Paper Lanterns

Finally it came to, 'a simulated marriage' thing in sociology. It's somewhere near November. The first term (A/N: that would be marking period) was almost over. You were sitting in class on a rainy day listening to Mrs. Austin explain the project.

You glanced over at Billie Joe whose head shot up when he heard the words 'simulated marriage'. He smiled at you. You sighed and stared out the window. Your mom was getting out of rehab, again. (A/N: um, yeah about that. i kinda screwed up with that whole thing. she went in numerous times and yeah, so she's out again)

Hopefully she'll stay out for good this time.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the teacher calling your name.

"Huh?" You snapped back to reality.

"I said, you and Billie Joe are partners." Mrs. Austin repeated. "Funny, the day he pays attention, you space out."

"Sorry, a lot on my mind." You reply.

Mrs. Austin nods and goes back to telling people who they're partnered with. Billie scoots his chair next to yours.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He asks.

You sigh. "Mom's getting out...again."

Billie puts an arm around you. "Cheer up, Maria. She'll stay out for good this time."

"You think?" You ask. I'm the psychic one here, how come I don't know?

"Yeah." Billie say smiled. "Now come on. We got a marriage to work on."

You smile and look at the papers on your desk.

Okay, let's see. Step one. Get married. Check. Step two. Have children. Che--. Hold up.

"Get to step two?" Billie Joe asked. You nodded. "We can start tonight."

"Ew." You managed to say.

"What?" Billie asked confused. "It's not like ..."

"Billie Joe shut up." You glared at him.

Billie Joe only smiled and put his arm back around you. "Aw, our first fight as a married couple."

You rolled your eyes. "Mrs. Austin?"

"Yes, Maria?"

"These, um ...'children', is there going to be a doll or something, or are they just figments of our imagination?" You inquired.

"Well, you can have a doll if you choose, but otherwise, yes they'll be figments of your imaginations." She replied.

"Ha, I win." You said to Billie.

Billie pouted. "So, no real children?"

"No." You stated irately.

"Fine."

Class ended and you trudged to Ferro's class. You didn't want to be in there. At all. The only good thing was you sat next to Mike, as usual.

"Ready for hell?" He asks you. You shake your head.

"You do the homework?" You ask.

Mike shakes his head. "Oops."

"Hopefully there'll be a sub so you can just pull out an old homework and they won't know the difference." You shrugged.

"Yeah, hopefully." Mike said solemnly.

"Hello, I'm Ms. Oak. I'll be your substitute." The sub-lady walked stated walking into the classroom.

Mike just looked at me. "How many times must I tell you, Mikey boy?"

"So, I ran into Billie Joe in the hallway a few minutes ago." Mike declares. "He says the two of you will be busy tonight?"

"I'll kill him." You blurt out. Mike looks at you oddly. "Sociology project."

"Oh that marriage thing?" Mike asks. You nod.

"I think he's taking it a bit too seriously." You say.

Mike laughed. "You think?"

You spaced out during english and then you were distracted in art. You just stared at a blank canvas for ten minutes before Mr. Weir came over.

"Maria, you know staring at that isn't going to make a painting just appear." He points out. You snap out of your daze.

"I'm just thinking." You stated.

"Okay." He walks over to the other people.

"So Maria." Billie begins striking up a conversation. "What're we gonna name the kids?"

"Isabella Maria. No discussions." You said picking up a paint brush, finally.

"Why no discussions?" He asks.

You put the paint brush back down and look at him. "Well, Maria is my mother's middle name and obviously my name. And my grandmother's middle name is Luisia, hence my middle name. It's a family thing. Maria, since the last person to have the middle name of Maria was my mother and it goes back and forth from Luisia to Maria. And Isabella because I think it's a pretty name."

"Oh." Billie stated, taking in everything. "So only one kid?"

You shrugged and picked up the paint brush, again. You invisioned a photograph of a place in Rome. You just started painting sporadically. When you finished you looked at it with satisfaction. Better than the photograph if you ask me.
two tequilla slammers on the dashboard

there's an alcoholic at the wheel

careful when i'm taking this next corner

don't want anybody wasting beer

pass another lime and corona

too drunk to use my clutch when shifting gear