I didn’t wait until I was behind the gym to grab a cigarette. I couldn’t wait because my knuckles were starting to feel sore now that the adrenaline had faded. It was a small price to pay. Punching Wakefield felt good. I could scratch that off of my list of things I wanted to do before I graduated. I guess I should thank Jillian for that.
When I rounded the corner, she was sitting on one of the milk crates with her head against the wall. The sparkly, pink, sad excuse for a flask was at her lips.
“If you’re crashing my party, Cross,” I began boldly. “You better come prepared to share.” She narrowed her eyes at me, as if she were sizing me up before raising her arm and offering me the flask. I looked at it for a moment. If I hadn’t just punched Wakefield, I wouldn’t have been able to justify drinking from a pink flask, but I needed something to numb the throbbing. I took a quick pull.
“Vodka? Really?”
“Maybe you should get your own if you don’t like it,” she responded sarcastically.
“See, that’s where we differ,” I replied. “I’m not crazy enough to bring my flask to school or to give it a name.”
“I’m sure we differ in lots of ways, Luke,” she shot back, clearly not offended.
“Yeah, I’m not Wakefield’s type.”
“That was just the icing on the cake of my day. I volunteered to help a friend with boy problems,” she explained rolling her eyes. “I shouldn’t say ‘volunteer’ since it was my brilliant idea.”
“So what’s the problem then?” She was going to have to spell this one out for me.
“Well, you have a few drinks. You get a brilliant idea,” she began slowly, taking another sip. “You sober up and realize that your idea may not be as fool proof as you may have initially believed.”
“I don’t get that about girls—the need to play matchmaker,” I responded grabbing the flask from her again.
“I’m not playing matchmaker,” she countered. “They would have figured it out in their own time. I’m sure of that. I’m just helping them along. It’s my approach that I’m just not so sure of.” She looked down at her watch and groaned. “Time to put the plan in motion. Wish me luck.”
“Sounds like you’ll need it,” I replied as she gathered herself up from the milk crate. “Later,” I added with a smirk as I watched her leave. I was beginning to enjoy watching her walk away a little too much. I couldn’t really blame Mike for taking a sudden interest in her.
“Your turn to bring the refreshments,” she called back grinning. Apparently intending to turn my afternoon breaks into a pot luck.
I finished my cigarette and tossed it with the dozens of other butts on the ground. I walked through the parking lot to grab my bike and drove it around the back of the building where Scanlon’s shop was. After parking it in one of the open bays, I made my way over to Mr. S.
“Luke. Great, you’re here,” he greeted me. “Listen up, people. We’re going to learn a little bit about motorcycle repair today while I help Mr. Chambers here rebuild the clutch on his bike. Last year, Luke started to rebuild a 1973 Honda CL 175, a beautiful bike. He’s been experiencing some problems with the clutch so we’re going to remove the whole assembly and install a new one.” He grabbed the box of parts on the table in front of him, carried them over to the bay with my bike, and immediately went to work taking it apart as the class looked on.
“Now Luke, we need to make sure the shifter shaft arm is aligned correctly,” he began while handing me a pivot bolt. “The arm should point directly to the center of the clutch and the ball bearing lifter mechanism will ride on the shifter arm. So—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Scanlon?” We all looked up at the voice that interrupted him. It was Jillian. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s something wrong with my car and I can’t figure it out. I was told you might be able to help.”
Jillian hadn’t mentioned anything about car trouble, and I had just left her twenty minutes ago. If she had said something, I could’ve looked at it.
“Sure, sure, Miss…”
“Cross. Jillian,” she replied. I didn’t think she even realized I was in the class and for some reason it irritated me that she hadn’t made eye contact yet.
“Okay, Jillian, can you pull it into the bay over there,” he asked pointing to the middle doorway. As she pulled the car in, I noticed the white smoke coming out of the exhaust pipe.
“So, what seems to be the problem?”
“Jillian!” I turned and noticed Megan Dunn running over. “Jeez, can you trust me and not go running off when I’m trying to help you?” she fumed.
“I’m sorry, Megan,” Jillian replied sounding exasperated. “I’m sure you think you know what the problem is, but I’d like a professional opinion.”
Megan turned to Mr. Scanlon, her arms crossed in front of her chest and her head held high.
“It’s a blown head gasket,” she stated matter-of-factly. “The engine is overheating. It miss-fires and the check engine light comes on. And she’s always adding coolant to the radiator.” She turned to Jillian. “He needs to do a cooling system pressure test for you to see if there’s a leak in the system.”
“Can you please let Mr. Scanlon decide what’s best to do?” she countered.
“Actually, Jillian, your friend here is right. Let me grab the kit.” Jillian watched him walk over to his tool cabinet. As she scanned the room, she noticed me standing by the door, gave me a small smile and winked. Then it started making sense. This was part of whatever scheme she was talking about. Under any other circumstance, I would’ve been pissed that she was taking up time I could be using to fix my bike, but I was finding the show amusing. As I looked around the room, it appeared that the other guys in class were too. Maybe too much.
“Here we are,” Scanlon began when he returned with the small black case.
“Mr. Scanlon, may I?” Megan asked holding out her hand towards the case.
“Oh, it’s a little complicated, Miss…”
“Megan Dunn. And I’ve used one before. I need to prove to my friend that I know what I’m talking about.”
“Well, let me help you,” he replied tentatively. Megan pulled open the hood stretching up tall, and looking down onto the engine. I don’t think there was a person in the room other than Scanlon that was looking inside the hood. All eyes were on Megan’s tight tank top and small jean skirt. I, on the other hand, found my eyes drifting over to the small brunette standing back and watching the scene unfold with a satisfied smirk.
When Megan bent over the hood to attach the pump, brushing her hair off her shoulders, I watched Nate Barrett and a few of his football buddies suck in their breaths.
“Could you hold this for me?” she asked Nate, reaching out to hand him one of the parts. He had to move closer in order to reach, but he seemed frozen in place. One of his friends gave him a quick shove forward which snapped him out of his trance. It was when she bent over again, pointing out the different parts of the engine that the entire room heard a very distinct groan emanate from his chest.
I guess I know who the poor schmuck is now.
“Sorry,” he replied nervously clearing his throat. “I’ve got a dry throat.”
Is that what they call it these days?
I hadn’t noticed that Jillian had slowly backed up next to me. I couldn’t stop fidgeting, turning the pivot bolt around in my hand.
“And that is how it’s done,” she whispered enjoying her opportunity to gloat.
“Pleased with your handiwork?” I asked, teasing her.
“If I do say so myself,” she answered smugly.
“How’d you know you had a blown head gasket?”
“I didn’t,” she began wide-eyed like a kid telling a secret. “Megan figured it out. I was going to yank out The Baron’s spark plugs or something, but she took a look in the hood and told me what was wrong. She’s the real deal over there.”
“The Red Baron?” I asked confused.
“My car,” she expl
ained as if it were obvious.
“Naturally,” I replied shaking my head. “Why wouldn’t a girl who names her flask name her car too? What was I thinking?”
“Don’t be a buzzkill, Luke,” she scolded. “I just made a love connection. Show some respect.”
“I’ll give you this much,” I offered, “there are a lot of guys that are going to be sitting uncomfortably for the rest of the day after seeing her bending over the hood like that.”
“Oh, really now?” she asked, one brow shooting up.
“She’s not my type, Cross,” I replied quickly without thinking. I thought I had a type, but lately I wasn’t so sure. At any rate, I wasn’t about to discuss “my type” with Jillian especially since I was staring at her ass less than a half hour ago. “Shouldn’t you be in class somewhere?”
“I have World Lit but Danielle Powers told Gilbert that I was having female problems,” she whispered scrunching up her nose. “It’s cliché but it totally works.”
“Speaking of Danielle,” she continued. “You better watch out for her. It’s her mission to get your ass to the prom.” My heart started to race. I dropped the pivot bolt and it went rolling across the floor.
“She told you that?” I groaned. I was really hoping that Danielle had moved onto another project.
“You could say that. She claims she’s found you the perfect girl, but if you’re nice to me, I may be able to get her off your back.”
“The girl is insane,” I fumed. “I barely know her and she’s killing me.”
“Danielle’s pretty intense,” she agreed with a nod.
“So who’s she going to spring on me?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she replied waving her hand. “I can get her off your back, but I have a favor to ask.” Now it was my turn to quirk an eyebrow.
“Go on,” I said with caution.
“As you duly noted earlier today,” she began, “my beverage options are very limited. I’m assuming since you have your own flask that you have access to a wider selection…” She trailed off waiting for me to offer her some insight.
“I may have the means to purchase items occasionally,” I offered not giving her any details.
“That’s what I thought,” she replied smugly. “I want one, too.”
“You’re extorting me?” I asked incredulously. “I get you a fake ID and you get your friend to chill out?”
“I don’t like thinking about it as extortion,” she replied innocently. “I’d like to think you’d want to help a friend procure some libations.”
The last thing in the world I wanted was for Danielle Powers to guilt trip me into taking one of her chipper little friends to the prom. No way. I needed Seth to touch up the ink on my one of my tattoos anyway so taking Jillian to see him would be killing two birds with one stone. I just wasn’t sure I wanted to drive all the way to Tacoma with Jillian. She was funny in small doses, but stuck in a car for an hour is entirely different. However, the alternative was, by far, much worse.
“There’s a guy I know in Tacoma who can help you out,” I sighed. “I was planning to make a trip to see him soon anyway. When I go, I guess you can tag along.”
“Great. How’s Saturday?” She didn’t waste any time, but obviously noticed my surprise. “I don’t want to impose...”
“No, no. Saturday’s fine.”
“Awesome!” she replied grinning. “We’ll chat about the details later. I should get back to Miss Grease Monkey and make sure that Nate will, in fact, have a hard time sitting for the rest of the day.”
She turned and walked back over to Megan, Nate and Scanlon. Scanlon had added some engine block sealant while Megan explained the process to Barrett’s friends. When Jillian slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, I looked back at the tail pipe and noticed the white smoke was gone. After a few minutes, Jillian and Megan were gone too leaving the atmosphere tense and uncomfortable. Maybe her planned had worked.
When the bell rang, I was relieved to head to chemistry because I still needed to talk to Josh about his girlfriend and why she was trying to torture me. When I got to the lab, he was already hunched over in his seat listening to his Discman. I nudged him on the shoulder.
“Hey, man,” he replied, removing his headphones and placing them on the lab table.
“We need to talk,” I began. “You have to explain to Danielle that I don’t want her searching for prom dates for me anymore. I’m not going so it’s a waste of time.” I didn’t want to sound like an asshole, but her type of crazy just wasn’t funny.
“Oh, you heard about that?” he asked looking slightly uncomfortable.
“Yeah. It’s crazy.”
“She’s not that bad,” Josh countered. “I think she’s actually pretty funny.”
“What? Who are you talking about?”
“Jillian,” he explained giving me a strange look. “Who are you talking about?”
I knew I was just staring at him with my mouth open, but I was physically unable to close it. He had to be joking.
“Danielle wants me to take Jillian…to the prom?” Definitely a turn of events I wasn’t expecting.
“Wait, I thought that’s what you were upset about. She’s pretty cool. I picked Danielle up at her place on Saturday and the girl had us rolling on the floor. She’s hysterical. You could do a lot worse, Luke.”
But Jillian knew Danielle wanted me to ask her to the prom and had just agreed to get Danielle off my back. She didn’t want me to ask her, and for some reason, that really pissed me off.
“Earth to Luke.” I jumped when Josh began waving a hand in front of my face.
“Sorry, man. I was…I didn’t know she…Does Jillian know this? I mean, is Danielle harassing her, too?” I was stammering like an ass again.
“Relax,” he replied stuffing his Discman into his backpack. “But, seriously, you should consider it. Once Danielle sets her mind on something, it’s damn near impossible to change it…which is why I’ll be wearing a top hat to the prom.”
“You’ll be what?”
“She watched some Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire movie the other day. I’m going to look like an idiot, but if it makes her happy…” He looked at me like I knew what he meant. But I didn’t. You wouldn’t catch me in a top hat. Ever. Poor Bastard.
“Whatever you say, man,” I replied as Mrs. Quimby called for the class’ attention. Josh began taking notes, but I couldn’t concentrate on the review. I kept replaying my conversation with Jillian over and over. We had only forged our strange friendship a couple days ago, but it seemed like Jillian was everywhere I turned and it was messing with me. I sat for the rest of the class with a weird feeling in the pit of stomach. I could only imagine that if I went to the prom with Jillian she’d probably name the limo or insist on flashing her flask in one of those cheesy prom pictures. As funny as that might be, my Nineteen-Day-Plan to survive until graduation absolutely did not involve going to the prom or naming limousines.
After class, I had a few minutes before I needed to report to Mrs. Dupont’s Dungeon of Misinformation. I walked back to Scanlon’s shop to pick up my bike and drive it to the student parking lot. Scanlon would need to lock up, and I had no idea how long Dupont intended to torture me. As I pulled my bike into a spot in front, I looked across the emptying lot. I noticed Jillian, Megan, Josh and Danielle leaning against Jillian’s crappy car. It looked like Jillian was telling them about shop class. With exaggerated motions, she lifted the hood, fluffed her hair and bent over looking inside. It gave me an amazing view of her ass and I bit back a groan. Danielle and Josh were cracking up at the show she was putting on. She sauntered over to Josh, pretending to hand him something and began batting her eyelashes and rubbing his arm. Megan, clearly fed up with being the butt of the joke, threw her coat at Jillian. I continued watching as Jillian put the coat on and began parading around the car fluffing her hair and swaying her hips.
“I’ll kick your ass, Jillian Cross,” I heard Megan yel
l as she took off after her. Jillian let out a scream and hopped into her car locking the doors. She gave Megan a big grin and started the ignition. With a small wave, she drove off leaving Josh and Danielle doubled over laughing.
Even though I was headed to Dupont’s room for an afternoon of grueling detention, even though my knuckles were throbbing, even though I wanted to be on my way out of school instead of in, I laughed all the way there.
CHAPTER 7
Jillian
The next couple of days went by in a blur. I had been thrilled with the outcome of our visit to auto shop, and I was still feeling really superior for rocking Phase One. Nate seemed genuinely impressed with Megan’s knowledge of car engines. He also seemed impressed with her other attributes as well. If all went well, Phase Two would bring him to his knees. I didn’t want to rush it, though. To maximize the impact of the next phase, I wanted to give him a few days to stew thinking of Megan, her short skirt and many talents. It was the strangest foreplay I’d ever seen, but who was I to question? I was the one who hadn’t had a decent date in months.
In the meantime, I faked my way through my classes, made up elaborate reasons to excuse myself from volleyball and hung out behind the gym with Luke. On Tuesday, he provided refreshments and I only managed two sips of Jack before I found myself giggling like a school girl. Well, I guess I was technically a school girl. On Wednesday, he told me Green Day sucked, and I tried unsuccessfully to convince him that Billie Joe Armstrong was the voice of a generation. He scoffed at me and claimed he was going to introduce me to “real music”. On Thursday, he handed me a jewel case with a blank CD inside, offering to enlighten me with a few songs from a “new” band called The White Stripes. He had downloaded the EP from Napster and seemed really impressed with himself. More importantly, he also brought Southern Comfort. I already knew the songs so I appreciated the booze much more.
Living Backwards Page 6