The Bad Boys of Summer Anthology(289)

Inside the cafeteria, Lisa was already at our table. My shining red lips didn’t escape her notice, but best friend that she is, she didn’t call me out for it and merely smirked as I sat down. She patted my shoulder as she got up, explaining through a smile, “I’m going to grab us a couple sodas. Be right back.”

I sat there and concentrated on trying to look cool and unaffected, hoping to strike just the right note of blasé for when Trip finally sat down.

Greg Rymer and Mike Sargento sidled down with their lunch trays completely piled with food as usual. Rymer ripped half the paper off his straw and blew the remaining wrapper off the end of it toward me, jolting me out of my trance. “What’s up, Warren? Not eating today?”

Shit. I forgot about having to eat in front of Trip. I’m no Scarlett O’Hara or anything, but the thought of chewing like some common cow in front of the cute new guy was beyond horrifying. But sitting there sipping demurely on a Diet Coke like some salad-eating girly-girl was not the image I was hoping to portray either. Besides, the last thing I needed was for my stomach to start growling in the middle of English Lit. I resigned myself to the prospect of having to eat something as I joined Lisa in the lunch line.

Eyeing up the prospective meals offered in your average, high-school cafeteria is daunting enough. The menus aren’t exactly being considered for worldwide culinary acclaim. But trying to find something edible and dainty was like navigating a minefield.

Meatball sub was too sloppy, spaghetti was right out. Oh, curse you, Italian Tuesday!

I settled on my usual mid-day selection: a big, soft pretzel with yellow mustard. Normally, I’d grab an apple or something, too, but I was feeling self-conscious enough as it was. I figured whatever tidbits I managed to scarf down my throat would have to provide enough sustenance for the day.

I bypassed a tray and pulled a few napkins out of the dispenser on my way back to the table.

Lisa was already there, sitting with Rymer, Sargento, Cooper Benedict... and Trip. I slid inconspicuously into the seat next to Lisa and cracked my can of soda. The guys were busy talking about their plans for the weekend.

“So, Coop,” Rymer started in, “Tell your hot sister to come to my party on Saturday night.”

Coop gave Rymer a warning look. “Dude. If you fuckin’ say one more thing about my sister...”

Rymer ignored the threat and continued by twisting the knife. “What? She’s hot. I think she’s got a little crush on me, too.” He elbowed Sargento before continuing, “You see the way she was sweatin’ me last week when she picked us up from practice? Man, I thought she was gonna kick you two out of the car and jump me right there in the parking lot.” He took a huge bite out of his sub before adding, “Trip, you gotta see this girl. Total bitch, but black hair, great ass and tits bigger than DeSanto’s.” This earned Rymer a shove from Coop and a meatball to the chest from Lisa, which made us all crack up.

I’d been ripping little pieces off my pretzel and trying to pop them unnoticed into my mouth. I was mid-chew when Rymer reached across the table to grab my stack of napkins. Cleaning sauce off his Oxford, he suddenly decided to switch subjects. “Oh, hey Warren! You meet Trip yet?”

I was caught off guard enough to almost choke, but luckily, I caught myself. I still had a mouthful of food, so I shielded my lips with my hand and answered as best I could. “Uh huh. We’re in Mason’s together.” Then, I swallowed and was able to nod in Trip’s direction to add casually, “How’s it going?”

The guys were still laughing at the big, red stain that Rymer was unsuccessfully trying to wipe off his shirt, so Lisa and I were the only ones to absorb the full force of Trip’s lazy grin when he replied, “It’s good, Layla. How’s it going for you?”

I almost died at the way he said that, looking right at me with half-lidded eyes and those perfect, full lips smiling out my name. I felt Lisa kick me under the table, so I knew she caught it too. Oh my God. Was he flirting with me? As intrigued as I was, my survival instincts quickly won out. The guys would never stop busting my chops if they caught me flirting with the new guy. I smiled politely and offered evasively, “It’s good.”

Just making courteous small talk, right?

Soon after, the bell rang, so we all grabbed our garbage from the table and ditched it in the trash on our way out the door. My locker was right outside the cafeteria, so I pit-stopped there to get my English notebook. When I stood back up, I was surprised to see Trip standing right behind me.

“Oh! I didn’t see you there!” I said like a complete tool.

He looked a little taken aback. “I just thought...” and then he nodded his head in the direction of the hallway and I realized he was waiting to walk with me down to English class.

I laughed to save face and said, “Yeah, sure. Duh.”

He was teasing me when he asked, “You alright there, pal?” He threw an arm around my shoulders and gave me a quick squeeze against his side, which, had he added a noogie, would have made the platonic gesture complete. To this day, I have no idea what compelled him to do something like that. It’s not as though I’d never been treated as one of the boys before. In fact, it’s how I’d spent the first twelve years of my life, and hell, I could still hold my own with my guy friends. But Trip barely knew me and besides, I thought I’d shaken off that persona years before. Had he picked up my tomboy vibe even though I was sure I hadn’t been putting it out there? Dear God. Was it Brian Hollander all over again?

The thought made me so flustered, so determined, that I did something so completely out of character. Just as we were approaching the classroom, I noticed some random kid at his locker. I saw the mirror hanging on the open door and inspiration struck. I whipped my lipstick out of my purse, telling Trip, “Hey, hold on a sec, huh?”

I uncapped the lipstick, leaned into the mirror and applied a swipe of Bing Cherry across my slacked lips, making sure Trip could see my every move. Very Marilyn Monroe. Very not tomboy.

I tossed the weapon into my purse, smacked my lips together and asked Trip innocently, “You ready?”

I caught a glimpse of the poor, unsuspecting freshman staring at me like he had just won the lottery. I guessed it wasn’t every day that a senior girl dropped by his locker. I couldn’t get a read on Trip, but I hoped his blank look was a good thing. “Uh, yeah. Yes.”

Hmph. Take that, “pal”!





Chapter 4

GETTING LUCKY



After final bell, I ran into the girls’ room with my bag of clothes. I’d settled on a pair of flat-front black slacks and a pale pink silk blouse. I ditched my Wigwams and slipped into a pair of black ballet slippers before taming my hair down a bit with a brush. I had to be careful not to overdo it, because too much brushing would cause that armor of Aqua Net to start flaking, making me look like I was The Dandruff Queen. I took a final look in the mirror and decided that I looked professional. At the very least, I looked respectable. And definitely a little older.

By the time I stepped outside, most of the kids had already cleared out, which was a good thing. It wasn’t a long walk over to the strip mall, but it really sucked to be a senior without a license and risk getting caught hoofing it around town. The first four weeks of school were turning into the longest of my life. I suppose Lisa could have driven me, but she already had a job working at the bakery right around the corner from where we lived and I didn’t want to make her late. She wouldn’t have had enough time to schlep me in the opposite direction, fight through the mosh of cars at the mall and still make it to her job by 3:00. No big deal. It was a nice day out and I didn’t mind the walk.

I got about ten steps away from the parking lot when a black Bronco pulled up beside me. The windows were tinted and only cracked an inch, enough to allow me to hear some creepy old dude ask, “Hey, little girl. You need a ride?”

I’d been in these situations before. The best thing to do when confronted with a pervert is to simply ignore them. Just pretend not to hear them. Which is exactly what I did as I kept walking, hoping the freak would just go on his merry way and find some other, more stupid girl to lock in his basement.

But this pervert wasn’t going to be shaken so easily. “Hey! Little girl! Do ya want some candy?” I started to slide my hand into my purse, fishing around for my mace keychain just in case. But then, something about the way he started laughing made me do a double-take and turn on my heel. When I did, the Bronco’s window slid down, revealing Trip in the midst of cracking himself up.

“You idiot!” I yelled, laughing and smacking the door of his truck. “I thought you were a creepy old man, you jerk!”

Trip could barely contain himself. “I know! I thought you were gonna start running. Holy shit that was funny.”

I gave him an “oh really” look.

“Running, huh? You should have been so lucky.” I pulled the keychain canister of mace out of my bag and held it up for him to see.

That sobered him up pretty quick. “What the? Is that mace?”

I gave him a smug smile and said, “Yes. And I would have used it, too.” When he looked impressed, I decided to lose the false bravado. “I’m really glad I didn’t have to, though. Jeez, you scared the hell out of me.”