Authors: Donna Cain
Meadowview Acres (3 page)
He watched those darlings now as they pushed, shoved, taunted and otherwise made life hell for each other. Some were worse than others, of course. Every school from every generation had its bullies and dumbasses. The one from his own experience was named Brad Knowles. Brad was a jock and not real forgiving of anyone who wasn’t. That left Phillip Just directly in his sights. Phil was an easy going, laid back type of guy. He didn’t sweat the small stuff. “Live and let live, Man.” That was his motto. His long hair was clean and always tied in a long ponytail – not flying around free. He was chill. He was free. Mostly, he was high. Phil loved life and everyone in it, just as long as he had a smoke. Brad made sure that Phil was pushed around as often as possible to pay for the crime of not being like himself. That meant knocking books out of his hands, spraying his locker with shaving foam, throwing rocks to smack him in the head and all sorts of other punishments. Phil thought of it as an inconvenience, some moments worse than others. He heard at the last reunion that Brad had been killed in a drunk-driving accident.
Karma, Man.
He was startled out of his trip down memory lane by the familiar teasing, “Ms. Weezil! Hey, Joe! Did ya see Ms. Weezil with her beady little weasel eyes?”
Of course it was Hansen Reynolds and his group of idiots. The rhyming jab at Ms. Leezil was nothing new and really didn’t take much thought. Hansen just enjoyed it because he thought it was mean. Julie wasn’t even bothered. Growing up Julie Leezil, she had always been teased about her last name. It didn’t even faze her any more.
Something like a chewed up eraser went flying in Ms. Leezil’s direction and missed her face by an inch. On his own, Hansen was more of a coward who didn’t do much except verbally assault the world with his personality, but when his crew was around he had more courage. Phil didn’t like the direction this was going.
“Hansen!” He yelled. “Over here now. You’re in detention.”
Hansen looked over at Mr. Just and grinned sarcastically. “It wasn’t me, Mr. Just. It was Joe here. He’s the one that did it.”
Joe looked surprised and looked over at Mr. Just. “No it wasn’t! I was headed out the door!”
Mr. Just really didn’t want to play games with the idiot. “Hansen, you don’t think I know you by now, Dude? You’re in my detention more than any other kid in this school. Stop arguing and get in my classroom. The rest of you hit the road. Now.”
He glanced at Julie who gave him a wink then slipped back into her classroom. He would be sure to collect on that debt later this weekend.
Hansen strutted over to Mr. Just’s classroom and told the others that he’d meet up with them at the Hot Dog Hut later. “After I’m finished with my spankin’,” he sneered.
Phil watched him strut by and felt disgusted. He was the type of teacher who found redeeming qualities in basically every student. Hansen, however, was a challenge. There just wasn’t a likable aspect to the boob at all. He followed Hansen into the room just as the bell for detention sounded. Looking over the list, Mr. Just found no surprises. The usual suspects were all there, since Hansen had joined the group. “What is detention doing for them anyway?” He wondered. They never changed. They didn’t even seem to mind spending their free time in a classroom.
Mr. Just shook his head and settled down to grade the chemistry quizzes from his last class. No surprises there, either. The same kids got A’s, the same kids got C’s and Hansen got an F. He started to think what motivation the kid had for anything. Was there anything at all to drive Hansen Reynolds to excel? The kid had football; that was a no brainer. He was a big dude and could throw his weight around. He received accolades and praise from the coaching staff, but the student body as a whole rallied around him out of fear, not hero worship. What was the kid going to do when the cheers were gone and there were no more games to play? He knew the kid’s home life stank. He had called two parent-teacher conferences already, and, at each one, the teacher was the only person to show up. He had called the home to discuss Hansen’s failing grade only to be told by Mr. Reynolds not to worry about Hansen. “My boy is going to play ball and doesn’t need a grade from a chemistry class to do that,” he had said. The boy was screwed.
Finally, the bell rang ending detention and Phil breathed a sigh of relief. “Friday, thank God, Man.” He thought. “I could use a beer.”
He followed the detention kids out of the classroom and walked over to Ms. Leezil’s door. “Hey, Jules. Did you recover from your trauma?”
“Ha!” She laughed. “It was hardly a trauma. Thanks for the intervention, though. That kid creeps me out!”
“No prob. Hey, I’m in the mood for Mexican. Want to keep me company?”
“I can’t tonight. I’m on duty at the snack bar for the game. How about tomorrow night?” She asked with a little twinkle in her eye.
“Sure thing, Babe. Have fun feeding the masses!”
“Thanks. See you later, Phil.” She winked at him as he left her room.
He went back to his classroom, grabbed his corduroy jacket and messenger bag and locked his door. Going through the visitor’s parking on his way to the staff lot, he thought of Hansen Reynolds again. He couldn’t seem to get his mind off the kid. He was still thinking that Hansen could be saved. He pushed the kid from his mind by planning his weekend. “It should be pleasant outside, maybe I could get in some yard work. Or I could take Jules to that Classic Rock Festival over in Glovercroft,” He thought. He drove out of the parking lot thinking of what to order at Mexicali that night.
“S
ometimes you can hear a house breathe,” thought Bug. “If you’re super quiet, you can actually hear it inhale and exhale.” Bug was lying on the couch with her eyes closed. She was trying to be still. She had muted the TV because she had already seen that episode of her cartoon. She knew, at twelve, she was really too old for cartoons, but she didn’t care. It was her favorite show. Her Rubik’s Cube was solved and on the table beside her.
When are they going to come out with another one? This
one is super easy.
Born Mary Ellen Hamilton, Bug had never actually answered to that name. Her parents nicknamed her Ladybug in the hospital because she was a tender five pounds, five ounces at birth with a head full of shocking black hair. Her Aunt Nicki had brought a blanket with Ladybugs all over it to the hospital, and, curled up within, Mary Ellen had been referred to as the little Ladybug. The moniker was shortened to Bug over the years, and it was the only name she considered hers. Her looks hadn’t changed much as she grew. She was petite for her age and her long straight hair was still as black as coal.
Bug was an extremely intelligent girl. With that came very few friends. The kids at school were just not excited about math or science the way Bug was. They had more important things to talk about, like sports, celebrities or the latest in the never ending dance of who’s dating whom. Bug just shut them out and did her own thing. It didn’t even bother her, really. She was quite content. She had her parents, Mark and Ann Hamilton, who were very involved in her life. Mark was the editor of the Hallston Daily Journal, the town newspaper. Bug loved when her dad came home armed with exciting stories of things happening in the world; places she had never even heard of before. She couldn’t wait to read the paper with her dad every morning at the breakfast table. They would talk about the day’s headlines and stories until it was time to leave for school.
Ann was a nurse who tried to fit her schedule around Bug’s school day. She worked in the Neonatal Unit at Community Hospital. Bug loved hearing about the new babies when she and her mom worked in the garden, as they often did.
When her parents were both working, she had Shasta Port. Shasta was not quite a babysitter – more of a companion really. The big sister she didn’t have. She was five years older and Bug always described her as “super nice and fun”.
Bug was waiting for Shasta to come pick her up. Her mom had asked Shasta to take her for a haircut. Bug didn’t really mind. She liked her hair, but it was too long and starting to get in her way. She closed her eyes and tried to hear the house breathe again, but the moment had passed and all she heard was the ice maker releasing its newly formed cubes from bondage. That made her want a Popsicle, so she hopped off the couch and skipped into the kitchen.
“Hmm, red or orange,” she said to the empty room. “Red, super good.” She un-wrapped her prize and looked out the kitchen window. It was very quiet out. She didn’t hear the sounds of machinery from the other side of the woods. She was actually growing fond of the sounds. She thought the backup beeper was especially nice. She heard a bark and saw Brody, the Andrews’ dog, pop out from behind the Miller’s garage and run across the street and into the Andrews’ house. Eli followed him. Bug liked Eli, but she liked Brody better. The dog had found his way over to her house one time when he had gotten loose. Bug had loved how “super” soft his fur was and how he looked at her straight in the eyes. She and the dog had sat there for minutes just looking into each other’s eyes. It had been relaxing for her. Most people didn’t look at Bug much; she was curiously invisible. That was okay, though. She had Shasta. They talked about a lot of things, everything from Bug’s favorite math class to Shasta’s latest boy crush. Bug didn’t quite get Shasta’s interest in boys, but she liked to hear her talk about them. The one that came up most of the time was Darren. Shasta had liked him since she and Darren were in homeroom together in the eighth grade.
She had sucked the pop down to the stick and her mouth was frozen. As she threw the stick away, she heard Shasta’s truck pull up in the driveway. Bug grabbed her bag and went out the side door, making sure it was locked behind her.
Never can be too careful – even in Meadowview Acres.
She hopped down the steps and flung open the door to Shasta’s Ranger. “Hey, Shasta! “ Bug chirped, her mouth bright red from the frozen pop.
“Yum, Popsicle?” Shasta asked.
“Yup, how’d ya know?” Bug asked smiling.
Shasta just grinned and backed the Ranger out of the Hamilton’s driveway.
“Okay, Miss Bug, off to get that hair trimmed. Where should we go when we’re finished?” Shasta asked, already knowing what Bug would request.
“Oh! Can we get some tots at the Hot Dog Hut?” Bug asked. She loved the tater tots at the Hut. That was the place Shasta’s parents owned. Shasta worked there part time when she wasn’t hanging out with Bug. Bug loved going with Shasta because they always gave her extra tots when Shasta brought her by.
“Sure,” replied Shasta. “I wanted to ask my dad about something anyway.
As they drove down the street, they passed the Andrew’s house. Eli was washing Brody in the driveway beside the house. Shasta was about to honk a greeting but stopped when she saw the frown on Eli’s face. “Somebody’s in a grumpy mood,” she thought. She took a right turn out of the neighborhood and headed toward town.
B
ug fiddled with the radio as Shasta drove down Main Street toward Curls For Gurls. The song Bug settled on made Shasta kind of sad. It had been a special one for her and Darren. Shasta was still surprised at how quickly things could change in a person’s life. Just a few short years ago, she and Darren were so close. They were best friends. Now, he would barely say hi when they passed in the hallway at school.
They had known each other since childhood. Living in the same neighborhood meant you went to the same schools. That combined with the never ending stream of neighborhood kickball games, cookouts, and Fourth of July parties made it impossible for them not to become friends. Shasta and Darren had an easy friendship. Shasta had a calm and mothering nature. If another kid got hurt playing or felt picked on, she was the first one to offer help or straighten out the bullies. Darren was much the same. He got along with everyone and never caused drama. The two of them always seemed to be picked first when calling teams for neighborhood games. The other kids in the neighborhood eventually thought of them as connected. They wouldn’t say just Shasta or just Darren. It was always Shasta and Darren or Darren and Shasta.
By the time eighth grade came around, they were best friends. She could tell him anything and the same went for Darren. They spent most of their free time together, either outside or at each other’s houses. Shasta never missed a football game; she was always sitting in the stands with Mr. & Mrs. Jackson. They were as close as two friends could be. That is, until the kiss ruined everything.
They were at a party in the basement of Joe Eastman’s house after a big game Hallston had won. Lots of the football guys were there and they all kept taunting Darren. They were pushing him to kiss her, calling him chicken. Everyone thought they were a couple anyway, so they gave in to peer-pressure. Shasta had thought of it as a joke, but the joke was on her. She had come away from the kiss breathless and shocked at her body’s response. She had never felt so alive! She was also shocked at Darren’s response. He had looked angry and immediately gone upstairs. She followed him and tried to talk, but he was distant. A little while later, he just left the party. From then on, their friendship felt awkward and forced. He wouldn’t talk to her and didn’t want to hang out. He was acting angry. She thought he wanted to go back to how things were before the kiss, but Shasta had developed genuine feelings for him. Either way, the friendship was doomed. Gradually, Darren began spending more time with his football friends, and Shasta just drifted away.
That was three years ago and Shasta still missed him. Not so much the love part, but the friends until the end part. She had other friends, but she never quite connected with them the way she had with Darren. She still went to all of his games, though. She knew she would never find another Darren.
Bug snapped Shasta out of her thoughts by singing very loudly to the song on the radio. They had reached Curls For Gurls and Shasta swung the Ranger into a parking space.
