probably though it was her fault. Me, I think I was just innately reserved.
To make her feel a little better about the success of her mothering skills, I replied, "Yeah, there is one friend I might go have coffee with." Please leave it at that, please leave it at that.
"Really," she perked up. "Who?" Damn.
"Ah, someone I went to high school with." Well, actually, I didn't know him in high school, but Mom didn't need to know that.
"Yes?" Then, she prompted, "Who?"
Oh, just tell her already. "Kain Murphy," I said.
"Kain Murphy," Lil blurted out.
I glared at her, unsure of the meaning of her retort.
She laughed. "Why on earth are you going out with him?"
"I'm not 'going out' with him." I defended. "We might just meet up for coffee or something."
"Who's Kain Murphy?" Mom asked, out-of-the-loop.
Lil huffed. "A real nut job."
"Wait a minute," I became offended for the guy. "Didn't
you
have a crush on him in high school?"
"Yeah," she said, "'til I heard that he used to run around his farm doing chores in his mother's clothing."
I bit my lower lip to stifle a laugh, but snorted anyways, vaguely remembering my first conversation with Corry in art class. Obviously, he had taken my advice on how to get Lil off his back about dating his older brother. For some reason, that little inside joke that I shared with a long dead teenage boy made me feel just a tad better. One point for my evil sister Lil, and now one point for me.
Thanksgiving just improved a little bit.
Chapter Twelve
The table in the back corner provided the best seat in the cafeteria, but none of the other students realized that. It wasn't a very socially central spot, making it the most likely reason that it was available every day. As out-of-the-way as it was, it afforded an unobstructed view through a row of windows, which looked out onto the woods that lined the football fields. The aspect changed daily throughout the fall season while the leaves turned faster and faster from bright greens to burnt oranges, canary yellows, fiery reds and lackluster browns. The barren scene of the pre-winter hibernation even held a drab charm.
Still more fascinating was the view of the inside of the cafeteria. It lent itself to the study of human nature – specifically the nature of high school students. They divided and segregated themselves and each other. And those divisions weren't as simple as mainstream teen movies made them out to be. The groupings didn't simply stop at cheerleaders and jocks, smart kids and nerds. There was a finer subculture involved.
There
were
still the jocks, which consisted of athletic girls as well as boys. Many of those girls found their femininity to be new and awkward, and would dress in jerseys and sweatpants. Other jock girls found womanhood to be less gawky, but didn't make a big deal out of their breasts and curves. The largest number of them, though, knew full well that they had a body to show off, evident by the hip hugging jeans and baby Ts that barely met with the school dress code.
The jock boys could be subdivided into the good boys and the bad boys, the humble and genuine or the haughty and artificial. Some of them just wanted to play the game, no matter what it was. Some of them played for the fame that came with success. They were a combination of jokesters, achievers and washouts.
The cheerleaders – okay, maybe they were still just the quintessencial cheerleaders. It may seem unkind not to distinguish more intricate natures amongst them, but, after all, they really worked hard for personality conformity. Other than those that could be distinguished as benign and those who were callous, their attempted imitation of each other precluded any isolation from the standard of their group.
But then, there were the well-dressed business-like students. They were the ones that ran the school newspaper and the student counsel. Success for them was not an option. It was a complete and irrefutable
To make her feel a little better about the success of her mothering skills, I replied, "Yeah, there is one friend I might go have coffee with." Please leave it at that, please leave it at that.
"Really," she perked up. "Who?" Damn.
"Ah, someone I went to high school with." Well, actually, I didn't know him in high school, but Mom didn't need to know that.
"Yes?" Then, she prompted, "Who?"
Oh, just tell her already. "Kain Murphy," I said.
"Kain Murphy," Lil blurted out.
I glared at her, unsure of the meaning of her retort.
She laughed. "Why on earth are you going out with him?"
"I'm not 'going out' with him." I defended. "We might just meet up for coffee or something."
"Who's Kain Murphy?" Mom asked, out-of-the-loop.
Lil huffed. "A real nut job."
"Wait a minute," I became offended for the guy. "Didn't
you
have a crush on him in high school?"
"Yeah," she said, "'til I heard that he used to run around his farm doing chores in his mother's clothing."
I bit my lower lip to stifle a laugh, but snorted anyways, vaguely remembering my first conversation with Corry in art class. Obviously, he had taken my advice on how to get Lil off his back about dating his older brother. For some reason, that little inside joke that I shared with a long dead teenage boy made me feel just a tad better. One point for my evil sister Lil, and now one point for me.
Thanksgiving just improved a little bit.
Chapter Twelve
The table in the back corner provided the best seat in the cafeteria, but none of the other students realized that. It wasn't a very socially central spot, making it the most likely reason that it was available every day. As out-of-the-way as it was, it afforded an unobstructed view through a row of windows, which looked out onto the woods that lined the football fields. The aspect changed daily throughout the fall season while the leaves turned faster and faster from bright greens to burnt oranges, canary yellows, fiery reds and lackluster browns. The barren scene of the pre-winter hibernation even held a drab charm.
Still more fascinating was the view of the inside of the cafeteria. It lent itself to the study of human nature – specifically the nature of high school students. They divided and segregated themselves and each other. And those divisions weren't as simple as mainstream teen movies made them out to be. The groupings didn't simply stop at cheerleaders and jocks, smart kids and nerds. There was a finer subculture involved.
There
were
still the jocks, which consisted of athletic girls as well as boys. Many of those girls found their femininity to be new and awkward, and would dress in jerseys and sweatpants. Other jock girls found womanhood to be less gawky, but didn't make a big deal out of their breasts and curves. The largest number of them, though, knew full well that they had a body to show off, evident by the hip hugging jeans and baby Ts that barely met with the school dress code.
The jock boys could be subdivided into the good boys and the bad boys, the humble and genuine or the haughty and artificial. Some of them just wanted to play the game, no matter what it was. Some of them played for the fame that came with success. They were a combination of jokesters, achievers and washouts.
The cheerleaders – okay, maybe they were still just the quintessencial cheerleaders. It may seem unkind not to distinguish more intricate natures amongst them, but, after all, they really worked hard for personality conformity. Other than those that could be distinguished as benign and those who were callous, their attempted imitation of each other precluded any isolation from the standard of their group.
But then, there were the well-dressed business-like students. They were the ones that ran the school newspaper and the student counsel. Success for them was not an option. It was a complete and irrefutable
Similar Books
