Coming Home

Chapter 2 Remenissions

I circled the block and pulled into a parking spot where Mel's Cafe was located, the sights all too familiar. I frowned looking at the front window, the same yellow letters from our trips here in high school spelling out the shop's name fading from the intense California sun.

"It's not fair!" Matt quietly shouted across from me in the booth. He was pouting with his head resting in his hands.

"Well it is your fault for not studying. Or paying attention all year long," I responded twisting the spoon in my coffee cup.

"Okay, but still. Mr. Chatsworth could've at least passed me, but no, he just had to keep my grade a fifty-eight! Isn't there a rule about rounding up after a certain number?" he asked me as he ran his hands through his shaggy hair.

"Again, if you paid attention you would know the answer to that question," I grinned at him.

"You're mean," he deadpanned.

"No, I'm realistic; there's a difference."

"Not a big one," Matt muttered under his breath.

"So, does that mean you'll be in summer school?" I asked taking a sip from my mug.

"Obviously."

"Boo," I said frowning. "Now who will entertain me when I'm bored?"

"Well, I can think of a few ways," he trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows and smirking at me.

"Ha-ha, Mr. Wiseguy. Very funny," I glared at him. He always chooses the worst times to be perverted.

"Kidding. But really, four hours of torture while it's summer? We're kids! We're supposed to be having fun and getting into trouble during summer break. It's not fair," he whined.

"Speak for yourself. I'm not the one in summer school. I'll be having lots of fun," I chuckled. I loved teasing Matt; he always got so butthurt.

"Oh yeah? Doing what? Reading and sleeping?"

"Exactly," I grinned.

"You're so boring, Bailey."

"But not as boring as summer school," I teased. Bringing the mug to my lips, I realized what he said, "Hey! I'm not that boring! I can be fun."

"Yeah, okay, Bails. Whatever floats your boat," Matt laughed.

I glared at him while taking a drink of the coffee. A waitress not much older than ourselves appeared at the end of the booth, note pad in hand.

"Can I get you guys anything? Our specials today are the American Deluxe with a chocolate milkshake, and tomato soup with a side of breadsticks."

"Can I have another coffee please?" I asked her, setting down my now empty mug.

"Sure thing. Can I get you anything, Hun?" she turned to Matt, ogling him with her eyes.

"Just a root beer," he said looking down at the menu, even though we knew them by heart.

"You sure, Hun? I can get you anything you want," she said, winking to him suggestively.

"Yeah, I'm sure, Hun," he responded in a bored tone, emphasizing the 'Hun' sarcastically.

"Alright, it'll be right out," she said defeated, switching nervously from one foot to the other.