High School Hangover

by Stephanie Hale

  “Me, neither.”

  I highly doubt this is the first time Jack has woke up hung over and confused about where he is, but I don’t comment. It’s none of my business what Jack does; I just need him to help me figure out a way back home. It isn’t going to help either one of us if we keep fighting.

  “We need to get a hold of your mom,” Jack suggests.

  “Why do you say it like that?”

  “I just figured she’d be freaking out about you not coming home last night.”

  “No, I mean why did you say my mom and not my parents?”

  Jack runs his hands through his hair looking exasperated. “I don’t know. I guess somehow I knew your dad wasn’t in the picture.”

  “How? Did my mom say something when she sold your house?” I ask, thinking it would be like Mom to flaunt her newly-single status. Okay, it wouldn’t really be like her, but how else would Jack know such a personal detail about my life?

  “God, Dimples,” he slips and I give him a warning look. “Does everything have to be such an issue?”

  Now it is me pacing around the bench. I fantasize about whittling one of these tree branches down into a spear and stabbing Jack with it. Okay, not really, but he really does get on my last nerve.

  “People talk, okay? I’m sure you know all about me being poor,” he adds, looking at his shoes.

  Only Jack can take me from feeling pure unadulterated hatred one minute to absolute guilt the next. It’s truly a gift.

  “Mom isn’t expecting me until Monday,” I confess, dodging his comment.

  “That’s great,” he says, jumping up excitedly. “That’s plenty of time for us to get back.”

  “I plan to be back by tonight after my dad buys me a plane ticket home from the nearest airport,” I say confidently, although actually making that phone call terrifies me. I’ve never disappointed Dad, and I can’t imagine he is going to be proud of me for getting myself into this debacle.

  “Oh, right,” Jack says, an odd sadness tingeing his voice.

  “He’ll buy one for you, too.”

  “No way. I might never get the chance to hitchhike across two states again,” he says excitedly, like this is a good thing.

  I don’t say anything. I know this is about money. Dad wouldn’t even care if Jack paid him back, but I don’t mention this knowing it would make Jack feel worse. Even though he irritates every fiber of my being, there is no way I would deliberately hurt his feelings. I guess if Jack doesn’t want to fly I can’t force him, although I would feel weird leaving him behind to fend for himself.

  “How about we go grab some breakfast, lunch, or whatever they’re serving and talk about it more. I don’t know about you but I can’t function on an empty stomach,” I say, trying to be light and cheery.

  Jack looks even more miserable at my suggestion. “I don’t have any money.”

  “No biggie. I’ve got some graduation money with me. You can pay me back when we get home,” I say, not wanting him to think its charity.

  “Are you sure?” he asks from underneath those thickly hooded lashes. For a second, my knees wobble at how absolutely adorable he looks. I quickly recover brushing it off as low blood sugar.

  “Sure. I could never eat alone,” I tease.

  He gives me a wink and we head off toward a questionable looking diner with a neon pink sign flashing in the window.

  *****

  I notice more than a few forks stop in mid-bite as we stroll into the diner. I can only imagine what a train wreck I must look like. Of course, Jack annoyingly fills out his tux like his life depends on it. Not that I’m checking him out or anything.

  This establishment, and I use that word very loosely, looks in need of a serious cleaning and I would be amazed if they scored above a D on their last health inspection, but I try not to think about any of that because I’m famished. You can almost reach out and touch the grease hanging in the air, but I’m so hungry I would eat anything they’d serve me.

  “Morning,” Jack says to no one in particular, tipping his hat. He ushers me to a booth in the corner and I slide in carefully, the sequins on my dress catching on a few of the cracks from the well-worn booth.

  I pull a napkin from the dispenser and lay it gently on the booth seat, delicately setting my purse on top of it. I’m so thankful I decided to take some of my graduation money last night. I didn’t want to mooch meals off Erika’s family all weekend so I stuck a hundred dollars in my billfold to cover everything. I can’t imagine how scary it would be to be so far away with absolutely no money. I guess things really could be worse.

  A rough-looking waitress tosses some stain-covered menus down on the table along with two glasses of ice water. I grab mine and drink it down before I even realize I was thirsty.

  “What can I get you?” she asks before we’ve even had a chance to pick up the menus.

  “Well, Dot,” Jack says charmingly, noticing her nametag. “What would you suggest?”

  I almost laugh thinking there’s no way Jack’s going to crack through her titanium exterior when she smiles at him like he’s just told her she won a million dollars or something. Unbelievable. I shake my head and grab my menu.

  “Our barbeque is the best in Texas,” she boasts.

  My mouth waters at her suggestion. But it seems inappropriate to eat barbeque wearing a formal gown.

  “I’ll have the barbeque,” Jack says, without even opening his menu. “And the biggest glass of sweet tea you can find.”

  “You got it,” she chirps, not even writing Jack’s order down, which is one of my total pet peeves. I mean, who is she trying to impress? Every time I go out to eat and the server doesn’t write my order down, it gets screwed up.

  “And for you, Ginger Rogers,” she jokes, but I don’t miss her underlying tone. She’s probably grouchy because she didn’t go to college and ended up working this dead end job. Now that I look closer at her, she doesn’t look more than five years older than me. Yikes. I can’t imagine how horrible it would be having this greasy diner as your life every day.

  “I’ll have a cheeseburger and French fries,” I tell her, deducing that there is nothing on the menu under a thousand calories. “And I’d like American cheese, but only if it’s real American, none of that processed garbage. And the burger cooked medium well, but pretty well, I don’t want to see any pink.”

  Dot and Jack look at me with their mouth’s hanging open. I realize I forgot my drink.

  “Oh, bring me a large glass of orange juice but only if it’s no pulp. If it has pulp, forget it and bring me a Coke. But only Coke, no Pepsi. And if you don’t have either, I’ll have water.” I close my menu and hand it out to her. She exchanges a glance with Jack and they both hide smirks. She slides Jack’s menu off the table and bolts to the kitchen where I hear howling laughter.

  “I don’t appreciate you making fun of me,” I tell Jack.

  “You have to admit, that order was a little over the top,” he jokes.

  “What? I like what I like.” I say, offended. I know it shouldn’t bother me that Jack is ganging up on me with some random waitress but I can’t help it.

  “Let’s not do this,” Jack says. I ignore him and start building something out of sugar packets, jelly tubs and toothpicks. “I love that you do that, you should really be an architect.”

  His offhand comment makes me lose my concentration and all the condiments crash into a heap. As if Jack McAllister knows the first thing about me.

  Luckily Dot interrupts our awkward moment by plopping a plump orange with a straw sticking out the top of it in front of me.

  She tries not to laugh as she gives Jack his sweet tea in a giant boot-shaped glass. Jack makes a weird noise when he sees my orange then covers his mouth with his hand when he notices I’m not amused.

  “I’m not paying for this,” I call to Dot’s retreating back. I slide the orange over to the side by my heap of condiments. “Won’t she be in for a shock when she realizes who’s tippi
ng her?”

  “Oh, Laney, lighten up. She’s having some fun with you,” Jack says, offering me a sip of tea before he takes one. I shake my head no and sip on my water.

  “Whatever. So if my dad doesn’t come through, what’s your brilliant plan for getting us home?” I ask him, even though I know Dad will rescue us, no questions asked.

  “We hitchhike,” he says, between sips. He even has the nerve to smile like this is a good idea.

  “You’re actually being serious, aren’t you?” I envision a newspaper headline about our mutilated bodies being found on a deserted stretch of highway somewhere. People will wonder how a valedictorian could be dumb enough to get into a car with a serial killer. I’ll be a dead laughing stock.

  “We’ll be together so we’ll be safe,” he says, sliding his iced tea away from him to make way for the giant platter of barbeque Dot is setting in front of him. She curtsies before sliding my burger down in front of me. I ignore her, praying that she hasn’t tampered with my food because I’m famished. I pull the top bun off and surmise that everything looks normal so I take my first bite. It is greasy, cheesy heaven on a bun.

  I’m immersed in my burger and Jack in his barbeque so we don’t talk for several minutes. I can honestly say it might be the best time I’ve ever spent with him. I’m not even worried about his stupid hitchhiking plan because it is totally hypothetical, not that Jack knows that. The second I can get a moment away from him, I’m calling my dad. He’ll fly us home, no questions asked, and this nightmare will be over forever. I’m not quite sure how I’m going to get Jack to agree to accompany me to the airport, but I’ll figure all that out after I finish this amazing meal.

  I can’t imagine what a sight I am in an evening gown with grease dripping down my arms. I catch it with a wad of napkins before it can stain the dress. Jack must think I’m a mess. But when I glance over to him I realize I have nothing to worry about. Jack ditched his jacket and rolled up the sleeves on his white dress shirt to really go crazy on his barbeque. By nothing less than an act of God, his shirt is pristine but his mouth and cheeks are covered in random barbeque sauce stains. We take one look at each other and crack up.

  “I better go clean up,” he says, licking his fingers. Nothing but a carcass of sauce-less bones remain on his plate. I don’t even have to ask if it was good.

  “I’ll go when you get back,” I say, watching him walk away. I grab my packet of wet wipes out of my purse and wipe down my arms and hands. I’m hoping there is a phone by the restrooms where I can call my dad in secret.

  I pull my wallet out of my purse and unsnap it to get out some money. I figure letting Jack go pay the bill will buy me some more time as well as save his ego as he seems so hung up about the money thing. I pull back the slot where my cash is kept to find it empty. My pulse picks up as I rifle through all the other slots to find them empty as well. Silently praying, I undo my change holder, thinking maybe I stuck the cash in there by accident, but knowing full well I didn’t, as I would never mix paper currency and coins. It contains a whopping fifty-four cents. Now in a full blown panic, I shove my plate over to Jack’s side of the table and dump out the contents of my purse.

  I don’t even care that I’m starting to get some curious looks from the other diners. I’m weeding through lip balm, tissues, bandages, a sewing kit, a few granola bars and a bottle of water, hoping upon hope to find my missing wad of money. I may not remember a lot of things about last night, but I know I put five twenty dollar bills in here before I left my house with Erika. Somebody stole it.

  “What is going on?” Jack asks, sliding back into the booth.

  I lift my tear-filled eyes up to meet his and my lids hit their saturation point. Tears roll over the rims and down my cheeks.

  “Don’t cry,” Jack says, glancing around at my purse contents. “Hurry, put everything back in your purse and go to the bathroom and get cleaned up. Everything will be okay.” I shovel everything back into my purse and scurry off toward the bathroom without asking what Jack has planned. This fiasco just got upgraded from bad to catastrophic.

  I swing around the corner to a narrow hallway. One door is marked with a wooden bull plaque and the other adorned with a cow. There is no pay phone to be found. My tears are flowing like the Mississippi now and I push open the cow door and run for the handicapped stall. I collapse into a sobbing, sequined mess on the closed toilet seat. This is the most insane situation ever. Now Jack and I will probably be arrested and I’ll have a criminal record that will follow me for the rest of my life.

  I cry until my tear ducts hurt then splash some water on my face, attempt to tame my frizzy hair and wipe away the last of yesterday’s mascara remnants. If Leo saw me now I would want to die on the spot. I head back to the table feeling a little better now that I’ve got food in my belly and have cleaned up a bit.

  Dot is busy clearing the plates off our table and Jack is nowhere to be found. I glance out the front window to see if maybe he is waiting outside for me, but he isn’t out there. Dot sees me and flashes an enormous grin. That’s when I realize that Jack pulled a dine and dash and left me to take the blame.

  “I didn’t figure you’d be a big tipper but this is ridiculous,” Dot sneers.

  “I’m really sorry. Listen, I can have my dad mail you a check for the bill,” I plead, knowing that the cops are probably already on their way.

  “Don’t sweat it, fancy pants. Your boyfriend’s got it covered,” she says, breezing by me with armfuls of our dishes.

  “What do you mean he’s got it covered?” I follow her back into the kitchen area. I’m sure there are strict rules about no patrons in this part of the restaurant but I have to find out what she is talking about. “And he’s not my boyfriend,” I clarify.

  “Well, excuse me,” she says, dumping the dishes in a huge plastic bin towering with stacks of dirty plates, glasses, and silverware. “If she isn’t your girlfriend, why are you going to all this trouble for her?”

  I don’t have the slightest clue what she’s talking about or who she’s talking to until I see Jack standing at a large double sink wearing a rubber apron over his tux pants and dress shirt. His jacket is draped over a nearby cardboard box.

  “Hey, Laney,” he says, pulling his rubber-glove covered hands out of a sink full of suds to give me a wave.

  “Jack,” I shout, never in my life as happy to see another human being as I am at this moment. I have an uncontrollable desire to hug him but I restrain myself. It’s enough knowing that he didn’t leave me to fend for myself.

  “I’m working off our lunch,” he brags, scrubbing a plate then spraying it off with clean water.

  I blow out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and make my way over to him. “They said this was okay?” I whisper.

  “The owner wasn’t too happy but Dot convinced him we were kids in a bad situation and he caved. I think she’s sweet on me,” he confides.

  It dawns on me that maybe that’s why she was being so mean to me because she likes Jack. I can’t figure out why people always assume we’re a couple. If she only knew how little competition I was, maybe she would like me better. None of that matters because Jack found us a way out of our bill and no one is going to jail, so it’s all good. I set my purse down on top of Jack’s jacket and grab a towel to start drying the dishes.

  “If somebody would have told me yesterday that I would be a thousand miles away doing dishes with Jack McAllister, I probably would’ve smacked them,” I tell Jack, getting a good laugh.

  “Yeah, and to think I was supposed to spend the weekend helping my dad mow lawns,” Jack adds, but instead of laughing, he looks worried.

  “Should you call your parents?” I ask, realizing that Jack made sure Mom’s feelings were taken into consideration but I hadn’t given his parents a second thought.

  “They’re probably kind of freaking. I never stay out past eleven.”

  His confession stuns me. Jack has always dangled on the highest rung
of popularity at school and I always pictured him having a nonstop social life.

  “We’ll find a phone after this, okay?” I volunteer, knowing that if he’s this worried about his parents, he won’t fight me when I manage to wrangle two airline tickets home.

  “My dad really counts on me to help out,” he says, scrubbing on a stubborn stain. “Man, I totally blew it.”

  Jack is always so confident and unapologetic that this side of him strikes a nerve in me. I guess I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to let my dad down.

  “Everything will be fine,” I promise, even though I know I’m kind of full of crap right now.

  “Our lives have kind of turned upside down since my dad lost his business.” He almost seems on automatic pilot washing and rinsing the dishes. I follow his lead and dry and stack them into neat piles.

  “What happened?” I ask, figuring its okay to ask since he was the one who brought it up.

  “He suspected that another local business was stealing from its customers,” Jack says, his neck turning red near the collar.

  “Were they?” I ask, intrigued.

  “He could never prove it.”

  “I’m confused. How did that affect your dad’s business?”

  “My dad went to the police with his suspicions but they told him he needed proof. The guy he was accusing found out and blackballed him around town,” Jack explains, a vein in his temple pulsing. “This guy started a rumor that my dad was a thief and within months his home security business was on the rocks.” Jack runs a soapy glove through his hair in frustration.

  “That’s so unfair. I’m sorry, Jack.” I’m lucky that I’ve never had to worry about money because Dad has always taken such good care of me and Mom. I can’t imagine the burden that experience must have added to Jack’s life. I guess I never stopped to think about what he may have been going through at home.

  “It is what it is,” Jack says cryptically.

  “What business was this that your dad thought was stealing from its customers?” I will make sure Mom never patronizes them again.

  Jack’s entire body tenses. A plate slips out of his hand and back into the sudsy water. I have the distinct feeling this was the wrong question to ask.