The Chronicles of Moxie

by Z. B Heller

  “Funny! Your don’t look like a bear,” she said.

  I turned and flipped my middle finger at her and stuck my tongue out.

  “I see you’ve been stealing your students’ defensive skills again.” She giggled.

  “Last thing I want while suffering in the great outdoors is to know that Miles is anywhere on the premises,” I said, while picking up a bulk size of Oreos I got from the store.

  “You know what they say, don’t you?” I looked at Renee. “If you can’t beat’m, eat Oreos.” And I popped one in my mouth.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  “Is this thing on?” yelled Mrs. James into the PA system. Everyone in the crowd turned to face the principal, who was standing on a chair. “I would like to thank everyone for coming out and supporting our school for the first annual all-school camp-out.”

  Excuse me? This is the first? As in, there is going to be a long string of them coming after this one? I might have to consider new employment.

  Mrs. James continued. “I would like to thank all the parent volunteers for helping and offering to stay overnight with us. Also, thank you to Mrs. Simmons, who organized this wonderful event for the school. She wanted me to remind everyone that her girl scout troupe will be selling raffle tickets for exceptional prizes.”

  I turned to Renee, who was helping me set up my tent. “What are the exceptional prizes?” I asked her. “Escorting them to their next Girl Scout Jamboree?”

  “No, I think it’s a chance to win a My Little Pony party,” said Renee.

  “But, what happens if a boy wins?”

  “Then he gets a My Little Brony party.”

  We started laughing as Katie Simmons came around with a tray of cookies.

  “Hi, Miss Summers. Would you like a cookie?”

  “What kind are they?” I questioned her.

  “They’re the Girl Scout Thanks A Lot cookies.”

  “Aren’t those the ones that no one ever orders?”

  “Miss Summers, either you take one or I can pee on it and turn it into a lemonade cookie.”

  I gawked at her as Renee tried to bite back a laugh and reached for a cookie. Katie skipped away, to ask more people to sell their souls to her.

  “So, are you girls having fun?” Mrs. James said as she walked up to us.

  “Sure, although I think I would be having a better time if I was trying to rip my hang nail off my big toe,” I said to her and smiled like this party was the best thing next to Hostess Cupcakes.

  “Listen,” she said. “At least I struck a deal and you can sleep in your own tent.”

  “Yeah, ’cause it wouldn’t be creepy sleeping in a tent with my baby doll nightie and my kindergarteners.”

  “You brought a baby doll nightie?” She eyed me suspiciously.

  “Yeah, I thought I could get lucky if Big Foot broke in on the love fest we’re having here.” My answer was laced with sarcasm. Mrs. James rolled her eyes and walked away.

  “I’m sure you’re hoping that Miles’s Big Foot invades your tent,” Renee whispered.

  Speaking of the Sasquatch, I saw Miles and Dillion walking in our direction. Our eyes met and I could see the look of regret in them. Maybe he was feeling guilty for leaving his other woman at home while he tried to diddle his digger into my sand box.

  “Mrs. Summers!” Dillion came running up to me and threw himself into my arms. I hugged him back and his glasses fell from his nose.

  “Oh, gosh, let me get those, sweetie. I’m sure Daddy wouldn’t like it if you left them here to get trampled on.”

  I looked at Miles and I knew he got the real meaning of my statement. I wanted to be mad and keep my grudge, but he was looking so damn sexy. He was in another pair of his ass-hugging jeans paired with a flannel top, untucked. You could see just a little hint of chest hair sticking out of the top of his shirt and his hair was rustled up like he’d just had great sex. Who knew, maybe before he came, he got some from the woman at home.

  “Miss Summers,” he said to me in his low, deliciously sexy tone.

  Damn him. I wanted to peel his pants down and have my way with him right there. But I highly doubted that was something they wanted to write up in the PTO newsletter. I could see it:

  Thank you to everyone who participated in this year’s school camp-out. And a large round of applause to Miss Moxie Summers for giving Mr. Miles Dane incredible head for everyone to see. The school now plans on increasing its budget for sex education.

  “Miss Summers?” Dillion pulled me out of my demented daydream.

  “Yes, Dillion?”

  “Did you know that for a butterfly to fly, it must have a body temperature of no less than 86 degrees Fahrenheit or 30 degrees Celsius?”

  “That’s very fascinating. Where did you learn that?”

  “From watching The Magic School Bus. It’s a cartoon about a magical bus and science.”

  “Dillion, why don’t you see if Miss Kenny can help you get a hot dog while I talk to Miss Summers?” Miles said as he patted Dillion on his shoulders.

  “Yeah, come with me,” Renee said. “We’ll go find the biggest hot dog there is.” She took Dillion’s hand and they walked off to the food table.

  “Well, thank God for television. At least there is something to augment my lessons of celebrity fashion do’s and don’ts,” I confided.

  “I’m sorry for the other night,” Miles abruptly changed the subject.

  I looked up to his face. There was sincerity there and his eyes seemed sad.

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” I responded. “Well, except for crashing my date, peeing on my shoes to mark your territory and leaving me sexually frustrated.”

  “It was you who marked your territory all over my shoes and shirt, if I remember correctly,” he grinned. “I didn’t want to leave.” He was back to a serious tone. “I had something to deal with.”

  “I’m sure whatever it was, it was very important. It isn’t polite to keep people waiting.”

  He could tell that comment had a double meaning.

  “No, I suppose it isn’t nice.” He took a step closer to me. “In fact, I don’t like to keep anyone waiting or wanting for anything.”

  Oh, here we go again. “Well, I certainly don’t like waiting for anything. If I want something, I grab it by the balls.”

  I heard him suck in a breath. He came even closer, and I was about to fire back another comment when I smelled a rat approaching.

  “Mr. Dane! How fabulous that you were able to make it tonight.” Amber slithered her way around us. “And Miss Summers, it’s nice that you were able to pry yourself away from the food table to help watch the kids.”

  I was wondering if anyone would notice if Amber accidentally fell over a tent stake and pierced her heart. But I supposed she would need a heart to begin with, and that was something I was sure Amber did not have.

  “Miss Smith, this is a great set up you’ve got here,” Miles said.

  “Oh, you’re so sweet!” She grabbed his right arm with two hands.

  “We could really use your help getting the fire ready to roast those marshmallows. We need all the strong arms to lift the firewood.”

  I mentally stuck my finger down my throat. I could smell Amber’s ache for attention, or maybe it was her sad excuse for perfume, Eau de Desperate.

  “Sure, no problem.” Miles looked at me one last time and left with Amber to set up the firewood.

  Renee and Dillion came back from the food table. Dillion’s plate was filled with a hot dog covered in ketchup and mustard, potato chips, pretzels, and four giant cookies.

  “Dillion, where are you going to put all that food?” I questioned, looking a little skeptical.

  “My dad says I’m a human trash compactor,” he said with a smile. “I can tell you about the whole digestive system as it goes down.”

  “I’ll let my imagination do that job, thanks.”

  “Where did my dad go?”

  I looked around and
saw Miles talking to Amber over by the firewood. He was smiling at her while she busted out her cackle laugh. Then she moved in closer to him and whispered in his ear. I needed to seek security in comfort food.

  Dillion pulled on my shirt and I turned my head to look at him. “Would you like one of my cookies?” And he handed one to me off his plate.

  “Dillion, did I ever tell you that you are my favorite student?”

  His face lit up and he showed me his smile. Some teeth were gone, because the Tooth Fairy had taken them. We sat together on the grass and munched on our treats together.

  Chapter Eleven

  I couldn’t believe I was going to be sleeping in a tent. The only time I’d come close to sleeping in a tent was in 5th grade, when Jordan Swartz and I built a fort in my basement. We turned off the light and used flashlights to make hand puppet shadows on the blanket ceiling. But, when he made a shadow that looked like a large snake, I went running up the stairs, screaming.

  Thankfully, I had enough people here to help me pitch a tent because, needless to say, I had no idea what I was doing. Mr. Charmichael came over and offered his services, but when we couldn’t find one of the poles, he offered to use his own pole. And I don’t mean the one for the actual tent.

  Mrs. James agreed that I was allowed my own tent since I did not have any children of my own and there were enough parents for the kindergarten girls’ and boys’ tents. Renee, however, was not so lucky and had to share a tent with Amber and the fifth grade girls.

  I rolled out the sleeping bag that Ryan had let me borrow. He and Tom went camping on occasion. When I found that out, I gave him such hell, and asked if their excursions were anything like Brokeback Mountain. He winked at me and told me that they were better, except without the sheep.

  Not knowing what one wears to sleep during camping, I settled for a pair of Lululemon’s yoga pants and my favorite cozy sweatshirt. Some might say that my thighs looked like two pigs wrestling under a blanket in these pants, but I didn’t care, because I thought they were insanely comfortable, and they made me feel like the other size two bitches who wore them. I heard my phone buzz in my bag and went to grab it. It was a text from David.

  David: How’s sleeping under the stars?

  Moxie: I can’t really see them. That might be because I’m looking up at red nylon from the tent.

  David: LOL.

  Oh, God, he did not just LOL me. LOL is reserved for sixteen-year-old girls who twirl their hair and chew their gum too loud.

  Moxie: Yes, it’s a real hoot and hollering time out here.

  David: What would you like to do tomorrow?

  Moxie: Take a shower to wash my body and my mind of this little outside adventure.

  David: Do you need help?

  Hold the horses. Did he just make a sexual suggestion about me showering? I felt a little taken aback, which is strange, because I certainly didn’t want to turn down an appealing offer. But something about it didn’t sit right.

  Moxie: I don’t clean and tell on the first date.

  David: Well, maybe another time. I know we talked about a movie, but how about a picnic at Millennium Park?

  Moxie: Sure, that sounds great. I’ll bring some dessert.

  David: I don’t think I could handle anything sweeter then you, Moxie.

  I wanted to ask him if he was smoking crack, but I figured that wouldn’t be a very polite text. He was being a little too sickly sweet for my taste. Which says a lot, considering my addiction to sugar.

  Moxie: Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow.

  David: Goodnight.

  Moxie: Night.

  I lay there, looking at the top of the tent, confused about the exchange that had just occurred. So far, we had only gone on one date, he saw me vomit all over the place, and now he was calling me sweet. I was starting to wonder if someone had paid him any large sum of money to take me out.

  “Moxie?” someone whispered.

  Oh my God, it’s a bear! Or a rabid dog!

  “Moxie, it’s Miles. Can I come in?”

  I immediately thought there might be something wrong with Dillion, so I unzipped the tent flap.

  “Is everything ok with Dillion?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine. He’s in the boys’ tent with the other dads. Everyone is asleep.”

  “Shouldn’t you be, as well?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. Can I hang out with you?”

  “Umm, sure, I guess.”

  He came into the cramped tent and resealed the tent flap. I felt a little weary of him being in such close quarters, but then I got a nice whiff of his scent. He smelled like a combination of campfire smoke and man. I thought he should bottle it up and sell it.

  “Are you having fun?” he asked.

  “If you’re calling being strung up from your toenails fun, then yeah, sure.”

  He let out a small laugh. I loved how his broad shoulders bounced up and down when he laughed. He reminded me so much of Dillion when I said something funny to him in class. I lay down on my side, with my arm and hand propping up my head.

  “Not much of an outdoor person, are you?”

  “What gave it away?” I snorted.

  “Dillion loves having you as his teacher. It makes going to school so much better for him. He feels comfortable with you.”

  “Why wouldn’t he like coming to school?” I questioned. But Miles just looked down at the floor. I took it as a hint that it was something that couldn’t be discussed. But then Miles lifted his eyes to me and spoke.

  “It was a hard transition for him. A lot to deal with for such a little guy.”

  “I bet.” I didn’t want to press further because I really didn’t feel it was my place. But I wanted to know more about what was making this man tick. I decided to reroute the conversation.

  “Looks like Amber has got her eyes set on you.”

  Damn, that wasn’t the route I was thinking of.

  “She seems a little uptight.”

  “That’s putting it mildly. She’s attractive. I can see how guys would be drawn to her. But she’s like a spider. She’ll invite you into her web, then bite off your head for dinner.”

  He snorted. It was cute, not like a disgusting old man telling a stupid joke kind of snort.

  “Maybe. But she certainly isn’t someone that would draw me in.”

  My mouth went dry. “Oh, really?”

  He smiled. “I like women who are confident, sexy, and aren’t afraid to speak their minds.”

  “Supposedly Sarah Palin gave up her day job. You could always hike up to Alaska.” My voice began to tremble.

  “I was thinking more local,” he whispered.

  “I could see if the art teacher is available. You’re into art, right?”

  “Moxie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  He slammed his mouth atop of mine, knocking me over flat on my back. All of the air that was in my lungs left. He caressed my face with both hands and moved his body to hover slightly over mine. His fingers were rough, but still felt like sweet sin on my face. I felt his mouth open and his tongue started pushing at my lips, hoping they will open at his assault. How could I possibly deny the man? I opened my mouth and his tongue instantly slipped inside, curling around my own. I put my hands on his chest and pushed him back to break the kiss. He kept his eyes on me.

  “Miles, I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said.

  “Why the hell not?” he asked. He was breathing hard and I could see the pulse throbbing in his neck.

  “We’re at a school camp-out and we are surrounded by kids sleeping in tents. They’re going to think that Big Foot is coming to attack them.” And the fact that you’re with someone else. But that important piece of information left my mind.

  I was also breathing heavily, trying to get myself under control. He brought his face close to mine so our noses started to rub and I started to melt. If he’d asked me to run around the camp naked at this point, I would hav
e done.

  “Then you will just have to keep your lips shut while I get you off,” he whispered in my ear.

  “I don’t think the word quiet has ever been used when describing my personality traits.” I glanced up at him.

  “Then you might want to bite your pillow,” he said as his mouth fell back onto mine.

  We rolled over the sleeping bag to face each other and I felt his arms reach behind my back. His hands slipped under the back of my sweatshirt to find the clasp of my bra. With a snap of his fingers he was able to release the clasp with one hand. The man had talent.

  Yes, I’m wearing a bra to bed. On normal occasions, this wouldn’t be the case, but I didn’t want to be awoken in the middle of the night, having to flee the camp because of a bear, and everyone see my triple D’s bouncing up and down.

  After Miles demonstrated his bra clasp trick, he rolled me onto my back. Even though I had the sleeping bag beneath me, I could still feel the rocks from the ground sticking me in the back. He slid my sweatshirt over my head and the front of my bra was still stuck to my body. Miles sat up and drew one strap down at a time, releasing the girls in all their glory.

  “Stunning,” he breathed.

  “Thank you,” was all that I could squeak out. I mean, what does one say to a gorgeous man staring at your tits like he’s about to have a Thanksgiving feast?

  He cupped one breast in each hand and started to rub them, taking each nipple between his rough fingers as he went around. I’d come to find out that this man had large hands: my girls were not tiny tits by any means, and he’d grabbed them like basketballs.

  “Tell me, do you like them sucked? Or do you prefer a nice hard pinch?” he asked in a husky tone. He grabbed one nipple with his teeth and pinched the other with his thumb and middle finger.

  I tried not to moan, but couldn’t help it when a little squeak slipped out of my mouth.

  “They will accept any form of attention you decide to bestow upon them,” I said in a breathy voice.