Before I know it a blue, rusted, scratched Thunderbird is sailing over the crest that leads to the school fire lane. It’s the kind of car you can hear before you see, and I don’t mean in that cool, sexy “vroom vroom” kind of way. No, it sounds more like an old man getting the wind knocked out of him then followed by a chaotic orchestra of squeaks and squeals. A plague of noxious, sputtering gas pops and spurts out of the bent exhaust pipe as a grimy cloud bursts out from the back with a cough. Tissues, soda cans, a guitar out of its case, a woman out of her wits,various articles of clothing, flip flops, dog beds, and old candy wrappers litter the floor of the old thing.
Screeching to a halt, two bunny slippers with mismatched googly-eyes dangling from the crooked rear-view mirror threaten to burst through the windshield. Replacing her huge sunglasses with reading glasses, and checking her lips in the mirror, she climbs out of the car with it running as the doors lock behind her.
“Oop, that’s gonna be a problem later!” She says with a smile disguised under four pounds of red lipstick.
The school has a large problem in the front office, the problem is that it is full of TA’s. A bit of information, Aunt Avril is in no way related to me, she is everyone’s Aunt Avril. She plays some songs in the local coffee shops and is on call for getting kids out of school. I’m sure that the teachers know about it, but are too busy to care as long as they aren’t responsible for what is going on outside of school. Snatching the notes from Andrew she waddles her bulbous behind up the steps and into the front doors, her heels clicking along the cement. Lou, Andrew and I sneak around to the window just outside the attendance office, concealing ourselves in the shrubbery. Peering over the sill, I can just make out the burst of curly blonde hair and the highschool girl at the front desk grinning ear to ear slyly. We can hear Avril’s hardy laugh ringing through the glass, her leopard print blouse jumping up and down, magically and thankfully hanging on for dear life to the top of her breasts with each wail of uncontrollable laughter. She leans over the counter, fake boobs daring to pop out of the top as she places her elbow firmly atop the grey table. Her back curves to a C-shape, emphasizing the heavy woman’s stretch marks around her hips that her black, fake leather jeans have left behind.
Lou and I turn to each other, trying to contain our laughter. The next time I look up, Avril is gone and the front doors swing open. We run over to her.
“What did you say? Did it work?” Andrew eagerly pries. Before she even pays attention to what he has to say, she sticks a finger in the air telling him to wait, and runs over and presses the handicap door opener, pretending it was through mental power that she opened the door.
“It worked fine baby.” She said, a wad of gum lodged in her cheek.
“What did Addy say?” Addy is the girl that works in the front office for her first period, she’s biased of course, as most kids are, to allow Aunt Avril get us out of school. As I recall, Avril has done the same for Addy a number of times.
“She winked and said ‘stay out of trouble and good luck at the coffee hut’. Which reminds me; you’re not getting out to do drugs or anything, right?” All of our eyes widen. “Ah, I’m just kidding.” After a moment of shaking off her “sense of humor”, we gingerly slip away onto the hot sidewalk and start heading towards my house. I’ll be lucky if my mother has a job today - I’ll be even luckier if she is out of the house this early in the morning.
“Why do we even need Lou to call in for you after Avril already cleared us?” I roll my eyes at Andrew, of course he wouldn’t know.
“Because, if the school decides to call home just to clarify and my mom answers the phone, we are in a crap-ton of trouble.” The retort comes so quickly I hardly have to think about it. Even though we have Addy in the office and Avril vouching for us, this school has gotten used to the tricks. Sometimes they let it go, sometimes the kid is kind of just a lost cause so the staff shrug it off and expect to see that kid repeating the class next year. But then you have kids like me, kids that turn everything in a day early, annoy the heck out of teachers, but scrape by with a steady B.
The solution? We run like it is the end of the world, a chasm of death nipping at the heels of my tattered shoes. Internally I am praying that my mom has left for work. On the outside? I have no idea how I am acting. I’m just running light a fat kid seeing a doughnut for the first time in a month. And ironically - running in this heat is making me feel like going into cardiac arrest. It is so goddang hot out, even for southern Cali.
By the time we are a block away from my pathetic excuse of a house, my chest feels like the life has been squeezed out of it. If I didn’t write myself notes for getting out of P.E. so often, my sides might not be burning right now.
Crap. Karen’s thoughts have officially invaded my head.
As if by some magic - dare I say - force, the second the screen door to my house clicks shut, the wall phone rings.
“Dude, that phone belongs to like, Jesus or something.” Both Lou and I turn to Andrew. He gets dumber by the second, I swear to God. “What?”
“Shut up, Freak.” Lou spits, clearly annoyed. He had been blabbering the whole way here, but my poor physique muted most of Andrew’s… Comments. By the fourth and final ring, Lou is able to reach the phone. “Quinn residence, Karen speaking.” She does this really creepy-accurate imitation of how my mom answers the phone. Obviously (and to my discomfort) it sounds like she has had experience in voicing Miss Quinn. Like I said - creepy.
Ok, so while she is on the phone let me tie up some loose ends. We all know that her “secret” crush is me. Yeah? She just has this way of being really dramatic about it. And I know that it’s wrong - but I find it really amusing to see her act that way. I guess I shouldn’t complain about not having a girlfriend because of Lou being, as she would say, “so close yet so far”. However, not to be mean or anything but… I really don’t find Lou all that attractive. I mean, she is good-looking, don’t get me wrong, but she just doesn’t put any… effort into herself. I respect the whole being comfortable in your own skin thing, but… I don’t know, she’s a friend. And I think that’s how I want to keep it. Besides, if she really likes a guy, she flirts. Big time. I remember in seventh grade she had this huge crush on the school jock. You know who I’m talking about - selfless, perfect teeth, football (and lady) player - the whole package. She wore a mini-skirt for like two weeks trying to catch his eye. Not gonna lie - the girl has nice legs.
Still, I can’t say that I’m into her. I mean… Maybe if I focus I can be. But, nah. Not when you have a Lacey Memming trotting around school in her high waisted shorts and a white tee. Simple, elegant - I’m in love. I mean, she has a boyfriend, but once I woo her; boom, instant romance.
That leaves Lou with nobody, though. It does make me feel bad, but she can hook up with whoever she wants - you know, if she puts her mind to it. Whatever, her love life isn’t my problem and the odds of me and Lacey are astronomical so… I suppose this whole rant was for nothing. Just wasting time while my friend-girl chats on the phone like my mom would. Another reason I don’t want face-mash with her: she can act just like my mother. No son should ever, and I mean ever, want to snuggle like that with his mom. If you do… Well, I don’t know.
Get help.
911.
Something.
(Now that I think about it… I think Andrew had the hots for my mom when he was like, twelve. I still shiver at the thought.)
Distracting me from my unpleasant thoughts, the familiar cling-clang reassures me that the dreadful phone conversation has finally come to a conclusion. Freak looks at Lou in an awestruck sort of way, like the time she showed up to school with her hair actually done as opposed to it’s usual bed-head-meatball-on-the-head kind of bun. Andrew did everything but drool on her that day. Now it’s less of a I want you face and more of a what the actual heck kind of expression written all over him.
“I’m in drama this year, get over yourselves!” Welcome back feisty Lou, welcome back. I’ll admit, there is a certain attractiveness to her confidence, nothing I’d want to climb in bed with though. “Freak close your mouth, you’re catching flies.”
“The dirty deed has been done,” Freak cooes, “what’s next mama?” Yup, he definitely had a crush on my mom. Cringeworthy.
“Next we go an do what any normal teens would do when they ditch school.” She states matter-of-factly.
“I’ve never ditched before, so…”
Lou shoots daggers at me before pondering for a moment. “So? Neither have I, but I’ve seen Ferris Bueller's Day Off a couple times.” Good enough for me! I nod. “Whaddya’ say, Freak?”
“Let’s freaking do this!”
Comments (0)
See all