Georgia Peaches and Other Rotten Fruits

Chapter One

The shitstorm that's about to unfold began when Jeremy Longner pulled the fire alarm in the middle of third period. I mean, it didn't really, really begin there - years of buildup preceeded it - but blaring alarms and flashing lights seem like the perfect backdrop for the impending disaster. So I guess I'll just start here. You know, for aesthetics' sake. 

Jeremy Longner pulls the fire alarm at least once every year, and since his dad is the Superintendent, he gets a few days of In-School Suspension and that’s it. It’s just one of those things now. We all know it’s going to happen, we just don’t know when. This particular time, it’s a random Wednesday in October. 

The middle of October is pretty warm in southern Georgia and sweat is beading on my forehead by the time my class climbs the hill up to the football field behind the school. Grand Prairie High School is small, something that becomes even more apparent when all four hundred and fourteen students are milling around on the lush green of the football field. The field is probably the most cared for piece of property in Grand Prairie. Besides drinking, fishing, and illicit drugs, football is the only thing to do in this town. 

Grand Prairie is right outside of Suwanee, Home of the Falcons! The upper crust of Grand Prairie all work as doctors or lawyers or other such decent paying jobs in Suwanee. The rest of the peasants take what they can find in town. Grand Prairie is one of those towns that isn’t distinctly poor or wealthy. Trailer parks have a nice view of two story Victorian style houses and there are no boarded up businesses on main street, even though some of the buildings are straight from the 1800's.

As far as small towns go, Grand Prairie could be worse. 

I’m standing towards the edge of the field, probably looking awkward, when my best friend finally crests the hill. She sees me immediately, knowing that I won’t be mingling with other students, and heads in my direction. 

Tess is. . . an anomaly. She moved to Grand Prairie from Tennessee in second grade. She called my cable knit sweater frumpy and stole my Hello Kitty pencil. Then, she attached herself to me and hasn’t let go. 

I watch her walk across the field, her three inch stilettos sinking into the grass. Despite that, she still looks like a model; long tan legs, platinum blonde hair, skin tight dress that probably violates every dress code in the rulebook. She turns just about every male head, and most female, on the field. She acts like she doesn’t notice. But, then again, knowing Tess, she probably really doesn’t. 

“Hey," I call out and give a small wave.

“Fucking Jeremy,” she says, sidling up beside me. “I love these shoes.” She puts a hand on my shoulder and leans down to take the strappy, gold monstrosities off. “You got a napkin or somthin’?” 

“Here.” I pull a crumpled tissue out of my pocket. It’s smudged with eyeliner from where I did my makeup in the car this morning. 

“Thanks.” She wipes the mud off the heels and then hands the tissue back to me.

“Really?” I take the thing and shove it back into my pocket. 

She rolls her eyes at me. “It’s just a little mud.”

“Then why didn’t you just leave it on your shoes?”

She swats my arm and sits the shoes down beside her bare feet. “I just got ‘em. I’d like to wear ‘em a couple times before they’re ruined.” 

And, inevitably, they will be. Tess is anything but careful. She goes through clothes like paper towels. Sometimes I wonder how she affords it all. I suspect she and her father’s finances are a little better than they lead people to believe, especially her “gold digging, bitch momma,” as Tess calls her. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting Leanne. She and Tess’s dad, Adam,  got divorced when Tess was little. Apparently it was ugly. Adam took Tess and Leanne took everything else.