Trouble from paradise

Part I

Chapter 1
         
          It was raining tremendously that October day, a gray and foggy morning shortly before all hollows eve.  The small parking lot of the school was packed, cars in uniform rows almost all th way to the manicured lawn, littered with a multicolored array of fallen and drying leaves.  Lightning arched lazily in the distance, followed promptly by quick bellows of thunder.
          Kids were piling into the oddly lit gymnasium, finding friends and falling into place on the rickety wooden bleachers on each side; shouts and laughter and random notes from the band giving the entire scene a hideous, off-kilter rhythm, the pounding of feet on the polished wooden floor echoing across the tall, barren walls.
          I sat on the top row, just to the right of center.  Shawna and Rick sat next to me.  We eyed the doorway anxiously, watching as body after body poured in, but not the one we were looking for.  Suddenly, amongst a cackling crowd of freshmen, we saw a fire-red tuft of hair looming above the gelled, spiked, and straightened heads of the others.
          Max spotted us, and started toward us.  He stood 5'11'', 6'2" counting his curly red mound of hair.  He had freckles across his long face, and had the metal tips of pencil erasers in his ear lobes where he had piercings, and a differant band t-shirt for everyday of the month.  He wore baggy jeans with large, frayed holes in the knees on almost every pair.
          "What's up, homies," Max said, sitting down next to Shawna.  He peered around cautiously.
          "Don't worry, the nearest teacher is Mr. Archer," Shawna said.  Shawna was on the taller side of the spectrum, and she was partial to athletics, so she was sleek and strong, while still looking feminine.  She had light brown hair, which she usually kept pulled up into a low-maintenance ponytail, and the prettiest blue eyes I had ever seen (although I never had the balls to tell her that.)
          "Good," Max said, reaching into his pocket and producing a sheet of paper that was made up of small perforated squares with the faces of Scooby-Doo characters on them.  "Here, everybody take two."
          Shawna and I each took two squares from Max's hand, and he offered one over to Rick.  Rick shook his head and shot an angry glare at Max.
          "What's the matter, scared?" Max taunted.  The shrill, obnoxious screech of microphone feedback butted in to our conversation for a moment as Principal Havecox cleared his throat into it.
          "He's pissed he's gotta be the sober buddy," Shawna said, nudging Rick.  I still didn't understand why she hung out with us; she hadn't done drugs before she met us, rarely drank, was a straight-A student and an adequate athlete.  Now she was dropping acid at a pep assembly...Though she was still great student and a star athlete, and it's not like we made a habit of acid, it was just a little experiment...
          "Fuck yeah!  I told you, you assholes owe me big time for this!"  Rick said agitatedly.  Rick was short, with a short-cropped crew-cut which he kept hidden beneath a ball cap with a white, fancy D, for the Detroit tigers, tilted sideways as per the fashion trend of the time.  Rick had small , fast-moving eyes and a wicked tongue, when need-be.
          "SHHHHHHHHHHH!" Mr. Archer said, tossing us all dirty glances.  He turned back around to the spectacle on the shiny floor of the gym.
          "Well, let's do it to it," I said in an excited whisper.  I stuck a Daphne and a Shaggy in my mouth, and felt the papers slowly begin to dissolve.  Shawna and Max did the same, and we all leaned back against the cold, spackled brick of the wall.
          Looking over to my left, a few rows down, I noticed a girl staring up at us with knowing eyes.
          She was dark, with large round eyes and thick full lips.  She had dark hair that hung straightly past her shoulders.  I didn't recognize her, but there were so many new kids it was hard to them all straight.  She stared hard at me, throwing an inquisitive look, and I knew we had been busted.  Reacting quickly, I gave a sheepish grin and extended my index finger in front of my lips, signaling for her to keep quiet.  She eyeballed me for a moment longer, and then turned back to the assembly going on in front of us.  I looked over at Max, who flashed me one of his patented "What the fuck just happened" looks, and I shrugged.
          I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt up over my head, slipping the ear-buds of my CD player that I had run up my back into my ears.  The CD started up, words pouring down my ear canal...

          After the assembly(which was a blur of synthetic color, pulsating and throbbing with the steady low murmur of the crowd, hideous shrieking voices giving way to warm sounds and feelings tingly, velvet and plush and fur and silk psychedelic psychotropic vibrations turn to pulses of insight ans cosmic enlightenment, air feels heavy, spinning wildly like the gym floor; huge creatures all swooping and scratching, giant iguanas and commies and bats ad gremlins and commies and fairies and commies and trolls and them commies and unicorns and them damned commies; and time and space are as ripped ad twisted as you) we began the trek back to our classes, Shawna and I on our way to Sociology, Rick to Business Technologies.
          We stumbled slowly through the carpeted halls, faces looking slightly sinister now, our wits coming back to us slowly.  The world was still a slow warm blur, each passing moment a revelation and each revelation more exciting than the last.
          Rick asked us one final time if we were o.k., and left us for the computer-lined room that housed Mr. Yellow's Business Technology class third and fifth hours.
          Shawna and I continued on our journey, feeling like a strange bastard-fuck version of Frodo and Sam and Hunter S. Thompson and his attorney; we felt as if we were on a quest of grave importance, an assignment for which we could no longer recall the goal, except that it lied in Mr. Harry's room, B 119.  B119 held the answers we sought, even if the question had long-since been forgotten...
          We finally made it to our class, and we shuffled in, of course the last to arrive.  The eyes peered from everywhere, waiting.  Silence swept the class for an instant, and finally the burning stares began to turn back to their previous doings and off of us.
          I slid into my cool metal seat and Shawna did the same across from me, wishing there was more desk to hide behind and cautiously staring down at our desks.
          As I began to regain some semblance of rational thought I deciphered the crunching sounds I had been hearing: papers.  I looked around the room, and realized hard and fast and gut-rocking, like a sucker-punch to the crotch, what was going on, and I jumped up, still groggy but suddenly becoming more an more aware.
        ShithowcouldIbesofuckingstupidwhatthefuckwasIthinking-.  I hurried to the back of the room and picked up a large poster board. Shawna saw me and in an instant her eyes lit up and expanded in huge, wet orbs, the same sick realization playing across her face as it probably had mine moments before.  Our presentation was today...
         
          The presentation was a disaster.  We looked like we had skirted most of the research required (which we hadn't, we just had trouble recalling it at the time...), and not to mention most of the class thought we were stoned as all hell (at least they just thought it was that, and not something worse, like fucking acid or something...).  We probably got better than we deserved with a C minus.  But considering we were still soaring higher than a hawk on L.S.D., and our presentation had been an opposition to the legalization of drugs, I felt we held it together reasonably well.  Reasonably.  Poor corrupted Shawna...

          My feet flew across the smooth tiled floor of the hallway, the thunder of my steps drowned out by the clatter and clamor of class change.  I saw Jessica Sheridan, a girl I had dated in middle school and my first kiss, to my right; she was busy talking with a douche-bag looking underclassman with a popped collar and a red headband and didn't even acknowledge me.  I neared the end of the Senior hallway and saw Karli Fellows and Brandy Sphenning, both of whom had been in a psych class of mine the previous year, and I had a pretty good hunch they were more than just friends.  During movies, when the classroom was dark and unaware, they would sit and give each other massages.  I had noticed this and began watching.  Once, after Brandy massaged Karli particularly hard, Karli had to leave and go to the bathroom, and 'm sure I spied a damp spot on Karli's jeans as she stood up.  Good for them.  I had nothing against gay people, live and let live, man.  But what I wouldn't give just to watch...
          I rounded the corner and was suddenly knocked from my thoughts as I plowed into someone, sending their books flying into the air.  I bent down and began picking them up, muttering an apology to the floor.  I stood with the sack of books , and finally looked at the person I had careened into.
          Emerald eyes peered at me inquisitively from beneath smoky lids that hung low and black plastic glasses; her dark brown hair fell straightly across her chest, and dark tanned thighs peeked out from beneath a short blue-jean skirt.
          It was the girl from the assembly, the one I didn't recognize.  For a long moment I was speechless; in the orange-hued light of the gymnasium she had looked cute, nothing special, but by no means ugly.  But now, seeing her in the more natural light of the hallway, she looked radiant...
          "I-I'm sorry.  I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking, and-" I started, stammering like a drunken monkey with a lisp. 
          "It...is o.k.  I understand," she said in a thick accent I couldn't place "I'm Monica." She extended her hand and I shook it, not saying anything.  She had caught me off-guard, her accent unfamiliar.  She looked at me a moment, and then curled her lip up in a playful sneer.
          "And you have no name?" she asked, giggling slightly.
          "Oh, sorry.  I'm Kyle," I said, trying to hide my embarrassment at the oversight with a sheepish grin.
          "Nice to meet you, Kyle," She said "see you around."
          With that she began to saunter away, wiggling her hips slightly.  I watched her go as the fifth hour bell sounded, lost deep in thought as I began toward the art room.

Chapter 2

          The winter night air was frigid and cold, the deathly silence hanging over the snow-covered back parking lot of the coffee shop; snowflakes floated gently from the darkness that loomed just above, reflecting slightly in the soft light of the street-lamps.  Shawna and I stepped out of my old,large, chocolate-brown Lincoln Towncar, a thin plume of smoke following close behind us.  I watched as a small black SUV pulled up next to us.  From inside emerged four figures; Nate (the driver), Yeti (no one is really sure where the nickname came from, but it stuck), an two more on the other side of the vehicle  First stepped Chris, one of our mop-headed mutual friends, a skinny kid who had been in our class since second grade.
          "What the fuck's up, queers?" Yeti called, causing Shawna to cringe a little at his crudeness.  He approached with his fist extended, and I bumped my knuckles against his when he got close enough.  Nate stepped up behind him, followed by Chris, and then the mystery figure stepped into the light...
          It was Monica; I had run into her again, though not literally this time.
          "Hey, guys.  What's happening.  Look, this is-" Nate began.
          I interrupted quickly "Monica." I looked at the dark girl.  She smiled and stepped toward me, soft puffs of breath hanging in the air in front of her.
          "Kyle," She said.
          "You two know each other?" Nate asked, clearly puzzled-looking.
          "Yeah, we met already."
          "Yes, he run into me in hall," she said, still smiling.
          "He ran into you? What, is that how you're tryin' to pick up girls nowadays? Nate asked, nudging me teasingly.
          "No," I blurted uncouthly, and smiled again to trying to save face.
          "Hey, let's get going!  I think the opening band is starting!" Yeti said, and we all started off through the white parking lot, our feet crunching softly on the the crisp, new snow.
          Nate and I lingered behind the rest of the group, waiting until they were out of ear-shot.
          "Well, whaddya think?" Nae asked, grinning widely and looking from me to the dark beauty in front of us.
          "She's fucking gorgeous.  How the hell'd you convince her to come to a Tubring show? With you, no less," I said, flashing a large, toothy grin.
          "Well, she's in my chem class, and she said she doesn't really have too many friends, and I asked her if she wanted to come to a concert with me, and wah-lah, here she is.  She is fine, isn't she..."
          I nodded in agreement, watching her and Shawna talking at the back of the group.  I stopped, and Nate did the same.
          "Is she...you know...taken?" I asked, not feeling much like subtlety and knowing Nate wouldn't be put-off.
          "Not as far as I know.  Look, I'm going to tell you now: I'm gonna try for her.  I won't stop you, but be prepared for some competition, " he said.  I smiled, knowing that the competition Nate offered was amateurish, at best.  We started walking again, and I turned back to Nate.
          "By the way, what is she?  I was trying to place her accent, it kind of sounds Spanish but..."
          "She's Brazilian," Nate said.  I stopped and watched as the group climbed the icy stairs up to the back-door of the coffee shop.  Monica shook her hair gently as she reached the top step, and then turned around, looking at me.
          " Are you coming?" she asked.  I smiled and slow jogged to the stairs, scaling them quickly with a grace that came by sheer luck.  I reached the top, and Monica, Nate, and I entered the darkened building, the smell of incense hanging thick and the thunder of the opening band rumbling around
          Monica and I stood at the back of the crowd, talking in between songs about music, school, her country, movies.  As Tubring came to a close with a cover of Justin Timberlake's "Rock Your Body" we began filing back outside, Monica and I still talking.  When she laughed her face would light up, her eyes shinning even more, if that was possible.  We got back to our vehicles, and we all converged in the center of the parking lot, our footprints from earlier in the night had been completely recovered in just a few hours.
          "Who's up for Steak and Shake?" Nate asked, stepping next to Monica.  The rest of the group murmured an agreement, and began toward their separate vehicles.  Monica turned to Nate.
          "I am going to ride with Kyle, if that is alright.  We are still having a...what is the word?"
          "Conversation," I said.
          "Yes, conversation."
          "Uh, yeah, sure, I guess-," Nate started.
          "Good. See you at the restaurant."
          I gave Nate a smirk and jumped into my car.  Shawna hoped into the backseat, and Monica sat down daintily in the passenger seat.
       
          The diner was brightly lit, they all were; the red-eyed and stupefied faces peered at us with dumb-cow looks as we entered, like they always did when we wet there with our motley crew.  As we paraded past them towards our seat Yeti gave crazed faces back at them, turning a few away but only making the rest more venomous.
          We sat at a large booth, toward the back of the diner, clambering into seats as the waitress, our usual, passed out tall laminated menus.  I sat between Yeti and Monica, and we kept talking.  The waitress took our drink orders (Yeti and I got our ceremonial coffee, which prompted Monica to try it; Shawna got a chocolate milk, and the rest for the group got water) and left us to our own devices.
          Shawna's cell-phone suddenly began jumping around the table and singing a Modest Mouse song, and she answered it quickly.  As she hung up her phone I realized what her call had been pertaining to: Shawna worked part-time at the hospital, and she had been on-call tonight, which meant she could be in at anytime.  Apparently, that time was right then...
          "I gotta go to work..." Shawna said, looking sympathetically at me.
          "Um...I guess you could take my car," I said, looking towards Nate.
        "Yeah, I can give you a ride home," he said to me.  I dug into my pocket and pulled out a fistful of keys, tossing them swiftly to Shawna
          "Thanks.  I'll drop it off after work.  It was nice meeting you, Monica," Shawna  said, and Monica smiled back at her "Take it easy, guys."


          Sliding skittering rolling down down the empty streets, lights dancing throughout the car, painting the weary faces with the amber-orange light of the concrete chute that was M-6.  Icy December air crept in from the driver's side window which was stuck cracked open a little.  We drove in ringing-eared silence, tired eyes staring blankly out the windows, no one talking.  Monica and I sat in the back, leaning into each other; Chris sat curled-up in the trunk, Nate and Yeti up front. 
          Monica asked if I minded if she used my shoulder as a pillow, and I obliged, her soft hair draping over my arm.  The thick, exotic smell of her perfume wafted up to me and tingled my nose, waking up my shutting-down mind.  I looked down at her and watched her for a moment.  Her eyes were shut, and her face heaved up and down on my shoulder.
          We dropped off Yeti ad Chris, respectively, and headed for Monica's house, her still dosing lightly on my arm.  Nate turned his MP3 player on, playing a Chemical Brothers song.  The techno song played mellowly throughout the car, bouncing and jumping along with the truck on the road.
          As we pulled into Monica's host family's driveway, her host-mother came scuttling out the door and down th porch, headed fire and brimstone for the car, her purple bath-robe flipping in the gentle, frozen breeze.
          Where have you been?  You're late!" She said bitterly, and stuck her head almost inside the car, looking between Nate and I...
          "I am sorry.  They played a...uh...I do not know the word..." Monica started, hoping out of the truck.
          "Encore," I finished, flashing my best Eddie Haskell grin at the angry woman.  She peered at me coldly for a moment, and, without saying the word, turned back for the house.
          "Thank you.  I am sorry, she's crazy.  I had fun, please call me again,: she said, and began the crunching walk to the house.
          I leapt into the front seat as Nate backed down the driveway.
          "Well, you two seemed to hit it off," Nate said evenly, not hinting at his feeling yet.
          "Yeah, she's pretty cool.  And she's gorgeous," I said, trying to keep my tone even as well, still trying to gauge Nate's reaction to everything.
          "She is hot, isn't she," he said.  We didn't say anything the whole ride back to my house, neither of us exactly sure what needed to be said.  I got out of the truck, and stepped lightly over the fluffy snow, unable to get her dark, smiling face and shinning emerald eyes out of my thoughts.

Chapter 3