Smile

The first time that I ever saw Tom Baczak, we were seven years old and he was wearing the most hideous green shirt that I had ever seen. It was that kind of putrid green, the color that nobody likes because it reminds everyone of puke. His shorts were about mid-thigh, like the kind the track runners wore in Juno, and he was playing kickball barefoot. Tom was the ultimate boy. He liked to throw mud balls at me, and whenever it was my turn to kick, he'd throw the ball really slowly because I was a girl and everyone assumed that I couldn't kick. But oh boy, did I prove them wrong.

I sat on the porch swing, idly listening to my iPod and flipping through People magazine. School had let out only an hour ago, and I was still waiting for my best friend Sam to text me. His band, The Scientists, was having a show later tonight, and although I've told him about five times this week that I didn't want to go, he still insisted.

Looking up, bored with the magazine, I sighed. Tom sat on his front porch with his friend John, whom I didn't know very well. Even from a distance, I could see Tom's embarrassment, and he turned his attention to the porch rail. I rolled my eyes, and stood up, expecting to see Sam's Firebird pull up in front of my house at any moment. I stomped down the sidewalk, sneaking peeks at Tom and his friend while I waited for Sam to show.

Tom was one of those guys that played sports but didn't worry about his athletic career after high school. As far as I knew, he ate like a vacuum cleaner and didn't care about working out to keep in shape. He was a skinny guy, with a build, at the same time.

I looked at him, and caught his gaze. It was amusing to watch him blush, because I never thought that Tom could get embarrassed. He stared at me, chewing on his bottom lip. Sam's Firebird rumbled down the street, and I made a face when he pulled up in front of me. "You're wearing that?"

Sam Allison was my best friend, and not even I understood why. He was tall, lanky, and didn't shower every day. But, nonetheless, we hung out every day and knew more about each other than our parents probably did. Right as I opened the passenger door, I heard a faint, "Faggot!"

My heart pounded, and I clenched my jaw. Johnny, from what I knew him to be, had always been a bit of an asshole, and I avoided him as much as I could in fear of being ridiculed for my bright, obnoxious, clashing outfits. Not that it would've bothered me, though. Sam groaned, the sound muffled by the interior of the car.

"Don't listen to him," I said, giving Johnny a dirty look. "He's a prick." Sliding into the car, I had hardly closed the door before Sam started down the street. "So when does this show start?"

Sam groaned. "I think like, seven thirty. I've got to be there in five minutes so that we can do a sound check." He glanced at me, grimacing at my choice of clothing. "You're going to freeze. It's always really cold at Crossword."

"Yeah, and if that happens," I countered, "I'll just steal your jacket. 'Cause you're always so worried about me getting cold."

"Not if I need it," Sam said, wrinkling his nose.

"Whatever, loser." I smiled.

*

"Lenore, Lenore/You came all this way/Don't give up cause you know I'm gonna stay."

Doug's voice filled the whole building, and as Sam wreaked havoc on the stage, I leaned against the wall, my arms at my side. The Scientists were probably the best garage band I'd heard, and that's not just because my best friend is the lead guitarist. I could feel the bass pumping through the speakers and onto the floor. A group of kids, probably around fourteen years old, had gathered in front of the stage and were thrashing about like they thought they were the shit. Which they weren't, and it was pretty amusing to watch them.

Peeking at my cell phone, I noted the time. It was already 11:48PM and Mom was going to expect me home by midnight. Well, shit. The show was only half way over, and I had a bad feeling in my gut. I kicked myself away from the wall, hoping that I would bump into someone who could take me home. I'd been to enough of Sam's shows to know that he was going to have to stay after to help clean up and get the stuff packed up.

I pushed my way through a crowd of people and found the front door. The air nipped my skin; it must've dropped twenty degrees in the last couple of hours. I hugged myself, and started down the sidewalk, my boots clunking mercilessly against the cement. Ashville was a small town, but the amount of youth-oriented businesses was outstanding. Almost all throughout the main stretch were buildings side by side that catered to the youth of the town, the Crossword Cafe being only one of them. Granted, it wasn't an actual cafe. Back when it was first started, it was a Christian youth center for teens to hang out. It's gone down the toilet in the last few years though, and it's pretty sad to see it go.

I stomped around the corner, and felt my chances of getting home on time had just skyrocketed. Across the street, I could see Tom Baczak and another girl who I recognized as Val Mason sitting in a restaurant. What was he doing with her? I shook my head. It's not that I care why he's sitting with John Xavier's girlfriend, but really?

I skipped across the street, hoping to God that he would be nice enough to give me a ride home. Hugging myself still, I pushed the door open and the sound of a bell hitting the door filled the whole diner. Tom and Val were the only ones here, and suddenly the situation became just a little bit awkward.

They spoke in hushed tones as I approached them, trying not to make too much noise. My boots were really clunky and if I didn't pick my feet up when I walked, it was like I was a member of STOMP. Val's eyes flicked over to me, and a soft smile spread onto her lips. "Hey, -- uh, what's your name?" Tom looked at me. I could see his jaw flex as he clenched it.

"Laura. I, uh --"

"Yeah. Laura. Cool." Valerie nodded, taking a bite of some pretty delicious looking pancakes.

I blushed, and my stomach did little acrobatic flips, like those damn trapeze swingers. I sat down in a chair across the aisle from them, and even though I avoided eye contact with him, I could feel Tom staring at me. "So what's up?" He asked, leaning back against the sticky vinyl of the booth. "Shouldn't you be with Sam?"

I shrugged, and licked my lips. "I was actually wondering if I could maybe get a ride home from you. Sam's not due to be done until about a half hour, and I'm supposed to be home..." I looked at my phone. 12:05AM. Shit. "Right now."

Tom sighed softly, and looked over at Valerie, who was consumed in her pancake devouring. "It's your car. What do you say?"

Valerie shrugged, and wiped her mouth of the syrup remnants. "I don't give a shit. We need to go get Johnny, anyway. He's probably drunk out of his mind right now." Tom stood, and left a couple of bucks on the table for the waitress.

"Well, come on, then." He waved his hand at me as he walked towards the door. I shot up and followed him, the cold air once again biting my skin. I still didn't regret wearing my bikini top, though. "I'm just going to apologize for Val right now. Her car smells like a whole village smoked a bunch of weed in it, so try not to breathe through your nose." He flashed me a smile, and opened the back door for me.

"Ok." I slid in tentatively, knowing almost immediately what he meant. I had never smoked pot before, but with the smell of the car, I didn't have to. Tom was silent as he slid into the driver's seat, and turning on the car, the situation became really awkward. Valerie came out of the diner a moment later, taking a deep breath as she got into the car.

"We'll just drop you off on the way," Tom said as we pulled out of the parking lot.

"Ok." That was all that I seemed to be able to say. We drove in silence, with the occasional cough from Valerie. It only took us a minute before Tom had pulled up in front of my house. I had paid hardly any attention to the actual trip. "Thanks," I said softly.

"Yeah, no problem," Tom said. His voice was silky.

"Bye, Lauren!" Valerie called as I closed the door. I rolled my eyes and made my way up the front walk, hoping to God that I didn't reek of as much pot as I thought I did.

God, I was going to kill Sam.