Mason Jars.

With the last name of Jars, you would think my parents would have been considerate on what they named me. They would have thought “let’s not name him something that will make him look like a fool,” or “let’s keep in mind him taking this name to his grave,” but that’s wishful thinking. 16 years ago, when I popped out of my mother’s vagina, which is a gross thought mind you, both of my parents thought of the most genius name that was followed by the last name of Jars…. Mason. Mother fucking Mason Jars. My mom insists it was unintentional but I know her ruse, I know that it was intentional. “Let’s be cheeky, let’s name him Mason.” No, can we not please? But they did. I’m from the sunshine-y state Louisiana, Lafitte to be exact. Lafitte is small, and by small I mean tiny as hell, with a population of nine-hundred-and-eighty-seven. I was born in New Orleans at the hospital there, but have resided in Lafitte for my entire life. We live on a cracked street with tar-filled potholes and rough sidewalks. Our house is two stories, white with blue shutters. It’s not much, but it’s my not much.

Enough about this boring ass town, more about myself, and my parents. They thought it was clever to name me Mason, and I thought it was clever that no one got the connection until I was about 13. The adults did, but students in my grade never really fully understood what the connection was and why adults asked if my name was really that. They asked if they could call me MJ, asked if they could call me Majar, but I insisted on them calling me by Mason. I don’t have much but my name. One time, my best friend William, or Willy as I refer to him as, asked me if he could call me Glass, and I laughed because that is the single most stupid nickname anyone could have, so I took it. Willy calls me Glass. Now that I’ve caught you up on pretty much the low down of Lafitte and lil’ ol’ Mason Jars, let’s bring you back to the present. I’m in the classroom, daydreaming as usual, when Willy pushes me out of it.

“Glass,” he begins, his big brown eyes looking straight at me. “Glass, what we gon’ do now that it’s summer?” He asks, wiping his sweaty forehead. The high school classroom we have is hot and muggy, because the air conditioner broke and Mr. Baynor takes up the stupid desk fan for his fat ass. “We should go giggin’, or muddin’, somethin’ fun because I’m already bored as all hell.” Willy continues. I let out a sigh as I look around the class room. Sophomore year was boring as hell to me, so I’m glad I’m going to be a junior where I can slack off.

“We can do all that, go campin’ or somethin’, I have no idea,” is my reply as I collect my stuff. Only three minutes until the bell will ring, and everyone will cheer. “I have to meet Lily by her locker, though,” I add. Lily is the most beautiful human being I’ve ever laid my pearly blue eyes upon. She’s petite, about 5’2, and has the brightest green eyes and cutest freckles. She was new this year, moved here from New York! What a freakin’ change that must have been. Now, how much I’m talkin’ up Lily may need some explanation. She’s not my girlfriend, but my other best friend. I wish she was my girlfriend, because no girl ever pays me any mind. Willy has Cassandra, and they’ve been on and off since 8th grade. He’s always bragging about how they have sex and get drunk and high at the pond and go skinny dippin’. I explain to Willy how with him it ain’t skinny dippin’, it’s chunky dunkin’ since he’s got a bit of a gut on him. Fuckin’ Willy, man. He eats so much but gains little from it, and what he does gain goes to his belly.

“Yeah, get Lil’s number, I’ll meet you at the bike rack,” Willy says. I nod, the bell rings, and everyone cheers loudly. Mr. Baynor tries to stop us from leaving but it’s a failed effort. Willy skips out and I head toward the lockers, my heart racing. I’m going to get Lily Kershank’s number, and we’re going to hang out this summer. I see the blonde haired girl standing at her locker with the biggest smile on her face, book bag in one hand and a daisy in the other. She puts the flower behind her ear and greets me with a hug.

“This summer is going to be so exciting, Mason! I’m so excited, and I have no idea why,” Lily giggles as she lets go of me to put her bag on. “Wanna walk me home?” She asks, and I can’t help but oblige.

“Sure, but before I walk ya home, can I get your cell phone number?” I ask, pulling out my phone. It isn’t much, it’s a pay-as-you go one, so it’s not fancy. She grabs my phone, and before I know it, I have “Lily Kershank (:” in my contacts and I grin. “Well, I didn’t have to do much,” I laugh.

This summer is going to be quite an adventure.