Chapstick Boi

16 - Gum Bubble Pop

Since my slip up where I accidentally insulted the Irish goddess that is Demi Maguire by referring to her car as 'Lazy Town-ish' the car trip has been excruciatingly quiet.

From the passengers seat I imagine choking Jayden within an inch of his life peering through the rear view mirror where I can see him smirking to himself. That smug bastard.

The radio is off, the conversation non existent and the air con is severely weak. I text my worried mom that everything is ok so far, driving wise.

I should say something to diffuse the tension, yes? No? Maybe? Heh. "I caught up on some Malcolm in the Middle yesterday." That is your start pitch? Shoot me now.

Demi tightens her grip on the wheel, "Mmh." Welp, I royally screwed this up.

"I think I see you as more of a Reese type than Dewey come to think of it." She says disdainfully without steering her focus on the road elsewhere, popping the pastel pink gum bubble she forms.

Yeah I think I deserve that, what with Reese being the notorious troublemaker and all. "I dunno," Rhea pipes up lifting the weight of guilt dragging my spirit down, "To me you're definitely Hal, pre-Breaking Bad of course." I mirror her smirk which eases the rigid atmosphere.

Jayden is quick to involve himself saying, "Nah, I always pinned her for Craig, boring ol' single white meat—ow!" He rubs the area of skin I pinched hard enough it left nail indents... and you know how Lesbians are with their nails.

"How about some music?" I suggest asking silent permission from Demi who shrugs carelessly.

Diving for the static prone radio, I hit the on button so fast I almost break the knob. "Any preferences?"

"Anything really."

Bzzt
Bzzt

I unlock my phone, reading the recent text from a tongue poking Jayden in emoji form.

Could you be anymore awkward Spooky? Blegh

Turning around with the intention of pegging the spare flannel shirt I harbour in my bag at him another embarrassing blunder sends the material straight for Rhea's face.

Calmly she peels the fabric off, mildly entertained by my oval shaped mouth, 'sorry' I say without speaking. She waves it off returning to her phone, scrolling on the touch screen.

A noiseless laughing Jayden isn't remotely fazed about how horrified I am, cheeks flushed the shade of mortal embarrassment.

Nice one, stud. He sends, prodding the base of my seat.

Piss off, Gayjay. I use the distasteful nickname on him whenever I want to reinforce my point. He gets the idea, flipping me off.

For the rest of the ride I face straight ahead attention unwavering on the never ending road, Demi maintaining a sensible speed limit. "How's dance troupe?" I ask in a desperate effort to make amends.

Demi sighs and for a second I thought she'd give me the silent treatment but thankfully, "S'alright, whenever we're not dancing, Nickel is talking our ears off... How's Drama?" This is good we're getting somewhere after half an hour of her popping gum.

"Dramatic, sweaty, it's better than weight watchers." The mood within the worn Chevrolet lightens and I make it my goal to keep the verbal fire burning. "It's good exercise too, but the hall is hotter than hell."

"Got that right." She says flatly, signalling into the next lane and raising a hand out the window in thanks to the vehicle behind.

Crap, where do I go from here?

Admiring her aesthetically pleasing profile —apparently a Maguire birth defect— I survey her brown freckles skin, finding a Pisces zodiac symbol on her inner wrist. "Nice tatt, Pisces?"

She looks down as if the ink was unfamiliar to her, "Oh yeah, courtesy of my dad," I swallow thickly remembering what she said about him and the fag bug, "he let me get it for my eighteenth birthday."

"Almost got kicked off the dance troupe for it." Rhea comments seemingly pleased with Demi's deadly glare her way.

The countless twists and winding turns leading us further into bush land signals our destination is close by. "Eighteen, huh? So how old are you?" You can hear the desperation in my voice, an unattractive quality most likely to render me undesirable.

"Nineteen turning twenty, aren't you?" Her intense brown eyes meet mine fleetingly making my heart stop, "No, I'm seventeen turning eighteen." The car skids over small clusters of organic litter, the leather upholstery melting my skin on contact.

"Really? You don't say, I thought you were older." Jayden backs me up for the first time this whole road trip.

"Yeah, she gets that a lot. Got us free booze one time because of it."

Demi is impresses by the factual claim. "How the hell'd that happen?" She asks legitimately intrigued. I let Jayden have the floor due to his more effective socialising skills.

"It was awesome. We snuck in to a bar on our way to the cinema because we thought we saw people we knew inside." He grabs his foot, holding it on his other knee talking more animated after clearing his clogged throat. "Turns out they're butch Lesbians and we've accidentally walked into a gay bar."

Their mouths fall open and Jayden smiles proudly having evoked the desired response, "What was that like?" It never ceases to amaze me how excited straight people get listening to gay stories.

"It's a crazy combo of boyish girls and gily girls, a licorice all sorts of Lesbians," They chortle at this, "So we decide to hang out, Spoo—I mean, Jordan goes up to the bar to ask for water when the bartender was like, 'What can I get fer ya? Burbon? Whiskey? Vodka?' You name it."

Rhea rotates in his direction, legs cross cross applesauce, "We were about to clear up the mistake when she makes her a tequila shot, courtesy of a leather clad Bikie wearing a vest that said 'Power Dyke' in a rainbow arch." Demi spares more glances to the backseat, engaged in the story while I lean into the gap between our chairs.

"Did you drink it?" I shake my head answering Rhea's question, resting my elbow on the compartment middle of the driver and passenger seat.

"Jay did, I'm not that big a drinker." I admit honestly just as the car spins suddenly and my temple smacks onto the head rest.

I tell Rhea I'm alright, ignoring Jayden who doubles over in laughter once we've exited the car, over exaggerating the minor yet humiliating hiccup.

Ba dum da-dum tss

A crazy drumming solo erupts inside the school which means the volume where the music is playing must be so deafeningly loud it can stretch across twenty classrooms from the one quadrant.