chapter 58

  “Maybe I should start using the condoms…”

&n
bsp; “It could be anyone’s man.” Lynch dips a cluster of fries into a chocolate shake. “You’ve seen Michelle’s scenes.”

  A pink-haired girl from the Christian Club squeaks by in plaid rain boots. A flyer for a harvest party lands on our table. I light it and drop it into my lunchbox. Transfixed on its writhing deterioration, I consider some desperate actions of termination. It could be rather ceremonious if I were to close The Palace on my birthday.

  “…Or maybe we should say fuck it all and shut down. Some Interscope guy named Sammy just messaged me. We could just use The Palace for Band FAIL! practice. Or maybe we could do study groups down there—”

  I can’t believe that my ever-licentious co-host is advocating ending our party. I don’t like it. I was just thinking the same thing. But I don’t like it. Hearing Lynch’s doubt doubles my own.

  “Fuck that.” Wounded, I snap shut my lunchbox. “It’s my birthday.”

  “Dude, like I’d seriously suggest canceling your birthday? Like we practice. Settle.” He pours the remainder of his coffee into his shake and takes a steamy gulp. “This weekend is gonna be legendary.” He points across the packed cafeteria. “And you’d better bring me her as a party favor.”

  Cream, sitting with a table of monochromatic girls, keeps talking to Periwinkle.

  “Sorry man.” Smelling fetid, burnt propaganda, I pick at my PB&J. “I’m just all rattled.” I wave away a trace of escaping smoke. “I promise to bring you at least one of the sweaters.”

  “Killer. I’ll getcha something good, too.”

  “Hey, have you talked to Stella?” I ask, as he twists the orange frosting from a halloweeny Hostess cupcake. “I think that she gave me the wrong email for Blake. I tried to ask her about it but she’s being a real bitch today.”

  “She’s pissed about you canceling the first Fuck It.” He obscenely licks lard.

  “What? Why?” In disbelief l scan the moist, fluorescent-lit tiles for Hello Kitty. She’s standing in the pizza line with Mia. “So, Stella disappears for a week, doesn’t return my texts or calls, doesn’t ask Blake about me, doesn’t even respond to the Fuck-it invite, and now she’s all pissed off about last Friday? That’s TBS.”

  “Yeah, but I think it was more about you canceling the party to try to bang your soon to be wife.” Shaking his head, sucking in, he hisses through a tickled grin. “I think that’s why she’s burned.”

  “Wait. How did she know? She wasn’t even in town.”

  “I don’t know man, ever heard of the Internet? Chicks talk.” He offers me his second Hostess. “Maybe Holly told her.”

  This isn’t good. She can get vindictive when she’s pissed off. Freshman year, after Mia copied her hairstyle, Stella got her wasted then shaved her BFF’s head.

  “We’re fucking Filmgreats.” I proclaim, eschewing the snack cake. “How could she possibly care what I do with Holly?”

  With a sneer, Lynch shrugs. “I guess cuz she’s your girlfriend.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right. The status.” I rise to take action. “I guess I’d better go clear up this BF thing.”

  I avoid Stella for the rest of the day. After final period, I text Holly to ask her for a ride home and meet her at the less congested hillside end of the parking lot.

  Fully reclined in her passenger seat, I watch my platinum chauffeur pull into exit traffic. She waves at someone who I can’t see and as “How Soon Is Now” eases through the speakers so begins the best twenty-four minutes that I’ve spent since last Friday.

  Holly lightly sings along to Moz, soothing me with her contralto. Heat from the VW vents warms my feet. Rain batters the windshield.

  I’d tell her everything about Saturday—Mr. Snow, the blood, the pit-stop confession. I’d worry over MK’s procreation and Ash’s imminent defection, but I don’t have the strength. I’d rather just listen to her.

  “So…” Sighing, I reach up to touch her hair. “What do you know about cat sharks?”

  “A lot, they’re ground sharks, dogfish…” Keeping her perfect posture, she glances down at me, and smiles. “What do you know about Spanish teachers having sex with high school girls?”

  “You heard about that huh?” I drop my hand and fall back into my seat.

  Waffle-sole footprints are pressed against the roof’s lining. I turn to watch the rain.

  “Sarah filled me in on most of it. It sounds like Saturday was pretty sketchy.” Holly pokes my side. “Looks like you should have just hung out with me.”

  “Yeah, seriously.” Jolting, I face her smirk.

  Outside her window, pacing us and biting a soggy joint, Sparky’s stretching his bloody smile behind an orange and silver Flip cam.

  “I absolutely should have.” I turn away and stare up at the girl-sized footprints.

  “It’s really too bad. Mom was out all night. No parents anywhere … no teachers—”

  The mohawked mess jumps onto the hood, flipping me off while he films.

  “Hey, c’mon you don’t need to be evil.” Popping up, I point toward the muddy clearing alongside Iman’s winding driveway. “Pull over here, I’ll make it up to you.”

  “Sounds romantic.” Caressing my cheek with the back of her ravishing right index finger, Holly speeds past the shoulder. “But damn—”

  Sparky tumbles off the hood.

  “We’re already at your house.”

  “Okay.” I GO SMiLE. “But can I at least have a kiss goodbye? Just so I can remember what I missed out on?”

  Parking in front of the garage, Holly accepts my bargain. She cranks the e-brake and climbs on top of me. We kiss. I taste orange cream. I begin sliding my hand up her sweatshirt.

  “Mike.” She giggles, grabbing my wrist. “I think I can see your dad in the backyard … and I think he’s … painting?”

  Silently, I curse Gina’s new work schedule as my Southern California shelter rolls off, sending me into the storm.

  “So Stella told you about Saturday?” Raising my seat, I step out of the car, open my umbrella, and obscure Frank from her sight. “She was acting kinda weird today. She hasn’t been a bitch to you has she?”

  “No, not at all. She even brought me some of my favorite cocoa. It’s Mexican. I think she got it at a chocolate bar in the Mission.”

  “Oh. Cool. She probably went there to try and get drunk after she realized what she did to her hair.”

  “Ugh, I love it! Don’t you?”

  “Really?” My laugh mists through the cold. “It looks like a failed attempt at yours.”

  “You think so?” Holly twists her a-line. “Thanks!”

  As she plays with her snowy locks, her aqua eyes alight with virginal glow. She’s beaming. She is adorable.

  I don’t want her to go. I want her to come in and tell me about the second season of El Fin. I want her to lie down on my red sheets and hand over her golden bullet while Frank paints naked beneath a golf umbrella. I want her to assure me that The Twin’s parents are as much in the dark about The Premieres as they are about the advent of man. I want her to tell me that Sparky is dead or forgetful. I want her to insist that I run lines with her. I want her to eat her banana bread.

  “Hey, you still haven’t met my cat. Do you wanna come in for a minute?” I smile, as big as my yellow umbrella.

  “Oh…I’d better get home. I’m gonna make some of Mom’s wine disappear before she gets back from the derm.” Rain blows through door onto her red Naked & Famous denim. She doesn’t care. “I can get away with it if the bottle’s already open.”

  With admiration for her genius plan to subvert her mother’s drinking, I thank Holly for the ride, watch her roll down the hill, and then I slosh up our front steps.

  “Well, Eddie … ”

  Tapping on my window, I wave. With a start, Frank drops his joint.

  “It may not be tonight, but you’ll meet her soon. And you’re gonna love her.”

  Following me to my bed and padding onto my chest, my furry confidant reminds me that I still need
to make the birthday invitations.

  “I know, I know.” I scratch behind her ear. “Let’s take a quick nap first. Eddie, my pet, I am exhausted.”

  Chapter 59

  Along with my lunch and freshly drained thermos, I stuff my umbrella into my locker. This cloudy Tuesday morning snuck up and attacked me during my nap. I’ve yet to make the ‘Birthday Blow-off’ invites. But my procrastination is paying off. As Bickle escorts me to first period, Holly detaches herself from a female Filmgreat trifecta and trots up.

  “I hear it’s your birthday soon!” Wearing a faded Cat’s shirt under her hoodie, she squeezes my arm.

  Stella, whispering to Mia, watches us from the quad. I still haven’t discussed the specific terms of our BF/GF agreement with the moody Great, nor have I gotten Blake’s real info from her. I need to do both. But in reverse order.

  “Yep! Friday.” With a glance, I relieve Bickle from his guard. “I’ll be eighteen!”

  “You know what else happens on Friday?” She flicks my tie.

  “I reach my sexual peak?”

  Stella glances over. Bickle is holding hands with Mia.

  “Maybe.” Half smiling, Holly gives her lively anime hair a quick, rigid, heart-melting toss. “But I was talking about wine tasting in Marin.”

  I’m sure I look perplexed.

  “Mike, my mom will be gone all night. You should come over.”

  “Yes I should!” I mentally edit Friday out of the unmade invitations for the three-in-row. “What time?”

  “Seven. She should be long gone by then. Can you get a ride?”

  “Totally, I’ll be there.” As I text the date into my calendar, Bobby, with some old time crooner blaring through his Dre Beats, pats my back on his way to the gym.

  “Yeah? You sure?” Twisting her shark pin, Holly considerately asks, “You’re not going to have a birthday Premiere? Won’t your fans be disappointed?”

  The sinister yellow eyes on her shirt peer out at me.

  “Oh well, yeah.” I flit a moth away from her hair. “I was thinking about throwing one but, you know, I’d really rather just stay in with you. That sounds way more fun.”