“Good girls are made of sugar and spice, but me and my girls are made of whiskey and ice.”
Rebel Circus
Oh, lunch.
The most important meal of the day. Or was it breakfast? Or brunch?
If so, what about bats and owls and other nocturnal creatures? Is their dinner considered as their breakfast?
Where did the word ‘breakfast’ even come from and why is it specifically eaten during morning?
If I’m nocturnal, isn’t my night considered as my morning?
UGH, never mind that.
After all, as students who just survived almost four hours of mental torture from our classes, we deserve this one hour break to ourselves. Not to mention, we need the food if we want to keep our strengths up and our wits sharp for the next four hours.
Admiring the soft breeze brushing at my face, I settle down on the wooden bench of a picnic table under the canopy of trees. My tray, piled high with three large 4-cheese pizza slices, a large-sized twister fries with a cheesy-garlic dip, tater tots and chocolate fudge brookies. To top it all off, a super-sized Dr. Pepper to wash all the food down and give me my caffeine fix.
I sip at the zesty cherry concoction to cool the late-summer heat feeling.
AAAHH, cherry-flavored caffeine. I’m in Heaven again. No need for fruits here.
I wasn’t the skinniest girl in school. In fact, I’m not model-thin either. A good distance from it, actually. No, I am not fat. I’m just average – though much to the distaste of my slender and stick-thin aunts who survive on kale and a few cubes of cheese to keep them from fainting. I can still recall countless of times where I would just pig out during dinners and they would just look at me in disgust.
I love to eat. Is that a crime? I don’t think so. Was food to be blame for being delicious? No.
Would you sue me if I’m cursed with curves? No, coz that would be bullying and slander.
And for that, I rest my case.
I take a big bite off my pizza, the cheese melting in my mouth. I moan. Sooo cheeeeesy.
I know people have different uses for the word ‘cheesy’ but if there’s anything ‘cheesy’ I can tolerate and take seriously in this world, it’s the food kind. More especially, this orange-y, melt in your mouth blessed by the food gods, goodness!
Ohhh…. Ooohhh, I moan, caught in a tongue-sex with my pizza like it was my last.
I was still stuck in my cheese-induced foodgasm when I hear Tia plunk down on the chair opposite me. Her own tray was also piled with nearly the same food as mine.
What can I say? This girl has good taste! Well, considering she’s one of my best friends and we’re food buddies – she had to be.
Though, wherein I opt for my usual soda, she chooses to stick to her favorite freshly-squeezed lemonade. But, I can overlook that.
She stares at me, her pretty doe eyes regarding with an expectant look.
I scarf down the last of my cheesy pizza at the same time she starts to say something. I hold up a hand to stop her.
“I know what you’re going to say,” I pause for a bit and clear my throat. With my best imitation of her RP accent, I continue. “’You shouldn’t have done that. You could get in trouble again and it’s too early, blah-buh-bleh-buh-bleh.”
She raises one of her angled brows and gives me a thoughtful look. “Hm, I was gonna say that was wicked what you did back at first period but now, I have to say that was a good imitation of an RP accent – until you ruined it by sounding like Drac at the end.”
“I always did list down voice acting as a possible career track back in fifth grade.” I blinked at her, fluttering my eyelids.
“Don’t get cheeky with me, luv.” She smirks.
I shrug and give her a playful smile. “I can’t help it. It just naturally comes out of me. And what can I say? You got me hooked into your sarcastic British humor, poppet.” I tap the tip her nose affectionately.
“Nice try,” she holds on to my finger, “but you’re not getting out that easily.”
“Ugh,” I take back my finger and pick on my fries.” I had to maintain my street creds, Tea. Otherwise, they’ll think I’ve gone soft and hound over me just because I’m friends with you – and that isn’t an easy feat.” I gesture at her.
“Which we both know you already are,” she clarifies.
Unfortunately, I inwardly roll my eyes and keep my mouth shut. I listen to her continue on with her reprimanding.
“And didn’t Principal Mathers make it clear that you’re on ’academic probation? That entails you toning the attitude down, keeping your head low, avoid doing pranks, attend all your classes”-
“Basically, put on my big girl pants, buckle it with a tight belt and be boring. I get it.” I drop my eyes to my fries, slightly uncomfortable to the transition of the topic. I fiddle with my cup.
“Not boring but well-behaved. This,” she blinks and heaves a sigh, “is our last year, Ave, I just want all of us to graduate, leave this bloody school together and start living our awesome lives the way we should.”
“I know that.” I say glumly, more to myself.
I know she has a point. She always has. Being the sensible person that she is, she knew better than most people, how important to bide her time wisely and base her actions with practical reasoning. As a friend, she knows I do badly need to ramify my old shitty antics if I want to graduate.
Still, I can’t change that quick in a matter of months – much less weeks. I can’t even quit smoking for ten days! It’s just not that easy to shake off a habit. For me, being a rebel was who I am. I was born with it. It was in my essence. It just so happened that it took me years to fully embrace it.
I was interrupted in my angst-filled reverie when Kiana, one of our other friends, strolls out of the indoor cafeteria hall, pass by other picnic tables and through the stone path to ours.
“Hey guys!” She greets in her usual chipper self with a bounce to her every step.
Aww, she just oozes innocence all over. With her face free of makeup, her slight figure and her petite height barely reaching five-feet and two inches, it is no wonder why we call her the baby of the group. Moreover, she’s just too cute – EEP!
Yes, you heard it. I squealed.
With one hand, she holds her tray and on the other, her trusty Canon PowerShot G7 X – it’s too good of a camera for me not to say its whole name – with its strap secured around her wrist. I swear this girl never travels anywhere without it or even look at something without seeing through its lens.
I wonder how she can even walk effortlessly without stumbling. I know I can’t – with my head in the clouds and all.
I don’t know why but I have a sudden urge to say y’all!
And a craving for chili.
I mentally shake my head and focused back on my approaching friend.
Her thick fluffy mane was long and glossy like a dark waterfall. It flies around her small wispy shoulders like a thousand pair of fairy wings whenever she makes the tiniest move of her head. And let me tell you, she does that often.
She places her tray down on the table and drops down beside Tia. Her round phoenix eyes fixate on us with an indefinable gleam.
“Heard through the grapevine and some people are spreading rumors about Ave –again.” She pierces her straw on her juice box and takes a sip.
She makes it sound like I have a fan club of haters or something.
“If this is about my run-in with Crankston, they’re not wrong there.” I lick the last of the pizza grease of my fingers. I began to devour my brookies.
“Funnily enough, that one I know is true. But some guys are posting on the school site about how you actually held Crankston at gunpoint and shot him in the balls.” She fishes out her phone from one of the deep pocket of her loose black cardigan.
“Man, I wish I have thought of that earlier. That would’ve been ballsy… get it?” I munch thoughtfully, wagging my brows at them.
“Ha-ha, funny. Well, witnessing what happened firsthand I can say it did turn out like that. Figuratively,” Tia waves a French fry in the air like a tasty magic wand.
GLOMP! I bite the end off.
She frowns and scrunches her nose. “Bad girl!” she chastises, offering to me the other end of her French fry anyways.
I take it and lick my lips happily.
Kiana chews her lip. “Figuratively or literally, they actually made bets about how long Ave s gonna last or whether she’s gonna graduate. They even set up a Facebook poll so anyone can put their bets in.”
Tia whips her head suddenly. Her hackles are rising. Uh-oh, here comes mama bear.
“Now what kind of arseholes would bet on that?!”
Kiana eyes me nervously, unsure how to piece up the right words. Something behind Tia’s shoulder catches her eye and she shrugs sheepishly, “Well….”
“It’s raining men, hallelujah!” Emile’s loud voice came in a flash as well as the gaudy color of his jumper.
“Emile, what a surprise!” I smile sarcastically, “Not the absence of ‘nice’.
“Ha-ha, negative vibes ignoring that.” He waves his arm in a circular motion as if it would magically clear up any form of negativity. “Anyways… B-I-G N-E-W-S.” He sing-songs, doing the Macarena.
I gasp. “You actually know how to spell? YAAAYY!” I make an open-mouthed smile and wave my hands in fists sarcastically.
Kiana giggles silently while Tea taps distractedly on her phone.
“Of course not!” he fires hotly.
I arch a brow. Keke eyes him curiously and even Tea stops her tapping for a moment.
“I mean I know how to spell but that’s not the news.”
“Who knew?” I place a hand on my chest and roll my eyes. “If this is about the bet-“
Tia’s gasp stops me as she darts a finger in Emile’s direction. “You slag!”
Keke shoots me an ‘uh-oh’ look as Tia continuously glares at him. I shoot her back a questioning look. I still don’t get it.
Of course, neither did Emile.
He slides to the left as if to avoid the sharp blade that was of Tia’s finger. ”Hey-hey-hey, watch the finger! What nasty prick crawled up your cervix and out of your ass?”
Yeah, Tea. I almost agreed with him – still lost as him.
It’s when Tia whips out her phone and there on the screen was a poll and underneath it was a list of names who recently voted on it.
EmileStarr and 1,534 has voted on this.
“Does this ring any bell into you?”
I whistle. Well, tried to whistle. I don’t know how to whistle. I never did get the science of whistling and I’ll forever live my life without ever getting the chance to catcall someone.
To that someone – be it a man or a woman – in case you want to know, I wasn’t trying to be polite I just can’t whistle at you.
Emile pauses for a bit and with an unwavering stare replies, “No, it doesn’t.”
But Tia wasn’t hearing it. “Blast it! Did you or did you not bet on our friend here?” she presses on.
She was standing now, and though her sandals barely gave her a couple of inches, she stares him down as if Emile never had a good six-inch advantage over her.
It doesn’t take long for Emile to break and wail, “But I did it out of good faith! And by that,” he turns to me pleadingly. ”Ave please don’t screw this or I’ll be screwed – literally! – by Hairy Stanley!”
I smirk. “I dunno. ‘High School Drop-out’ sounds good on my resume right now.”
He blanches.
“What’s wrong with Stan? I thought you like your men big, gruff and hairy.” Kiana inquires curiously.
“Henry Cavill – for sure. Chris Evans – sign me up. Huge Jackman – yahz! But actual bears, are a no-no!” He parks his butt next to mine and steals one of Keke’s fries.
“Serves you right!” Tia fires.
“Why are you only aiming at me for? The others did it too! I guess you can say I just joined it for the ride?” Emile shrugs sheepishly – and whips out his own phone and takes a selfie.
“What others?”
“Hey girls!” Jhett chimes in, “and Emile”, he adds flatly.
“Snake,” Emile replies bitingly, barely turning to acknowledge him.
Jhett stares at him questioningly.
Emile whips his head and turns to him. “Oh I’m sorry, I meant that.”
“All right, ladies. Scussi,” he holds out a finger the drags Emile off the bench and to a corner.
Something tells me there was some confrontation about to happen. And speaking of something, Emile flails his arms around and stomps his foot like a petulant child.
My view got blocked as a massive chest and bulked up shoulders came into view.
“Guess what?” Tamieke says, his pearly whites glistening from the grin on his full lips. The chestnut brown skin tone on his high cheekbones was glowing with natural highlights (and by that, I meant sweat). His soulful chocolate-brown eyes] light up in excitement as he gracefully skips towards us.
Now, I know what you’re gonna say. How can a man built like a linebacker with bulging muscles and thick sturdy thighs defy gravity and have the grace of a sugarplum fairy – or a seasoned male ballerina?
Truth is, I don’t know. Perhaps, it will always be one of those unsolved mysteries in the world. Tamieke can effortlessly dance the swan lake in a Sam Andreas scene for all I know while I have to watch out and not trip on a flat surface. Of course, that one is not a big surprise.
Jules, another friend of ours, quietly follow behind him with his phone in hand. His gangly frame was hunched in concentration. His thick black fringes partly obscure his large black-framed glasses. However, this didn’t stop him from playing non-stop on whatever game was on his phone – or barely acknowledging what his twin was going on about.
Yes, Tamieke and Jules were twins. Conjoined twins. From hip to the penis. (wink-wink)
Nah, I’m just messing with you. But they are kinda like twins where ‘kinda’ is because they’re total opposites yet they’re the best of friends who are always together and will be seen together.
“What, Elphaba, that you’re gay?” I smirk at him.
“Old news darling, fifteen years and one incident concerning ‘Seven Minutes in Heaven’ – too late.” He rolls his eyes and raises his phone up for us to see the betting poll.
“The betting pool is a thousand-to-ten. Before we know, we’ll be leaving this school rolling naked in cash and fancy-ass silk. Maybe throw in some fluffy fur coats and wrap ourselves like a couple of care bears.”
He made an oh-yeah dance followed by some uh-uh elbow pumps when Tia taps him on his shoulder.
He whips his (and I swear I’m not kidding) long thick mass of curly hair that would’ve made Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman pale in comparison.
Tia pokes him on his shoulder.
“Oh, hey T!” He smiles, sill bopping his shoulders.
Tia narrows her eyes at him. Arms crossed on her chest, she grits out, “How could you?”
The frostiness in her tone stops Tamieke in mid-dance.
“Uhhh,” he throws me and Keke a help-me-I’m-lost look.
Sushi shrugs and I roll my eyes. You’re on your own on that one.
Tia shoves her phone a few mere inches from his face.
“So, what do you have to say for yourself?” Tia probes on.
“Coz, we believe in Ave! It was her name on the line, it’s not our fault we’re her friends for supporting her,” he puffs.
“Already ran the odds too. Just as long as she keeps her violations to three minor ones or two major ones, our girl’s goof to go.” Jules, who finally decides to look up from his game, quips matter-of-factly. He throws a mischievous grin at Tamieke. “Besides, the only way Buffy here won’t lose in a bet is if I’m betting the same as him.”
“Bi-i-itch!” Tamieke hisses, blowing a raspberry at his bestie.
Aah, Jules always the voice of reason and logic. Spouting off stats to every single little thing there ever was. Though that would actually mean he cares.
AWWW.
“I think it’s sweet.” I flutter my eyes. And I meant it.
Tia glares at me. I bat my eyelashes at her innocently.
“See? I know somewhere behind that cold heartless bitch exterior, you are happy for it.” Emile beam as he returns to his seat with Jhett sting beside him.
Obviously, they made up.
Pfft, BFFs.
I quirk a brow and shoot him a dark smirk. “Shame how you thought I would be offended over that.”
“Either way, I know these gorgeous chiseled features are safe.” He says smugly, his hands cupping his face like one of those Korean skincare models.
“I don’t think it’s good to tempt fate. I know I would gladly put a shiner on you.” Tia chips in brightly, cracking her knuckles.
This caused Emile to drop his smug look for a wounded puppy one.
“Damn, that is so hot.” I whistle – again, tried to whistle.
Tia winks at me. I bite my lip seductively and wink back.
“Ew,” Emile wrinkles his nose, “you’re sounding a lot like Ave. Seriously, I can never understand the dynamics of our friendship.”
“You never did, sweetie.” Jhett reassures him, patting his shoulder.
Emile nods as if that explained everything to him. “Can we please talk about something interesting and less depressing – like,” he makes a disgusted face as if choking on something revolting before spitting it out, “class?”
“If you say it like that, just made an outbreak at Physic C. If we can just find a mech expert, we can present an entry for the national robotics contest!” Jules says animatedly in his geek-mode, his interest to join in our conversation highly piqued.
“Slow down there, Nemo! Dammit, now why can’t you be this excited over the guys I introduce you to?” Tamieke grumbles.
Jules turns to him. Tamieke raises his arms sarcastically, “Yay!”
“Congrats, Jules! BT-dubs, I get first scoop when you win?” Kiana asks.
“Don’t see why not,” he shrugs. Jules wasn’t really into the fame and glory, unlike someon-
“AHEM!”
“Yay! Anyways”-
“AHEM!” Emile continues to clear his throat. It makes me wonder how long he can keep clearing his throat. Ooh, maybe enough to lose his voice.
Kiana blinks, “Yes, Em?”
“Isn’t there someone here who’s curious what I’m up to?” Emile asks loudly, his eyes darting left, right and over us.
“I think everyone’s already aware what’s happening in your life.” Jules replies dismissively.
Tamieke snorts. “Even my IG news feed are flooding with your posts. I try to scroll down and another one always pops up. I had to uninstall and re-install.” He casts Emile a pointed look. “Of course, I might as well unfollow you.”
“Jesse Tyler Ferguson! You take that back!” Emile hisses, completely going all-Medusa.
“Just kidding, bitch.” Tamieke rolls his eyes.
“Oh,” Emile giggles and goes back to his exciting news. “As I was saying, not this one. This time you get the first dish!”
“Yay,” Tia cheers sarcastically.
I giggle and wink at her.
“Can it, Potts!” He snaps like a Pomeranian with a chew toy. He turns to us and continues, “Anyways, the drama club is holding up auditions for the Fall Musicale”-
“We know that already.” Jules cuts off. The only thing missing to prove his point was flashing his school badge: Student Council 007.
Of course, being Emile, he continues, “And, for my audition, I am going to perform an original Emile Bryer classic play.”
A play? That’s a surprise.
Kiana gasps, “You wrote a play?! That’s great!”
“Sushi, please, I don’t see why you need to look so surprised,” he waves off.
Kiana eyes the rest of us, wondering her choice of words.
“You did great!” We mouth off and send her an okay-sign. Seriously, only Kiana can insult someone and still sound so nice and polite.
“I know, hold your applause. I have barely begun. As I was saying, it’s gonna have adventure, drama, humor, a slice of life and a bit of history. I call it,” he pauses for maximum suspense, he signals Jhett to do a drum roll. “The ingeniously spectacular and world-changing play this school and the world especially Broadway has been waiting for… duh-duh-duh-duh…. Wait for it…duh-duh-duh-duh-daaahhh”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, just say it!” I snap.
Finally, he does and spreads his arms in exaltation. ”Phallus: An Ode to Penis.”
FACE-PALM!
Complete and utter silence.
“Is it just me that thinks it’s a work of genius?” Jhett comments, breaking the silence.
“A history about dicks? Count me in!” Tamieke coincides and they high-fived.
“Is that even allowed?” Kiana gently inquires, breaking down their little party.
Tamieke shares a look with Jules.
Jules sighs, “I will have to discuss this with the council.”
Tamieke grins knowingly at him, “Bitch, I know you want it too.”
Jules rolls his eyes and smirks. Men with their dicks. I guess the old adage ‘Boys and their toys’ is still true.
“So, Sushi, you were saying about something?” Tia gets back to the point.
Sushi’s eyes widen, “Oh! I just got held up in some AV club activities so I didn’t get to attend Japanese Studies. Speaking of which, heard there was a quiz and a seatwork in Microeconomics class. Did you get them, Tams?”
“Never had it. Coach got everyone excused for practice.” Tamieke shrugs. Jhett nods in agreement.
“Me, neither,” I add.
Tia shoots me a narrow-eyed look, “What do you mean ‘neither’? You’re not on the team – or in any team for that matter.”
“Nope,” I say, popping the ‘p’, “But that doesn’t mean I have to attend the class.” I smirk inwardly.
Here it comes, in three… two… one.
“Ave, you promised-
“Just kidding, mamita. Geez, I did attend. I just slept through it.” I hold back a yawn, remembering the monotonous tone our teacher talks in.
“Why were you sleeping? You don’t sleep. You’re wired like a horse.” Tia says, unconvinced.
“Fiiiiine, in my defense. I had a rough night.”
“Ooh,” Tamieke and the gays resound, reminding gaping goldfishes in the dinner scene of Princess Diaries.
“Not like that, you dirty-minded people. Seriously, all you slutbags think about is sex. I got held up on some club stuff.”
“Speaking of clubs, since today’s Friday,” Jhett interjects.
I cringe. Fuck, today is FRIDAY?!
I zone off, barely catching on a few words from Jhett like ‘new’, ‘opened’ and town’.
Jules’s jaw slackens. “Get out! Like an actual club here in Belle Mont?! Were the owners lost?”
Emile shows us an IG post on his phone showing what looked like a perforated steel interior of a hip nightclub similar to one in Beirut. “Confirmed! And no, they are not lost. They probably thought we, colorful people, deserve a night life.”
“Bitches, you know what that means!” Tamieke hollers.
All ’mos share a look and suddenly they break into a dance around the table while chanting:
“We’re here, we’re queer,
We also like beer.
We’re here, we’re queer
Give us some free beer.”
“Hold up, Will, Truman, Jack and MacFarlane, “Tia interrupts, “you do know we’re having Tequila, right?”
“No duh, but it’s just so catchy,” Jhett reasons, still swaying his hips like the rest of the ’mos. Even Kiana was mouthing off the chant.
“Keke,” Tia stares incredulously.
Kiana shrugs. “It kinda is.”
“This is why we don’t let them watch Will and Grace reruns. They just get gayer every time. I’m afraid they would be too gay, pink goo would just come flooding out of them.” Tia shakes her head.
Meanwhile, the ’mos continue their singing, inviting every eyes at our table – and by that, I meant everyone.
“Shush, Mistresses of Inconspicuous Misdeeds.” I butt in and by some miracle they did. “Save that shit for Pride Month. I don’t need somebody here to report my aunts.”
“Oh-kay,” Tamieke raises his hands, “First of all, hakuna your tatas. We don’t have Pride Month here. The town council made sure of that. Second, Tea, we are having tequilas but it’s just too catchy to pass up. If you can make up a good rhyme for gays and tequila, feel free to share. Lastly, Rebel, you’re being paranoid right now. Your aunts don’t know nothing while you’re here.”
Tia snorts. “Tell that to sweet Brighley. Her mum and Ave’s aunts always share an afternoon tea. I’m sure they’ll appreciate any dirty sordid news from that toshy little snitch.”
“Thank you,“ I nod. “Have I ever mentioned how I love your version of swearing?”
Tia blows me a kiss.
“Fine,” Jules is first to relent, “but only if Ave here actually joins us.”
“I dunno, I have some stuff to work on,” I say cryptically, considering it is Friday. Travers will be up on my ass trying to get any latest updates on the manuscript. Not to mention The Garage is full of upcoming orders and deadlines to meet.
“Uh-huhm,” Tamieke grunts, “You make it sound like you tied the knot with the club through a blood compact or sump’n. Child, you better not be joining no cult.” He raises a finger in warning.
I roll my eyes. “It’s not a cult, ma. I’m-doing-it-for-extra-credits.” I mumble hurriedly. Hopefully that would satisfy them.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tamieke cleans his ear and leans towards me, cupping his ear, “I thought you said you were doing it for extra credits.”
“I was,” I mutter.
Come on, just take the bait.
“Since when is there a ‘you’ and the words ‘extra credits’ in a sentence together?”
Now for the tricky part.
“Just now – and I also have a job.” I reason. When all else fails, mention the job. Not that I don’t have one or that I just made it all up. I do have one.
“Right, the ‘job’ with the bears,” Jhett nods, air-quoting with his fingers. “Come on, Rebel. It’s been ages since you’ve been out.”
“Make that close to never now,” Jules adds.
“Yeah, give that booty a chance to shake her thing again!” Emile concurs, jiggling his butt in front of us.
Tamieke and the other ’mos joins in – even Tia. Kiana was content filming them.
“C’mon, Ave. Shake that booty again!” They take turns twerking one by one then point at me.
“Sorry guys, I really can’t.” That dampens their dance. I continue, “But promise, next time I’ll go.”
Sounds of disbelief and protests soon follow.
“Oh-kay, bitches just chill,” Tamieke call their attention then turns to me. “You better, boo. Or else, we’re kidnapping you anyways and you’re gonna be footing a ginormous bill of booze enough to host a Mardis Gras on a Fat Tuesday. And, trust me,” he narrows his eyes in emphasis, “you don’t want drunk-ass gays sneaking at your house and giving your frigid aunts a heart attack.”
HA! I’d pay front-row seats for that!
“I believe the word you were trying to say was ‘abducting’, not kidnapping.” I clarify.
“And here comes the grammar-Nazi.” Tamieke remarks, shooting me a playful look at the double entendre.
Says the actual half-German, I stick my tongue at him.
“More like me clarifying specific details I can tell the five-ohs once they put me on court.” I shoot back.
“Ooh, child, look at you throwing some low-key shade. Like I still couldn’t be in jail for being black,” he laughs.
“Half-black,” Jules corrects. “Not that I’m disregarding your African-American heritage, just pointing out your genealogy.”
“Phylicia from Pennsylvania, Philadelphia says otherwise.” Tamieke points out.
Jules shrugs in agreement. Nobody says no to Phylicia a.k.a. Tamieke’s mom – or disagrees with her. I mean, come on, where else did our big lovable ’mo got his sass?
“Hold that thought,” Emile glances at his Rolex and squeals. He excitedly taps on the table and turns to Jhett, “Come on Flippy. We gotta before we’re late, late, late!”
Unless Emile was a vampire, the ’mo moved fast for a human. One moment he was sitting and the next he was standing a few feet away from our table.
“Since when have you ever been so eager for class?” Tia asks suspiciously.
“Since we have Human Geography,” Emile sing-songs.
Okay, now we’re all lost. No class could ever get these two so aroused. (No, that wasn’t a misnomer.)
Jhett, just finishing putting away their trays, explains why. “The main teacher got sick for a week before so today’s the official first day with the sub.”
Emile swoops in, “Pecs, abs, dicks and boo-tays!!! The whole body-mapping experience – if you know what I mean,” he winks in his brand of homosexual laughter. How he manages to do that, I’ll never know.
“Should we tell them what human geography really means?” Jules whispers as we watch both ’mos sashay away to what they think to be rated R version of a class for the male anatomy.
“We could,” I say thoughtfully, “being good friends and all.” I glance at Tia.
“But times like these, you have to give them tough love,” she assents.
“Something tells me we might be seeing another Expectation vs. Reality post after this.” Tamieke groans.
We all agree and groan at the inevitable outbreak bound to happen in an hour.
Copyright © 2019 by Andrea Cassandra Lei Meñosa
All Rights Reserved
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