- I'll offer you a deal. You will show me what happened in that restroom, and if you satisfy me, the school won't just expell you.
- And... by "showing you", I don't think you mean drawing pictures of it, do you?
- Ah, the sharp tongue is back.
She...
I had to go back to school a couple of days after dad's funeral, and I found myself thrown into a group assignment with the other two people that nobody picked. Off to a great start, I thought. But as Mom said, life has to continue. Among all the crazy, she did say something sensible: we have to move on.
So, being the one with the bigger house and the most access to materials, it made sense for me to host the first group meeting, as much as I dreaded the idea. I tried not to make too big a deal of it, and to select a day when Mom would not be home, but of course she had a change of plans and not only was she home but she gave Mercedes, the maid, the day off.
Things started to go downhill when Mom decided to bring us snacks and drinks. True, they weren't spiked with anything crazy as far as I know, but... remember what I said about her effect on my classmates?
-Dude, your mom's hot!- said Gary the second she dissappeared past the kitchen's door.
-You realize she can still hear you, don't you?
A child prodigy, Gary was a full four years too young to be in our class, but he passed the admission exams with flying colors so they had to admit him. However, as much as it was an advantage to have him around, nobody actually wanted to interact with him. Not too much of a filter between his brain and his mouth, which made him very, very awkward socially.
He couldn't stop giggling, his dirty mind coming up with all sorts of images at this point. Not much you can do about that.
-Hehehe, and if she wasn't your Mom, -he continued- I would totally think that she's hitting on you. Ain't it so, Cam? -he turned to address the group's only female.
-It's hard to tell with the olygarchy.- she said, hardly raising her eyes from the book she was reading.- They believe their wealth puts them above morals, so who knows what kind of decadent pleasures they are into.
That was Camille. Or Red Cammie, Cammie the Commie, Small Red, the Red Ginger, or any of the other nicknames we had for her. Your typical coffee shop Commie, addicted to designer lattes that require a PhD to make, wearing a Che Guevara T-shirt purchased at a trendy fashion store and twitting against Capitalism from her Iphone. Of course, if you called her out on her bullshit she would have a perfect justification. "The best way to fight the system is to use its own weapons to undermine it" she would say, seconds before sipping her triple mocca vegan pumpkin macchiato or whatever other unholy concoction she dictated to the poor bastard behind the counter.
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-That would be totally kinky, wouldn't it?-asked Gary, unable to let it go.
-YOU GUYS READ WAY TOO MANY FANFICS-I exploded, a bit louder than I intended. Things were hitting too close to home. A few seconds of awkward silence followed, in which we all exchanged looks, until I attempted, and failed, to break the ice.
