Rule #9
Page 13
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Did you know that Disneyland opened in 1955?” I sit cross-legged on my bed reading a book about random facts. The pages in my book are worn, some are torn, and pink sticky notes protrude from several pages. I move the bookmarks around when I find new favorite facts.
“That does nothing for me.” Natalie slides into my pink plush chair, which she’s moved to the center of my room. “What are we doing tonight?”
“Fieldhouse?” Vianna looks hopeful. Vianna has secured her favorite seat, my desk chair. It’s wooden, small, and uncomfortable. She likes to sit by the desk close to the corner with her knees bent and her arms wrapped around them.
“No. Just because you like skinny boys doesn’t mean we need to suffer.” Natalie sulks deeper into the circular seat. “Stairs?” Natalie says.
“No,” I say. I don’t need to think twice about going there. I hate that place. Stairs is the newest name of the underground teen club in Pine Gulch. It’s gone through several owners. New name, same dance floor. New mirrors built into the walls, same middle-school kids looking at their reflections and taking selfies.
“They raised the age limit to fifteen.” Natalie slips off her shoes and sits cross-legged. “Got a blanket?” she asks.
“So that means that it’ll be full of freshman girls. Loud, squeaky freshman girls. No boys will go,” I say. I pull my favorite blanket from behind me. It’s a Pine Gulch football blanket my dad bought me.
“Junior and senior boys looking for freshman who will put out will go,” Natalie corrects me.
“Exactly.” I chuck the blanket at Natalie but miss. The blanket clears Natalie and almost hits Vianna.
“Pollywog’s?” Vianna says in defeat. She doesn’t like hanging at the coffee shop.
“No,” Natalie says. “I don’t want to go where I work on my day off. Andrew invited us over to watch a movie on his lawn.” Natalie lifts her phone, showing us the screen with the text.
Andrew is the class clown but he has this way of bringing together every social group in the school. He doesn’t conform to anyone or anything. His thrift-shop wardrobe proves it. He came to school this week in athletic pants, a white t-shirt, and a sweater vest. When I asked about his outfit he said, “You do you and I’ll do me.”
I vote for the movie. “Cheap night. Let’s do it. It will only cost us a two-liter bottle of soda or a couple of cans. We can split the cost and bring Cola and Orange Soda.” I pull out money from my coin purse slapping it on the bed. Andrew likes to mix the two together. So does Natalie. I think it’s nasty.
“Hunter’s going,” Natalie baits Vianna.
Vianna pulls a couple of bucks from her back pocket and tosses on the bed with mine. Natalie follows suit.