King of the Screwups

by K L Going

  Dad nods. “Absolutely,” he says. “There are a plethora of excellent service opportunities in the Westchester area. After Principal Mallek’s phone call, I anticipated this and did some research . . .”

  Dino coughs. “Actually,” he says, “I feel strongly that the community Liam needs to serve is this one. Specifically, this school. I think the others will agree.” He glances at Principal Mallek and Orlando. “This is where the alarm was set off, and this is where people have been inconvenienced.”

  Dad frowns.

  “I hardly think that’s reasonable. It’s a long drive from Westchester, and Liam’s time will be occupied with extensive tutoring for the GED and a pre-army training program.”

  I try to breathe evenly, but my pulse is racing. I glance at Mom, then at Pete. Pete nods, so I clear my throat.

  “Actually, Dad, I’ve changed my mind.”

  Dad stops midsentence.

  “Au . . . Uncle Pete and I had a long talk last night, or this morning actually, and if Principal Mallek will allow it, I’d like to finish school here in Pineville. I know there will be consequences for setting off the alarm and drinking on school property, and I’ll do whatever I have to”—I look directly at Principal Mallek—“even if it takes me all year to work it out. But I’d like to stay.”

  This is the part I’ve been dreading, and Dad doesn’t waste any time.

  “Your decision is already made,” he says. “That’s the reason your mother and I drove here this morning.” I can see the color rising in his face. I cringe, but it’s too late now. Things are reaching maximum fucked up, but for once I want it that way.

  “No, Dad,” I say. “You made my decision, just like you always make all the decisions. I said yes because I wanted to make you proud of me. But you wouldn’t be proud even if I did join the army.”

  Dad’s face turns red. First he sputters, but then he stands up.

  “You’ve changed your mind because he,”—Dad points at Aunt Pete—“thinks he can be some sort of father figure and—”

  “Give it a rest, Allan,” Pete says. “I’m not trying to be anybody’s father, and if your son happens to be looking for one, maybe you should ask yourself why that is.”

  Dad laughs.

  “If my son happens to be looking for one, I don’t think he’s going to find it in a cross-dressing disc jockey who lives in a trailer park.”

  Aunt Pete stands up, but Principal Mallek clears his throat loudly.

  “I can see this is a point of contention,” he says, but nobody’s listening anymore.

  Eddie’s trying madly to say something that begins with “As Liam’s employer . . .” and Orlando is subtly blocking Aunt Pete’s right arm by standing next to him. Dino looks like he’s considering calling in reinforcements, and Mom is fumbling with her purse again. I run my fingers through my hair.

  “You’ve got no say in this whatsoever,” Dad’s saying, his finger jabbing in the direction of Aunt Pete’s chest. “I’m Liam’s father and what I say is that he’s coming home with me today. Period.”

  If things weren’t so messed up, I could almost laugh. Now Dad wants me?

  Pete looks like he’s about to spit. “Bullshit,” he says. “Your wife and your son bend over backward to please you when all you do is treat them like crap, so it’s their decision whether or not—”

  Principal Mallek moves between them. “Enough!”

  An awkward silence settles over the room.

  “I’m sure we can work through this if everyone cooperates,” Principal Mallek says quietly. He’s using his I-am-very-annoyed-with-you tone, and it’s great, because for once he’s not using it on me. Dad opens his mouth, but Principal Mallek holds up one hand.

  “Liam,” he says, “do I understand that you would prefer to finish the school year rather than dropping out?”

  I nod.

  “Mr. Geller,” Principal Mallek says, “I can’t imagine you wouldn’t at least consider Liam’s request. It’s very unconventional for a parent to insist . . .”

  Dad’s face changes from furious to controlled.

  “Of course,” Dad says. “I’m only concerned for my son’s well-being, so if Liam wants to finish the school year back home in Westchester, where he can have adequate supervision, that’s fine with me.”

  Principal Mallek nods. “That’s fair,” he says. “I can arrange the necessary paperwork, and I’m sure we can come up with some way that Liam can still repay this community and everything can be settled accordingly.”

  I sit up.

  “Wait a second,” I say, glancing at Mom. “It’s not settled.” I try to make her look at me, but she won’t, so I have to ask. “Mom,” I say. “Please.”

  This time she looks up and we lock eyes for a moment. Then I turn to Principal Mallek.

  “I know you believe in consequences,” I tell him, “but I’ll take the consequences. I promise. It’s not too late. I mean, I finally made a decision. That should count for something, right? I know what I want to do, and if I just get a chance, I might get things right this time.”

  I’m not done, but Principal Mallek puts his hand on my arm.

  “I’m sorry, Liam,” he says, “but I believe you need the support of your parents.”

  That’s when Dad stands up.

  “Liam, get your jacket.”

  I don’t move.

  Liam . . .

  “Let him be, Allan.”

  I expect Pete, but it’s Mom. Everyone turns and for the briefest of seconds she looks like she used to, on the runway. She stands up and walks over to me, then kisses me on the forehead.

  “Your whole life,” she whispers, “I’ve prayed you’d turn out like your father. Please, I thought, don’t let him turn out like me.” Her hand lingers on my face, and it trembles. “But you are like me, aren’t you? Except you’re stronger than I am, and when I look at you, I don’t feel anything but proud.”

  I close my eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Li,” she breathes, and then she says it. “I love you more than anything.”

  There’s a long silence, then Dad says, “Sarah, we’ve discussed this.”

  “No, Allan,” she says. “We haven’t.”

  She turns to Principal Mallek. “I know you need to speak with Liam regarding his conduct yesterday. I’m not asking for lenience on his behalf, but I am asking that you give him another chance in your school. He’s eighteen now and he can make his own decisions. If this is what he wants—”

  “Sarah, sit down,” Dad says.

  She doesn’t move. “He deserves another chance, because god knows we haven’t given him a real one.”

  “Sarah!”

  For the first time Mom looks directly at Dad. “We’ll take this into the hallway. Right now Liam has things to work out with his uncle, his teacher, his principal, his employer, and the officer who’ve been good friends to him.” She looks at each one of the guys and there are tears in her eyes.

  Dad turns to me.

  “We’ll discuss this again,” he says, and I nod. I have no doubt that we will.

  Epilogue

  TWO WEEKS LATER I’m sitting in front of the giant mirror in the choir room putting on eye shadow. The room is crowded with half-dressed cheerleaders and guys wearing boxer shorts and ties. There are supposed to be separate changing areas for guys and girls but the barriers were knocked down and now there’s just chaos. I grin. Fifteen minutes until showtime.

  Aunt Pete steps up behind me. “That looks good,” he says. “How do you make it look like that?”

  I finger the brush lightly. “It’s layering,” I tell him. “The darkest shade closest to the lid, then a shade lighter in the center, and something with a golden tone to sweep up toward the eyebrows. Stands out from the stage and pulls people in.”

  Jen sits down beside me. “Can I try that?” she asks. She looks really pretty.

  I hand her a brush. “You should use a neutral shade on your eyelids,” I say, “but brush the gold a
cross your lips like this. It’ll make them shimmer.”

  Joe Banks tosses a football against the wall.

  “There is no way in hell I’m wearing any of that.”

  Pete laughs. “C’mon, Joe. A little lipstick? Blush, maybe?”

  “You guys are crazy.”

  I would laugh, but I cringe instead.

  “Raymond. Simon. You guys aren’t reading the chart. You’ve got to read the chart. You’re wearing the PacSun shorts with the Skechers and the shades.”

  Raymond looks down. “These are shorts,” he says. I groan.

  “Nikki, will you show Rambo the PacSun shorts? And Stephie and J.T. have the wrong accessories.” Damn, there’s a lot to keep track of. “I’ve got to get this stuff on,” I mutter. “If I don’t get this right . . .”

  Aunt Pete is studying me closely, and I catch his eye.

  “I know, I know,” I finish. “It’s not the end of the world.” Only, maybe it is, because I want to start succeeding for a change. I hold out the eye shadow. “Want some?”

  Pete nods.

  “Sure. Why not?” He copies my sweeping arcs. I watch his technique, which is improving.

  Aunt Pete is wearing the red dress in the fashion show. He’s DJing, too, so they’ve been plugging it big-time. The uncle/nephew modeling team. It’s supposed to be a big joke, his appearing in a dress, I mean, but the whole town is coming out to see it, and what they don’t know is that Aunt Pete is taking this very seriously. He’s wearing the rhinestone pumps we bought at the mall, and he’s even shaved. His legs.

  “Looks good,” I tell him, once he gets the eye shadow on. I pull on my shirt and adjust the cuffs. Joe Banks’s football crashes against the wall and someone drops a tray full of earrings, but I ignore them. There’s something I still have to do.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say, getting up.

  Eddie walks into the room just as I’m leaving.

  “Where are you going? We’ve only got ten minutes left. Ohmygod. I think I’m having a panic attack.”

  He fans himself, but I ignore him. There’s someone I need to see in the hallway.

  “Darleen!”

  She’s walking toward the gym, but she stops when I slide up beside her.

  “How’s Pineville’s new homecoming king?” she asks.

  I blush. The vote was this morning after the parade and I won by a landslide. I honestly don’t know how that happened.

  “Good,” I say. “I’m good.”

  “So, they’re letting you go to your coronation now that you’ve served your time?” She’s referring to my week’s suspension and the community service with Dino. Not that community service is over. I’ll be doing that until I’m eighty. It sucks, too. I have to pick up every piece of garbage in Pineville, but that’s not the part that sucks. The part that sucks is that hardly anyone in Pineville litters, so I have to pretend there’s garbage to pick up.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Me and Jen are even going to a party afterward, but Pete told her I have to be home by eleven. He says he’s calling Dino at eleven-oh-one.” I shrug and Darleen laughs.

  “How’s your dad taking everything?”

  This time I frown.

  “Not so great. He and Mom had a big fight over whether she would come today, so now she’s staying home, even though she said she’d be here. It’s kind of a mess.”

  “But you’re still here,” Darleen says.

  Good point. “So, what’s with the notebook?” I nod at the sketch pad she’s pinning to her chest, and Darleen narrows her eyes.

  “Believe it or not,” she says, “Jen called this morning and asked if I’d do some sketches of the fashion show.” She glares at me. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  I mean to play it cool, but I grin, and Darleen shakes her head.

  “I guessed as much. You’re the only person who could convince Jen Van Sant to call and ask me a favor. A favor involving homecoming.”

  “It’s a good idea though, right?” I say. “I mean, it’ll be good for your portfolio and the sketches will be something different for the school paper. Supporting the arts and all?”

  “And just because I launched a massive campaign against homecoming doesn’t mean I can’t play a pivotal role.” She frowns. “I was going to say no, but I decided I’d be a fool to miss my chance.”

  Normally I’d pretend to know what she means, but I’m trying to do better about that. “What chance?” I ask.

  Darleen adjusts her notebook.

  “Well, I figure I’ll get voted Class Hypocrite in addition to Class Bitch, but even I couldn’t turn down a chance to sketch the world’s next supermodel.”

  She grins, and I don’t know what to say, but in the end I don’t say anything. Darleen glances at the choir room door, where Eddie is gesturing madly.

  “Speaking of which,” she says, “looks like you’re on.”

  About the Author

  K. L. GOING is the author of four novels, including Saint Iggy, an ALA Best Book for Young Adults, and Fat Kid Rules the World, a Michael L. Printz Award Honor book. She lives in Glen Spey, New York.

  Learn more at www.klgoing.com