just happened but I think I had one of the least suckiest first days of school ever.
Birdie
Lacey drives a 1992 Geo Tracker, complete with a soft top and stick shift. She informs me she paid cash for it from a garage in town and spent several weekends in there fixing it up with some mechanic named Ol’ Henry.
“You mean Henry?” I ask, jokingly. “Don’t knock him ‘cause he’s old.”
“No, Henry owns the supermarket,” she replies with a straight face. “Ol’ Henry is the mechanic. Get it right, Clements.” Her grin is infectious and I can’t help keeping one off my own face. It’s a beautiful afternoon and she intends to take full advantage of it. She wants to put the top down on her car but it’s no easy push button. She directs me as we unclip, unvelcro, and unsnap a hundred different tie-down points until she’s able to roll the top off and stuff it in the back.
“No, it’s not convenient,” she says, answering my silent look. “But this baby was only $1,800. Fair price for a few buckles when I want the wind in my hair.”
Rachel passes by then, stopping next to me to say hi to Lacey.
“This is Birdie,” Lacey introduces me.
“Weird name,” Rachel comments, looking bored.
“Don’t be a bitch, Rach. She’s a nice one.”
Rachel’s face twists a little at the reprimand but the expression is brief and she soon has it composed in a smooth, aloof smile. “Jury’s still out for me, Lacey. I’ll make up my own mind.”
Lacey laughs. “You always do. You’ll have to get within arms length for her though. She wears a shield thicker than yours.”
Lacey climbs into the driver’s side. I don’t know the ride home arrangements. Rachel still hasn’t made a move for the door and I wonder if it’s too forward to climb into the passenger side. “You comin’?” Lacey asks, leaning over the stick shift. Rachel and I are standing on the same side so I’m not sure who she’s talking to.
Before I answer, Rachel says, “I can’t do top down. My hair doesn’t look sexily tossed like yours does after a drive. I’ll catch a ride with Gretchen.”
“ ‘Kay. Call me tonight.”
With that decision made, I climb into the front seat and drop my bag on the floor by my feet.
Wes
The new student doesn’t have warts. She doesn’t have a huge overbite or thinning hair.
She has black skin. Which might be worse. Or it seems Clay and Bryce think so.
“Dude, see?” Clay asks, shoving Bryce. We’re sitting on the bleachers on the end of the field near the parking lot. “Sight unseen means you woulda been dipping into hot chocolate.”
“Well, we didn’t shake on it,” Bryce sulks. He’s red in the face. He gets embarrassed a lot. Probably because he does a lot of stupid things and Clay and I have no regard for his sensitivity. “So it’s a no go.”
I only half listen to their nonsense. I’m watching her, enjoying the ability to study her openly since she’s the topic of conversation. She’s climbing into Lacey’s car as Rachel moves on, probably to find Gretchen. I don’t call out. Rachel thinks I’m staying after school to study for the Calculus test tomorrow. In truth, my brain is a puddle of equations and when work paged to see if I’d cover an extra shift, I chose the extra cash over what promised to be a math-induced headache.
“She’s the girl from the diner,” I say and it must have been out of turn because Bryce’s mouth stops moving suddenly as he swivels to look at me. He then swivels back around to look at her anew as Lacey’s car pulls out of its spot, top down.
“Oh yeah. That loud mouth pissy chick who interrupted our debate.”
“Don’t call her names because she was right,” I say, shoving him in the shoulder. Bryce and Clay laugh like we’re all joking but I’m actually annoyed. I’m suddenly annoyed with my life. With my friends. With my dad being here at my school today, judging me without words. With my girlfriend
Birdie
Lacey drives a 1992 Geo Tracker, complete with a soft top and stick shift. She informs me she paid cash for it from a garage in town and spent several weekends in there fixing it up with some mechanic named Ol’ Henry.
“You mean Henry?” I ask, jokingly. “Don’t knock him ‘cause he’s old.”
“No, Henry owns the supermarket,” she replies with a straight face. “Ol’ Henry is the mechanic. Get it right, Clements.” Her grin is infectious and I can’t help keeping one off my own face. It’s a beautiful afternoon and she intends to take full advantage of it. She wants to put the top down on her car but it’s no easy push button. She directs me as we unclip, unvelcro, and unsnap a hundred different tie-down points until she’s able to roll the top off and stuff it in the back.
“No, it’s not convenient,” she says, answering my silent look. “But this baby was only $1,800. Fair price for a few buckles when I want the wind in my hair.”
Rachel passes by then, stopping next to me to say hi to Lacey.
“This is Birdie,” Lacey introduces me.
“Weird name,” Rachel comments, looking bored.
“Don’t be a bitch, Rach. She’s a nice one.”
Rachel’s face twists a little at the reprimand but the expression is brief and she soon has it composed in a smooth, aloof smile. “Jury’s still out for me, Lacey. I’ll make up my own mind.”
Lacey laughs. “You always do. You’ll have to get within arms length for her though. She wears a shield thicker than yours.”
Lacey climbs into the driver’s side. I don’t know the ride home arrangements. Rachel still hasn’t made a move for the door and I wonder if it’s too forward to climb into the passenger side. “You comin’?” Lacey asks, leaning over the stick shift. Rachel and I are standing on the same side so I’m not sure who she’s talking to.
Before I answer, Rachel says, “I can’t do top down. My hair doesn’t look sexily tossed like yours does after a drive. I’ll catch a ride with Gretchen.”
“ ‘Kay. Call me tonight.”
With that decision made, I climb into the front seat and drop my bag on the floor by my feet.
Wes
The new student doesn’t have warts. She doesn’t have a huge overbite or thinning hair.
She has black skin. Which might be worse. Or it seems Clay and Bryce think so.
“Dude, see?” Clay asks, shoving Bryce. We’re sitting on the bleachers on the end of the field near the parking lot. “Sight unseen means you woulda been dipping into hot chocolate.”
“Well, we didn’t shake on it,” Bryce sulks. He’s red in the face. He gets embarrassed a lot. Probably because he does a lot of stupid things and Clay and I have no regard for his sensitivity. “So it’s a no go.”
I only half listen to their nonsense. I’m watching her, enjoying the ability to study her openly since she’s the topic of conversation. She’s climbing into Lacey’s car as Rachel moves on, probably to find Gretchen. I don’t call out. Rachel thinks I’m staying after school to study for the Calculus test tomorrow. In truth, my brain is a puddle of equations and when work paged to see if I’d cover an extra shift, I chose the extra cash over what promised to be a math-induced headache.
“She’s the girl from the diner,” I say and it must have been out of turn because Bryce’s mouth stops moving suddenly as he swivels to look at me. He then swivels back around to look at her anew as Lacey’s car pulls out of its spot, top down.
“Oh yeah. That loud mouth pissy chick who interrupted our debate.”
“Don’t call her names because she was right,” I say, shoving him in the shoulder. Bryce and Clay laugh like we’re all joking but I’m actually annoyed. I’m suddenly annoyed with my life. With my friends. With my dad being here at my school today, judging me without words. With my girlfriend
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