Chapter 3: 3. Juicebox

I don’t want to talk about summer school but I suppose I should mention it. My attendance was mandated by school authorities due to my poor grades all through middle school and a year of high school, and part of that wasn’t my fault but was because of the pandemic. So I had to retake 9th grade English, Algebra, Science and Social Studies in the summer, or I would have to take them in the fall. Each class was almost two hours a day for seven weeks, which left very damn little summer for fun.

Not that there’s a lot of fun to be had in the Lonesome Mountains of southern Arizona. And if I weren’t in school, I would likely be at home in the hottest, muggiest weather of the year. At least the A/C at school usually worked.

The day promised to be a scorcher with a little light rain just before noon from the looks of the sky. The joys of the monsoon. I trudged through the landscape of suburban blight with a fifteen pound backpack that felt like it weighed sixty. Big Lonesome Peak loomed in the distance as if it stood right above the city and not more than sixty miles away. Or a hundred kilometers, since the top of the peak itself was in Mexico. Almost two miles high (or three kilometers) it would actually have snow on it most winters.

It was a landmark for the whole area—since it had a secondary peak on the US side, you could tell where you were in the valley by the shape the mountain made against the sky.

I got to the school even before the gates were open but as soon as they were, I made my way to the Library/Study Hall to do some cramming for the tests we had every Friday. For me, taking tests is a lot like having pieces of me trimmed off for some ghoulish stew. Only in English did I have hope of more than a barely passing grade.

I didn’t get as much studying done as I had hoped. I couldn’t concentrate. Several people gave me odd looks and one kid seemed to be staring at me. I couldn’t figure it out, but when I glared back at him he sort of smiled and looked away. I worried about it after a bit and changed seats. I know I was sort of paranoid to begin with because of the money Milo had given me.

I didn’t have it with me. I t was hopefully safe at home, but I’d never had so much money of my own before. And he was offering more if I showed up tonight? What did he want? I kind of thought I knew what he wanted and the last thing I needed for any sort of feeling of security was some kid staring at me and smiling. A bell rang finally and I got up to go, shoveling everything back into my backpack and making sure my glasses were on my face.

Classes started about 8:30, I honestly never remember whether it is 8:25 or 8:35, I just depend on the bells to let me know when class starts. First class for me and thirty other kids was Social Studies, just to assure that we began the day bored and sleepy and continued in those conditions all day. And for maximum effect of the sleepy-bored combination, Science and Algebra were in the afternoon.

Social studies, which was world history this week, went poorly because of the half hour test inflicted on us. We graded our own answers at the end of the period and I had 25 right out of 40. I sighed. According to the grading ranges on the chalkboard, I needed two more right to get a C. Who needed to know this stuff anyway?

English second period went better. I’m actually kind of good at this stuff and had done the 500 word essay assigned as homework and turned that in, having finished it in the library just that morning. Our Friday test consisted of ten essay questions and despite being distracted by another kid staring at me, I felt pretty sure I had at least a B on that.

When the bell rang for end of period, I got out of there fast because the kid looked like he might come over to talk to me and fuck that. Why was he so interested in me anyway? Lunch would be a good time to avoid him and his creepy stare.

The cafeteria wasn’t open in summer school, but bagged lunches were available, passed out by the same lunch ladies that normally filled lunch trays with scoops of glop and splat. Since I was considered a disadvantaged person by the school district, the lunch was free. Usually something like a cheese or sliced turkey sandwich, a tiny bag of chips, an apple, some carrot sticks, a cookie and a box of juice or milk. A soda machine was also available. Or you could walk the two blocks to a nearby 7-11 and feast on over-priced junk food there.

I usually ate about half the sandwich and the chips, saving the cookie for a snack in between afternoon classes, and taking the apple home with me. The juice today was strawberry-banana, so I slurped that down since it would not keep well and was genuinely delicious.

I always ate in the air-conditioned lunchroom which was open even if the cafeteria wasn’t. Summer school wasn’t like regular school and there wasn’t much socializing but today, the boy I had seen before staring plopped down across from me. He was a big kid, probably a junior or going to be senior, with a lot of wavy black hair. This was worse than being stared at. Guys his size were usually trouble for skinny kids like me.

But he was smiling at least. He eyed the half a turkey sandwich I had rewrapped and laid aside.

“You gonna eat that?” he asked.

I shook my head and pushed it toward him. “You can have it, it’s kinda dry.” I had taken it apart and eaten the lettuce, so it was even dryer, really.

He devoured it in less than six bites. The way he did it struck me as funny and I smiled at him as I sipped my juice. He wasn’t threatening to shove me into a trashcan just for existing so I tried to relax, but no use pushing my luck by laughing in his face.

“How come girls almost never eat a whole sandwich?” he asked.

“I dunno, not hungry, I guess. Why ask me?” I pushed my glasses back up my nose. It’s always a problem for me cause I have such a short nose and my glasses are heavy.

“You didn’t eat your sandwich.”

“I told you, it was kinda dry.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. He stood up. “Want some water?”

“I’ve got juice.”

The school also provided small bottles of water for free for anyone. With the heat outside, it made sense, since they had turned off the water fountains during the pandemic. I watched him retrieve a bottle, twist it open, drain it and crush the empty between his hands.

“Ooo, strong,” I said. He seemed to have obviously been showing off and deserved to be twitted for it. He had looked funny doing it and less like a bully than I had first thought.

He made a noise that would have to be spelled, ‘scoff.’

“You doing anything tonight?” he asked.

I stared at him. “Are you asking me out?” That sounded kind of squeaky but I was astonished.

“I am,” he said, grinning.

I sucked up the last of the NannaBerry Nectar with a harsh sucking sound.

You are reading story Meadow at novel35.com

He smirked, staring at me, like before. I squinted at him, trying to read his expression, but wrinkling my nose made my glasses slip and I had to rescue them again.

I tossed the empty carton in the bin right beside the table and pointed at myself. “I’m a boy,” I said. Maybe he was gay. Not a great thing to be in Arizona. Maybe I was about to get pounded after all if he wasn’t gay.

He made that scoffing noise again. “Yeah, right!” he said.

I blinked. “You don’t believe I’m a boy?” Wait… Is this better than getting pounded?

“No. But it might be fun if you tried to prove it!” he challenged.

I looked around. No one was really watching. “Here? Now?” I couldn’t really do that—how would I prove it besides pulling my pants down?

“Nah. We could do that later.” He did things with one eyebrow. “How about we go for a movie? Burgers?”

“But I really am a boy,” I tried again. I got my feet out from under the table in case I had to run.

He glared at me this time. “If you don’t wanna go, just say you already have a date.”

I blinked, at least twice. “I already have a date,” I said. I guess I did, sort of. Anyway, he had suggested it as a way out.

But he got up as abruptly as he had first sat down and left without looking back or saying anything.

Three girls at a nearby table cracked up. “Elvis has left the building,” one of them commented.

“Is that his name?” I asked. “Elvis?”

“With that curly dark hair? I think it’s just a nickname. But he always waits till the last minute to try to get a date. If he’d asked you yesterday, you might have said yes.”

I shook my head. It was unusual for girls to even speak to me. “I really do have a date tonight,” I said, sort of telling the truth. “I just don’t know if I’m going to go.” Did they think I was a girl, too?

“Huh? Why not?”

“He’s an older guy, from the army base. He kinda scares me.” This was all true. I did have a sort of date with an older guy from the army base, and Milo definitely scared me. Plus, what? Was I claiming to be gay? Or a girl?

“Fuck him if he scares you, I mean,” she paused, “that didn’t come out right.”

We all laughed, me a little nervously. The warning bell rang to start back to class, I scanned the table to be sure I wasn’t leaving a mess and discarded the wrapper Elvis removed from the half sandwich I had given him.

The girls were all pretty much dressed like I was, t-shirt and jeans, and sneaks. “I really am a boy,” I told the girls as we left the lunchroom.

“That trick never works,” one of them said.

They laughed again. Another girl—the one who suggested I fuck my date—added. “You ain’t fooling anyone wearing that transparent top.”

I looked down and almost ran into a pillar. I wasn’t wearing my second thicker layer of t-shirt! Worse, I’d been caught in the misty sprinkle of rain just as I crossed the quad going to the lunchroom and my nipples were clearly visible through the damp cotton.

“Shit,” I said, realizing I had been walking around like this. Elvis had had some reason to think I was a girl. I rescued my glasses again and tried not to panic.

“This were regular school, you would have been sent home to change,” the third girl commented.

I followed them into the girls’ bathroom, I wanted to see what it looked like from in front, and I sure as hell wasn’t going into the boys’ bathroom. The mirrors told the tale. I looked slutty but cute. “It’s like I’m advertising,” I complained.

“Well, you’re not wearing a bra so you are advertising. ’S what my mom always says.”

“Who wants to wear a bra in this heat?” someone mentioned. “Heck, none of us are even wearing makeup.”

“Fuck makeup,” another agreed. Everyone else was making a pitstop in a stall so I entered one, too. I sat down to ‘tinkle’ and even rolled off some toilet paper just so things sounded right. I wasn’t going to give them a reason for suddenly believing me.

You can find story with these keywords: Meadow, Read Meadow, Meadow novel, Meadow book, Meadow story, Meadow full, Meadow Latest Chapter