The Fight For Life And School

Chapter 9 Bonding over reading

LONG CHAPTER!!!!!!!

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Friday, the day most people scream freedom at 3:30. I barely have time to scream, let alone scream freedom since Zoe has me up to my neck in work for the car wash tomorrow. If I put all of this work into it I might as well go. Zoe holds a clipboard and turns to the three other people in the science room, waiting for Zoe's commands.

"Manon, you need to talk to Mr.Daniels about the advertisement he bought. Mark, you need to check on the shirts with advertisement. Aaron, you need to hand out more fliers. I know we've handed out so much, but more. Stuff them in the people's mouths if you have to. Just get rid of them. Tex," It's a nickname. No ones a hundred percent sure where it came from,"You need to make sure to buy buckets, hoses, sponges, towels, whatever you think we need. We have a budget people. Lets use it up!" She says. I turn to Aaron and look at her with a pleading face.

"I'll hand out the fliers if you talk to Dirty Daniels." I say. Aaron looks at me with a look of relief.

"Deal. Remember to smile Manon. You need to work on that." She says, standing up to go to Dirty Daniels gas station. Zoe mumbles something about needing more bikini shots for the email she's sending out today. Two days to late. I walk over to Zoe and grab the box of fliers she has sitting behind her.

"I'm switching jobs with Aaron." I say. Zoe nods and scribbles something down on her clipboard. The pencil screeches as it slides across the paper.

"Okay. Smile. It's what helps get rid those fliers." Zoe says. I nod and pick up a box. It's a lot heavier than I remember. Maybe it's because a lot more rides on it this time. Tex walks over.

"It's not just smiling. It's also killer determination." He says, doing a karate chop at the end. He pats my head and saunters out of the room. Zoe nods at his point with her fake eyebrows shooting up.

"I was thinking that maybe instead of just standing in the streets we could, well I could go house to house." I say. Zoe puts her clipboard in between her legs and claps her hands.

"Yes! Brilliant! But if they have a gun and tell you to get off their property, run." She says. She creepily slaps my butt as I walk away with the box in my already sweaty hands.

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The difficulty of handing out fliers is even more difficult when it's raining. Especially when all you and everyone else wants to do is get out of the rain. The colors are running on the fliers and it seems as if their crying for me and my terrible job. It's hard to smile in the rain. Especially when you feel like your bright happy colors are slipping away. 

All I see around me are black umbrella's covering people's faces. I don't know if I should return back to school and drop the box off or continue handing out now pointless fliers. I hand out a soggy flier and continue forward. Should I protect the box with myself or protect myself with the box? I hunch over the box and walk forward letting my head get hit with people's elbows, bags, or the ends of their umbrellas. 

I walk over to the bus station and sit down on the dry bench. It doesn't add me any comfort, but at least I'm dry...ish. I sit and watch the people pass by. Little children cling to their mothers. Men grip their briefcases. Teenagers run through the rain not thinking about the consequences. Cars drive by now and then and let the water under their tires splash up onto the sidewalk. I wait for a few minutes to let the rain slow to a drizzle. A few minutes turns into thirty minutes. Thirty minutes turns into an hour. An hour turns into two hours. 

By now I'm done with the fliers, the rain, the stupid car wash tomorrow. No one is going to need their car washed now since it's raining. Maybe they'll cancel and never reschedule it. That would be nice. The rain finally slows down allowing me to step out of the bus station. A person closes their umbrella. The end of it gets stuck on the corner of the box.

 The person yanks on their umbrella making the box fly out of my hand. The box is finally calling freedom for today. Some fliers fly into the gutters while others float into the street. At least twenty stayed in the box. I leave the fliers to fend for their own on the gutters. The one's in the street I run after. They float away from me when I get close. It feels like a mocking game. I look both ways before bending down to grab a flier. I turn around and see Callum.

"I'm not stalking you." He says handing me a few fliers. The sides are ripped and the words are blurry. The colors are smeared together making an ugly brown. A few fingerprints hide in the new brown. I take the fliers and look at Callum's brown fingertips.

"It seem's like it." I say. I'm unsure of what to make the situation out to be. He just stares at my hands that are now also a light shade of brown. It looks like my hands have a really bad tan.

"I know. But this town is a small place." He says.

"We're eighteen and I haven't seen you here until now. Plus you show up everywhere I go." I walk back over to my box that has been moved since people have kicked it out of their way. I pick up the box and shove the fliers into it.

"Does it scare you?" He asks with a playful smile. The rain starts to pour down again. He stares at me and I stare at him.

"If this were a movie I would be kissing you." He says. I laugh sincerely and throw the box to him. He catches it and throws it into the trashcan before leading me inside a gardening store that's next to the bus station. Callum waves at the young boy behind the counter.

"Chuckster." Callum says.

"Call me maybe." The boy says back.

"Who came up with those names?" I ask. Callum points to a woman on a sliding ladder. She has to reach up high to get what she wants. Her shirt reaches up with her. The woman ignores the task at hand.

"Whats wrong with those names?" She asks me. Her hair doesn't look like it's combed and tattoos crawl up her arms. She's missing one tooth on the top and two missing on the bottom. My face probably gives away how uncomfortable I am.

"Nothing!" I say. Callum laughs and puts his hand on my back. He leads be to the aisle where there are hoses and wheelbarrows. He sits down in a wheelbarrow and puts a hose behind his head as a pillow. I can still feel where his hand was on my back. It's now only a ghost of a memory. He looks at me confused.

"Aren't you going to sit down?" He asks, motioning his hand to a wheelbarrow behind his feet.

"I think that's more of your thing." I say. I walk over to another aisle and grab a lawn chair. I bring it back to where Callum is and plop it down in front of him. He flips over to his side and fishes around in his pocket. I look behind me to make sure I know where to sit(?). I sit down and turn my attention back to Callum. He's unfolding a sheet of paper. Once its unfolded he gets this look of propriety on his face.

"Come Down To Jefferson High School's Cartastic Car Wash." He reads it in an odd british voice.

"What are you doing?" I ask. He stands up and begins to walk towards me. Instead of stopping he continues forward while reading and turns the corner. I scramble up, suddenly intrigued. I follow him and turn the corner, but he's not here.

"We Will Wash Your Car And Brighten Your Smile." I hear from behind me. I spin around and see him walking down another aisle. I smile and go to follow him. He's just turning when I reach the front of the aisle. I walk into the depths of the aisle which holds creepy pitchforks, shovels, and more to add to it's creepiness.

"Boo!" I scream and turn around.

"That wasn't on the flier!" I yell at him. He's laughing so hard he has to bend over. After my heart stops pounding against my rib cage I begin to laugh as well.

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LONG CHAPTER!!!! I am currently working really hard on my high school essay's so the updating will be spread out. I am also having trouble writing chapters. I have ideas and Im writing them down, I just don't know how to get there. Plus I feel like my writing is getting very sloppy. Please leave feedback!

-Cora <3