I Can't Complain

“C’mon babe. Tell Mom and Pop all about it.” The chirp in her voice reflected the gleam in her eyes. Normally I would find it comforting and adorable, but today…it was obnoxious, to put it lightly.

“Do not, Jaki. I’m serious, do not.” The events for our first day at St. Helen’s Academy were nothing short of fucking disaster. Yes, an abso-fucking-lute shitastic disaster…uh huh, that’s about it.

“I’m serious. You-tell me-now.” I could almost hear the half-time bell.

“Yes’m honey chil’, spill.” Varick. My sweet, sweet Ricky-pie. Oh, how he gets under my skin by chiming in on my conversations. Well, almost my conversation. Then again, he sees every aspect of my almost always-mediocre day as his own. Another alluring part of his personality. Almost charismatic…

Wow, I’m such a Liar.

“Brook-er-buns, Mom and Pop’ll give you one more chance or your gonna…” She needn’t bother.

“Amora. Guiseppi. Stink bomb. Lobby…Clear a few things up?... Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go crawl in a small wooden box and shed a few tears…” One long drawl of air and some cold chills later, and I was face down on the lunch table, heaving deep, heavy breaths. Brought back to reality only by the small clunk of a…Tater Tot? I raised my head up to see his clichéd shit eating grin and brand new greasy, Vegetable Oil coated fingertips. Innocent giggles flowed from his lips and he cocked a mischievous Varick the Magnificent eyebrow.

“You damned over dramatic hooligan. I thought it was a real problem there for a sec. How dare thee to scare me so…” Jaki was a little less than amused.

“You come in here…mad as hell…over that? That’s got nothing to do with you… Why do you even care what that ‘tard does, anyway? Ugh, I swear to God, you blessed brunettes drive me up the fucking wall!” The typically smooth, blonde hair gracing my lovely Jaki’s head laid in straggling pieces pushed from one side of her head to the next, leaving one clueless as to where the part began and ended. AP Spanish III does that to most people. Varick was practically comatose last year form Senora Martinez’s advanced pla-…oh yeah!

Stink bomb…Fuck.

“So, sugar…Tell me what happened. What went down?” Discussing it now would be a hell of a lot easier than explaining it later…and when I get home…Good Lord, kill me now.

I didn’t want to, but the dramatic sigh escaped on it’s own. Brooke the damn Drama Addict. That’s me…

“3rd Period, I always go to the bathroom because a) Soda is evil and b) I had a gallon of coke today all through Advanced Chorus…but back to why I’m acting like a bad soap opera actress today…As I was coming out of the restroom, I see Amora with her infamous Zippo lighter in one hand and some little thingy that has a wick on it in the other. She lit it, threw it, and ran to the bathroom like a crazy woman. Oh yeah, one of her crew members was behind her…” Saying those words caused more than verbal reaction.

Cold chills.

Head ache.

Nausea.

Light headed.

Hot. Ugh, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve been sure I had the flu.

“Brooke, babe. Still has nothing to do with you…except maybe being exposed to that God awful smell. But I think your freaking out a little too much…” Her face contorted into a look of sincere comfort, but it irked me, in some odd way…

No, really… So I snapped back instantly. Not that this was common for me. Any other day, and I’m not a vicious bitch.

“Oh, yeah, yeah…your right…nothing to do with me. Nothin’ at all…except I got blamed for it! No…no…nothing to freak out over…the ‘rents are only gonna kill me.” Half yell, half hiss. My specialty. Always leaves her dumbstruck and out of snark.

Those baby blues were wide eyed with a mix of disbelief and pure comedy dancing in her gaze.

“Wha- How? HUH?!” Philosophical statements a la Jaki Blemmins. I would’ve been rolling on the floor, choking on laughter, had it been funny at all. Sorry, I just don’t find educational probation the slightest bit amusing.

Couldn’t say the same for Ricky, though. He was holding his stomach, letting the most thunderous laughter escape from his lungs I’d ever heard from a teenage boy in my life.

“You-Serious? Ohmygodohmygodhmygod! YOU?! 4.0 student with no prior record? That’s a first…” Disbelief. That about summed up his expression.

“Mr. Clariet was just happy to nab somebody, Var. Doesn’t matter how fucking angelic and pure I am! Not that I’m that I’m that way to start with…” My face was hot and I was certain I had to be blushing. Hard, too.

He let out another soft giggle. “Oh, please. Your as wild as mashed potatoes.” Jaki was more pissed off than concerned, and her face showed it. “You didn’t defend yourself?! Ugh, damn it! WHY?!” her pale white half Dutch half German skin was red with agitation.

I ran my fingers through my auburn hair and looked straight into her eyes. “What exactly was I going to say?”

“Mr. Principal sir I didn’t do it, promise?!” They both chorused on ‘I didn’t do it’, but Varick almost screamed it out… Jaki was a little more subtle. And he says I’m dramatic.
I sent them both a face of ‘are you kidding me?’ Var smiled apologetically, but Jaki only maintained that stern scowl she had perfected over the past 13 years.
In a way, it made me proud to know how long exactly she’d been making it.
Since age 4.
When we had an epic battle with each other over a Malibu Barbie in preschool…
Yes, there were others, but Madam Sally from Malibu was special.
And not missing a limb.

“Brooke…you have to say something. You can’t just- permanent record-ugh! Woman! This is bad! Very bad! Look-I’ll go with you to the principals office…hell, we’ll got to counselor’s office…but we’re going to fix this. I’m not letting you take the fall for what she did…no…not over my dead body.” She blurted. I don’t think she breathed more than twice that entire statement.

I shook my head…she didn’t even know half of it yet. “No, no…she got blame too. We’ll be serving the prison sentence together…” If she had let me explain that, damn it. Varick saw this as his opportunity to put in some form of input.
“So, what exactly is the prison sentence? You never got-
“That far? Yeah, I KNOW.” I eyed them with annoyance. Jaki let out a small sigh and continued that Youstolemybarbie look, while Var gave me a small smile of embarrassment.
“In School Suspension. And before you even ask…it starts next week. So I can ‘get things in order with my classes.’” I added.
“That’s ridiculous…” Var grunted. Grunting. Part of Jock Syndrome.

“They have to listen to you. Last year when I was a student aid, I helped the counselor a lot. Like getting her lunch from the cafeteria and stuff, but…She can make the principal listen. I can help you get out of getting punished. Out of getting slaughtered.” She made a disgusted face at the end of that last sentence.

“Hun, I’m a 17 year old with a fully functioning brain. Trust me, that’s the next place I went after the principal yelled at me until he was blue in the face…Is it wrong he actually made me feel kind of guilty?” No really, he did. That was the weirdest part about him even believing I had been an accomplice. It made me feel…like a “problem child”.

To be honest, I kind of liked it.

“Weird, but I understand…Sure there’s nothing you can do to get around it?” I knew she wanted to help. She’d always had this…mothering nature, and it really came in handy when it was all I really wanted. This was a prime example, for sure.

“Thanks, hunn, but…” I was caught mid sentence by the digital beep of the “bell”. Lunch time over. 2.5 hours and I’ll be dead.
Varick stood up and slid the strap of his backpack over his left shoulder and Jaki cradled her text books in her arms like a newborn. I was putting my latest Gail Giles book back in my messenger bag as I noticed the look of realization in Var’s eyes. “4th Period! What do you guys have 4th period?” Jaki looked at me and rolled her eyes and sighed.
“Advanced Chem, Ricky doll. You’ll be with me and Brooke as usual. Der.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her mock special ed expression.
“Haha, sorry. Forgot.” He giggled.

“It’s the ‘roids. What DID I tell you about those things?” I cocked an eyebrow and fake slapped him on the shoulder.
“I do NOT take steroids!” he squealed. Jaki eyed me with contempt.

Sneaky contempt.

“Ya know, Brookers? I heard some where steroids make you talk and scream like a girl…” She slid a sly smile across her bright pink lips.
“…okay, women. That’s not funny.” His face was red.
“Ya don’t say? You mean like what VarVar just did?” she slapped her hand over her mouth to hide her braces as she laughed. I never understood why she did that. They made here smile sparkle. She should’ve been proud.
“Quit damn it!” he demanded. Yeah, Var. Your as vicious as mashed potatoes.