The Boy From Hot Ice

I must have been something, dressed in my pink overalls and yellow striped tee. My hair was so beautiful and big, side swept into a neat ponytail held by a scrunchy that matched my shoes. And those shoes - I loved them. They were my tap shoes, and yes, I wore them everywhere. But we'll get into that later.
I know it had rained that day. Modesto is usually bone-dry in September, but it rained that day. I know because I remember very vividly that someone had stolen my umbrella from my locker, and I was pissed as hell about it. I questioned every kid who looked at me funny, then the ones who didn't, just because. Then I saw it. He had it.
"Give me my umbrella!" I screamed. I was acting like a baby. I was a baby.
He laughed, a weird, squeaky, broken laugh I'll never quite find normal.
"I said give me my umbrella!"
He shot a punk-ass look to David Peck down the hall. David was laughing his ass off. Typical.
"If you don't give me my umbrella, I'm telling Mrs. Hall!" I shouted. And I would have, too. The principal was my only friend, and I told her everything.
"Ooo, I'm so scared," he teased. "You want your umbrella?" He threw it over my head and down the hall. "Go get it!"
I didn't turn around to retrieve it. My eyes stayed fixed on him, and I think that scared the shit out of him. He started to back away, but as soon as he'd taken one step I floored it after him, chasing him three blocks before finally pinning him down and beating the shit out of him.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he cried.
With his hand twisted behind his back, I yelled, "Say it! Say it!"
"U-u-uncle!" he finally gave in. As per the rules of Uncle, I released him.
"Don't you ever pull that crap with me ever again, punk!" I told him like I was Clint Eastwood or something.
"Man, you sure are a bitch," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. I almost chased after him again for calling me that, but I was too tired.
"I'll be a bigger bitch if you need me to be," I said. "I'll be a bitch to you like you've only seen in your nightmares."
Not much for smack talk, but I guess it can be frightening to a seventh-grader.
He turned around and hobbled back.
"Hey, punk," I called after him. "What's your name so I know who I'm beating up next time?"
He didn't look back. I think he was crying.
"Hey! I asked your name!"
He kept hobbling back. "Jeremy," he mumbled.

We were 13. I was always a little tall for my age, and a little heavy too, and this frightened kids. They called me "Frankenstein" or "Freak" or "Jolly Green Giant."
Ok, when I say I was a little tall, I guess I'm exaggerating. I was 5'10" at my junior high graduation.
Jeremy and I weren't friends at first, as you can probably imagine. He was as small for his age as I was tall, just a runty little thing with a mullet and braces. But he had spunk. And I loved spunk. So even though he did things like steal my umbrella and write on my locker and made farting noises when I walked by, I missed him on those days he was sick or played hooky. He was entertaining, that's for sure.
I spent my freshman year of high school in Washington state with my dad. He and my mom divorced when I was three, and they were always really nice to me, but when my mom had to have major back surgery that year, I stayed with my dad. Honestly I thought I'd miss everything in Modesto. But I didn't. I forgot everything.
Until my sophomore year.
When I returned, I was in high school. Everything changes in high school I figured out. All the girls have boobs, all the guys want to see boobs, and all the teachers are trying to keep the guys from seeing the girls' boobs. I didn't care for high school here. Everyone was so grown up and pretty, while I was still trying to figure out how to tease my bangs so I would look like Madonna. I hated that first day of school. Someone told me to try out for the cheerleading squad, which I thought would be really cool, but then later they told me they were joking since I was probably too fat for the squad. And that's how everyone was.
Everyone but him.
"Hey," he muttered as we stood at our new lockers. When I looked at him, I remembered him. But I was ashamed of what I'd done years back, so I pretended I didn't.
"Do I know you?"
The corner of his mouth perked up a bit. "Um, yeah, kinda," he smirked. "You beat the shit out of my a few years ago and were my worst nightmare that whole year."
I smiled back. Maybe he didn't harbor any ill feelings toward me. But just to be sure, I apologized.
"No big deal," he shrugged. He was wearing a leather jacket in August and sported a fresh new Billy Idol-esque earring in his left ear.
"You must be in a band, huh?" I asked, genuinely interested. Jeremy wasn't my type of guy, and definitely no looker, but I liked bands. I wanted to be in one, except I never had any musical talent.
"Uh, yeah," he said shyly. "Um, me and a couple friends of mine get together every now and then and play some tunes."
"What kind of stuff do you play?"
"You know, some Aerosmith, a little Twisted Sister, that kinda thing."
"Well, that's awesome," I told him.
He shrugged again and started to walk away. I wasn't going to push the whole being nice thing. "You wanna come check us out sometime?" he turned and asked, acting as cool as ever.
"Yeah, sure," I answered without hesitation. "Where?"
"You remember where Peck lives? It's in his garage. We're gonna get together tonight if you wanna hang."
Of course I remembered David Peck's house. I had lived across the street from that beautiful boy. I used to peer into his window at night with my Cracker Jack telescope like the creep that I was. And now I got to see his house? And him, all grown up?
Well, he was sixteen now, like me, but that's pretty grown up when you're in high school.
"Yeah, ya know," I said, trying to act as calm as possible. "I guess maybe if I don't have anything better to do I could come check you guys out."
He winked a wink that would become infamous one day, and it was obvious why. "See you after dinnertime," he said, flashing a rocker's sign.
As cool as I had pretended to be, I was staring at the clock from the time I got home at three-fifteen until dinnertime at five. I ate as quickly as I could, then asked my mom if I could ride my bike to a friend's house. She was always pretty cool, so she let me.
I didn't need my bike, but I wanted my mom to think I was going farther away than the house across the street. This way, she wouldn't call me home whenever she wanted to. The rule was to be home by the time the street lights came on, and I would keep to that rule. That still gave me a good two hours to get my flirt on with David.
I walked across to the garage and knocked. A minute later, a boy I didn't recognize lifted the door and strutted outside by me. "What's up?"
"Oh, um," this kid was cute, definitely a band member, maybe a back-up in case my whole plan with David didn't pan out. "Is Jeremy here yet?"
"Nah," he shook his head as he looked around. "He'll be by soon, though."
"Mind if I hang out 'til he gets here?" I asked, actually fully intending to do so with or without his permission.
"Guess not," he said, making way for my entrance.
There he was, David Perry Peck, playing the guitar like a pro and warming up his vocal chords by singing Jesse's Girl under his breath. He didn't notice I was there, and I was grateful for this. I preferred to just stand, basking in his perfection. I didn't even hear the roar of the motorcycle thundering behind me.
"Hey!" I finally woke from my trance to Jeremy shouting for me to move. I did, stunned and a little embarrassed. "Sorry," he said as he hopped off the bike. "I didn't want to run you over."
"And ruin the motorcycle," David snickered. I laughed along, too. Even though I didn't like what he said, I didn't want him to think I didn't find him hilarious.
Jeremy just shook his head and headed toward the back of the garage. "Um, everybody, this is Liz. She's cool, guys."
The guys just sort of stared at me. I think David was still giggling at his own joke a little, but the other two, they were just looking at me.
"Um, this is David, Jimmy, and Kyle," Jeremy said as he sat behind the drum set.
"Hi, everyone," I said cheerily, eliciting no response.
"Guys, can you chill?" Jeremy called them out, but they barely acknowledged. They thought I was a freak. And freaks are for staring at.
They fiddled around a little, Jeremy obviously well-rehearsed and the others only so-so. I didn't even care if David could play. He just looked so fucking hot with that guitar strapped to his chest, straining his voice to hit the high notes the others were prodding.
It was like this for a while. Jeremy pretty much just sat there and tapped lightly on the cymbals while the guys with guitars chose the songs, who would sing lead, what key it would be in, and what words they would change around to help it apply to their lives.
My eyes were mainly fixed on David, but they strayed every once and again over to Jeremy. He was so quiet. He was so alone. I felt like I should say hi or something - anything to remind him that someone knew he existed. I slinked over unnoticed (unusual for me to do anything without being noticed) and sat on the cinderblocks behind Jeremy.
"Hey," I urged, tugging on his sleeve, "How's it going over here?"
He gave me an uncomfortable glare, then smiled a little. "It's okay," he gave in. "If you wanna go home, you can. I know it's kind of boring here."
"No, I'm having a great time, really. You guys are pretty good."
"How would you know?" he giggled. "We haven't really even played anything."
"Well, you've got a great set up," I said. "I can see where this is going, and I like it."
He smiled at me. I think he knew I was being nice, and I think he appreciated that.
They messed around with chords and acoustics for another hour before I had to go. I waved goodbye and announced I was leaving, but none of them noticed. None but Jeremy, anyway, and he just gave me a slight nod and mouthed that he'd see me.
When I got to my room, I checked outside with my telescope and saw that they were still going. But within minutes, Jeremy was wheeling his bike out, hopping on awkwardly and fastening his helmet. He left before the others, and this made me sad. I don't know why, but it did. I felt like running out after him. I felt like hanging out. The guys were cool, and Jeremy just wasn't one of them. He was cool in a different way. He was trying to fit in, but he was only putting on a front. He had a darkness about him that worried me. I recognized it. I had that darkness too.