"Just sit on Archer's lap!"
Archer turned red.
"Is that really safe?" I asked.
"No, it's
not
safe," Sue told Ember. She turned to me and smiled apologetically. "I told her it wasn't safe. Maybe another time?"
"Sure," I said. "It's good to see you, though." I really hadn't seen Sue since she'd switched lunch tables.
"Good to see you, too," she said. "Bye!"
"Come on, Cara. You'll be fine," Noah said. "Tom and I don't even have seat belts back here, and we're not worried, right?"
"Exactly," Tom said, "because Ember is an excellent driver."
Huge eruption of laughter from everyone in the car, including Ember herself. I smiled uncomfortably.
"That's okay," I said. "Thanks for thinking of me."
"Noâhere," Archer said, clicking off his belt. "Take my seat."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yes! Excellent idea!" cried Doug. He rose and patted his seat. "Plant your tush right here, Archer.
I'll
sit on your lap."
Archer squeezed between Sue and Molly. Doug settled in on top of him. I climbed into the passenger seat and buckled in.
"Ooh, Archer!" Doug cooed as we jounced down the street. "Is that a pencil in your pocket, or have I just made your wildest fantasies come true?"
"
Pencil?
" Sue objected.
"Are you saying you'd know otherwise?" Doug asked.
Sue didn't answer.
"'Lovecats'!" Ember screamed. She turned the radio even louder and bounced in her seat as some eighties song I didn't know shrieked from the speakers. Everyone else sang along at the top of their lungs, completely unconcerned that Ember's seat-dancing took her mind off the car, which veered unsteadily in and out of our lane. I gripped my seat and wondered if there'd be a socially acceptable way to call a cab to get home.
By the time we got to the mini-golf course a half hour later, I was indebted to the gods of at least seven different religions, all of whom I had silently promised my immortal soul if I survived the ride.
"You okay?" Archer asked once we were safely in the parking lot.
"I'm great." At least I would be after a few more gulps of fresh air.
"Loser pays for ice cream?" Tom asked.
"Um ... I'm not really good at mini-golf," I said.
"This is different," Archer said. "We play for style. The most unique putt that sinks a ball wins each hole."
"Oh." Somehow I didn't find that comforting.
I was right to be worried. Archer and his friends had been playing this game for years. They were experts at finding truly bizarre ways to sink a mini-golf ball. They'd putt behind their backs; they'd lie down and shoot the ball as if with a pool cue; they'd whack the ball while leaping through the air. Putter use wasn't required; at one hole Tom executed a perfect pratfall and "tripped" over the ball, which went flying into the hole. Noah did a handstand, then swatted the ball in without losing his balance. Sue, who had until now struck me as a little shy and proper, placed the ball in her cleavage, then leaned down and squeezed her breasts together so the ball popped out and rolled into the hole. She won that round.
It was easily the weirdest afternoon I'd ever spent in public. I was sure I'd die of embarrassment when a group of senior class Penultimates got caught behind us and started making cracks. Archer and his friends weren't bothered at all. They just ignored the seniors and kept doing their thing, and eventually the group jumped past us and kept playing.
Once I stopped caring what everyone around us thought, I attempted a few tricks of my own. I tried a one-handed putt; I swatted a putt backwards between my legs. I even tried to bat one in with my head, like in soccer, but that just hurt.
Still, I had no hope in this crowd. Even with their sympathy points, I lost by double digits.
"Cara pays for ice cream!" Doug crowed.
"You don't have to," Archer said.
"Of course she has to!" Sue said. "She lost; it's the rule!"
"I'm happy to pay," I said.
And I was. I'd had a lot of funâway more than I'd thought I would. I was even okay with the ride to
Archer turned red.
"Is that really safe?" I asked.
"No, it's
not
safe," Sue told Ember. She turned to me and smiled apologetically. "I told her it wasn't safe. Maybe another time?"
"Sure," I said. "It's good to see you, though." I really hadn't seen Sue since she'd switched lunch tables.
"Good to see you, too," she said. "Bye!"
"Come on, Cara. You'll be fine," Noah said. "Tom and I don't even have seat belts back here, and we're not worried, right?"
"Exactly," Tom said, "because Ember is an excellent driver."
Huge eruption of laughter from everyone in the car, including Ember herself. I smiled uncomfortably.
"That's okay," I said. "Thanks for thinking of me."
"Noâhere," Archer said, clicking off his belt. "Take my seat."
"Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yes! Excellent idea!" cried Doug. He rose and patted his seat. "Plant your tush right here, Archer.
I'll
sit on your lap."
Archer squeezed between Sue and Molly. Doug settled in on top of him. I climbed into the passenger seat and buckled in.
"Ooh, Archer!" Doug cooed as we jounced down the street. "Is that a pencil in your pocket, or have I just made your wildest fantasies come true?"
"
Pencil?
" Sue objected.
"Are you saying you'd know otherwise?" Doug asked.
Sue didn't answer.
"'Lovecats'!" Ember screamed. She turned the radio even louder and bounced in her seat as some eighties song I didn't know shrieked from the speakers. Everyone else sang along at the top of their lungs, completely unconcerned that Ember's seat-dancing took her mind off the car, which veered unsteadily in and out of our lane. I gripped my seat and wondered if there'd be a socially acceptable way to call a cab to get home.
By the time we got to the mini-golf course a half hour later, I was indebted to the gods of at least seven different religions, all of whom I had silently promised my immortal soul if I survived the ride.
"You okay?" Archer asked once we were safely in the parking lot.
"I'm great." At least I would be after a few more gulps of fresh air.
"Loser pays for ice cream?" Tom asked.
"Um ... I'm not really good at mini-golf," I said.
"This is different," Archer said. "We play for style. The most unique putt that sinks a ball wins each hole."
"Oh." Somehow I didn't find that comforting.
I was right to be worried. Archer and his friends had been playing this game for years. They were experts at finding truly bizarre ways to sink a mini-golf ball. They'd putt behind their backs; they'd lie down and shoot the ball as if with a pool cue; they'd whack the ball while leaping through the air. Putter use wasn't required; at one hole Tom executed a perfect pratfall and "tripped" over the ball, which went flying into the hole. Noah did a handstand, then swatted the ball in without losing his balance. Sue, who had until now struck me as a little shy and proper, placed the ball in her cleavage, then leaned down and squeezed her breasts together so the ball popped out and rolled into the hole. She won that round.
It was easily the weirdest afternoon I'd ever spent in public. I was sure I'd die of embarrassment when a group of senior class Penultimates got caught behind us and started making cracks. Archer and his friends weren't bothered at all. They just ignored the seniors and kept doing their thing, and eventually the group jumped past us and kept playing.
Once I stopped caring what everyone around us thought, I attempted a few tricks of my own. I tried a one-handed putt; I swatted a putt backwards between my legs. I even tried to bat one in with my head, like in soccer, but that just hurt.
Still, I had no hope in this crowd. Even with their sympathy points, I lost by double digits.
"Cara pays for ice cream!" Doug crowed.
"You don't have to," Archer said.
"Of course she has to!" Sue said. "She lost; it's the rule!"
"I'm happy to pay," I said.
And I was. I'd had a lot of funâway more than I'd thought I would. I was even okay with the ride to
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