962Chapter 15: The other jerk off
Part 1: Ha, ha, my mother the comedian.
"So, no friends," (what friends? The only two I had were gone.) "no television, no video games" (as if I played any…. ) "no movies, no music, no telephone, no computer and no friends," she chanted, ticking them off on her finger one by one.
"Mom, you said no friends already," I pointed out meekly, only to be silenced with a look. I gulped.
"And…" she paused for effect, but even that was not enough to prepare me for the blow that came next. "No, absolutely no, nerd conventions."
A shiver ran through my body, and an arc of terror shot up my spine. "Mom, NO! Not nerd conventions! Anything but that! Take my liver, my spleen, my skin, rip my organs from my body causing slow agonizing pain, chop me up with a blunt protractor, stab me in the heart…"
Her face contorted with disgust and she held up a hand. "Getting way too graphic."
"Mom, please, you can't do this to me. After Wally's crushing rejection, the only way for me to recover is to move on, and how am I supposed to move on if you won't even let me go to the next 'Intergalactic communication and the next milestones in the search for other life forms' convention? Huh?"
The day after I had come back from the hospital, feeling glum, depressed, and more than a little suicidal, I had spilled my heart out to my mom, leaving out the unimportant details, such as the fact that I had fallen hard and fast and lethally for a guy who couldn't care less for me, hadn't visited me again at the hospital and had stood me up. Instead, I mentioned only Wally's crushing blow.
"Uh huh, there will be other 'Intergalactic communication and the next milestones in the search for other life forms' conventions."
"But mom, shouldn't I start moving on as soon as possible?"
She patted my arm consolingly. "Sweetie, the wounds are still way too fresh. I don't want you going after some nerd that doesn't deserve you, because you're on the rebound."
"I'm not-"
"Indora Mackenzie Baits!" she yelled, without actually yelling, using only the stern, commanding voice mothers have perfected throughout the years. I cringed at the use of my full name.
"That's enough. You are grounded, and as a result you will have certain restrictions placed on you, and you will…" Oh no, she was starting to emphasize words. I hated when she emphasized words. It meant she was pissed. "I am tired of your excuses, your smart remarks, and your refusal to take anything seriously. I have been extremely patient with you after your traumatic event, but it is time to get over it and move on." She eyed me for a few seconds, using the art of intimidation exceedingly well. "Do I make myself clear?"
I swallowed. "Yes."
"So, no science meeting after school on Fridays."
My eyes bugged out and my mouth drew open. "But, but… You can't do this to me! Don't I have rights?"
She pretended to consider. "You know, you're absolutely right." I brightened with hope. "You have the right to finish cleaning the dishes, and mopping the floor." Then she laughed uproariously, as if she'd said something funny. .
She handed me the mop with a smile. "Here you go. I wouldn't want to deprive you of your rights."
Ha, ha, my mother the comedian.
Deciding to make the best of a very bad situation, I placed my stereo on the kitchen counter, blasted 'Baby got back", and grooved, mouthing the words into the mop.
Oh, my, god. Becky, look at her butt.
It is so big. scoff She looks like,
one of those rap guys' girlfriends.
But, y'know, who understands those rap guys? scoff
They only talk to her, because,
she looks like a total prostitute, 'kay?
I mean, her butt, is just so big. scoff
I can't believe it's just so round, it's like,
out there, I mean - gross. Look!
She's just so ... black!
Shook my rump here and there, flinging the mop from side to side, really getting into it.
like 'em round, and big
And when I'm throwin' a gig
I just can't help myself, I'm actin' like an animal
Now here's my scandal
I wanna get you home
And ugh, double-up, ugh, ugh
I ain't talkin' bout Playboy
'Cause silicone parts are made for toys
I want 'em real thick and juicy
So find that juicy double
Mix-a-Lot's in trouble
Beggin' for a piece of that bubble
So I'm lookin' at rock videos
Knock-kneeded bimbos walkin' like hoes
You can have them bimbos
I'll keep my women like Flo Jo
A word to the thick soul sistas, I wanna get with ya
I won't cuss or hit ya
But I gotta be straight when I say I wanna
Til the break of dawn
Baby got it goin' on
A lot of simps won't like this song
'Cause them punks like to hit it and quit it
And I'd rather stay and play
'Cause I'm long, and I'm strong
And I'm down to get the friction on
So, ladies! Yeah! Ladies! Yeah
If you wanna roll in my Mercedes Yeah!
Then turn around! Stick it out!
Even white boys got to shout
Baby got back!
Then the chorus came on.
I like big butts and I can not lie
You other brothers can't deny
That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist
And a round thing in your face
You get sprung, wanna pull out your tough
'Cause you notice that butt was stuffed
Deep in the jeans she's wearing
I'm hooked and I can't stop staring
I shook my derrière with confidence and spun around, only to come face to face with a shocked, and thoroughly entertained… Cole.
So now, one is probably wondering if the rumours are true. They are. It is actually possible to die from embarrassment.
The mop fell from my limp hands, and I felt my face heat up. "Uh, how'd you get in here?"
"Your mom let me in." He grinned, and for a moment I forgot the promise I made to myself, and smiled back.
I was impressed. "Really?" I scrutinized him closely. My mom's long standing 'No Boys within a five-mile radius of the house' rule was fresh in my mind. "Does she know that you're a boy?" At his grin, I decided not to let him answer. "What are you doing here?" I crossed my arms and waited.
"We're going to talk."
"Yeah, I don't think so."
"You're not going to let what happened Friday change things between us." It wasn't a question, but a statement.
"You seem to be making a lot of decisions about us Cole. But first, why don't we clear things up." I was annoyed, irritated and pissed off. "What did happen Friday?" I smiled sweetly. "I am awaiting anxiously how you're going to explain standing me up?" I waited in silence for what felt like hours. He didn't say anything, just stared me down, with solemn eyes that seemed to be communicating something. "Well," I prompted.
"I can't tell you."
I smiled. "Sorry. I didn't hear you correctly. I thought you said that after you begged and pleaded for us to talk, to let you explain, you weren't going to tell me why you stood me up."
As quick as lighting my arms were in his. "Fuck Indy," he said violently, almost desperately. "I didn't stand you up."
"Oh sorry, I must be confusing you with the other jerk off who left me standing on the school steps in a really cute Betsey Johnson dress." The empty feeling suddenly spreading in my chest, made me sarcastic and bitter. "God Cole, why are we even having this discussion?"
He dragged me over to the kitchen stool and made me sit. "I wanted to be there Indy. On time. But something came up." Sensing I was about to interject, he said quickly. "Something I can't tell you about. I needed to be there for a friend." I probably wouldn't have been so close to conceding if it weren't for his warms hands rubbing my back tenderly through my thin cotton shirt. "Indy." His voice was a whisper of sound an inch from my ear. "Trust me. Please."
My capitulation was imminent. You could hear it in my voice. "How can I trust you when I don't even know you?"
"Ask me something."
Confused as to how this would solve our problem, I hesitated. "Well alright. There is actually something I have been wondering for like months. Do you think Melanie Brooks got a nose job? I mean I don't like to speculate or anything, but come on. A few months ago that thing had its own zip code. Now look at it."
"Indy," he said patiently. "Ask me something about me."
"Oh." I observed him from head to toe covertly, then asked him in a whisper. "Is it true you were arrested?"
"Yeah." He shrugged, as is it were a given.
"Oh." Gulping, my voice quieted even more. "How come?"
"You don't want to know."
I bobbed my head up and down eagerly. "No. I do."
He grinned. "I'm not going to tell you. Next question."
"How do you feel about navy and black?" To make sure he understood, I specified. "Like, together. In an outfit."
"Bad idea?"
I congratulated him on his good ability to colour co-ordinate. "Angelina or Jennifer?"
"Neither."
"Betty or Veronica?"
He was on the stool across from me, and at this question he leaned his forehead against mine. "Betty." He toyed with a loose strand of hair for several seconds, then, as if importing to me a great secret, he said: "I've always had a thing for blondes."
"Hamburger or hot dog?"
"French fries."
It seemed he was almost too good to be true. Bracing myself for the big one, I stalled before continuing. "How many girlfriends have you had?"
"I don't have girlfriends." His voice held a tone that suggested that although he might not have had girlfriends, he'd had plenty of girls who were "friends".
I was horrified at the extent of my disappointment. "Oh."
"I'd never wanted one." Should I dwell on his use of past tense? His forehead was still against mine and his hand had moved to my lips. A finger traced the outline of each one, before coming to rest on the center. "Your mouth is such a turn on."
Nothing came out of it except a moan.
Then a head popped up between ours. A small head covered in blueberry sauce. "What are you guys doing?" Lily demanded. She turned from me to face Cole. "Are you O.K.?" Her voice turned concerned. "Your breath is all panty, like mine after I've played a really tough game of hop scotch." She demonstrated, breathing in an out rapidly. "Like that."
"Lily," I groaned, searching the floor desperately for a hole to crawl into and die.
"And Indy," she put her hand against my forehead. "You're all hot and red." She peered at my face. "And blotchy," she exclaimed, horrified and disgusted. The search for the hole increased in its necessity. She turned back to Cole. "Who are you?"
"Cole. Indy's friend."
"Oooh." She giggled. "Like a boyfriend?" She was clearly scandalized.
"Yeah." Cole said it without hesitation, as if he had been waiting for the question all along.
"I guess that's alright. You're almost as cute as Patrick." Her voice lowered in decibels. "He's in grade 3."
"An older man," Cole said, understanding. He nodded seriously.
"Yeah. I think he likes me. We're probably getting married tomorrow. Wanna come? You can be my flower girl."
Things were getting out of hand. "Lily." I gritted my teeth. "Cole has to go. Okay?"
And with heartfelt groans on both their parts Cole left to go, my hands urgently pushing him towards the door. At the doorway, he stopped and turned to face me. "You're not going to start running away again Indy." Then he sealed his threat/promise/statement with a quick kiss. "Bye."
Part 2: Burberry, right? What else could it be?
Me crouching behind a row of lockers in a cowardly attempt to not be found was turning into a habit I decided, as I crouched behind a row of lockers in a cowardly attempt to not be found. I hadn't told Wendy and Kim about the concussions and I hadn't told them about what I thought, might have, possibly, perhaps, if I had read all the signals correctly, and wasn't suffering after effects from my run-in with jealous nerd, had happened between me and Cole. I was not in the mood for I-told-you-sos. Particularly as I hadn't heard them apologize for their blatant disregard for my sensitive and easily bruised emotions. As I had told them numerous times before, a girl with my disposition was to be handled like fine china. Wendy had scoffed at my suggestion and Kim had tried to hide her laugh behind a Cosmo magazine.
What faced me as I turned around was worse than I-told-you-sos. Sarah, in all her designer clad glory. I grimaced. She was almost too beautiful. Some kind of law needed to be put in place banning all short, gorgeous, brunette haired hotties from being in the presence of average, gangly, straw haired giants.
"Mindy, dahling, so good to see you." We both knew by 'so good to see you' she meant 'God, the sight of you in your no name brand jeans and equally cheap accessories makes me want to rip my eyes out with my 300 dollar jewel-encrusted tweezers'.
"Actually," I coughed. "It's Indy."
"Right. So, about my 600 dollars?" She quickly wrapped her Chanel scarf around her neck with lightning speed, as if preparing to do battle.
I froze in terror, my brain scrambling for some sort of excuse. I was saved by an equally short, and equally gorgeous brunette tapping Sarah on the shoulder with glee. "Sarah. Why have I not seen you in like ages?"
Sarah whiled around, her Donna Karan skirt creating an impressive breeze. "Marah. Love the headband! Burberry, right?"
"What else could it be?" Marah scoffed, sending Sarah a wink. "Boy did you miss a ridiculously hot pre-dance party on Friday. Going to those things before hand is the only way I can actually stomach those pathetic excuses for school dances. Where were you?"
Everything in Sarah's body suddenly tensed, and her eyes widened, almost as if in fear. Then, as if nothing had happened, her body relaxed, and her eyes fell down to their normal hooded, position. "Well, if you must know." She scanned the area quickly, making sure no one was near. She decided to proceed, determining I suppose, that I was a nobody, and therefore didn't count. "Cole and I decided to ah," she paused, her voice becoming suggestive. "Come a little later. Something came…up. I needed him, if you know what I mean." Marah clearly did, because she couldn't contain her grin. "And believe me, the feeling was mutual."
I had never wanted to pull on a Chanel scarf so much in my entire life.
"Angelina or Jennifer" was a reference to the "feud" between Angelina Jolie and Jennifer Anniston. "Betty or Veronica" was a reference to the two heroines of the Archie comics. Cosmo magazine is short for the Cosmopolitan magazine. Chanel, Burberry and all the other designer names I mentioned are all owned by me... Not.
I am so sorry for not updating earlier. I was away on vacation for a month. No computer, I swear. BTW had a blast.
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