Page 71 of Rock Bottom Girl
“Hell yeah, I do. They’re your parents. I assume you like them? They’re important to you?”
I nodded.
“Cool. Then let me know when and where and how to prepare for it.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling my mouth stretching into a smile.
Before I knew it, he was leaning in and pressing a kiss to my salty cheek. “See you at school, pretty girl,” he said.
“Bye, Jake.”
He pulled the reluctant Homer to his feet, and I watched them jog off.
* * *
Gym classes should have been reasonably nothorrible. The girls were on a field hockey kick while the guys played flag football. All Floyd and I had to do was divvy up teams and make sure no one got too hurt.
Unfortunately for all of us, Rachel, the quiet junior varsity forward from my team, had the misfortune of being in class with Lisabeth, the mean, big girl from the varsity team.
Lisabeth was like a bull shark lurking in the shallows with her rows of nasty teeth and her bad sharky attitude. I was watching as Rachel made a breakaway toward the hockey goal. And Lisabeth, running faster than I’d ever seen her do at practice, thundered in and slashed the girl right across the shins with her stick. Rachel crumpled to the ground like a piece of tissue paper. Lisabeth’s cronies, three girls with teased hair and too much bronzer, nearly fell over laughing.
I was so fucking done with this.
“Enough!” The rage gave my voice a boost, and not only did the hockey game stop, the flag football game came to a screeching halt in the middle of a touchdown run.
I stalked onto the field. “Rachel? Are you okay?” I asked in a quieter, calmer tone of voice.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, wincing.
“Angelika, can you help Rachel to the nurse to get some ice?” I asked nicely.
Angelika nodded, looking nervous. “Sure.”
“Great. You,” I said, pointing at Lisabeth, feeling the rage bubble back to life.
She shot me a what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it look, and I gave myself a satisfying second to envision me making her eat her hockey stick.
“Everything good, Cicero?” Floyd asked nervously behind me.
“Can you watch the hockey game for me?” I asked him without looking away from Lisabeth’s smug face.
“Sure. Yeah.”
“Great. Let’s go, Hooper.”
“Where are we going?” she sassed.
“To have a little chat.”
Under a full head of steam, I marched Lisabeth into my locker room office. “What’s your problem now, Coach?” she asked, examining her fingernails like she was bored.
But she underestimated me. I had experience dealing with girls like her at that age and every other age.
“That’s funny. I was going to ask you the same thing. See, I’m new here. I don’t have the benefit of knowing you for your entire high school career. So let me tell you what I see.”
“Goody,” she said with an eye roll.
“I see an entitled, insecure bully trying to make herself feel good by tearing other people down.”
