conversation we will have about Lucas. “Hi,” I say, trying to break the tension.
“Hi,” Ethan says, smiling back.
“I never really got to thank you.”
“For?” Ethan asks.
I give him an incredulous look, “Oh, I don’t know.”
“Oh, that,” he grins. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Mr. Storm, do you have something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” Mr. Fischer barks.
The entire class stares at us. “No, sir,” Ethan says.
Ethan never says another word for the rest of the period, though I’m sure he has to notice me shift and squirm in my seat for the entire hour. The minute the bell rings, he darts out before I can say anything. I’m more frustrated and anxious now than before class began.
After school, I meet Jen in the parking lot, and again I see Olivia going off on Ethan. Fire in her eyes, like she’s about to pounce. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but as soon as she catches a glimpse of me, rage washes over her face. From across the parking lot, I can see the veins popping out in her forehead and neck. I am clearly the subject of her anger. What is her problem with me?
“Bitch has some wicked PMS,” Jen says, as she slips into her car.
I watch Ethan try to calm her down, to no avail. Olivia looks as though she’s about to march straight toward me, but Ethan gets in her way. Every time he puts a hand on her shoulder to settle her, she flails it off. I think this is my cue to leave. I slip into Jen’s car. “Drive. Fast!” I say.
I don’t have to tell Jen twice. She drops the car into gear, slamming her foot on the gas. Tires spit gravel as we rocket through the parking lot, weaving in and out of students plodding to their cars.
“Okay, maybe not quite this fast,” I say, white knuckling the hand grip.
“I don’t think we’re driving fast enough. One thing you don’t want is Olivia storm pissed off at you,” Jen admonishes.
“Whoops.”
“I told you to stay away from Ethan.”
“You’ve been rambling on all day about how hot you think he is,” I say.
“Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he’s good for you. It’s kind of like cherry chocolate—it tastes divine, but it goes straight to your thighs.”
“And Ethan going straight to my thighs is a bad thing?”
Jen raises an eyebrow, “Damn! One near-death experience and you become a ho.” She grins.
“I am not a ho.”
“Well, you got two boyfriends,” Jen smirks.
“I do not have two boyfriends.”
“But you could,” Jen says with a wry tone.
I roll my eyes.
We swing by the middle school to pickup Noah. It’s starting to drizzle again, and Noah waits under the awning. He dashes to the car as we pull up, hopping in the back seat. I ask how his day went. He gives me the obligatory thumbs up while he listens to his headphones. I could probably say anything and he would just nod and smile, not hearing a word of it. “You’re not listening to that too loud, are you?”
Noah shakes his head.
“Don’t want to go deaf, do you?” I say.
He shakes his head again.
“Give the kid a break, don’t act like his mother,” Jen says, cutting herself short as she realizes what she said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
“It’s okay,” I say, as a tear wells in my eye, spilling down across my cheek. I quickly wipe it away. I don’t want Noah to see.
“I’m a complete, tactless moron,” Jen sighs, deflated. We all sit in silence for a very uncomfortable moment.
“Ice cream. I want ice cream. You want ice cream?” I ask.
Jen and Noah nod in unison.
There’s nothing like chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream when you’re a bit down. Pure bliss. Cool, creamy scoops of heaven dancing across your palate. And for those few, fleeting moments, everything is right with the world. That is, until the last bite goes down and buyer’s remorse sets in. And you are left with only the calories and the fat. Then you start calculating just
“Hi,” Ethan says, smiling back.
“I never really got to thank you.”
“For?” Ethan asks.
I give him an incredulous look, “Oh, I don’t know.”
“Oh, that,” he grins. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Mr. Storm, do you have something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” Mr. Fischer barks.
The entire class stares at us. “No, sir,” Ethan says.
Ethan never says another word for the rest of the period, though I’m sure he has to notice me shift and squirm in my seat for the entire hour. The minute the bell rings, he darts out before I can say anything. I’m more frustrated and anxious now than before class began.
After school, I meet Jen in the parking lot, and again I see Olivia going off on Ethan. Fire in her eyes, like she’s about to pounce. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but as soon as she catches a glimpse of me, rage washes over her face. From across the parking lot, I can see the veins popping out in her forehead and neck. I am clearly the subject of her anger. What is her problem with me?
“Bitch has some wicked PMS,” Jen says, as she slips into her car.
I watch Ethan try to calm her down, to no avail. Olivia looks as though she’s about to march straight toward me, but Ethan gets in her way. Every time he puts a hand on her shoulder to settle her, she flails it off. I think this is my cue to leave. I slip into Jen’s car. “Drive. Fast!” I say.
I don’t have to tell Jen twice. She drops the car into gear, slamming her foot on the gas. Tires spit gravel as we rocket through the parking lot, weaving in and out of students plodding to their cars.
“Okay, maybe not quite this fast,” I say, white knuckling the hand grip.
“I don’t think we’re driving fast enough. One thing you don’t want is Olivia storm pissed off at you,” Jen admonishes.
“Whoops.”
“I told you to stay away from Ethan.”
“You’ve been rambling on all day about how hot you think he is,” I say.
“Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he’s good for you. It’s kind of like cherry chocolate—it tastes divine, but it goes straight to your thighs.”
“And Ethan going straight to my thighs is a bad thing?”
Jen raises an eyebrow, “Damn! One near-death experience and you become a ho.” She grins.
“I am not a ho.”
“Well, you got two boyfriends,” Jen smirks.
“I do not have two boyfriends.”
“But you could,” Jen says with a wry tone.
I roll my eyes.
We swing by the middle school to pickup Noah. It’s starting to drizzle again, and Noah waits under the awning. He dashes to the car as we pull up, hopping in the back seat. I ask how his day went. He gives me the obligatory thumbs up while he listens to his headphones. I could probably say anything and he would just nod and smile, not hearing a word of it. “You’re not listening to that too loud, are you?”
Noah shakes his head.
“Don’t want to go deaf, do you?” I say.
He shakes his head again.
“Give the kid a break, don’t act like his mother,” Jen says, cutting herself short as she realizes what she said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
“It’s okay,” I say, as a tear wells in my eye, spilling down across my cheek. I quickly wipe it away. I don’t want Noah to see.
“I’m a complete, tactless moron,” Jen sighs, deflated. We all sit in silence for a very uncomfortable moment.
“Ice cream. I want ice cream. You want ice cream?” I ask.
Jen and Noah nod in unison.
There’s nothing like chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream when you’re a bit down. Pure bliss. Cool, creamy scoops of heaven dancing across your palate. And for those few, fleeting moments, everything is right with the world. That is, until the last bite goes down and buyer’s remorse sets in. And you are left with only the calories and the fat. Then you start calculating just
Similar Books
