High School Hangover

by Stephanie Hale

  “Laney, let me explain,” Jack says under his breath so everyone doesn’t hear him.

  Bernie hooks his arm in mine and gives Jack a look to let him know that he’s tired of sharing me tonight.

  “Leave me alone, Jack,” I reply, turning my head away from him. I can’t believe I thought he wanted to kiss me. I wish I was home so that I’d never have to face Jack again.

  “Park it somewhere, Romeo. We’ve gotta scram. The owner said he’s calling the fuzz,” Kris warns. Jack wanders off to the back of the bus looking miserable.

  Chapter Nine

  Between worrying about Ginger peeing the bed, Trudy’s horrible snoring, and the humiliation of almost kissing Jack against his will, I got zero sleep last night. I skipped the continental breakfast so I wouldn’t have to face Jack before we got on the bus. I wander down to the lobby, peeking around every corner so that I don’t end up alone with Jack.

  I still don’t know how I got myself into such a humiliating position in the first place. I’m so out of my comfort zone living out this geriatric version of The Hangover that I think I’m kind of losing it. It’s the only explanation I can think of for how I could have misread Jack so badly that I thought he wanted to kiss me back. He practically ran away from me like we were in first grade and I had cooties.

  I don’t know what to think or who to believe anymore. I just want to go home. I don’t know how I’m ever going to start fresh at college when I can’t read people any better than I can read Chinese.

  “Bus is leaving in five minutes,” Kris says, startling me. I wonder how long I’ve been standing here in the hotel lobby staring at this map like a comatose freak.

  “Talk to him,” he whispers. Oh, great. Now Jack is dragging the seniors into my humiliation. Luckily, a family of four bursts into the lobby. Two little boys slowly make their way toward Kris with looks of pure wonder on their faces.

  “Santa,” one of the boys says in awe. His bright blue eyes are completely glassed over when he sees Kris. The little boy’s brother joins him in amazement by popping his thumb in his mouth and staring at Kris like he is the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

  “Well, hello there,” Kris says in a voice that practically oozes hot chocolate. I have to turn around to make sure it’s not actually the big guy in the red suit. But it’s just Kris, dressed in khaki cargo shorts, a Hawaiian print shirt, and tennis shoes. Kind of like what Santa would look like if the North Pole burnt down and he got his clothes at a Key West thrift shop.

  “I’ve been good,” the little boy declares. His parents nod in agreement. “My widdle brover has too,” the boy confirms. It doesn’t appear his younger sibling will be speaking for himself because that would require taking his thumb out of his mouth and there is no way that is happening.

  “I know you have been. You keep up the good work for a few more months and I’ll leave you some wonderful presents,” Kris assures him. The little boy’s eyes light up at the mention of gifts.

  “Maybe your mom wants to take a picture of us together,” Kris offers. The woman nods her head vigorously and starts snapping away with her cell phone as Kris bends down and puts an arm around each child.

  I feel like I’m the one witnessing a Christmas miracle. Kris must be a total kid magnet everywhere he goes. It’s so sweet the way he keeps Santa alive for the kids all year long.

  The parents thank Kris and wander off to check in. The boys keep their eyes peeled on Santa until we walk outside to the bus.

  “That was really sweet,” I tell him.

  “There isn’t a whole lot of magic left in the world. I’m doing my part to keep it alive,” he says humbly.

  For a second, I almost believe that he really is Santa and I’m tempted to ask him for an early Christmas present. The only thing I want is to see Dad today. Seeing Dad would help me feel like everything is going to be okay. I’ll just have to make do with seeing where he lives for now.

  I bolt to the bus before Kris tries to talk about last night.

  No one else is on the bus except Milly. She is the last person I want to sit with for three hours but if I choose an empty row then Jack might get on and sit with me. Milly groans as I sit down, confirming that the feeling is indeed mutual.

  “Kiss and make up,” Milly says, pulling her purse strap out from under my butt.

  “I told you, we’re friends,” I clarify. “Besides, it’s none of your business.”

  “It is when it affects my life. Jack was slamming around cereal boxes and silverware this morning like somebody pissed in his Wheaties. When one person is grouchy in this bunch, everybody’s grouchy. And trust me, you don’t want that,” she tells me.

  “Drop it. And stop being so mean to Ginger.”

  “Why is everyone so concerned about poor Ginger?” she huffs. “All I ever hear about is those damn grandchildren of hers. What’s so great about grandkids anyway?”

  I want to yell at her for slamming Ginger but then I realize how much it must hurt to be at her age and not have anyone who cares about you to show for it. Then I get a great idea that almost makes me excited to be secluded for three hours with a busload of seniors and a guy I tried to kiss that blew me off. Almost.

  “Kris was totally checking you out at the pool yesterday.”

  “Everybody was checking me out,” she says confidently. But I notice the way one of her drawn-on eyebrows arches and I know she’s really thinking about what I said. “Besides, I like Dom.”

  “Yeah, I guess you could have your pick around here,” I say, as if the males on this trip are a real buffet of eye candy.

  The others start to climb on and pick seats. Bernie gives Milly a dirty look when he sees I already have a seat mate but Ginger pulls him down and starts chatting him up.

  I see Jack bound on the bus and quickly turn the other direction. I see him plop down, looking dejected.

  I avoid looking at Jack when he climbs on. I see him out of the corner of my eye, lingering in the aisle. At least I’m safe for three more hours.

  “That was awesome when you put your dentures in the water glass then asked the waiter for a new glass of water. I thought I would die. Classic,” Ginger compliments Milly.

  Milly doesn’t say anything but I can tell that her crusty exterior has softened a bit by Ginger’s compliment. While I’m completely repulsed by the prank, it’s nice to see these two finally getting along.

  “Memphis, here we come, yeah?” Dom shouts, clapping his hands together. Dom is always pretty agreeable but he seems to be very excited this morning. I guess he must be a big Elvis fan.

  “We’re going to Graceland, Archie. That’s where Elvis Presley lived,” Ginger says, leaning over the aisle to where Archie is sitting.

  “No shit, Ginger. I’m the one who suggested we go there,” Archie answers, rolling his eyes dramatically. His expression is especially comical because of his enormously bushy eyebrows. As much as I want to be back home, I’m really going to miss this bunch.

  “I guess he knows what the hell is going on again today,” Milly remarks, looking relieved.

  I sneak a glance at Jack, who is sharing a seat with Archie. Archie stretches his veiny arm behind Jack and pats him on the shoulder. I guess I’m not the only one Jack started growing on.

  Kris fires up the bus and we get back on the highway. I spend the next three hours avoiding Jack’s puppy-dog stares and singing Kris’s praises to Milly. If I can hook these two up, it might make everyone else’s life a little easier. It’s the least I can do for Ginger, Trudy, Archie, Bernie and Dom after everything they’ve done for us. Besides, I think Milly and Kris might actually make each other happy. Kris is a sweet guy who is a kid magnet, so in a way, Milly could get to be the grandma she never was.

  “If you take a right on Winchester then go straight east, it’ll take you toward the airport and Laney’s dad lives close to the airport,” Kris tells Jack. We’ve pulled into a Graceland parking lot off Elvis Presley Boulevard. Jack decided it would be
best for us to drop the seniors off first so that my non-visit with my dad doesn’t cut into their tour of Graceland.

  “Okay, got it,” Jack replies confidently. He is standing next to Kris, waiting for him to abandon his post.

  “On second thought, I’ll run you kids over there and catch up with the tour later,” Kris says, not moving.

  Kris’s hesitation makes me nervous because I know it has nothing to do with not trusting Jack with the bus. Some of the neighborhoods we drove through to get here looked a bit rough. It’s so weird how houses can go from diamonds to turds in the matter of two streets. Not that I have to worry about Dad’s place because I know his condo is divine. Anyplace named “Orange Grove Estates” screams ritzy.

  “They’ll be fine, Kris. Let’s go,” Milly tempts him. She pulls on his arm until he finally bounds off the bus looking conflicted.

  “I think Kris is right, yeah? I’m gonna ride wit you kids,” Dom announces. Kris seems to breathe easier immediately.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Jack insists.

  “I’d feel better if he came,” I say, trying to get Bernie out of his seat. As dicey as some of the neighborhoods looked. I just don’t want to be alone with Jack.

  “Okay, yeah, it’s settled then,” Dom says, taking a seat directly behind the driver’s seat.

  Jack forces back a frown as he slides into the driver’s seat. What could he possibly want to talk to me about anyway? He didn’t want to kiss me. End of story.

  “Bernie, you have to get off,” I say, pulling on the sleeve of his polo shirt.

  “I want to go with you,” he insists. “I didn’t like Elvis when he was alive, why in the world would I care about him when he’s dead?”

  The man has a point. “What about Esther? Did she like Elvis?” I ask, purposely pulling on Bernie’s heartstrings. If Dad happens to be here and decides to take me home, Bernie would have a fit. I know it’s mean to leave without saying goodbye, but I don’t want a big scene.

  “Love Me Tender was her favorite song,” he reminisces. “She would roll over in her grave if she knew I was here and didn’t go in,” he admits.

  “So go. I’ll be back,” I promise. I feel so guilty that I can’t meet his waterlogged eyes.

  “Bring her back safe,” he demands of Jack, poking him in the shoulder with his cane. He gives me a last look then carefully maneuvers his way off the bus to join the others. I notice Ginger staring wistfully at Dom as we pull away, which doesn’t help ease my guilt much.

  I tell Jack and Dom the address I’ve had memorized for three years. Dad insisted on putting me up in an expensive hotel when I came down last spring for my college visit because his place was under renovation, so I never actually got to see it. Maybe seeing his place will make me feel closer to him.

  I stroke the buttery exterior of my purse in anticipation. I’m so glad that I didn’t have to end up pawning it. The neighborhoods are a blur as we zip through them. I doubt Jack would admit it, but I bet he’s kind of glad that Dom is with us.

  Jack whips the bus into a cul de sac in front of four rundown brick buildings. He stops then turns to me, smiling.

  “We’re here,” he announces.

  I look at the decrepit building and realize Jack must have made a terrible mistake. A giant sign in the lawn says Orange Grove Estates and the building directly left of the bus has the address number I memorized. Maybe there are some fabulous condominiums hidden behind this dump.

  “We’re going to go with you,” Jack insists, and Dom nods, charging off the bus. I think Dom might possibly be more excited about this than I am. Especially now.

  I walk down the broken sidewalk toward the battered apartment units. Dead plants, half-torn down Christmas lights, and lots of cigarette butts litter the common area around the building. My dad is in unit C, which appears to be on the third level. I timidly climb the steps, hearing shouting come from a nearby unit. Dom either doesn’t hear it or it doesn’t faze him because he continues up, struggling a bit especially since he’s got his machine to carry. Jack throws me an eager smile but I can tell he is trying too hard for it to be real.

  When we finally make it to unit C, I don’t even want to knock on the paint-chipped door. I could leave and Dad would never know I was even here.

  But I’ve already humiliated myself in front of Jack enough. I don’t know why Dad has this dump listed as his address but there has to be a reasonable explanation. I knock gently on the worn-out wooden door that looks like one good kick would split it right in two.

  “What?” a woman yells, throwing the door open. She reminds me of a middle-aged, helmet-haired Snooki, except she’s blonde. Well, kind of blonde, if you don’t count the black three-inch roots. She startles me and I jump back a bit. Jack steadies me as I eyeball her excessively long, zebra-striped fingernails. She could probably dissect me with those things if she wanted to.

  “I’m sorry to bother you. We must have the wrong apartment,” I apologize, thankful that I have Dom and Jack behind me because I’m suddenly terrified.

  She stands there popping her gum at me, her lilac eye shadow-caked eyes narrowed evilly.

  “That’s my bag,” she says outraged, reaching for my purse.

  “No, it isn’t,” I say, jerking back.

  She lunges at me, getting a nail stuck between the purse straps and my shoulder. I tug away and her nail pops off and lands on a welcome mat so dirty I can’t even make out what the picture used to be.

  “Give me my bag,” she screams, a very unattractive vein bulging in her forehead. I’m about to surrender the purse to her and grab the guys and run for the bus when Dom interrupts.

  “Where’s Archer?” he demands, in a powerful voice I don’t recognize.

  I’m not the only one taken back by Dom’s forcefulness because the woman immediately backs into her apartment and tries to slam the door shut. This is a happy turn of events until Dom’s palm blocks her from shutting the door.

  “Archer,” she screams.

  How weird. She lives with somebody that has the same name as my dad. But my dad would never spend time with someone so, so, un-Mom like. I literally cannot imagine such polar opposites. Dom shoves the door open and I spot Dad trying to unlock a sliding glass patio door. The look on his face is pure panic and I feel like I did yesterday morning when I woke up in the back of that truck.

  “You aren’t going anywhere, Wentworth,” Dom yells. “Cuz I got your purdy little daughter with me.”

  Dad stops messing with the door lock long enough to look up and see me standing in the doorway. He looks terrible. He must have lost twenty pounds since the last time I saw him. Purple bags droop under his eyes. I’ve never thought of my dad as looking old until now.

  “Oh my God, Laneybug. Did he hurt you?” he asks, pulling me into his chest.

  I fantasized about this moment for so long but everything is off. I don’t know this person who is hugging me. I have so many questions.

  “I didn’t touch a hair on her head. Whadda think I am, an animal? She’s actually a sweet little thing. Takes after her mudder, I’d guess,” Dom says.

  I pull out of Dad’s arms. “Do you two know each other?” I ask in amazement.

  Dad stands there looking like a beat dog. Dom seems to slip back into the person I’ve known for the last twenty-four hours.

  “Listen, Miss Laney, I hate having to pull you into this, but when I heard yous talking about this guy being your pops,” he says, pointing at Dad, “I jus’ had da come and see for myself it if was really the same lowlife who owes me thirty thousand dollas,” Dom explains.

  “Why do you owe him thirty thousand dollars?” I ask, calmly. Even as I ask the question, things are starting to click into place; our online poker matches, Dad moving so far away, and Mom wanting me to change my name. She must have been terrified someone like Dom was going to come looking for me if Dad didn’t pay him back. I suck in a sharp breath as the realization that my dad is not an international busine
ssman, but a con-man, sinks in.

  “Dom, this doesn’t have anything to do with Laney. We’re leaving,” Jack demands, although I detect a slight tremor in his voice.

  “I’m not gonna lay a hand on none of ya’s. I’m jus’ here to prove a point. I told ya I’d find ya, and I did,” he points at Dad. “Me and you is gonna work out a little repayment plan.”

  “You’re a compulsive gambler, aren’t you?” I ask Dad. He looks so pathetic in a stained T-shirt and too big sweats.

  “Laney, I never meant to hurt you,” he pleads, trying to touch me. I move back, right into Jack’s arms, although it doesn’t even register how good they feel because I am so numb at the realization that everything out of my father’s mouth has been a lie.

  “I don’t even know who you are,” I yell at him. In a fit of rage, I unzip my purse and stuff all my belongings into the pockets of the capris I borrowed from Milly. I throw the now-empty purse at the zebra-claw lady, who is sitting disinterested on the rundown couch watching Jerry Springer.

  “Sweet,” she says excitedly. I can’t believe that the beloved present Dad got me for graduation was actually something he stole from his shady girlfriend. I should have pawned the worthless thing back in Texas.

  “Don’t call me,” I tell Dad, bolting from the apartment with Jack on my heels. I hear Dad yelling for me but I keep running down the rickety stairs until I make it back to the bus. I smack the folding door and it opens enough for me to squeeze through. I want to collapse onto the seat and sob, but instead I sit perfectly still and keep my emotions in check. I’ve been humiliated quite enough on this trip and I’m not going to start bawling like an idiot and make it worse now.

  My whole life has imploded within the last few days. I used to think I knew everything and had it all figured out, but now I don’t even know what I’m doing tomorrow. Everything and everyone I thought I knew so well were illusions.