We may have something in common.
What the hell! What could we possibly have in common? I don’t have much time to contemplate it, though, because a shadow appears across the table. I look up. Carole stands over me, arms crossed, and shakes her head. “Okay, now, what are we going to do about you?”
5
Dinner at the Chens
Driving home from the library, I reflect on everything that transpired in the last few hours. I dodged a bullet today, no doubt about it. Carole covered for me with the school and told them I wasn’t feeling well with a promise I’ll be there tomorrow. I am so grateful she didn’t make me go to the school and apologize to the teachers and principal. I would have died! Mostly, I’m relieved she agreed not to tell Mom so long as I do what she asks. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m going straight home after I stop at Target to buy a new alarm clock.
I told Carole the whole story, or most of it anyway, leaving out the part about Hector. I told her about freaking out when I missed the opening bell and running away to Starbucks. She was compassionate despite not fully understanding why I panicked so severely. I’m not sure I understand it myself. She chalked it up to the recent changes in my life and last night’s scare. I push the worry from my mind and head to Target.
Istrategically place the new alarm clock across the room from my bed per Carole’s instructions. Her rationale was twofold. First, a new clock with a different alarm sound may help wake me up. Second, placing it far enough away forces me to get out of bed to turn off the alarm. I keep my original clock on my bedside table; two alarms are better than one. Belt and suspenders, she called it. What a Carole thing to say.
I’ve grown to love Carole as a third parent. In recent days, she has been more of a parent to me than Mom. I certainly see her more than Mom who is either at work or resting from being at work. But Mom is still more of a parent than Dad is. That’s for sure.
My stomach growls, reminding me that lunchtime has arrived. I make myself a sandwich and a mug of soup, take it into the living room, and turn on the TV. There’s nothing like daytime talk shows to make you feel better about your own life.
George, you are not the father! Your half-brother Frank is…
I’m normal compared to these insane people. Although I’m the one who thinks he’s going to die at 11:22. I’m the one who feels like something is aggressively trying to scratch its way out of my stomach. I turn off the TV and push the uncomfortable thought out of my mind. I read a little bit, play with Sammy, and before I know it, the end of the school day rolls around. I leave a note on the counter for Mom and Carole reminding them that I’m going to the Chens for our first-day-of-school tradition. I promise to be home before nine. I give Sammy a few scratches and head out to Mags’ house. She, as if on cue, calls on the drive over.
“Are you on your way? Don’t forget to pick up Neel. Are you sure Tom is okay?”
“Yes, Mags, I’m on my way. Yes, I’ll pick up Neel. And yes, Tom is fine. I am too. Not that you seem to care. We’ll be there soon.”
I end the call and resume my playlist from this morning. It occurs to me that Mags and Neel will want to know about my new school, my teachers, my new friends… I guess I’ll have to tell them the truth. Mags will smell any bullshit from a mile away.
I pull up to Neel’s house and wait for him to come outside. After a few minutes, he emerges from the front door holding a casserole dish. His head is freshly shaven on the left with the right perfectly styled and gelled to cover his right eye. He gets in the car and waves goodbye to his mom. With a smile as bright as her sari, she waves back.
“So embarrassing. I’m almost an adult,” Neel says. “She acts like I’m still a child.”
“I know this pain. What’s in the casserole?”
“I don’t know; something my mom made. She insisted I bring it along and give it to Mags’ mom. See, embarrassing! Anyway, what are we listening to today, Heartbreaker?”
“Come on, Neel, quit calling me that. It’s so ninth grade and, by the way, this is Tom Petty.”
“Old school again? You can’t dance to this, Heartbreaker! You’re growing old before your time. You need to add in some current music. Let’s listen to Lizzo. Everyone likes Lizzo, right?”
“Neel, we’re driving, not dancing. This is about one thing and one thing only, your libido. We all know you have a thing for Lizzo. You want to bump uglies with her.”
“Bump uglies? See what I mean. No one talks like that except for you, Simon Bugg. But, yes, you’re right. I do want to bump uglies with her. She is hot! You don’t think so?”
“Here, knock yourself out. You can play music from your own phone.” I yank the cord from my phone and hand it to Neel. “Free Fallin’” is replaced by a pulsating beat. I have no idea if it’s Lizzo, but it makes him happy.
On the drive to Mags’ house, Neel doesn’t ask about my day. I don’t even get a chance to tell him about running off the road last night. He just goes on about different girls, how pretty they are, and how Shonda’s boobs have gotten so huge over the summer. I laugh a little. Neel is quite the exaggerator, but I like this about him. He doesn’t always have a lot to say, but if you get him talking about something he is passionate about, you can’t shut him up. It used to be video games, but now he mostly talks about girls. I don’t mind listening to him ramble on, but I cringe when he asks my opinions about girls or why I can’t seem to keep a girlfriend for more than two weeks.
We arrive to find Mags sitting on her front stoop waiting for us. She leaps up and rushes the car. She circles Tom twice, rubbing her chin.
“Hmm, I don’t see any damage. Perhaps you should take him to a garage. There could be internal bleeding.”
I toss my head against the headrest with a thud. “Mags, for the last time, Tom is fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“What is she talking about?” Neel asks.
“Oh, crap. I was going to tell you this morning, but Simon distracted me. Bug Boy here tried to murder our Tom last night.”
“What? Simon, why didn’t you say anything?” Neel says, as he jumps out of the car and does the same slow walk around the car Mags just did.
