The Bucket List [ON HOLD]

The Bucket List - Part 4

Part 4: Reality

          The next morning I decided to walk to school, declining Lacy’s offer of a ride. My family was comfortably well off, but not rich. Unlike many of my friends, I did not receive a car for my sixteenth birthday, nor for my seventeenth. Good thing I liked walking. Gave me time to think.

          So when I neared the school, I was thinking how much I hated the direction my life had taken lately. But isn’t it always like that? People that are highest fall the hardest. Except I was still falling. Off the CN Tower would soon be one of them.

          Mentally I cursed Chance from head to toe for writing something as stupid as going bungee jumping off the CN Tower. One, I hated heights. Two, I was pretty sure that attaching a cable to the roof and flinging myself off the edge would land me in a home for the mentally unstable, if I survived landing on the ground first. And thirdly, Chance of all people would be a witness to my humiliation.

          Oh yes, I hated my life.

          I tried to look at the bright side, but found none. I’d have to ask Lacy to find something positive for me because being optimistic wasn’t my forte. I could ask Chance, but the only reason I’d be talking to Chance in the foreseeable future would be asking him if he preferred to be buried or cremated. You know, respect his last wish kind of thing.

          I sat down at our table in the courtyard, suddenly feeling like I didn’t belong there. Amber’s announcement had ripped us apart from her, and made me ordinary Allie once more. I closed my eyes briefly, opening them to see Greg, surrounded by bimbos.

          Surrounded was the right word. I immediately knew what was going on, and I rolled my eyes. The bimbos formed a perfect circle, Greg sitting in the middle of it, legs crossed and his eyes closed. It was his meditation pose. Around him, the bimbos took turns chanting encouragement at him while Greg inhaled deeply, occasionally agreeing with what the bimbos were saying. Like now, for instance.

          “You’re irresistible, Greg,” one bimbo chanted earnestly.

          “Yes, yes I am,” Greg murmured, eyes still closed, his fingers making the o shape on his knees.

          “Absolutely everyone in this school is crazy about you,” another bimbo added passionately.

          Greg opened one eye and the bimbos leaned away fearfully from him. “Not enough emotion. Say it again!” Greg snapped. “Make me believe it!”

          The bimbo gave an audible swallow and tried again.

 “Oh, Greg,” she said shakily, “Oh, baby,” she said in a quivering voice. “You must be a broom, because you just swept me off my feet!”

There was a moment of silence when people in a radius of ten metres turned to stare, but Greg lifted one hand. “Carry on.”

You could practically hear the cogs rustily squeaking in the next bimbo’s head. “Hey hottie, you must be the real reason for this global warming.”

That was disappointing. But Greg didn’t interrupt.

“You’re at the top of my ‘to do’ list, baby.”

“If being sexy was a crime, you’d be guilty as charged.”

Another bimbo smiled. “You look gorgeous today.”

“Just like every other day,” Greg agreed.

I got tired of watching and turned to the others sitting at our table, leaving Greg in his happy place. Things must be bad with him, if he had called a Greg Session. To my extreme shock, I discovered Carmen and Ian were casually sitting across from each other, carrying on a normal, calm conversation.