All these visions keep popping up in my mind, like a slide show repeating over and over again. First, it’s an image of Amy and Alex kissing when we got out of the car Friday night. It plays in slow motion for a more terrorizing effect. Then, Amy says over and over, like a scratched CD, Alex doesn’t like me. Each time I hear the words, it’s like another stab through my heart, like she’s pushing pins through a voodoo doll. My favorite, and most torturous, is the mental picture of Amy and Alex holding hands. As they walk passed me, Alex pats me on the head like I’m just a little kid—or worse, a little sister. The last scene hasn’t happened, and I hope it never will. I need to do something to stop this constant replay of painful images.
Steph is already standing outside our classroom waiting. I’m tired and not in the mood for the talking head. I swear if Mrs. Caldwell gives us one more worksheet, I’m going to scream. Did anyone inform her this is an honors class? Does she know we’re capable of more than just filling in the blanks? Seriously, how can a teacher manage to take something as complex and exciting as the Earth, the one thing in the universe that can sustain life, for better or worse, and turn it into the single most boring thing known to man? I can actually feel the life being sucked from my pores as I get closer to the door.
When Keesha shows up and suggests an alternate plan, I’m oh so eager to concede.
“You two are not seriously considering ditching class? We’re honors students for cryin’ out loud, we’re not…regular kids.” Steph gestures to some of the students walking by.
“Why not? My brain cells die off exponentially every minute I’m forced to sit through another one of Mrs. C’s stupid lectures,” I say, trying to convince myself ditching class isn’t as bad as it sounds. “You know, we should probably be teaching the class for her. It’s a joke.”
Just because Mrs. Caldwell has been a teacher for like twenty years doesn’t mean she should be allowed to teach honors. Seriously, with her lack of teaching, we’ll never be prepared for biology next year.
“Steph, you don’t have to come,” Keesha adds. “You can actually give us the stupid handouts later.” She looks at me. “Better yet, Meggie, we can create our own and show her what good notes actually look like.”
“Sounds good, but are you sure no one else is coming?” Hopefully, we’ll be going alone.
“No. No one else is coming. You think I would tell Amy about this after Friday night? Besides she was chillin’ with Alex and his crew this morning. I know she saw me and she just looked away, so screw her. Looks like it’s just you and me, huh.”
“Okay, whatever. The bell is going to ring soon so let’s get outta here.” The jitters start to creep up my body.
“You guys, be careful. Wait, when are you gonna come back?” Steph sounds worried. Surprise, surprise.
“We’ll be back before lunch. Don’t trip, Steph. We wouldn’t make you eat lunch by yourself.” Keesha tries comforting our friend.
“Okay, late.” Steph walks away shaking her head.
We make our way off the school grounds. Adrenaline begins to rush as we cross the street. My heart is beating like I’ve just had twenty blended coffee drinks topped with whip cream. Then, fear begins to strike as I realize I have no idea where we’re going, and at the thought of getting caught. My parents will kill me if they find out. They would be devastated if they found out I did anything remotely wrong. I’m their sweet, innocent little girl. Psshh, I begin to chuckle inside. The thought of me being sweet and innocent is definitely funny. My parents obviously have a distorted view of their daughter.
I guess I should just chill and enjoy myself. What’s done is done, right?
I sure as hell have done a lot worse.
“So, where are we going?” I ask.
“You hungry?”
“Ha ha. That’s a dumb question.” I laugh.
“True. Let’s go to the Steel Grill. Biscuits and gravy sound good right now.” Keesha licks her lips and smacks them together.
“That does sound good. Hey, don’t you think we look a little obvious right now. Like we look like ditchers. I mean we have our backpacks and everything.” I feel like every car passing by is an undercover cop, like everybody is staring at us. I’m definitely paranoid.
“Well, I’m sure we look like we’re ditching ‘cause we are. We could ditch the backpacks too.” Keesha shrugs. “Maybe we won’t draw so much attention.”
“Uh, and where would you suggest we dump these suckers?” I shake my bag.
“Here.” She throws her backpack into some bushes near an old people’s home.
“No freakin’ way.”
I have a bad feeling about this.
“Who’s gonna look in the bushes on the off chance they might find a backpack full of class notes and an algebra two book?” Keesha’s words drip with sarcasm, always.
“Whatever. Let’s just go.” I roll my eyes and toss my backpack beside hers in the brush. “It better be here when we get back.”
I’m such a push-over, especially for biscuits and gravy.
We get a table at the Steel Grill and I’m surprised to see we’re only two of many students who appear to be missing first period. We’ve managed to find the hangout for morning ditchers. Actually, this is one of the few places within walking distance. There aren’t a lot of options when you don’t have a car, or a license.
A waitress comes by to take our drink orders and gives us place settings. We order our food too, biscuits and gravy with hash browns. The Steel Grill is definitely not a four-star restaurant. Maybe a one-star, if they’re lucky. The hard plastic cups are worn with actual bite marks around the rim. I’m not exaggerating this time. The silverware looks polka dotted with water spots. At least, this time there isn’t any leftover food crusted on them. The last time I was here I had to ask for a different fork twice before I got a semi-clean one.
“So did he call?” Keesha asks. I was wondering when this was going to come up.
We haven’t talked since Saturday afternoon when we left Steph’s house. Amy was probably too embarrassed to call any of us. It was either that, or she didn’t want to hear any of the crap we were likely to dish out. Keesha and I kept missing each other. Steph is on somewhat of a lockdown. Since Lydia is in trouble, it kinda trickles down to Steph too. That sucks because she’s the good one—out of all of us.
“Uh. Who?” I hesitate. I know who she’s asking about, but I don’t know where to begin.
“Don’t be stupid.” Keesh lowers her eyes at me. “You know who I’m talking about. So what’d he say?”
“Alex or Ben?” I throw it out there, knowing this will make her wild with questions.
Keesha’s eye widen, confused, yet intrigued. “Wait. Alex called you. And who is Ben?”
“Yeah, Alex called.” I begin. “And B.J. is Ben.”
“Speak to me, please. Make me understand ‘cause I may have a 4.0, but I don’t get what the hell you’re talking about.”
“You want Alex or Ben first?”
“Uh…Alex.” Keesha digs in to eat her food. When you order biscuits and gravy, your order comes super fast. They probably have a barrel of gravy in the kitchen.
“So, Alex called yesterday. I was surprised. He didn’t even have my number, but guess who gave it to him?”
I take a bite, enjoying the creaminess of the gravy…and the biscuits, you can never go wrong with bread.
“Amy or B.J., Ben, whatever?” I can tell she is anxious to hear the juicy details.
I hurry to swallow my food and continue. “Amy. She was upset ‘cause she thought we’d be mean to her. She thought we were going to gang up on her or something. Alex asked her what was wrong and she freakin’ told him I liked him and I was pissed at her ‘cause they hooked up.”
“She told him. She’s such a…blahhhh sometimes.” Keesh grunts.
“So yeah. She is. I felt like such a dumb ass. I didn’t know what to say. I can’t even believe he called to talk to me about it.” I cringe, still em
barrassed by the conversation I had with Alex. I stab a piece of biscuit with my fork and shove it into my mouth.
“So, what did he say?”
Keesha waits while I chew slowly, dragging out the suspense.
“He said he was sorry he didn’t have those kind of feelings for me. He said he didn’t know I had those kind of feelings for him.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. What else?” Keesh motions quickly with her hands, as if to say “give me more.”
“Anyway, he said he thought I was funny at the party and he liked talking to me. He said I’m way too nice for him and he’s not good enough for someone like me which was nice, I guess. But what does that say for Amy?”
“That she is a backstabbing beeyotch of a friend, so it doesn’t matter if she gets with this ass who is probably gonna screw her over anyway.”
“Wow. A little harsh,” I say, surprised. Keesh blurted out the words like she’d practiced them for days. “Anyway, he said he wants to be friends and hopes he can still talk to me without leading me on. He said I seem like a fun person to be around, so I told him okay.” I stab at another biscuit and hold it up. “It’s all gravy.”
“You’re such a goof, Meggie. So, you’re still going to talk to him? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why not?” I shrug. “That’s what I liked about him in the first place. He’s fun to talk to. Maybe he’s just better off as a friend than a boyfriend. I mean, look, he was nice enough to call. Most guys would’ve been like ‘whatever’, but he called.”
I smile thinking about being friends with Alex.
“Hmm. If you’re sure, but he better not hurt you or I’m gonna kick his cute ass. You know that don’t you?”
“Yes, I do Keesh. Thanks, Mommy.” I giggle. “You know, it wasn’t too bad talking to him. Kind of nice, really. Like talking to you or Steph. I felt like I’d talked to him a million times before. I just wonder what’s going to happen with him and Amy.”
“Yeah. I wonder what she’s gonna be like at lunch today.” Keesha nibbles on the inside of her cheek while she takes a moment to think. “You think she’ll sit with him or us?”
I pause, picturing more PDA between Amy and Alex during lunch. My stomach turns sour just thinking about it.
“I guess we’ll see later.”
“Wait a minute.” Keesha’s widens her eyes. “Tell me about B.J., or Ben…whatever his name is.”
Oh yeah. At least this story will take my mind off of the last thought long enough for me to hold down my breakfast.
“So that’s his real name.” I begin the story that still makes me laugh. “I guess his freshman year on football, there were two Bens, the other was a senior. So he got nicknamed Ben Junior, and the guys ended up calling him B.J. for short. It just stuck and I think since they’re a bunch of pervs, they like the name B.J. for other reasons too. You get me?”
Keesha smirks. “I get it. I’m sure they love calling one of their boys B.J..”
“So anyways, he said the guys are the only ones who call him that, so I can call him Ben or B.J., it doesn’t matter.”
“Well, must’ve been a hard choice.” She chuckles.
“Yeah, no kidding. Can you imagine my mom? Meg, there’s a B.J. on the phone.” I imitate my mom’s shrill voice.
We both laugh hysterically. My mom is so oblivious to things like that sometimes, she probably wouldn’t even realize what she was saying.
Keesh snorts causing us both to go into hysterics. She keeps snorting, and it’s like we can’t stop. It’s not even funny anymore, but we can’t stop laughing. I manage to take a sip of my drink to try and calm myself.
“Okay, okay, okay, I’m good. I’m done.” I have to wipe my eyes with a napkin. I take a deep breath so I can tame another outburst.
“Okay, no more laughing. Anyway, so what did you talk about?” She’s still giggling.
“Just random stuff. Nothing in particular. But we were on the phone for, like, almost two hours.”
Keesha laughs. “Crap. Is he gay?”
“What? Just because a guy talked to me for more than fifteen minutes, he’s gotta be gay?”
“Hey, I was just kidding. But really, is he?” Keesha is serious this time.
“No stupid. He’s not gay. Just nice, I guess.”
“So that was it, you just talked about nothing?”
“Well, he knew I liked Alex, but he just talked like it was no big thing. I didn’t even feel dumb.”
“Hmm, this could get interesting.” Keesha raises her brows up and down.
“Dang, we’ve been here forever.” I look at the time. I pause to take the last couple bites of my breakfast. “Should we go?”
It always takes us forever to get through a meal. We talk too much. Our food is usually cold before we finish it.
“I guess. If we leave now, we can make it back in time for third.”
Keesha and I get up from our booth, and head over to the counter to pay. There are still some students here, but most have already left.
Chapter Eight
I feel much better when we begin walking back to school. I’m over the fear. It’s just like walking to school in the morning, no big deal. My heart is beating normal, it isn’t racing like it was earlier.
Until…wait.
“How sick! Look at these tampons all tossed around, up and down the sidewalk,” I comment on the periscope-looking plastic applicators and cotton corks scattered around. “Hey do you remember when Amy’s sisters were playing with her tampons and pads?”
A while back, Amy’s little sisters got into a box of tampons from under the sink in the bathroom. They unwrapped them all and were pretending to be pirates looking for a buried treasure, peering through the applicator pushing it in and out. They also got into the sanitary pads, took the paper strips off the backs, and stuck them to different places around the house—X marks the spot is where the treasure was found. The treasure was the dynamite—or the cotton wads from the tampons. This story makes me smile every time I think about it.
“Yeah, I do. That was so funny. I thought Amy’s mom was going to die.” Keesh chuckles. She side-steps to avoid stepping on one of them. “At least they’re not used.”
“Sick!”
“Wa…Wait a minute,” Keesha says, as we both notice sheets of paper whisping away over lawns and into the street.
“Oh shit. Our bags.”
“Damn.” Keesha starts to jog over to the bush. I guess our secret hiding place wasn’t much of a secret.
As we get closer, I stumble upon one of my folders, some Spanish notes, headphones, and a few highlighters. All my crap is spread out all over the place. I guess the bush did not do a good job of hiding our stuff. That bush is fired.
We gather our things and stuff what’s left back into our bags. I’m only missing a calculator and my fake iPod—my cheap non-brand name MP3 player. Keesha is now heading back to school tamponless and without an algebra two book. So there is someone out there who wants to study the quadratic equation.
Karma.
There is that word again. This is what we get for ditching—our crap dumped out all over the street. I bet whoever found it was disappointed to find we’re losers without drugs, money, or even condoms. My money was with me. I don’t do drugs. And I don’t need any condoms, not yet anyway.
“Senorita Miller, como se dice pencil en espanol?” Mrs. O’Brien is apparently asking me.
I’m not paying attention. I’m barely catching my breath from running up the stairs to be in my seat on time. I don’t want to get detention for being tardy.
“Un lapis,” Amy answers for me.
Is she being nice? Trying to help me out? Or is she being a witch and trying to make me look bad?
“Gracias, Seńora Chapman, pero la proxima vez espere su turno,” she says, sternly.
Amy’s face turns slightly pink. She’s not used to teachers correcting her answers or her behavior. She’s usually treated like a freakin’ goddess in class
.
Spanish goes by fast. Reviewing basic words and simple phrases that can be used regularly in school. It’s a good thing I don’t need my notes. The work is easy, but it’s embarrassing to speak aloud.
Steph is the most embarrassed of all of us. Since she’s Mexican, I mean…American of Mexican descent, she is expected to know Spanish. And, she’s supposed to be able to speak it with an accent. However, Steph’s Spanish is about as good as ours. She is like fiftieth generation born here, she only knows English. No accent necessary.
Fourth period already? Wow, I can get used to this skipping class thing. It’s so easy. It can definitely become a habit, if it weren’t for the loads of work I’d miss.
ASB begins like usual. Utter chaos.
Students file in little by little, some grabbing lunch first before heading in. Since first lunch starts at the same time, some students opt to eat during class. It’s not like they’re going to get into trouble. It’s like we have free rein to do whatever we want. Well, maybe not us freshmen, but the seniors can definitely do whatever the hell they please.
Mr. Mitchell rings his own bell about fifteen minutes into the period. Everyone gathers into the classroom and waits for their name to be called. Mr. Mitchell always calls roll, every day at the same time. If you’re not here when he calls your name, you’re marked absent. I’m always here so it doesn’t matter much to me. I catch on quick though. Once he calls roll, students just come and go as they please, and some actually leave and never come back.
Before excusing everyone, the next project is announced—rally committee will begin working on the Homecoming Rally and the activities committee must get started with the dance. Like always, Steph and Amy part ways with me and Keesh, to meet up with our committees. All the details for the dance are pretty much complete. The place where the dance is held takes care of everything. So our committee chair just asks for volunteers to sell tickets at lunch. The upperclassmen fill the slots before Keesh and I have a chance to even raise our hands.
So I'm A Double Threat Page 5
