Dealing with Blue

by Stacia Leigh

  “Gimme a break. I don’t need a history lesson on the evils of drugs and alcohol, okay? I dropped Will off, came home, and cracked one open. End of story.”

  “You better not have been driving.” Monty’s dark brows lowered, and he jabbed his finger in J.J.’s direction.

  “Alright.” Dad said gruffly from against the doorjamb. His flannel shirt parted over his belly, showing off his tattered undershirt. “We don’t need to give the neighbors something to talk about.” Dad stepped into the house, allowing light to spill out the open door. “Inside…now. And if you wake Oopsie, you’re both grounded.”

  Monty laughed with good humor. He didn’t live here, not to mention he had a gassy wife and a cranky kid waiting at home. Or was it the other way around? Either way, for him, getting grounded would be a treat.

  J.J. groaned. Would this day end already?

  Chapter 5: Consequences

  Monday

  J.J. poured a glass of orange juice and narrowed his eyes at Little Oops across the table. She was a stockpile of Pepto-puke in her pink fleece vest over a pink shirt along with pink pants. There was even a pink ribbon clipped in her hair.

  Oopsie pushed her cereal bowl aside and glanced quickly over her shoulder at Mom, who wiped the kitchen counter with a vengeance. With bony elbows propped on the quilted placemat in front of her, Oopsie unhinged her jaw to show off a load of half-chewed oatmeal, topped with slobber.

  What was this…amateur hour? He yawned.

  Undeterred, she grinned and pushed up the end of her nose, baring two, crusty nostrils. Gross, but sadly, not gross enough. Had he taught her nothing? J.J. tipped his juice back slowly.

  “All finished, Stella? Then, go brush your teeth,” Mom said curtly and cleared their empty bowls.

  Stella! Ha-ha! J.J. faked a silent belly-laugh and pointed at his little sister. This time it’s you and not me. Little Oops was never called by her real name unless she was being a maximus pain in the glutes. Most likely, though, it was Mom still being a grouch. She’d been one all weekend after his little mishap with the beer. Geez, lighten up already. He’d forgotten about it. Why couldn’t she?

  “I always have to go brush my teeth,” Oopsie grumbled before stomping her pink butt down the hall.

  Mom, decked out in her teal scrubs, hunched her back at the sink and sighed, clearly annoyed with her life at eight o’clock on a Monday morning. He almost felt sorry for her, but she’d grounded him, so he kept his sympathies to himself.

  “Here,” she said, slipping a black gadget onto the table next to J.J.’s spoon.

  “My phone!” He pounced on it, ending the longest weekend ever with no social contact. Being grounded sucked, man. “I probably missed a ton of messages.”

  “I’m giving it back to you, so you have your phone at school in case of emergencies,” Mom said, pulling her dark hair back into a tight pony tail. “But you’re to come straight home after school, and when you walk in the door, the phone’s mine. Got it?” She glanced at the round clock on the wall, ready to go puncture veins. She claimed she was a phlebotomist, but J.J. suspected she was one of those day-time vampires.

  “What about driving my truck and using the computer?”

  “For the record, the truck is not yours.” She jabbed a finger at the v-neck of her scrub shirt. “It’s ours. We’re letting you borrow it. You’ll have to talk to your dad about it later. If you don’t want consequences, then think before you do something stupid.”

  “I told you, Mom. I drove home and once here, I had one single beer.” He strained to keep his tone light and his eyes focused. If they even did a half roll, she’d go ballistic. Experience told him not to whack the hornets’ nest.

  “I believe you. I just want to know where you got it.” She raised her dark brows in a challenging way. “You said you don’t have a fake ID, but if I find out you’re lying…”

  “I’m not lying. We found a six-pack stashed in the woods near the bonfire, and I hauled it home. End of story.” J.J. picked up his backpack. “I gotta go,” he muttered and headed out the door. Geez. Now, she was killing his Monday.

  He had one eye on the sidewalk and one on his phone while he wandered in the general direction of school. He scrolled through his texts, and his heart clunked in his chest. There was nothing from Gemma.

  WILL: Yonline?

  WILL: Hey. I’m ready 4 a goblin roast.

  WILL: U won’t believe what happened to me…

  MONTY: Thx for helping w the deck, li’l bro.

  MONTY: Looks great. BBQ-up!

  Thanks my hairy crevice. J.J. trudged through the double doors of Overdale High. He was grounded because of Monty and forced into manual labor by his mom as some kind of punishment. He got his truck taken away, his cell phone pulled, and he lost his computer privileges, all for the pleasure of drinking a twelve-ouncer. Throw in building a deck and working like a dog for The Boss, and it was like chewing up a ghost pepper. It burned.

  And that was only his home life.

  Now, walking through junior hall, he was surrounded by another reality: Gemma, The Mouth, and gossip. Ears perked up and lips whispered while hands reached out to stop him between classes.

  “J.J., I heard Gemma broke up with you over Suzy.”

  “Hey, Radborne. So Gemma’s available?”

  “Rad-boner! When’s the J.J. versus Ron fight?”

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. You were such a cute couple!”

  “Dude, The Mouth’s saying you cried like a baby.”

  Cried? What a joke. This week was shaping up to be a real crap-fest. But being the optimistic sort, J.J. couldn’t stay surly for long. He tried, but his friends slapped him on the back and cuffed his head, causing him to forget his gripes. It also helped when Will drove him off-campus for a Grubby’s burger at lunch, a reprieve from all the weekend chatter.

  The bell rang for the last class of the day, and rubber soles squeaked against the floor as students scattered through the hallway, churning up clouds of hairspray and Brut Splash-on cologne. J.J. checked his phone to see if Gemma had texted him with an apology yet, but his phone had flat lined. Seriously, Mom, what use was a dead phone in emergencies?

  J.J. strolled into Mrs. Norton’s class with his shoulders back, pretending all was right with his world. He kept his vision pinned on the opposite corner, careful not to look in Gemma’s direction. He didn’t want those gossip mongers to think he was pining. He dropped into his seat and gave Will a chin-nod. There was a din of confusion behind him about the new seating arrangement.

  “I sit here. We changed seats last Friday, remember?”

  “But I’m in their group.”

  “Move it or lose it.”

  Will leaned over the aisle and cleared his throat.

  “Hey, you seen the new nurse yet?” He raised his brows while cupping hands to his chest, the universal sign for carrying cantaloupes.

  “Really? I should get a hall pass. I could use a hug today,” J.J. said.

  “So rude,” Blue muttered and pushed by to plunk down in her seat behind Will. “I met the nurse, and she’s a really nice person.” Her copper hair was pulled up in a coil on top of her head, and she huffed as she pried open her eyeglass case.

  “Eh, we’re just kidding around.” J.J. swiped his hand through the air. “Sorry about ditchin’ you on Sunday.”

  He watched her pull junk out of her backpack: one spiral notebook placed squarely on her desk, one mechanical pencil clicked twice, and one set of nerdy glasses poised in hand and at the ready. Apparently, class could begin now.

  “So you guys had plans?” Will bounced a dull pencil against his kneecap.

  “Oh, I was busy on Sunday,” Blue said. “I didn’t really think you were serious, anyway.” She wiped her lenses with a special cloth and folded it neatly into her glasses case.

  “Oh, yeah?” J.J. asked. “What’d you end up doing?”

  “Yeah. What do girls like you do on a Sunday night?” Will joked, but she did
n’t bite.

  “Better yet,” she said and leaned forward. “What do boys like you do?” She pushed her glasses onto her nose, ready to be fascinated.

  “Uh…” Will pulled in a deep breath and blew it out like a deflating balloon, fluttering his long bangs. “Sucks. I got mipped.”

  “Man…” J.J. groaned. The secretive schmuck. He could have said something earlier. “What’d your old man say?”

  “Mipped?” Blue asked.

  “Means our study partner here, could have been interviewing the cops for our group assignment, but instead, he was busy getting a ticket for Minor in Possession.” J.J. crossed his boots out in front of him. “Idiot. Now there’s a hefty fine, man. Hey, just think, you could’ve been grounded like me.”

  “My dad’s jibber-jabbering about taking the car keys away. How would I get to a job to pay the fine if I don’t have transportation? Stupid.”

  Blue slid her black frames down and looked over the tops like a prim librarian. “Walk, ride a bike.” She shrugged and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

  “My bike’s in the shop. Oil leak,” Will murmured and turned to face the front of the room as Mrs. Norton heavy-footed it to center stage.

  She held her hands in the air as if someone in the back yelled, This is a stick up! A tried and true signal for everyone to sit down and shut up. She patted at her curly gray hair that dusted the tops of her shoulders before pointing at the brain map on the wall.

  With broad arm sweeps, Mrs. Norton gestured to the various lobes and cortexes until J.J.’s own hippocampus, the squishy part wired for new memories, tapped out. He wasn’t into it, and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing across the classroom to Gemma, who sat forward, staring, either lost in the lecture or lost in space.

  He checked over his shoulder to Blue, who sported a furrowed brow and pursed lips, like she didn’t believe a word Mrs. Norton was saying. Brain? What brain? J.J. smirked and wrote her a note.

  Were you busy escaping your tower again on Sunday?

  He folded the paper and tossed it onto Blue’s desk, smack in the middle of her notebook, and shifted toward the front, working his own “lost in deep space” face.

  Tick.

  Tock.

  Something sharp jabbed him in the shoulder, and he twisted around to face a grumpy looking redhead, holding a note between her fingers. J.J. snatched it and scrunched down at his desk while studying the lines on Mrs. Norton’s forehead. He tried to keep a grin from lifting his cheeks as he carefully opened the paper. He sat in the front row, after all. No sense getting caught and falling out of favor with his favorite teacher.

  I’m interested to know why you’re interested to know.

  Clever girl. J.J. shook his head and, this time, didn’t even try to hold back a smile.

  Tuesday

  Today, Mom dropped his phone on the breakfast table fully charged. J.J. puffed out a sigh of relief at the glowing screen. He had a green light and five bars, all systems go. Now, he could stroll to school one-hundred percent connected to the universe. It put extra pep in his step.

  GEMMA: So…you and Suzy?

  GEMMA: You there?

  GEMMA: I saw you give her a note in BS class.

  WILL: Want a beer? lol jk

  GEMMA: ☹

  Normally, Gemma back to texting him was a good sign. But after reading it a couple times, it sounded the same, non-apologetic. At his locker, J.J. dropped his backpack and shoved his phone into his back pocket only to mad-scramble to get it back out when it chimed with a message.

  MOM: Come home right after school, you’re still grounded.

  MOM: I love you!

  Love…what did the ground-warden-phone-cop know about love? All Mom knew about were veins, consequences, and boring cereal. Forget it…getting his truck back weighed heavily on his frontal lobe. The best solution, maybe the only solution, was to bypass the warden and text Dad.

  JJ: When can I get my keys back?

  DAD: When you’re responsible.

  DAD: Did you mow the lawn yet?

  JJ: Doh!

  At least Dad didn’t say something like, Go ask your mother, because she’d probably tack on another week just because she could. Better to stick with Dad where discipline was concerned because he was a go-with-the-flow kind of a guy. If J.J. could get Dad alone, then things might turn out differently.

  They’d probably turn out better.

  Wednesday

  No messages again, which meant no apologies. Gemma’s the one who broke up with him, so the ball was in her court. J.J. sighed and stared into the dark corner of his locker. Man, he’d liked her for…hell, it seemed like forever. The first time they’d met was in fifth grade on the playground’s basketball court. J.J.’d tried to dunk Will’s lunchbox when Gemma stepped into the sunlight, carrying a bright orange basketball under her arm. Soft, blonde pony-tail, big blue eyes…prettiest thing he’d ever seen. When she lobbed the ball, it nailed him right in the gut, which had him keeling over and sipping air. He’d blinked back tears while she laughed and said, I thought you were paying attention! Right then and there, he’d fallen for her, gasping and in love.

  J.J. blew out a deep breath. Moping was a lot of work, and it sucked the fun—his life source—right out of him. He slammed the metal door with the heel of his hand and turned, nearly bumping into Gemma.

  She smiled up at him, shyly, and grazed her painted nails over his arm. Goosebumps chased her touch and rippled into a wave across his back. He shivered, and his mouth opened as if something intelligent might dribble out. But she tossed her golden locks, sending a waft of lemony goodness straight up his nose, and kept on walking.

  Wait, did they just have a moment? She reached out to him, right? There was a smile, a touch. He shook his head at the whiplash of heat and delirium as it bubbled up inside him. He was ready to burst.

  With his head held high, he strolled into Mrs. Norton’s class, wearing a perma-grin he couldn’t wipe off even if he tried. It was wedged on there good, because change misted the air, because being with Gemma felt right. It would be new all over again, making up and making out.

  She was finally coming around.

  It took her long enough.

  Thursday

  GEMMA: Let’s talk.

  JJ: Sounds good.

  GEMMA: I’ll meet you before BS class!☺︎

  The day slid by easily enough and right before their class together, J.J. followed Gemma through the wave of students down the hall toward their usual meeting spot. Her pockets tortured him, up, down, up, down, like a pendulum. She stopped at his locker and turned with a smile, her beautiful pink-lipped smile. He leaned a shoulder against the metal door, trying to act casual, while a cloudy mist of love and excitement gassed his cranium.

  “I miss you,” he said. It was the honest truth, too. Where had things gone so wrong? They were on day five, and what used to come naturally, like growling her name to hear her laugh and asking everyday questions like How was basketball practice? or What’d your dad say this time? now seemed awkward and tense. J.J. wanted to say something perfect. Something to put them back to the way they were.

  “I miss you, too,” Gemma said and tickled her pink nails up his arm. A bubble of warmth engulfed him from top to toe, and the loud voices, the rattling locker doors, the shuffling and slamming, all drifted away.

  “Before, you said—” J.J. started.

  “I want to—oh sorry. Go ahead.” Gemma’s cheeks turned a rosy pink, and she laughed, making J.J.’s pulse quicken.

  “No, you first.” He grinned.

  “I want to…” Gemma bit her lip and blinked up at him from under her thick, black lashes. “What about us getting back together? I miss the way we were.” She squeezed his hand, her eyes on his. “What do you think?”

  “Me, too.” He swallowed past the tension blocking his throat, and relief percolated up through his body.

  “The only thing is…prom.” Gemma opened her palms and gave him a
sheepish look. “Ron asked me to go, and I sorta…I was mad at you, so I said yes. But, it’s not a big deal. We’re going as friends, and it’s just the one night.” She shrugged with wide eyes, searching his face.

  “But…” J.J. frowned and glanced down at their entwined fingers. “You want to get back together, right?” What was he missing here?

  “Yes.” Gemma sighed with a smile and stepped closer. “I love you, J.J.”

  “Then, ditch him.” He shrugged.

  “But I already told him I’d go, and he’s having such a hard time at home and…it’s just a dance. It didn’t seem like you really wanted to go anyway.” Gemma tilted her chin at him. “Right?”

  He dropped her hand.

  When did prom turn into just a dance?

  “Let me get this straight,” he said and pulled away from his locker. “You want to date Ron and get back together with me? What messed up planet do you live on?”

  “It’s not a date—”

  “Of course it’s a date. You get dressed up, you go out to dinner, spend a crap-load of money, get pictures, dance, and then…God knows what.”

  “You’re not even listening to me, as usual,” she snapped and crossed her arms. “I said, we’d be going as friends.” She clipped out each word, apparently thinking he’d gone deaf.

  But he could even hear what she wasn’t saying.

  “Friends.” J.J. snorted.

  “That’s right. And it’s not only that he’s a senior, and this is his last prom, but his dad drinks—”

  “I don’t have time for this.” J.J. spun on his heel as the bell clamored in the hall.

  “J.J.! Listen!”

  “Guess what, Gem?” he hollered over his shoulder. “I’ve got friends, too.”