Double Threats Forever (Double Threat Series)

by Prestsater, Julie

  “Why’s that?” Steph asks.

  Keesh pulls a bowl of Hot Cheetos off the table into her lap and digs in for a handful. Through a crunch, she says, “No essays.”

  “Give me a break. We already have our personal statements done. We worked on them for a good three weeks in English.” I, for one, spent a lot of time revising since my rough draft came back slashed to death in red ink. It looked like a freaking crime scene.

  “That’s right. Those things were so lame,” she says.

  “Yeah, how has your world shaped you,” Steph says in a deep voice. “That sounds so dumb. My world. I spend all my time at school or with my friends. I don’t work. I’m not sick. I don’t live in a war torn country. I live in a nice neighborhood. Not much story there. I’m boring. My world is boring.”

  “I’m with you,” I say.

  “Me too,” Keesh says.

  Steph throws a pillow at Keesh. “You have a story. If you want to tell it.”

  “What story is that?” She tosses the pillow back.

  “Freshman year. Your experience with Mary Jane.” Steph pinches her thumb and index finger together at her lips.

  Oh shit. Steph went there. My gaze sets on Keesh waiting for a reaction.

  “Dude, you made it with a girl?” Andi asks, innocently.

  Water sprays out of my mouth. Keesh and Steph begin laughing uncontrollably.

  “What did I say?” Andi asks.

  “You’re too funny.” Sometimes she’s just clueless.

  “Dude, just tell me already.”

  Keesh slows her breathing, exhaling slowly. “Dude,” she begins. “I’ve never made it with a girl. Mary Jane is a slang term for marijuana.” She goes on to tell her the whole story about how she was smoking dope and how Amy had told her parents. And how she really messed up and has never done again it since.

  “Wow,” is all Andi says. “Even though I consider myself an artist, I steer clear of that stuff. Some people say it comes with being creative but I’m not really interested.”

  “Good for you,” Steph tells her.

  “Back to the essays.” I close the guidebook I was flipping through. “Keesh, if you don’t like the one you wrote for class, why not use your rehab story?”

  She throws a Cheeto at me. “Fine. Maybe I will.”

  “So really, no essays for the CSUs?” Steph asks again.

  “None.” Keesh flutters her brows.

  “Dude, you should not base your decision on being too lazy to type a page full of words.”

  By the time we’ve searched the Internet, scoured the books, and eaten a hole in our stomach from spicy treats, we’ve decided on seven schools. Six public colleges and one private all-girls school, some as far north as Davis and going all the way south to San Diego.

  When the girls leave, I get cozy in my bed and power up my laptop. It’s time for a little video chat.

  “Hey, baby. You look beautiful.” Alex’s smile goes straight to my heart and melts it faster than butter on a piece of hot toast.

  “Thank you. You like the au natural look. I just got ready for bed. Pulled my hair up and washed my face.”

  “Yes, I do. You don’t need make up. Not even the little you do use. Your minty lip gloss works for me.”

  “You mean this stuff.” I pucker my lips for him with a big muah.

  He puckers his back, blowing me kiss after kiss.

  “So, we’ve made our plan of attack. Our hit list of schools to visit.”

  “Do any of those schools start with a B?”

  “Hmm … I don’t remember. Let me think.” I look up at the ceiling feigning ignorance.

  He groans. “Come on, Meggie. You’re killing me.”

  “Okay, fine.” I pause, dragging out the anticipation. “Yes, we are making a stop in the great city of Berkeley.”

  “Yes! When are you coming?”

  “Thanksgiving break. We’re going to leave on Monday and come back on Wednesday.”

  “That’s perfect. I’ll drive back with you guys. I’ll call Dom to set it up.”

  I never even thought of that. “Cool. Now you can help me decide. You’ll be with us for all the schools except for one. It’ll be great.”

  “I miss you, you know that.” His eyes are so serious, completely zeroed in on me with an intensity I haven’t seen in a while.

  “Is something wrong? Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m fine, dork.” He grins. “It’s just so surreal to hear you talking about college. It seems like I’ve been waiting forever for you to get out of high school and now the time is here.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Having second thoughts?”

  “No way. I just said I miss you. May can’t come fast enough. I can’t wait for your graduation day and your birthday. The two days I’ve been waiting for.”

  “I’ve had three birthdays since I’ve known you. And last year’s party was amazing. What’s so special about this one?”

  “The number. You’ll be eighteen.” There goes that sexy grin.

  I raise a brow at him. “I’ll be legal.”

  He winks. “Amen.”

  “So you just think once my birthday comes, I’m just gonna drop my pants and jump your bones.”

  He laughs for a few seconds shaking his head at me. And then he gets serious again. “No, Megan. When the time is right, I’ll happily undress you myself and make love to you if you let me.”

  “With a face like yours and words like that, I’m about to take off my clothes right now.”

  “God, I love video chatting.” He looks up as if he’s praying. “Carry on.”

  Now, it’s my turn to laugh. “Are you crazy? There’s is no way I’d get naked in front of a web cam. With my luck, your computer is hacked into and my brown eyes,” I gesture to my boobs, “and short and curlies,” and I point at my crotch, “would be all over the internet.”

  “You are just too damn funny. You have a wild imagination, babe.”

  “Hey, it could happen.”

  “Yes, it could. Hey, I gotta go get some work done. I’ll talk to you soon. Very soon.”

  “Alex.”

  “Yes,” he says, our eyes locked on each other.

  “I miss you too.”

  “Goodnight, babe.”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Sleep tight.”

  “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

  He starts chuckling and so do I with memories of our late night text fests when neither one of us wanted to stop chatting.

  Instead of carrying on, I simply say, “I love you.”

  “And I love you.”

  We have to hit the pause button on college planning for a major campaign to help Keesha win homecoming queen. With all of us egging her on, she took the plunge and signed up.

  Now, we’re all at my house with posters, paints, and markers spread across my backyard patio table. Our school doesn’t allow professionally made anything. All posters and rally tags have to be homemade or you’ll get disqualified. Whoever came up with that rule has never used Publisher or a copy machine.

  So here we are, staring at each other wondering where to start.

  “How about I just spit my game at all the girls and get them to vote for you? Then we don’t have to make any posters.” There’s no question whose mouth that came from.

  “I’m telling Shayna,” Steph says.

  “Hey, we’re just friends. She needs help handling all this.” He waves a hand over his body.

  “Yeah, mental help,” Keesh tells him. “Now, stop being a dumbass and let’s get to work.”

  “What do you want us to write?” I ask.

  “Vote for Keesha, duh,” Travis says. “I’m no good at this though. So I’ll just keep your drinks refilled for now. When we get to school, I’ll put the posters up. My writing sucks.”

  “Dude, listen. She needs a slogan. Something catchy. Something everyone will remember when they see her name on the ballot.”

  “How about,
Keesha Kicks Ass?” Josh says.

  We chuckle. No good.

  Travis chimes in. “Better than Keesh licks ass.”

  “Come on, you guys. Be serious,” she says, though she’s laughing right along with them.

  “Something catchy,” Josh says, tapping his foot frantically on the cement. “I got it.”

  “I’m afraid to ask,” I say.

  “Me too,” Steph adds.

  “We can put a picture of bubble gum on the poster.” Oh god. “Then write, vote for Keesha, she knows how to blow.”

  “That’s catchy, all right.” Dom breaks his silence and gives Josh a whack on the back of the head.

  “Why is that catchy? Dude, anyone can chew gum and blow a bubble.”

  Oh, Andi.

  “Dude, I’m sorry, man,” Josh offers Travis his condolences. “Girls, educate your friend, please.”

  Travis reaches over and pulls Andi close to him, and kisses her on the top of the head. “Dude, you’re too cute.”

  She whips her hands up. “What did I say?”

  “He was making a dirty joke,” I tell her.

  “About what?” she asks.

  Keesh walks over to her, leans down, and whispers in her ear. Andi eyes widen bigger and bigger as she gets the full explanation. Then she looks up at Keesh and asks, aloud so everyone hears, “Dude, how do you not gag?”

  We’re all stunned silent.

  Josh is the first to speak. “Andi, you don’t have to worry about that with Travis.”

  Laughter erupts from each and every one of us as Travis leaps out of his chair, puts Josh in a head lock, and digs his knuckles into his head.

  Someday, we’ll finish these posters.

  Maybe.

  Chapter 9

  Before we can think any more about the homecoming dance, my parents are forcing me to get my applications done. It’s fairly simple. Everything is online. It’s just a matter of typing in my information and attaching my personal statement.

  My mom offered to make a girls’ night of it to entice me.

  She’s ordered us my favorite pepperoni pizza. No pizza sauce. Instead it’s made with ranch dressing. Yum. I can’t wait for it to get here.

  “Wow, your mom went a little craaayyy on the snacks, huh?” Keesh says.

  “Hey, remember when she wouldn’t buy you any of this stuff?” Steph asks. “The fridge was only stocked with fruits and veggies.”

  “Dude, that would suck. How come she did that?”

  “I was a little chub in ninth grade,” I explain.

  “Nothing wrong with a little cushion for the pushin’,” Steph says, patting her belly.

  “Definitely not, but not being able to eat junk sucked.”

  “So now that you have a hot bod she doesn’t mind?” Andi asks.

  “Partly that. Plus, all the running we do. She knows the extra calories won’t kill me.”

  “You’ll thank me for all the running in a few weeks when soccer starts,” Keesh adds.

  “I’ll never thank you for making me run five miles every day.”

  “Dude, it’s not like you run. It’s more like a jog.” Andi chuckles at her joke.

  “Ha ha,” I tell her.

  “Ladies, the pizza is here,” Mom sings as she comes into the kitchen with two flat square boxes. “Dig in and then get to work on those apps.”

  We all thank her and attack the pies.

  “Wow, it’s a good thing Amy didn’t press charges when you ripped out her hair extensions, Meg. Or else you’d have to check the yes button for convictions.” Steph chuckles, as she clicks away on my parents’ desktop computer.

  “I know, right,” I say. “Hey, so are we actually submitting these or just completing them?”

  “I’m not hitting send until after we get back from our visit. Each app costs over fifty bucks. No need to spend the dough if I don’t like the school.”

  Sounds like a solid plan. I save my application for the Cal State system, and then do the same for the UCs. “Done. All saved.” I clap my hands together, cheering for myself. “I’m ready to find a date for homecoming.”

  “Did you finish Loyola already too?” Keesh asks.

  Shit. “Oops. Never mind.”

  But within the hour, all applications are complete and waiting to be sent after our college tour.

  Now, we lounge in my family room with bowls of popcorn, Hot Cheetos, licorice, and KitKats in our laps while we watch the latest Step Up movie.

  Homecoming planning starts tomorrow.

  I’m sure I’m not the first to say this, but the SATs suck ass! So do the ACTs, but at least they make more sense. Who really gives a shit? I didn’t the first time I took this stupid test, and not this time either. Thank god that formality is done. If a college doesn’t accept me based solely on my shitty score, then so be it. I’m over it.

  “Here,” Brody says, passing me some candy. “Chocolate always makes you feel better.”

  “You know her well, Brod,” Steph says. “Now pass that over here.”

  My goofy friend hands over a bag of chocolates as we leave the dumb testing site. We’re on our way to school. On a Saturday.

  The rally committee screwed around and didn’t finish the decorations so we volunteered to come in and help. We couldn’t leave Andi’s big plans to a bunch of freshmen.

  When we arrive in the cafeteria, it looks like a lot of progress has been made since we left school yesterday. Five vertical banners—about twenty feet long—span the length of the floor.

  “The banners are done,” Andi says, standing up to greet us. Again, she’s doused in paint. Her pink hair is a mess, more than usual. “Keesh, check yours out, dude.” She leans in to whisper, “It’s the best one.”

  Keesh glances over at her name spelled in giant letters on a never ending piece of long white butcher paper. “Thanks, girl.”

  She’s so gonna win. She’s a soccer stud. She’s smart. She’s in ASB. And she knows everybody. And everybody loves her.

  But … if she isn’t crowned the queen, Amy better not be either. Anyone else can win but her.

  “What can we help with?” I ask Andi.

  She scans the large room. “Meg, why don’t you help Josh’s group …” and she continues doling out tasks.

  “Hey, I can help too,” Brody offers.

  “You’re a chem whiz, right?” she asks.

  “He sure is,” I answer for him. He blushes.

  “Dude, I’ve got just the job for you.”

  It’s rally day, baby. It’s going to be insane all day, I know it. Not only do we have to help get everything set up before school, but we’re performing as part of Keesha’s skit.

  Just call me Posh Spice. It’s a tough job being married to David Beckham, but someone has to do it.

  The theme for our homecoming festivities is famous musical groups. Keesh chose the Spice Girls. She’s going to be Scary Spice. Steph is Sporty. Andi is Ginger with her wacky hair. And Keesh surprised us all when she invited Shayna, Josh’s groupie, to be Baby Spice.

  Shay has hung out with us a few times. When she’s not making moon eyes at Josh, she’s cool. When Keesh asked her to be in her skit, she actually squealed like a little piglet and jumped up and down. I see cheerleading in her future.

  I’m gathering my clothes for the skit and for tonight’s football game when my mom knocks softly on my open bedroom door.

  “Hey, don’t forget your phone charger. I’m sure you’ll need it.”

  She’s right. I’ll be snapping pictures like crazy, along with video. It’ll probably die before school is out. I’ll charge it during Mrs. Fuller’s class.

  “Thanks, Mom. Good idea.”

  She shuffles in and sits at my desk. “Do you need any help with anything?”

  I shove my charger into the front pocket of my backpack and zip it shut. “No, I think I’m done. I’m ready to go.”

  “I was thinking.” Oh no. “Would you mind if I went to the rally? I’d really love to
see you girls perform.”

  “No, I wouldn’t mind at all. That would work out perfectly. Can you take a lot of pictures?”

  My mom’s smile is bright, showing the creases at the corners of her eyes. “Of course, I can. I’m so excited. I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about me going.”

  “Don’t be silly. You know all my friends. You’re a cool mom. I’d be proud to show you off.”

  She stands and heads for the door.

  “Mom, wait. Just don’t wear any New Kids shirts, okay. That’s where I draw the line.”

  She laughs as she walks away but I’m totally serious. I can just imagine her showing up in a shirt with Danny Wood’s face plastered to her chest.

  Before the bell rings and the auditorium fills with students, Steph and I go out into the audience from the backstage dressing rooms to get a look at Andi’s vision.

  The five banners with the princess’s names on them hang down the walls from either side of the stage. The size of them is massive and they look professionally done. Not like they were made on butcher paper with poster paints and glitter.

  Onstage, the background is decorated with life-size cartoon cutouts of each of the female musical groups the princesses are representing. The Spice Girls cut-out looks larger than the others and is positioned center stage. The other groups include The Pussy Cat Dolls, The Pistol Annies, Destiny’s Child, and The Bangles (who I doubt anyone will recognize given the fact I had to ask my mom who they were).

  “She did a great job. It all came together perfectly,” I say.

  “The dude should really be working on Broadway stages or doing set designs for movies or something.”

  “Yeah, we should ask her for her autograph so we can sell it on eBay in ten years.”

  “We can say we knew her when,” Steph adds.

  Keesha is the last of the girls to be announced. The auditorium fills with cries when all the girls realize she’s escorted by Josh. “Upon graduation, Keesha plans on reuniting with her long lost love Jonathan when he moves back to California. She enjoys spending time with her friends, having girls’ night out, and dancing. She is most known for her killer strike on our girls’ varsity soccer team.”