So I'm a Double Threat (Double Threat Series) (7 page)

“So, that’s his real name.” I begin the story that still makes me laugh. “I guess his freshman year on football, there were two Bens, and the other was a senior. So he got nicknamed Ben Junior, and the guys ended up calling him B.J. for short. It just stuck and I think since they’re a bunch of pervs, they like the name B.J. for other reasons too. You get me?”

Keesha smirks. “I get it. I’m sure they love calling one of their boys
B.J
. .”

“So anyway, he said the guys are the only ones who call him that, so I can call him Ben or B.J., it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, must’ve been a hard choice.” She chuckles.

“Yeah, no kidding. Can you imagine my mom? Meg, there’s a
B.J.
on the phone.” I imitate my mom’s shrill voice.

We both laugh hysterically. My mom is so oblivious to things like that sometimes; she probably wouldn’t even realize what she was saying.

Keesh snorts causing us both to go into hysterics. She keeps snorting, and it’s like we can’t stop. It’s not even funny anymore, but we can’t stop laughing. I manage to take a sip of my drink to try and calm myself.

“Okay, okay, okay, I’m good. I’m done.” I have to wipe my eyes with a napkin. I take a deep breath, so I can tame another outburst.

“Okay, no more laughing. Anyway, so what did you talk about?” She’s still giggling.

“Just random stuff. Nothing in particular. But we were on the phone for, like, almost two hours.”

Keesha laughs. “Crap. Is he gay?”

“What? Just because a guy talked to me for more than fifteen minutes, he’s gotta be gay?”

“Hey, I was just kidding. But really, is he?” Keesha is serious this time.

“No stupid. He’s not gay. Just nice, I guess.”

“So that was it, you just talked about nothing?”

“Well, he knew I liked Alex, but he just talked like it was no big thing. I didn’t even feel dumb.”

“Hmm, this could get interesting.” Keesha raises her brows up and down.

“Dang, we’ve been here forever.” I look at the time. I pause to take the last couple bites of my breakfast. “Should we go?”

It always takes us forever to get through a meal. We talk too much. Our food is usually cold before we finish it.

“I guess. If we leave now, we can make it back in time for third.”

Keesha and I get up from our booth, and head over to the counter to pay. There are still some students here, but most have already left.

––––––––

I
feel much better when we begin walking back to school. I’m over the fear. It’s just like walking to school in the morning, no big deal. My heart is beating normally; it isn’t racing like it was earlier.

Until...wait.

“How sick. Look at these tampons all tossed around, up and down the sidewalk,” I comment on the periscope-looking plastic applicators and cotton corks scattered around. “Hey, do you remember when Amy’s sisters were playing with her tampons and pads?”

A while back, Amy’s little sisters got into a box of tampons from under the sink in the bathroom. They unwrapped them all and were pretending to be pirates looking for a buried treasure, peering through the applicator pushing it in and out. They also got into the sanitary pads, took the paper strips off the backs, and stuck them to different places around the house—“X marks the spot” is where the treasure was found. The treasure was the dynamite—or the cotton wads from the tampons. This story makes me smile every time I think about it.

“Yeah, I do. That was so funny. I thought Amy’s mom was going to die.” Keesh chuckles. She side-steps to avoid stepping on one of them. “At least they’re not
used.
”

“Sick.”

“Wa...wait a minute,” Keesha says, as we both notice sheets of paper whisping away over lawns and into the street.

“Oh shit. Our bags.”

“Damn.” Keesha starts to jog over to the bush. I guess our secret hiding place wasn’t much of a secret as we thought.

As we get closer, I stumble upon one of my folders, some Spanish notes, headphones, and a few highlighters. All my crap is spread out all over the place. I guess the bush did not do a good job of hiding our stuff. That bush is fired.

We gather our things and stuff what’s left back into our bags. I’m only missing a calculator and my fake iPod—my cheap non-brand name MP3 player. Keesha is now heading back to school tamponless and without an algebra two book. So there
is
someone out there who wants to study the quadratic equation.

Karma.

There is that word again. This is what we get for ditching—our crap dumped out all over the street. I bet whoever found it was disappointed to find we’re losers without drugs, money, or even condoms. My money was with me. I don’t do drugs. And I don’t need any condoms, not yet anyway.

“Senorita Miller, como se dice
pencil
en espanol?” Mrs. O’Brien is apparently asking me.

I’m not paying attention. I’m barely catching my breath from running up the stairs to be in my seat on time. I don’t want to get detention for being tardy.

“Un lapis.” Amy answers for me.

Is she being nice? Trying to help me out? Or is she being a witch and trying to make me look bad?

“Gracias, Seńora Chapman, pero la proxima vez espere su turno,” she says, sternly.

Amy’s face turns slightly pink. She’s not used to teachers correcting her answers or her behavior. She’s usually treated like a freakin’ goddess in class.

Spanish goes by fast. Reviewing basic words and simple phrases that can be used regularly in school. It’s a good thing I don’t need my notes. The work is easy, but it’s embarrassing to speak aloud.

Steph is the most embarrassed of all of us. Since she’s Mexican, I mean...American of Mexican descent, she is expected to know Spanish. And, she’s supposed to be able to speak it with an accent. However, Steph’s Spanish is about as good as ours. She is like fiftieth generation born here, she only knows English. No accent necessary.

Fourth period
already
? Wow, I can get used to this skipping class thing. It’s so easy. It can definitely become a habit, if it weren’t for the loads of work I’d miss.

ASB begins like usual. Utter chaos.

Students file in little by little, some grabbing lunch first before heading in. Since first lunch starts at the same time, some students opt to eat during class. It’s not like they’re going to get into trouble. It’s like we have free rein to do whatever we want. Well, maybe not us freshmen, but the seniors can definitely do whatever the hell they please.

Mr. Mitchell rings his
own
bell about fifteen minutes into the period. Everyone gathers into the classroom and waits for their name to be called. Mr. Mitchell always calls roll, every day at the same time. If you’re not here when he calls your name, you’re marked absent. I’m always here so it doesn’t matter much to me. I catch on quick though. Once he calls roll, students just come and go as they please, and some actually leave and never come back.

Before excusing everyone, the next project is announced—rally committee will begin working on the Homecoming Rally and the activities committee must get started with the dance. Like always, Steph and Amy part ways with Keesh and me, to meet up with our committees. All the details for the dance are pretty much complete. The place where the dance is held takes care of everything. So our committee chair just asks for volunteers to sell tickets at lunch. The upperclassmen fill the slots before Keesh and I have a chance to even raise our hands.

The lunch bell rings and we’re the first in line for our
healthy
snack, another perk of being in ASB. We can get in line before the bell rings so we always have our lunch before other students can even make it out of their classrooms.

The four of us sit under our tree and begin to eat quietly. I think about what Keesha said this morning. Will Amy sit with us or is she going to ditch us for Alex and the football team? I have a feeling Steph and Keesha are thinking the same thing.

It isn’t long before Amy whips out her brand new cell and touches the screen. She smiles, her cheeks flush as she reads the text. She gathers her stuff quickly, fumbling over her food and trying to get her stuff inside her bag. I know where she is going. We all do.

“Hey, guys, I’ll be back in a bit,” she mutters. “I’m gonna go chill with Alex for a while.”

“Have fun," I manage to say to her with a fake smile.

“Don’t hurry on our account,” Keesh says, sarcastically.

Steph doesn’t say anything. She just smiles. Although, it looks about as sincere as mine.

“Okay, bye,” Amy mumbles as she walks away.

This is it.

Our tight-knit, real-life
Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
—well, without the pants, or the travel—is coming to an end. This is just the beginning. I can feel it. We’re not the same girls who were inseparable only just a few weeks ago. It’s all changing now—just one guy, okay one freakin’ hot guy, can do so much damage. What happened to “friends are forever, boys whatever”? Even though Amy is with the guy of my dreams, I don’t want us to...just...fall apart.

The four of us have been through so much together over the years. We’ve balanced each other out. Steph has always been the sensible one to the rest of our crazy. Amy and Keesh have always been the ones to stick up for our group when Steph and I would rather just ignore any problems. We’ve all been the girlie pieces to our puzzle of friendship. With one piece missing, we just have never seemed complete.

Who knew high school would change that. And, so soon.

We were supposed to be
forever
.

––––––––

I
can’t believe soccer tryouts are Monday. It’s only been a little over a month since school started, and the thought of running for hours after school during practice seems daunting, but my fat ass can use the exercise. This
Healthy Kids
crap is not helping any either, I just get home from school starving, and binge with some Skinny Cow ice creams—because one is not enough—and a diet soda. My mom is going to have to do some grocery shopping. Carrots and fat-free yogurt is not going to cut it once practice starts. French Fries. I’m going to need some French Fries.

Both Keesha and I are going to try out—she’ll probably make Varsity and I might be lucky enough to make the freshmen team. I love to play sports but I’m just not naturally athletic, especially with soccer. Keesh is good, though. She’s like the players in the World Cup. That freakin’ good. Really. She can do all kinds of tricks and stuff. I’m lucky if I don’t trip while I’m dribbling the ball. My dad actually laughs at me. Really, he laughs at me. The few times he’s been to my games, he joked he didn’t want to tell anyone I was his daughter. Funny, but sad.

Seriously, I’m not that bad. One time I even made a goal—it wasn’t intentional or anything, but it was still a goal. Keesha was taking a corner kick and I was standing in my spot in the goal. Before I knew it the ball hit me in the
vajayjay
—you know, down there—and flew in the goal. I didn’t even realize what happened until everyone started screaming and running toward me to hug and congratulate me. Who cares if I didn’t even mean for it to happen? It was still a goal, my goal.

I wish Steph would try out with us. It’s not like you have to be MLS material to be on the freshmen team. At least, we could be there together. She’s the only one of us who isn’t going to have something to do once soccer starts. Amy is never free now that she and Alex spend every freakin’ waking moment together. She still hangs with us, but she has also started mingling with the senior girls as well. This would’ve probably happened anyway because her older sister, Jen, is a senior, but since she’s with Alex, it only makes it easier for her to ditch us at lunch or after school.

Not all the female seniors enjoy Amy’s company though. The stereotypical hot, stuck-up cheerleaders hate her with a passion, since, they have this prehistoric idea the football players belong to them. The football team kind of sucks, so I would say they can have them, but this is Alex we’re talking about. I guess if I can’t have Alex, I’m secretly happy the stupid rah-rahs can’t have him either, even though Amy will probably be one of them someday anyway. Actually, I’d be much happier if he hadn’t chosen to be with one of my best friends.

It bites how things have changed. Amy doesn’t walk home with us anymore; she goes to the library for tutoring, even though she doesn’t need it, so Alex can give her a ride home after his football practice. How ridiculous is that? Who wants to hang out in the library for two hours after school? By the time she gets home, the rest of us have already debriefed the day, eaten to our hearts content, finished our homework, checked out reruns of
The Hills
, and been on
Facebook
a
kabillion
times. What a waste of time for Amy. Damn, I guess Alex must be worth it. Actually, I know he’s worth it and I wish I knew how
worth it
he really is.

There go my hormones again.

You would think I’m some middle-aged woman hitting her stride or something with the heat I feel down there, just thinking about Alex’s
worthiness
. The only thing I’ve ever done with a guy is kiss with a little boob action. There were times when my hands, or the guys, were straying toward the nether regions but we either chickened out or got interrupted.

Maybe I’m all hot like this because I haven’t kissed a guy since the eighth grade dance. It was a good one too. Eric is so freakin’ hot. He must’ve watched soap operas or
Sex in the City
to know how to move his lips and where to put his hands. He always touched the side of my cheek first, then put his hand through my hair and pulled me toward him. It always started out gentle and sweet, then ended savage-like, as I could feel the tug on my hair, and my lips and tongue molded into his. It didn’t hurt or anything, it was roughly satisfying. I could live with kisses like that for the rest of my life. Let’s just say, I could’ve probably used a panty liner every time Eric kissed me. And, he was a good boyfriend too. Why did I break up with him again?