Rise

It’s getting late. I think it’s time to say nighty night to the good ol’ Winn-Dixie.

So I turn around and walk towards the automatic doors that don’t work anymore. So they stay open with the help of a few bags of mulch 24/7.

I pass Skipper on the way out.

The Skipper.

He’s the president of the AV club and I’m the vice president which is so awesome because he has to talk to me that way.

But then the AV room got vandalized by some drunk jocks and they all peed on our equipment.

Filthy peons.

No pun intended.

So now we don’t talk- but one time he waved at me in the hall. It actually might’ve been this girl, Veronica, but I really do think he was looking at me when he waved.

So I act all cool on the way out of the store and don’t say ‘bye’.

But now I think I’m a total jerk because I didn’t say ‘bye’.

So I go back in.

“Bye, Skipper.”

Skipper looks up.

And he looks around for a while and finally he looks at me.

“…Oh. Bye.”

And then he looks down at his book again.

I get closer to the check out station he’s at.

“What’re you reading?”

He slowly looks up again. “…Playing manual. For The Drooling Dead.”

He looks back down.

I peer over the counter and look at the manual. “The one with the zombies?”

Skipper looks up again and flinches a little because of our proximity to each other. I step back. “Yeah…” he says and then looks down again.

“Well, bye.”

And then I walk towards the doors, wringing my hands.

Was that okay?

Does he like me?

“Oof!”

Suddenly I’m on the floor and so is the girl with the cherry-colored hair. Cheez Its are scattered all over the floor.

“Oops…” I trail off and assess the damage.

…

Oops.

“What the fu – “ Then Cherry-head catches herself. “ –udge. What the fudge. You spilled my fu - … udging Cheez its!”

She’s pretty much seething. I almost think steam is going to start coming out her ears.

“Oh!... Oh, I’m sorry! I’m so, so, so, so sorry! You don’t know how sorry I am… I…” My voice trails off again with a squeak. My hand stops brushing the crumbs off my legs. Cherry head is staring me down, her nose at my forehead. I gulp and fascinate myself with the floor.

“Oh, no,” Cherry head nearly growls. “You won’t be sorry until you buy me a new box.”

Peer pressure, Marley! This is peer pressure! Like in Health Class with drugs, but with Cheez its!

“Okay,” I manage to breathe to the floor.

At least she won’t kill me now… right?

With her arms crossed she stalks towards the snack aisle. “You coming?”

“Yeah…” I scurry after her, looking nervously around.

When we get to the Cheez its she shoves a box at my chest but doesn’t say a word.

With my legs feeling quite a bit like Jell-O, I make my way to the cash register where Skipper is still reading his manual. Cherry Head’s eyes are watching me like a hawk as she stands imposingly over me much like a dark cloud. I look pleadingly at Skipper’s gaze that is avoiding mine completely. I think I’m going to die. I really do. She’s gonna use the waxy plastic bag inside the Cheez its box to suffocate me. And I’m going to die.

And I won’t have proposed to Skipper. No!

My hands twitch and suddenly my fingers are in front of me, reaching for Skipper’s collar. But they’re not quite there. They stop short by a few inches.

Skipper’s looking at me like I’m insane. I giggle nervously and put my hands by their sides again. Skipper shakes his head and rings me up. “$2.48…” he drones, bored.

I hold out a five, the bill shaking like a leaf. Skipper takes it from me, rolling his eyes again. He gives me the change and I sigh in relief.

Cherry head grabs the Cheez Its and begins to walk off. Suddenly, when she’s near the door, she stops, and turns back around with a huge, apathetic sigh. She comes back over to me.

“Thank you. Sorry I blew up on you. I, uh… I really like my Cheez Its.” She scratches the back of her head, and I can tell she feels awkward. She shoves a hand in her pocket and pulls out a five dollar bill, and extends it towards me. “Here – sorry I made you pay for a new box… I’m McKey. Not like the mouse.”

I push away the five dollars with a tentative smile. “Marlana. No relations to mice of any kind.”

McKey snorts good-naturedly and puts the five back in her pocket. “Nice camera,” she says.

I flinch away. “Please don’t steal my camera!” I squeal.

She laughs aloud and holds her hands up slightly. “Relax, man. I may be mean, but I don’t steal.”

“Oh.” I feel the nervous giggle rise in my throat again. “Thanks.” I let my shoulders fall slightly, but I put my camera in my canvas bag just to be safe.

McKey clears her throat uncomfortably. “Well… bye.” She waves once and walks off.

“See you… around.” I sigh and walk out to the parking lot.

And then I get to my little jeep with plastic windows.

I’m kind of relieved that the windows haven’t been slashed this time.

Last week someone really went to town. They took my empty backpack and the case for my Celine Dion CD.

It sucks because now I have to scratch it all up- And I like Celine.

Filthy peons.

At least they didn’t pee in my car.

But I did find that a few birds used the back seat as a public toilet.

So I get into my car that’s still really hot because of the Florida humidity. And then I stick my key in the ignition and turn it.

Nothing.

My jeep doesn’t even make a sound.

I look up and see that I left some of the lights on in the car.

So I just ran the battery down.

Great.

I get out of the car, slam the door.

Gosh darn it.

I stomp back into the Winn Dixie and I don’t even look at Skipper.

And then I go all the way to the back of the store to where the bathrooms and water fountains are because the pay phones are back there too.

I don’t have a cell phone.

Mom says they’re too dangerous. She’s says that if I stop to get gas and use my phone, the gas pump will blow up or that if I use my phone too much, battery juice is going to seep into my brain and melt it.

So I don’t have a cell phone.

Right now there’s a woman at the only working pay phone. The other one has a sign on it that says, ‘Out of Order’.

So I wait for a while and mind my own business and look around at the cement brick walls and the linoleum. And then the woman starts crying on the phone. So I tune in. “B-but… Enrique… You said that you loved my cats… You can’t move out… I’ll get rid of Mr. Tinkles if you want… Ginger?-Ginger what?... Ginger bit your ass?...”

Naughty word.

“Ginger can’t mean it. It was a love bite… Enrique! No! Don’t take the cotton balls with you!...” Then she sticks in another quarter. And then she uses a harder tone with Enrique. “…You are not to take the meatloaf. I am feeding that to my cats when I get back and you will not eat a bite of it- you hear?”

And then I tune out because now they’re having a screaming match over meatloaf.

So I decide to look at the video I just shot. I rewind to the part where I went into the Winn Dixie.

There’s Skipper. And then the mother and her kid. Then the biker gang. Then Skipper. Then the German guy. Then Skipper… And some more Skipper… Still Skipper… And then the tomato head. And then my quick retreat to the women’s biffy, after I was sure she had seen me filming. Then the camera goes all static-y. It must have been the part where I found I was in the men’s bathroom and someone left an unpleasant surprise in the handicapped stall.

I think I puked then.

Just a little.

The women at the phone is crying now, big fat tears and globs of snot running down her face as she slips quarter after quarter into the slot.

And then one of the employees I haven’t seen before—a young person, kind of spooky looking—walks up to the payphone that’s out of order and rips off the sign. And then he makes a call. Awesome.

…

This is gonna be a long night.