by A. A. Vacco
“It isn’t that I disagree with you, but every smug word you just said drips with pure, unadulterated bullshit.”
“I’m just trying to make a difference in the world," replied Elle with her same charming grin.
With a loud groan, Kat set her head slightly harder than she intended to on the bar counter. “Oh my god, you didn’t just say that.”
“I want to create something that touches the hearts of others.”
“Oh my god, you’re not listening to me or yourself. Please, stop.” Kat sat up and sipped her diet coke.
Walt owned The Study, his proudly named bar that he took over ownership about ten years back. He picked up Elle’s empty water glass and wiped the counter. “You know, Elle," his voice rang through every part of the space, “you could talk to my pal Ben. I’ve known the guy for years, and he works in publishing out in California. Big names run their stories through his group and if you crank out something worth a second glance, I can put you in touch with him to see if it goes anywhere.”
“Thanks, Walt, I’ll consider it.”
Walt, always the literalist, often missed the point of their hypothetical, worthless discussions. Elle appreciated, though, that he took her seriously enough to try and help. Walt double checked the name and number in his phone and scrawled off the information onto a napkin. “Here, try not to lose it," he grinned as he handed it to Elle.
“I say, stick with what you know: medicine, humor, and booze...Not necessarily to be mixed," smirked Kat. She slid off the stool and gathered her purse and jacket. She hugged Elle and took off to teach her night class.
There was something about the rain that endorsed a certain degree of nostalgia with each pelting drop. As she drove, Kat’s mind drifted to the sunny beach in Florida several years ago. It was the summer before her daughter Genie entered high school. Walt finally felt comfortable enough running the bar to leave it to a coworker to handle for the week. A coworker so insignificant now that Kat only remembered him enough to thank him for their first vacation in quite a while.
Her favorite memories were their sunset walks along the coast down to a pier. The pier was about a mile from their condo, and every evening, Walt hunkered down with a book and a cigar. Genie would grab a soda and her mom’s hand, pulling her out the door and down to the beach where they’d walk to the pier and back. Like a scene from a brochure, the two would walk side by side toward the sunset, talking about everything under it.
“Know what my favorite Beatles’ song is?” Kat recalled Genie asking.
“I didn’t even know you liked the Beatles,” said Kat.
“Mom, seriously? They’re like, a classic favorite. Guess—guess which one!”
“Uh...Day Tripper? Come Together? Help?”
“Swing and a miss...times three.”
“C’mon, Kiddo, there are hundreds of options here.”
“Fine; Golden Slumbers and Carry that Weight.”
“Really? Of all the....um, ok, why those two?”
“Pretty sure you sang them to me when you ran out of lullabies. Plus, they sort of go together, so you can’t really have one without the other. But, I don’t know, the idea of the most beautiful rest, followed by an entourage of happiness seems like the best sleep ever. And it seems to give hope to the boy carrying the weight.”
“I don’t know if you’ve accurately dissected the meaning, but, if that’s what speaks to ya, Kid, I won’t tell ya otherwise.”
Genie started humming the tune while the two made their way back to the condo.
The remaining details blurred in Kat’s mind, but the sentiment stuck. She felt so connected to Genie on those walks. The two could share anything and it stayed a sacred part of their relationship. All of the money in the world couldn’t take that from Kat. She only wished she’d done it sooner.
A crack of thunder snapped Kat back to present day. She glanced at her watch and realized just how late she was. Her car was already parked, but she’d sat there a few too many minutes. She hurried from her car and into the lecture hall. Teaching evening courses threw her off, but it did her students as well, so by the time she showed up, most of the class did too. Professionalism is overrated, thought Kat, as she prepared to launch into a tantalizing lecture about creative writing and the overuse of adverbs and bombastic adjectives.
She scanned the familiar auditorium that could seat more than three-hundred, but currently held about thirty to thirty-five half-interested students. The stale smell of the old building always greeted her without fail. The chairs were wooden and some falling apart. Kat once had a student (thankfully a short, skinny one) fall through the chair as the seat gave way. How Kat managed not to laugh during the ordeal she will never know, but the poor girl was embarrassed enough, and Kat didn’t want to add more injury to the event. The walls were ivory and a worn, scuffed 1970s cream and tan tiled floor completed the ensemble. Kat stood at the front behind a wooden counter; large enough to conduct some type of science experiment, but small enough to maneuver around and not take up the entire front floor space. Some days, she’d just sit on top of it while she lectured.
“This is literally going to bore me to tears," Kat overheard one of her students whisper in the back row. Normally, this sort of remark would not bother Kat, but the combination of a butchered sentence and the way the girl articulated it struck a nerve.
“Perhaps, then, we should make it interesting," said Kat, eyeing the messy-bunned, Starbucks-toting diva. She was sitting with her legs crossed, leaning forward in an oversized sweater and leggings. Kat wondered if she was still hungover from yesterday. “Please, why don’t you introduce yourself to the class?”
The girl broke from her slouched position, brushed a piece of fallen hair from her face, and replied, “McKenzie. I’m McKenzie Brookes.”
“And, tell us, Ms. Brookes, what would you prefer to discuss? Or rather, take away from tonight’s session?”
McKenzie looked perplexed. “I...um, well, like I just thought we’d do the adverbs thing like you said. I’m cool with that.”
“I didn’t ask what you were cool with, I asked what you wanted to learn.”
McKenzie’s voice started to shake as her discomfort increased. “Um...”
“Because literally boring you to tears would be an impressive level of monotony on my part, and a waste of time for you. I wouldn’t want either of us to endure that.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I’m going through a lot right now, and little grammatical thingies aren’t really on the top of my mind.”
“I’m sure," Kat paused. She figured she’d end the girl’s misery, as the mere act of calling her out quelled Kat’s annoyance. “But tell me this, if you really had the chance to pick what we were going to do tonight, what would it be?”
McKenzie regained her unpolished, not-give-a-damn demeanor and shrugged one shoulder. “Dunno. Maybe something to write about, a prompt and some time to come up with something and see who wrote it best.”
Kat raised her eyebrows. It wasn’t a bad suggestion and they’d done plenty of writing exercises, but not timed ones to compete with each other. She knew most of those in attendance wouldn’t volunteer their work. Plus, the lecture set the class to end early.
“So, a rapid writing contest? I am ok with that. Tell you what, we get through the ‘grammar thingies’ and if there is time, we can come up with a prompt and see who writes the best piece under pressure. Deal?
“Whatever.”
“I’ll take it.”
Kat went on about sentence structure and unnecessary words. Her goal was to get them to write quality over quantity. “Anyone can use a thesaurus and put three words in place of one, but at the end of the day, if the house is white and made of brick, that’s how your reader will see it. The key is to add more to the picture, not just beef up the words describing it.”
Kat sighed. She made that point five times in five different ways. If they still didn’t get it, their grades would take the hit for all she cared
.
“Alright, a rapid writing contest." She liked the title, so she kept it. “I want to put something ridiculous down, and your job is not only to make sense of it, but to create a story revolving around your logic.”
THE KLACKERS BALEEZED TO THE STARS ABOVE
Kat scrawled her nonsense words on the whiteboard, the one update the building allowed in the past ten years. She capped the marker. “Go. You have thirty minutes. Define what this means by telling me a story that revolves around it.”
She heard their brains scrambling as she jotted down a few thoughts of her own in case no one came up with anything worth repeating. To her surprise, McKenzie furiously scrawled away with a fixed expression. Her furrowed brow and lips set in a straight line gave Kat hope for this class just yet.
Two stories stuck out in Kat’s mind, and she deemed it a tie as a result.
The first came from Kyle, the kid in the front row who everyone else knew “was going places." Kyle’s story involved a group of women that met in remote areas to watch the moonrise, even when there wasn’t a moonrise to be had. They were called ‘klackers’ because of their high heels and incessant chatter. He defined the term ‘baleezed’ as ‘toasting happily’. Each time one of the Klackers raised a glass to whatever celestial or astronomical sight they enjoyed, it was referred to as ‘baleezing.' The story went on from there.
The other finalist’s paper didn’t have a name. Students had the option, Kat decided, to place theirs on her desk if they were too shy to read it out loud and she could anonymously do them the honors.
The second paper discussed the term ‘klackers’ to mean outkasts (spelling included) because they were not as emotionally stable as the rest of society. The Klackers functioned on high anxiety, high temper, and volatile mood swings. One night, unable to contain their emotions, the group gathered in an abandoned farmhouse. They each took turns screaming their sentiments to the skies above, or, ‘baleezing.' As the author described the shouts of the Klackers, Kat noted that each one suffered some sort of trauma that seemed to manifest in an ongoing emotional issue. By the end of the story, each character found that the most help they’d received in dealing with their pent-up emotion was releasing it to something else. Their energies were sent into inanimate parts of the farm house, as a way to decrease the suffering from their afflictions. In all, Kat enjoyed it. Would she prefer at least one to become a serial killer and spawn a story from there? Sure. But, this worked just as well. No one, however, would admit to writing it once Kat announced it as one of the winners. After a few minutes of attempting to elicit an author to attach to the piece, Kat shrugged and stated, “Well let’s hope that your next assignment reflects this much thought," and left it at that.
6
"Pick up, pick up, pick up," Kat grumbled as she tried to reach Elle the following day.
When Elle answered, Kat jumped right in. "So, the girls' volleyball team has a tournament. End of the year stuff, and this year, Millerton's team is ranked highest, so they're hosting."
"Does Millerton still have a team?"
"Apparently. Anyways, since it's our old stomping ground, I say we chaperone."
Elle contemplated the request. At least, she thought Kat posed it as a request. For all she knew, Kat could just be giving her a heads up that she would be kidnapped and taken to Millerton in a few months. "Could be fun. You plan on staying all weekend?"
"Well, that's the thing. I know we both work Monday and this stupid tournament is over their winter break, so unless they lose, they can be there until Wednesday. We drive there Friday evening."
Elle twisted her hair with her finger and glanced at the calendar hanging on the side of her refrigerator. "I think I can swing Friday through Sunday, but after that, I'll head back."
Kat nodded, "Yea that's what I'm thinking too. Perfect, we'll travel together."
"Think Alex or Cara would step in?” asked Elle.
"Can't hurt to ask," replied Kat. "I'll give Cara a call and see.”
Once she hung up with Elle, Kat called Cara and made arrangements for the tournament. Cara would be around, and she was more than happy to step in as chaperone if the tournament was extended out a few extra days. Cassie was on the junior varsity team but wanted to watch the finals since her school was in them. She was in the designated cheering squad, which she didn't mind, but come her senior year, Cassie intended on playing varsity. Kat planned to meet Cara for dinner on Friday, assuming she and Elle rolled in before nine o'clock that night, and their weekend was set.
Billy left work around five and headed straight for the high school. Practice started at five-thirty, but most of the girls hung out between the end of school and the start of practice, so they often started early. Genie was first on his mind. First girl I really care about, at least in this way, he thought.
It drove him nuts.
“If only I could think about her, and then other things, and come back to her, but no, she’s like a gnat that buzzes around you and never lands; a lingering, persistent, background noise I can’t shut out.” He realized he said this out loud, but kept going. “I don’t mean it negatively, I don’t, I just hate and love that I can’t stop thinking about her. Oh god, what if I have OCD? Can OCD include thinking about people? I think about her until I text her or call her? Then the obsessive thought quells a bit? Shit! This is how crazy people start out. Oh, I knew it, I knew she’d drive me mad, but I thought it would be in a good way!” He was yelling at this point, not with anger, but with a little bit of unanticipated panic.
His rant was interrupted by the radio that suddenly caught his attention with an old, familiar tune. Ah James, you’ve always had my back. Way to distract. Chiming in with Fire and Rain, he and Mr. James Taylor sang the rest of the ride toward the school.
7
Aubrey McDowell spiked the ball across the net toward Genie, hoping for her to return the volley. Instead, she ended up smashing Genie’s side of her face. “Ah karma, what a fickle bitch," Genie heard Angie say.
“What the hell?” screamed Genie.
“Oh gawd, sorry Genzie," came Aubrey’s east coast accent that only made its presence when she was caught off guard, talking fast, or scared. This time it was a combination of those three.
“How’dya miss it? Ya knew I was hittin’ to ya," said Aubrey.
“Yea, thought I saw something, I dunno. Sorry.” Even though Genie wasn’t exactly sure how she wound up being the one to apologize, she knew exactly what distracted her.
Billy walked in the side entrance of the gym, still in his navy-blue scrubs with his bag slung over his shoulder. She knew he couldn’t see her yet; his sunglasses were still on and it took a solid few seconds for anyone’s eyes to adjust once they went from sunlight to gymnasium lighting. Plus, she was clear on the other side from where he entered.
“Genzie, Love, c’mon we ain’t got all day. Hit to me!”
Genie served the ball back to Aubrey and they volleyed it a bit until the rest of the team showed up. Most were already there, but they sat lined around gym with books and projects to avoid getting stuck with homework after practice. Not a bad time-management approach; finish homework in between practice and go home to unwind, then do it again four more times until the weekend. “God, I won’t miss this," mumbled Genie. “One more year of it...just one.”
After practice, Genie took her time getting her stuff together. She figured most of the girls knew she and Billy were seeing each other, but she still kept it under the radar. Dating staff was a huge no-no, even part-timers or assistants. Plus, Billy ran a lot of the practices solo because the head coach’s wife just had another baby. Seemed to tie up a lot of his time these days.
The last few girls trickled out of the locker room. Genie gathered her stuff and said her casual goodbyes. She then made her way to Billy, who was sitting on the bleachers back in the gym.
“Hey you.”
“Hey yourself. Good work today.”
“Yea thanks. You kicked our asse
s.”
“Had to make up for your lousy game last Saturday.”
“Hey, we won, didn’t we? Take what ya can get!”
“That I do. Hungry? Thought we could grab dinner before I secretly drop you back home”
“Yea, let’s hit a drive-through or something. I just had a crappy salad for lunch. I’m starving.”
Billy stood up slowly, glanced around the vacant gym, and then gave her a warm hug. She returned it with a kiss on the cheek.
“Ok, ok, don’t go crazy,” he said, taking a step back. “We’re still in the red zone. If we’re caught, I’m fired and, well you’re fine. Nothing will happen to you.”
“Well, not entirely. I’m sure my parents would find out about us and then we’d have to be extra covert.”
“Right, as opposed to the public relationship we have currently,” Billy said as he smiled and brushed a strand of hair from Genie’s face and gently tucked it behind her ear.
The pair drove off in Billy’s car. Genie still took the bus to school if she had to, but usually bummed rides home in exchange for food purchases. Today’s repayment would be Burger King, “Because we’re classy that way," she told Billy.
“Hey, no argument here.”
Their first date was at Subway. It ended there too, but only after a two-hour conversation, three soda refills, and a couple of cookies to-go. Billy remembered how he felt so comfortable around her. Regardless of what he said, she returned the statement with either a smile, a nod, or a giggle. He never felt judged, and as a result, he opened up to her more and more. The age didn’t match the character, he thought.
Genie had him hooked the minute he started talking to her as a friend instead of an athlete on the team. From then on, he saw her differently. He clumsily asked her out at the end of their fine dining of sandwiches and soda. She never hesitated. “Yep," she said, “I think we’ve got something here.” And Billy was sure that they did.