Unthinkable

January Part 1

OMG!  The original ZIMA Commercials were SOOOOOO BAD!

***

It's the final weekend of winter break. My parents are gone for the day at my brother's indoor soccer tournament. They won't be back until late. And somehow, I've convinced them to let me have people over, including boys, tonight. I pretty much had to promise them the world. I'm pretty sure that it's only because Jake is coming that Mom even considered it. She believes everything she hears from Mr. Matthews. Jake walks on water.

The boys want to watch some hockey game. I really don't know too much about hockey beyond goalie, stick and puck, but my dad has the biggest TV. So my house it is.

House to ourselves. Let's watch us some hockey! Wahoo!

Turns out the boys and Shannon had other plans. Shan's the only member of the A-Team still talking to me. Probably because she thinks I'm the key to the freshmen track boys.

"Lookey here, what have we got?" Shannon teases, slowly unzipping her backpack to reveal a six-pack of Zima and several Bartles & Jaymes wine coolers.

Scooter also came packing, with a case of Natty Ice his older brother bought for him. Oh my god, they all snuck booze out of their houses. And into mine.

I looked over to Penny to see what she'd brought. "Don't look at me. I'm driving," she said, knowing what I was thinking. "These fools coordinated without me."

This is definitely NOT what I thought was going to be happening tonight.

"Sammy?" Jake put his arm around me and hands me a beer, as we settle into the corner nook on the couch. I guess we're doing this.

First of all, beer is gross. They say it's an acquired taste. I don't know about that.

Zima, on the other hand, is delicious. Shannon and I split the six-pack she snuck out from her mom's secret stash. When her mother realizes it's gone, we'll never see Shan again. Shan's mom is the only mom I'm truly afraid of.

Some hockey was played. Something about pulling the goalie. And, yay! The red team won.

Ring. Ring.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Mrs. Tate." I motion for them to shush. "Okay, yeah, I'll let them know. I hang up.

"Shit guys. We gotta clean up FAST. They are already on their way back here. They left the Tate's five minutes ago."

We suck down the rest of the beers and coolers, then Jake and Scooter sneak over to the neighbor's trash cans to hide the evidence. But, man oh man, that last wine cooler went straight to my head. Oh crap. I need food. Fries. I want fries. And pancakes.

"Bicks?" Scooter suggests. Almost like he's reading my mind. That's terrifying.

Everyone agrees and begins gathering their things.

"I can't go anywhere until my parents get here. They'll kill me if I'm not here."

"Well, we don't have to be here when your parents get home — we can go ahead and get a table," Shannon suggests, overlooking, or maybe not, the fact that that basically meant everyone but me would leave. And I can't drive. Beers or no beers I still haven't passed my driver's test.

Jake chimes, "We can wait, they are already on their way." Turning towards me, "And, you have to come."

Grrrrr-aaaaaaaa-grrrrrrr. And with the loud grumble of our garage door, my parents are home.

Penny takes the lead. Everyone making polite conversation with my parents, no one making eye contact. The guys giving my dad a quick play-by-play of the game. All eyes darting around the room, looking for any remnants of "funny business."

"Ma, we're going to Bickford's now, I'll be home by 1, promise." I try to scurry past, but she grabs my elbow. Right by the prickly nerves. How do parents always know right where to grab?

She motions for me to follow her back into the kitchen. Oh shit. She knows something is up. I'm in so much trouble. Don't breathe through your mouth. She'll smell it on you. Fuck.

"I don't think you really need to go to Bickford's, do you? You have to work at Gingerbread in the morning."

"C'mon mom, everyone else is going. Don't make me be the only one. I'll be fine in the morning. Besides, it's just the trade show. I can practically do the trade show in my sleep. 'Cookies are $1.25 each or five cookies for $5, what can I get you?'"

"Who's driving?"

"Penny." She looks back over her shoulder. Eyeballing Penny, thank god she's totally sober.

"And she's going to drive you home?"

I laugh. "Yeah, I'm not walking home."

"I don't want to hear any complaints when I wake you up in the morning."

The largest eye roll ever known to Massachusetts takes place, accompanied by an unmistakeable sigh that should have gotten me grounded. There is something wrong with me. I really need to learn how to control that.

"Do you want to stay home?"

"No." Okay, she's right, I am the one asking for something here. "I won't give you a hard time, I promise."

"1 o'clock, not a minute later. Capisce?"

"Got it. Thanks, Ma." I kiss her on the cheek and run out the kitchen to join my friends.

Everyone heads out through the garage, I hit the button on my way through the door, ducking and running under, careful not to get hit. Not giving Mom a chance to change her mind.

Penny and Shannon are in the front seat. I'm sandwiched between Scooter and Jake in the back. Two huge dudes. There is barely any room for me. My shoulders are leaning back on their pecs. And there is no place for my arms. Jake takes my right arm, resting it on his lap. This is weird.

Bicks / Bickfords — 24-hour diner chain. Our regular late-night hangout. Unless you are with your Grandmother you don't eat here during the day. But late-night fries are essential.