I Punched a Girl: Part IX

Because I was the sexiest man alive, I managed to knock myself out twice in one day, and because I did this, I couldn’t drive. I had to wait for my mom to come pick me up while I watched everyone else in my class leave in their cars. Just call me Captain Lady-Killer. No… the ‘captain’ made me seem like a murderer instead of a sarcastic, self-deprecating dork.

“’Ey, yo, Cavan,” Skanz hollered behind me. “You need a ride?”

“Nah, my mom’s coming,” I replied and waved. “Thanks though.”

“Alright man. See you tomorrow.” Then Andy’s Hispanic posse, led by Andy, who, for some reason, was wearing heart-shaped sunglasses, filed into Skanz’ tiny car like clowns and started to drive away. Andy blew me kisses as they pulled out of the parking lot.

So I there I was, alone again, standing outside the front doors of the school, three notebooks in my arms, when I saw Shelby out of the corner of my eye. Dressed in navy, brown hair bouncing as she walked, lips golden in the sunlight, smirking as her perfect ears listened to some blonde girl talk about something I couldn’t hear. I stared up at the sky and thought it’d be appropriate to remember how pretty she looked in this moment through poetry, like with a haiku or something.

Shelby, beautiful.

You are in the sun right now,

Because… sock… blender.

Never mind. I sucked at poetry.

“Hi Cavan.”

“Whah!” I screamed and dropped my notebooks. There she was—Shelby, my sock blender.

Why did she approach me?

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I looked over and saw you staring directly into the sun…”

“Hhhghghi,” I gurgled. I didn’t know why there was suddenly so much saliva in my mouth. As I scrambled to retrieve my notebooks from the concrete, I felt some drool dribble out.

“So, I was wondering…” Shelby said.

“Just a second!” I gurgled again. I quickly slurped up the drool before peering up at her from the ground. I was no ladies man, but I assumed girls weren’t into slobber.

I used the angle as an excuse to size her up and down. Feet laced up in black high heeled boots that stopped before the calf, smooth, naked white legs gleaming in the sun, beckoning me to look up, up, up to the part of the thigh just before the hem of her navy, silken dress, trimmed with black lace, concealed her perfect ass. I never knew exactly how she got away with wearing such short skirts, but I figured it was probably because the male teachers liked seeing her legs too, which was actually kind of gross considering their age. I also didn’t know why I noticed the intricacies of the lace on her dress. I guessed that was just another quality that made me seem homo, being able to distinguish navy from black and whatnot. But back to Shelby…

Up farther still was her stomach, wrapped in more black lace and navy silk, drenched in a navy military coat with silver buttons that caught the sunlight and threw it back into my face, so shiny…radiant…and why did my eyes feel like they were on fire?

“Ow,” I whimpered. “My eyes…”

By the time I could see her face again, she was smirking.

“My eyes hurt from the sun,” I announced way too loudly, for a reason even I didn’t know. Other kids looked over at us. I lowered my voice. “The buttons on your jacket… they blinded me.”

Awkward silence.

“Okay,” she said as I stood up.

That was my cue to run away in shame.

I turned to hurry inside, but the gentle grip on my arm surprised me so much that my feet froze. Shelby’s hand was on my arm.

Shelby’s hand was on my arm!

I couldn’t stop the stupid-happy grin from engulfing my face, because Shelby’s hand was on my arm. But why?

“Oh, um, sorry,” she said, pulling her hand away quickly. She looked… embarrassed?

The sight of her cheeks blooming with red made me grin even wider. I probably looked like some big-toothed freak, dopey with delight.

“You get the behhhhst of both worlds! Chillin’ out, take it slow, then you rock out the show!” screamed someone’s phone.

“God, what a stupid ringtone,” I said. “Who the hell wants to hear Hannah Montana every time someone calls them?”

“It sounds like it’s coming from you,” Shelby said.

“What? No, no way.”

“I’m ninety percent sure it’s yours,” she said.

I dug around in my pocket for my phone. Sure enough, my phone was the one blaring “Shitstorm”, otherwise known as “Best of Both Worlds”.

“Lissie!” I moaned. “Why do you keep doing this to me?” I hit the talk button. “Hi Mom.”

“Oh, Cavvy!” my mom cried. “Sweetheart, I am so sorry. I forgot that your sister’s parent-teacher conference is today.”

“Um, okay,” I said. “Why didn’t you just wait to tell me that when you get here to pick me up?”

“I’ve already rescheduled with her teacher twice, so I really can’t miss this one,” she said with an apologetically saccharine tone. “Her teacher is very adamant about discussing why she keeps drawing on all the other children while they’re napping.”

I sighed. “Okay.” My mom was a single parent. She did the best she could, even if she embarrassed me and uploaded videos of me flailing pans at fake aliens to YouTube. I figured I could just walk home. I didn’t live too far away, just a few miles.

“Can you ride home with Andy?” she asked.

“Um, yeah,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Sweetie,” she said. “Tell Andy ‘thanks’ for me, and I’ll make some brisket for him the next time he comes over. I love you!”

“I love you too,” I mumbled. Shelby was staring at me, giggling. “Bye.”

“Bye, Cavvybear!” She hung up.

“Didn’t Andy already leave?” Shelby asked.

“Were you eavesdropping?”

“Yes.” A smirk crept up on her lips.

“Heh,” I laughed a little and cleared my throat, trying to think of something to say. “Well, uh, so…”

“Do you need a ride home?” she asked, her big purply eyes sparkling.

“Oh, um, I was just going to walk,” I said.

“I’d offer you a ride,” she said, “but—”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to offer me anything,” I interrupted. Why would Shelby want to give me a ride? I deserved to walk home for hitting her in the face.

“Cavan,” she said, and it rang in my ears like a chorus of angels or whatever cliché thing people said when the person they liked uttered their name. “My car’s in the shop getting an oil change. That’s why I can’t offer you a ride home.”

“Oh.”

“I could offer you some company, though,” she said. “If you want it, I mean.”

“Huh?”

“I’m going to walk home, too,” she said. “Maybe we could walk together.”

“Yes!” I blurted. Dammit, I sounded way too eager.

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2 responses

  1. love th poetry attempt!

    April 14, 2011 at 4:50 am

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