Authors: Jack Wallen
“
Where did you get that?”
“
Oh, I think you know where I got this,” Cody mocked. “But they do get better. Take a look at this little beauty.” Cody swiped the images until a close up of me filled the screen. “Wh…what is that? Does Miss Maskey have on makeup? A bit of eyeliner and mascara? Did your mommy or your daddy paint you up like a prostitue, faggot?”
Cody grabbed my hand in his. “Please, Spooky, tell me this isn’t so? Surely you wouldn’t give me this much ammunition so easily. These pictures could ruin you at this school, and I would hardly have to lift a finger for it to happen.”
Sally’s hand was temporarily possessed by a ninja and shot out to snatch Cody’s phone away from his monkey-paw grip.
What she did next nearly sent me into apoplectic fits. Sally stood, held the phone between her legs so the camera faced up her skirt, and snapped a photo.
A slimy grin traced itself around Cody’s lips. That same grin was slapped off Cody’s face the second Sally screamed.
“
I can’t believe you did this, Cody Sloan.”
Every head in the cafeteria turned to look at Sally.
The horrific look on Cody’s face was worth every moment of hell he and his gang of morons put me through.
Sally raced out of the cafeteria and returned, with the Vice Principle of the school, phone held high. The VP scanned the room until his eyes locked on to Cody. He pointed, and shouted, “In my office, now.
”
Sloan turned to me. When he spoke, his voice was a venomous whisper.
“
I will kill both of you, Maskey. You and your fag hag are dead meat.”
Without another word, Cody sped out of the cafeteria and slammed the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, the room filled with applause and cheers for Sally, who took a bow and raced back to my side.
“
Oh my God,” Sally whispered in near-panic mode. “Can you believe what I just did?”
“
You mean snap an upskirt selfie? What would we call that? A muffie?”
Sally slapped me.
“
Okay, Spooky, that was just wrong. I don’t care how rude we are with one another, there are still lines that should never be crossed.”
“
I take it I crossed one?”
“
Big time,” Sally smiled. When finally Sally winked my way, I knew everything was going to be okay. “I’m just jealous you thought of ‘muffie’ before me.
“
Did you really…” I started to ask.
“
I did,” Sally answered.
“
Girl, you are way beyond description. I’m going to have to come up with a new word to describe your level of awesomeness.”
“
Oh my God,” Sally hit panic in an instant. “Do you think the VP is going to look at that picture?”
“
Oh gross. The idea of Vice Principle Cooley seeing an up-skirt of you makes me want to choke myself – and not in the good way.”
Sally slapped me.
“
What was that for?”
“
I don’t know,” answered Sally.
“
I think you’ve slapped me enough for one lifetime now.”
Sally leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t stop the cheesy grin from racing across my face.
“
You could slap me a million times and I probably couldn’t be mad at you.”
Sally returned the smile. I forced the topic into a tail spin.
“
By the way…about tonight.”
“
I already told you, Scott –”
“
You can’t take me,” I interrupted. “I know. There’s no reason why I can’t take myself.”
Sally’s eyes grew wide. “As in take my car?”
“
Please…I know better than to ask that. The last thing I want is to get you involved with my escapades.”
Sally released a howl of a laugh. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been involved in your escapades, shenanigans, goings-on, happenings, thises and thatses, and everything beneath, between, and beyond since we met.”
She held up her palm for me to high five. I complied.
“
Actually,” I started, “my plan was more along the lines of borrowing my dad’s car.”
“
Hoo boy, Scott. Are you sure you want to go that far with this? Wouldn’t it be safer to just, I don’t know, set yourself on fire and fly there? Your mom and dad will freak if they catch you.”
“
That’s the beauty of it…they won’t.”
Sally calmly placed her hands on mine. Slowly, our eyes met and she spoke. “
Scott, you know it doesn’t work that way. You sneak out, get in the car, drive off, have the time of your life, drive back, get caught, and you finally wind up chained to a basement wall, with rats for friends. You don’t want that.”
“
No, I do. I mean…no, I don’t want the whole rat-friend-thing; but I do want to take off in my dad’s black Mustang and race my way to Tyler’s End.”
We stared at one another for a brief moment.
“
You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
Sally held up the thumb and forefinger of her right hand, barely an inch apart. “Lil’ bit.”
“
But you know I’m going to do this?”
Sally repeated the gesture. “Lil’ bit.”
“
And you want to come with me, even though you have four thousand tests tomorrow?”
Sally shook her head, slowly. “Not even a lil’ bit.”
I finally opened my paper sack lunch and pulled out a peanut butter and banana sandwich. The second I pulled the sammy from the aluminum foil wrapper, the warning bell chimed.
“
Crap,” I spat, “I never get enough time to eat. Why does this always happen to me?”
I shoved a massive chunk of sandwich in my mouth and started the slow process of chewing and swallowing.
Sally grinned and raised a telling eyebrow.
“
You think it’s my fault lunch always seems to bite me in the butt, don’t you?” I said through a sticky ball of chewed-up deliciousness.
Sally nodded.
“
You suck…”
“
And not in the good way?” Sally responded.
“
My point, exactly.”
Sally stopped my hand from reaching back into my lunch bag. She had to have been able to read the desperation on my face, since she quickly let the hand go.
“
You’re going through with this tonight, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“
Fine,” said Sally. “At least be careful. Drive the speed limit and keep your phone with you at all times. If you need me for anything…” Sally placed her hand on mine. “…I mean
anything
, do not hesitate to call me.”
“
I promise.”
My promise eased Sally’s tension slightly.
“
If anything happens to you, Scott, I’ll kill you. You know that right? You have to know that I would do anything to keep you safe.”
“
Except drive me to Tyler’s End for a second night in one week.”
Sally punched me in the chest. Thankfully, she punched like a girl.
“
I love you, Scott. And don’t take that down weird-o road. We’re besties, I can say that without you getting all googly on me.”
There are always moments that we take with us to our grave. I had a feeling this was one for me.
“
I love you too, Sally.”
Sally’s head dropped to the table as she said, “He finally gets it!”
Just as I was about to drop a massive comeback bomb on Sally, the second lunch bell rang. It was time to thread our way through the gauntlet known as the main hallway. We’d be kicked, punched, and otherwise humiliated for the entire walk – or at least that’s what it felt like. Reality probably painted a vastly different picture…one of glares, stares, gossip, and giggles. It didn’t matter. What did matter was my plan was falling into place. Nothing was going to stop me from seeing the Gaultier House tonight.
Nothing.
“
Famous last words,” I whispered.
“
Huh?” Sally asked.
“
Oh…nothing, nothing. Just thinking out loud.”
nine | the return most dangerous
From the moment I got home, the general relativistic notion of time was kicked in the groin until it stood absolutely still. All I could think of was getting back to Tyler’s End. That was it. Nothing else mattered; not even the Metallica concert my dad had lined up to watch after dinner – which we’d been planning for weeks. The idea of blowing that father-son bonding time crossed my mind, but there was no way I’d deny my dad that moment.
I left my books in my backpack and flopped next to dad on the couch. We had popcorn, drinks, and decibels enough for the entire neighborhood. If there was one thing I could say about my dad, his taste in music never ceased to amaze me. Through him I discovered bands no kid my age had a right to know. Dad also had the tools to listen to said music in a way kids my age rarely appreciated
.
He was an audiophile and proud to say he most likely passed that snobbish gene down to me.
Every so often, mom would stick her head into the room to check on her ‘men’. She’d make the rounds and kiss us both, before heading off to where ever it was moms went when they had a rare moment to themselves.
I always assumed the bathtub – but every time she came out to see us, she was perfectly dry. Moms could be so mysterious in their ways.
The concert was pretty amazing. Dad told me all about seeing them live – his first concert. That show helped inspire his career. He always said seeing so many tattoos in one location opened his eyes to how much money could be made in the art form.
I never saw his bank statement. It wasn’t any of my business. It didn’t really matter anyway. My dad was cool. All the guys in school practically worshiped him and all the girls had awkward crushes on him
.
That last bit was odd. My dad wasn’t overly tall, nor was he well built. Outside of his many tattoos, his raven-black hair, his polished fingernails, he was pretty average looking. He was, however, seen as the bad boy in town. Little did they know, he was quite the opposite. My dad was the best guy I’d ever known. It’s too bad some of his
cool
never rubbed off on me.
When the concert finally came to an end, dad stood, gave himself the requisite ‘man scratch’, kissed the top of my head, and made his way to bed.
I followed suit – but only temporarily. All that was necessary was twenty or so minutes – time enough for my dad to take his vitamins, brush his teeth, and drop into their God-sized bed. Mom and dad both slept like the dead. Neither of them had woken to an alarm for years – the benefits of owning your own business that catered to others that refused to conform to societal norms.
We misfits tended to stick together.
Last year’s backpack was stuffed with anything I thought I might need. Flashlight, extra batteries, paper and pencil, snacks, caffeinated beverages, latex gloves (don’t want to leave any finger prints), a map, my lock-picking tools…
I didn’t have lock-picking tools. I wish I did; they could come in handy, in the right situation and have the added bonus of being really awesome.
I zipped up and tiptoed my way to the front door. Dad’s keys were on a hook – as always. I grabbed them, gently pulled open the door, and was greeted by the air of teenage wrong-doing. This was my first real moment of ‘Oh crap, what if I get caught?’
There was no way I’d get caught.
No ‘famous last words’ here.
Dad’s car was a Mustang – a classic Mustang. It had that low, loud rumble associated with the muscle cars I’d seen in so many 80s movies and would eat the neighbors Prius for breakfast. Thanks to the noise, there was no choice but to let the car roll out of the driveway and then down the street. Lift off was going to be the hardest part of this evening. If I could pull a successful vanishing act out of my hat, nothing could stop me.
With the car in neutral and the key in the ignition, I gave a shove and then jumped into the drivers’ seat. The Mustang rolled down the driveway, picking up steam as it went. The moment the rear wheels hit the street, I pointed the car directly forward so gravity could continue to pull me on. There needed to be at least a block between us. Dad could pick out the sound of his ‘baby’ from a distance. I’d spent plenty of time listening to him arrive home to know roughly how far the car had to be before it was safe to turn the ignition over.
“
Three,” I whispered.
“
Two,” I continued.
“
One,” I finished.
The car turned over and started on the first try. Instead of shouting to the heavens, I opted to drive with my mouth shut. Time was no longer relativistic and would continue counting down until the zero hour arrived. If I weren’t in my bed when that bell tolled, my life – metaphorically speaking – would be over.