The Art of Getting There and Blowing It

"LU HONEY, get up!” Mom chorused up the stairs. "It's time for school and you're little friend is here!"

I sighed at my appearance of jeans and Ghost Busters t shirt. This shirt to me was pretty cool, but in the real world, the world of high school, it wasn't. I never was. I gave up on my boring hazel eyes, overly-erratic mess of curly black hair, and my box frame glasses as I looked away from the mirror and began down the stairs.

“My little friend, Ma?” I chuckled and kissed her cheek good morning. “Frankie and I have been friends almost fifteen years now. Yet you still choose not to say his name.”

My mother rolled her dramatically then smiled as she wiped her flour covered hands on her apron. “Fine Frank is here. Come eat your pancakes smart ass.” Frank smiled as well but said nothing; he’s usually kind of quiet. Frank Domearo lived two houses over and we went to the same day care when we were little. He’s been my best friend ever since. “Alright, it’s the first day of your senior year! My baby is growing up!” Mom yelled teary eyed as she held me to her shorter frame. “Alright, I want one picture of you both then I’m off to work.” She smiled holding a camera. Mom was a nurse. I stood next to Frank as we both offered a fake smile as if we were actually happy about another full year at the hell hole called Hilton High. “Say cheese!”

NEITHER FRANK nor I had bothered to invest in a car so after we ate we began to walk to school. Frank usually rode on his skate board there and I causally walked beside him in silence; occasionally one of use would speak about the latest Family Guy episode or the new Spiderman comic. We finally reached the hell whole with about five minutes before class. “See you later man.” I said. We had most classes together but not first period, which for me was the worst class possible: gym.

Gym was created by some sick fuck that had sought out to make the teenage life that much more miserable. Our gym teacher, Coach Palousky, had been teaching gym at Hilton High for a long time including the four years I’ve endured here, required us to dress out on the first day. So I went into the boy’s locker room last in an attempt to avoid anyone. We were required to where dark blue shorts and a white shirt that had the school emblem in black on it. Our school colors were navy, black, and white, like a bruise; how creative.

Surprisingly enough I wasn’t very lanky or weak. My mother had decided to landscape our backyard this summer and most of the design had something to do with lifting and laying bricks: which is where I came in. Thanks to her DIY project, I gained some muscles. So for once I wasn’t as self-conscious changing in the boy’s locker room. Once I was done and fixed my glasses I noticed everyone beginning to shuffle out. I followed, almost.

With a giant shove I was pushed into the concrete wall, a beefy arm at my neck stopping me from moving. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t little Louie?” The arm belonged to Trayton Jackson. He was your usual dick headed, egotistical, wall of meat; every school has one.

I struggled at first but did something that surprised both of us. With a force I didn’t know I even had, I shoved off Trayton’s arm and growled, “My name is not Louie.”

Trayton didn’t expect it because he soon fell backward and onto his ass. Well if I wasn’t ultimately fucked before, I sure as hell am now. “I don’t give a fuck what your name is; I’m going to kick your ass.”

Insert Coach Palousky.

“Harris! Jackson! OFFICE NOW!” He yelled; spit escaping hitting Trayton in the face.

THE PRINCIPAL’S office was a new experience for me. You see, I’m a good kid, one that’s “too school for cool” as that pink song says. I attempt not to hyperventilate as Coach walks us down the hall. We quickly go in and Coach makes us take a seat in the two arm chairs in front of Principal Hudson’s desk.

Mrs. Hudson looks up at coach. “Anything I can do for you Coach Palousky?”

“There here hoodlums were fighting.” He huffed, crossing his red jump suit clad arms.

Mrs. Hudson took one look at Trayton then said, “Jackson, detention for two weeks, everyday, after school.”

“But-”

“OUT!” She said pointing a finger to the door that then Coach followed out as well leaving me alone in her office with her. “Lucian, right?”

I nodded rather quickly, and mumbled. “Y-yes maim.”

“Alright, you can relax. You’re a good kid, and I figure what happened with Jackson was self defense, was it not?” She shrugged and I nodded my head. “I thought so. So, I’m going to let you off with a warning. It’s the first day of your senior year and you don’t want to start it off bad do you? No. Now get back to class.”

I some how managed to avoid Trayton for the rest of gym and didn’t die that day.

ON SHEER luck I think, I made it to lunch. Thankfully no one had invaded Frank and I’s usual table so we both began to sit down and eat. “So how’s your day been?”

“I got shoved into a locker.” He said plainly, nibbling on his peanut butter sandwich. “Better than your day though. I heard Trayton Jackson wants your head on a stick.”

I sighed and almost answered when someone walked by. Holy hell it was Rayleigh. “Hi Lu.” She waved then continued to walk over and sit with her friends.

I raised my hand slowly in a small wave and whispered. “Hi.”

Frank shook his head. “You’re pathetic.”

I didn’t get to answer because some else walked over and was shoving a neon paper in my face. I turned to see one of Rayleigh’s friends, Ashby I think. “Here take this; I’m inviting you both to my back to school party. This Friday, anyone who’s anybody will be there!”

Then she left as quickly as she came.

Frank sat, mouth agape, pieces of sandwich falling out. “That really just happen? We got invited to a party?”

“THAT’S IT FRANK!” I yelled clapping “This is our shot to be somebody! But first I think I may need to make a few changes…”

A FEW WAS a bit of an understatement at first. As soon as I went home I went straight to my room and pulled out a card from in between my comics. The Platinum American Express. The card led to an account full of money I could use at my expense. You see boys and girls, when you have a bastered father like mine that just so happens to have money, they’ll give it to you for nothing! It’s called guilt. I had never used it before, and I figured now was as good as anytime. First stop, clothes.

Hollister and American eagle were stores I usually avoided at all cost, but today I’d be going into the fashion zombie battle zone, ready for war. I was in there two minutes before two college girls approached me. I read their name tags and saw their names were Bridgette and Megan. Megan was the first to speak. “Do you like need any help?”

“You look a little lost.” Bridgette added covering her mouth in an attempt to stop the giggle escaping.

“Um, yeah actually.” I said. “I’m new to all of this. I need a new-”

“Everything?” Megan laughed. “Come on we gottcha.” They both grasped either arm and began to lead me into the store. Two and a half hours and almost four grand later, I was good.

“Alright, what are you going to do with your hair?” Bridgette said after everything was bagged.

“What? Is something wrong with it as well?” I asked brows furrowing.

“Megan I’m taking my lunch break, he needs my full attention.”

BRIDGETTE WAS right. A haircut was needed. “I’d never had it this short.” I said looking into the mirror and running my hands down the sides.

“It looks good. You have contacts?” she said cocking her head to the side. I nodded. My hair did look better, it was close to my head, a short, gelled then combed haircut; I look clean and fresh. “Now, young grasshopper, I put my cell in your phone and I’m sending you out to the world! Good Luck! Text me!”

I went home to dinner after that.

“MA!” I yelled.

“In here Lu!” She yelled back from the kitchen. I put all of my new shit in my room then followed her voice. “Wow. You look different.”

“Needed a change I guess.” I shrugged, and it wasn’t a lie; this plan I concocted would require some changes.

“Well how about one more?” She said, reaching in to the box sitting on the buffet. She enclosed her hand around whatever it was then shoved it into my hand. “It was your Grand Father’s, and now it’s yours.”

Car keys. There was a car in the garage, but I was never aloud in there, till now. I quickly turned around and ran out to it. The door for once was unlocked. I reached over and pulled the tarp off of the car I’d never seen then swore. It was a black, sleek, ‘65 Ford Mustang and it was in great shape.

“She runs great.” I heard mom say from behind me. “You’ll love it.”

I now had the look, the car, and soon I’ll have the girl.