Ironically Lucky It Can Only Get Worse (Book 2)

Lucky’s Sign-in

Welcome back

And if you’re one of those weirdos who start a trilogy with the second book: who hurt you? Whatever. Welcome aboard. Wipe your feet.

Here’s the five-second recap, because I’m generous like that:

I tried to do a good deed. Saw a ridiculously hot girl about to become a hood ornament, shoved her out of the way, and took the bumper myself. Right in the thigh. I never got her number. I never even got her name.

That one glorious moment of stupidity got me:

An ambulance ride I can’t afford (seriously, who charges for that?)

A concussion (Ask me how many fingers. Go on.)

A sprained wrist

A summons to traffic court (I’m the one who got hit. Explain that.)

A thug named Cole

A black eye (courtesy from said thug, shut up)

And Cricket. Every. Single. Day.

Oh, and my bank account? Still low… to low…

Look, I’ve already spent twenty chapters bitching about all of this. If you want the full humiliating details, do us both a favor: go get Book 1 (Murphy’s Law). Read it. It’ll clear up your confusion.

And to you Muthafuckas who actually suffered through all of Book 1 with me…

I don’t know what’s wrong with you…

But anyway. Where was I? Right. Getting screwed over by fate.

---

Chapter 21

Sandwiches, Sunglasses,
and Secret Hopes

---

“Basically, if I stayed at that all-girls school I went to with Rika, I think I would’ve shoved her down the stairs at one point. The end.”

I peered at Cricket from behind my sunglasses. “That is the best damn story I’ve ever heard in my life.” Short, to the point, and involving physical harm to that bitch. I started to applaud.

Cricket laughed; it was one of those ‘it’s so sad, but true,’ laughs, in which we all know it’s actually not that funny. She accentuated it by looking down, her loose hair covering her face.

“Wait. Wait... Aren’t you guys like, best friends or something? Bff..”

She shook her head, then hooked a strand of hair back behind her ear before looking up again. “We grew up together, so it was like, a forced friendship through our parents, and you know, history and all... family loyalty...”

I nodded sagely, then as our sandwiches were called up at the counter, I leapt up so fast that Cricket actually jumped in surprise. In five steps, I had grabbed both of our plates and was back at the table, and by the time Cricket picked up her pickle, I had already inhaled half of my sandwich.

“Oh my God,” she said, “Hungry much?”

“Pugfha,” was my reply. It was the only sound I could make with my mouth in a decent position.

Rolling her eyes and unwisely assuming I could do such a thing like listening and eating at the same time, she continued. “So, I made a bet with my mom about getting into your school, which I can’t understand why she’d rather have me go to that boarding school hell hole than a school that had a much higher academic standing... And my brother backed me up and said that I could stay with him which was awesome since it cut the commute time in half...”

I was wrong. I thought Cricket was going to be more awesome than the average girl and not drag out stories but... oh was I wrong. But on the flip side, this sandwich was awesome. Perfect ratio of meat to tomato to lettuce... If there was such a thing as a physical manifestation of an orgasm, this was it, right here, in my hands. The best. Sandwich. Ever.

Or maybe I was really just that hungry that anything you could’ve fed me would’ve been awesome.

“So yeah, I don’t really get along with my mom, which was why it took so long for me to transfer. We’re on totally different levels of communication.” Cricket paused and waited for some sign from me that’ll allow her to continue... a sign that came two minutes after the pause in the form of emphatic nodding because it was at that moment when I realized she had stopped talking.

She sighed, and I felt bad because I realized that I’m at the level of a jellyfish when it comes to social interactions.

“Well, you’re here now,” I managed to choke out. Note to self: I should chew a little more before I swallow. This would solve many problems, I reckon.

Cricket smiled at my lame attempt to retain this conversation.

Now done with my food, I watched as she daintily picked at her tuna melt. “So,” I heard myself say, “Why were you such a huge bitch during our last pseudo double date?”

Her mouth moved into a panicked, awkward frown; another sign that proves how proficient I am at smooth conversation.

“Oh, yeah, that... That was all Rika.”

I leaned back, the plastic cushion under me farting in protest. “How?”

“I was still loyal to her then and she really didn’t like you, and because she talks a lot of shit about people she doesn’t like, she kind of manipulated me into hating you too... and I thought there was something a little off with you as well... I mean, I don’t now, but first impressions, you come off as... well, I didn’t...”

Putting one hand up to silence her, I frowned. “What do you mean, ‘off?’”

Cricket shrugged, thoroughly embarrassed and uncomfortable. “It’s just... I dunno, you...”

“Let’s not be modest now,” I plied. “Do continue.” To be honest, I didn’t really give a damn how I come off. A tad curious, but otherwise, couldn’t care less. I was just going through a little sadistic streak and dare I say it, lest karma strike me down again, but this was revenge for Cricket going bitch on me for the first place.

“Easy for you to say!” she burst out, “You’re the one wearing the Goddamn sunglasses!”

I calmly crossed my arms. “So, I’m ‘off’ how?”

Cricket pouted and huffily gave in. “I could tell you were really trying to impress Rika. That’s all. You were so fake it hurt to watch,” she muttered.

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” I smiled encouragingly, though it probably came out more as a smirk. “Hmm?”

She made a face, and it was made clear that she suddenly understood that I was just fucking with her. “Asshole,” she said under her breath.

I nodded, still smirking. Luckily, I had the notion that this girl was a lot more dangerous than other girls and was already watching her movements like a hawk. So, when she slammed her hands on the table and used them as leverage to reach out for my glasses, I saw it coming and dodged out of the way. I saw the other hand coming too, and ducked under that, cackling madly.

“You!” Cricket cried, and then launched another attack, nearly jumping over the table in the process.

Not expecting this second wave, I leaned back into the seat as her fingers grazed my face... and suddenly, with a very loud bang and a sharp pain in the back of my head, I was rolling on my back, simultaneously on the floor, and in the seat. The entire deli was silent.

Is it just me, or is it just... me... that has spectacular wipe outs in very public places in front of girls? And the fact that I’m not even remotely a physical klutz at all... hell, I’ve scaled fences like a pro, ran from cops while dodging pedestrians, scaled up buildings via defunct fire exits, ran through obstacle courses, drunk even, and I can’t fucking stand on my own two feet without falling on my face in normal situations? WHAT THE HELL.

I suppose I should’ve taken into consideration that though Cricket and I were sitting in a booth, the bench I was sitting in only had a seat on that side, and nothing on the other. Cheap ass bastards.

With my vision rolling around, I quickly thought that maybe something had happened to it, things looked different, and the colors were off, and it was so much brighter that... Oh wait. My sunglasses were gone. Cricket was staring at me wide eyed, my sunglasses clutched in one hand, the other attempting to cover her giggles.

“Bitch,” I moaned while covering my face with my hands and proceeded to roll around some more for the added effect. The guy who made our sandwiches swam into the view between my fingers, looking worried and pissed at the same time.

“Kid, you alright?”

I sighed from behind my hands. “Yeah. I’m good.” Just a little embarrassed, that’s all. But then again, it’s not like this was all that bad, in comparison to previous fiascos... I got up and kept my head down as I helped push the bench back up.

The sandwich guy cast me another wary glance, before heading back to behind the counter, where three other people were staring at me, and the rest of the customers gave me varying degrees of condescending looks. Gradually, the general chatter started up again.

“Oh man, are you okay?” Cricket asked and inched closer.

I glared at her; she was still laughing.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed, managing to actually look guilty. She stepped closer to me and reached up and gently rubbed the back of my head, the spot that I fell on, messing up my hair in the process. “Does it hurt?”

I shook my head very slightly, not knowing what to do while this girl was petting me. It was oddly intimate in the most pathetic sort of way. I was used to the patronizing, rough, ‘you’re Tiff’s little brother’ type head pats, but this... this was not anything like that at all. This makes me wish I was a cat, and all I did was sit around and get petted on the head all day. And sleep in the sun. What a life that would be...

“And what happened to your eye? I can see why you were wearing glasses now...” She stopped and took a step back.

I snorted and allowed her to hand my sunglasses back to me. “Plastic surgery gone wrong,” I finally said, and slipped the glasses back in place.

“Nuh uh,” Cricket laughed, probably glad I wasn’t really mad. “Actually, when I first saw you today, I just thought you were just being stupid and trying to be extra cool or something.”

I snorted, and was about to give a retort, but glanced around and realized we were still getting looks. “Can we get out of here first?” People were still watching us as if I was some source of entertainment, and that agitated me. Cricket nodded, and after depositing her trash we were on the street.

“Wait, so what happened?” Cricket asked, and like most females, possessed this unnerving ‘nosy’ quality.

So, I gave in, just because I knew the longer, I dragged it out, the more lavish the story is expected to be. And the more straightforward I was, the less questions there’d be. I hope. “I got punched in the face, that’s all,” I said and shrugged.

“Oh.” Like I predicted, I watched Cricket as she nodded in acceptance but fidgeted in inner turmoil in her estrogen-filled need to know every detail.

“I got in a fight with some guy at some bar over something I apparently did,” I finally sighed; I’m spoiling this girl, I swear, “and I lost.” I attempted to give her a pointed look.

She got it and just nodded. “Oh. At a bar?”

“Yeah. I was there for like, five seconds and wasn’t even drinking...”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, where are you... planning on going now?”

“Right now?” A quick glance at my watch let me know it was only around one. I shrugged. “I dunno.”

She shrugged as well, and we stood on the sidewalk in our first semi-comfortable silence.

“Hey,” Cricket looked up at me brightly, “you wanna go and...”

It was at that moment that my phone began to ring, its annoying chirp ringing clear even through the pocket of my jeans. Digging it out, I glanced at the screen: an unknown number. “’Scuse me,” I said, and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Lucky?” a tentative, breathy female voice asked.

Surprised, I turned away from Cricket, who politely took a few steps back so she wouldn’t be eavesdropping. “Speaking.”

The voice chuckled, a gentle sound that was barely there. “Hi, this is Celeste.”

I said nothing and searched my brain in attempt to connect names to faces. “Celeste...” I repeated slowly.

The voice laughed again, this time a tinkling sound, and I could hear her smile over the slight static, “Oh gosh! I can’t believe it! You don’t remember saving my life?”

“Oh fuck!” I exclaimed before I could stop myself. I flinched, scrunching up my face, and mentally took a shovel and bludgeoned myself to death. Not a good way to start a conversation; way to sound like a low-class asshole... Good job me. “Yes, yes, I do remember, how can I not, I mean, sorry, I’m just a bit out of it right now...”

Her light laughter put me at ease. “It’s alright, sorry if I caught you off guard, I mean, I could’ve woken you up...”

“No, no, you didn’t, I’ve been up for a while now,” I hurriedly explained.

“Oh, it’s just that I remember when I was in high school, I’d sleep until, oh, I dunno, two in the afternoon every Saturday.”

I laughed, feeling like a huge nerd, “Oh yeah, usually that’s me too, but for some reason I just woke up way early today. So, what’s up?”

“Nothing, just... on break right now and wanted to let you know I still owe you a non-alcoholic beverage, if you’re still up to it.”

I laughed, and I hoped she couldn’t tell it was one of those, ‘I don’t know what to say, so I’m just gonna laugh nervously,’ type things. “You don’t really,” I said.

“No, I really think I do, so I was thinking during the week, maybe?”

“Oh, like, this week?” I stuttered.

“Yeah, I think that’d be nice; I just didn’t want to interfere with your schedule, so perhaps after you get out of school, around three or whenever...”

“Yeah, yeah, that’d be tight. I mean, really... cool.” Wow, my vocabulary flat out sucks. Note to self: study a thesaurus. For fucks sake, man. “Any day is good, I mean, I don’t think I have any after school things to do this week.” And even if I did, I’d totally skip it for this.

“Oh, that’s great, just give me a call, whenever, or I’ll call you, whichever comes first.”

“Of course, yeah,” I quickly agreed.

“Great!” Celeste chirped, “I’ll see you soon then.”

“Bye,” I said, and a little shell shocked, shut my phone. I blinked slowly, still not believing what just happened.

“Girlfriend?” Cricket asked me from over my shoulder, and I turned around swiftly; I had forgotten she was there.

“Huh?”

“Was that your girlfriend?”

I vehemently shook my head, “I wish. So what was it you were saying?”

Cricket looked surprise that I had remembered she had been cut off by my phone. “Uh, I was just wondering if you wanna go and do something right now... Since, well, I might as well hang out on this side of the city since I’m already here and all...”

Before I could ponder this notion, a phone began to ring, the standard cell phone beep. Confused, both Cricket and I both looked around in wonder.

“Oh wait, that’s me,” Cricket sheepishly laughed and began to dig through her bag. “I just switched my phone, and I just completely forgot it sounded like this...” Pulling out the device, she glanced at me, then flipped it open. “Hey Rika...”

Excited by the fact that this girl could be in shambles right now, I leaned in closer... and heard nothing of that sort.

As Rika’s high pitched, unintelligible voice cheerily chirped through the phone, Cricket and I shared confused looks. Well, not the same confused looks... hers probably from me leaning in and trying to eavesdrop, me because Rika should be crying. Crying, motherfucker! She’s the one girl I would not feel bad for if she had tears streaming down her face... while giving me head. Mwahahaha.

“What the fuck,” I mouthed, pissed.

Cricket shrugged, and gave me a look, and then a realized she didn’t know there was an ultimate plan ending with a shattered Rika, a dissolved relationship, and me getting my best friend back. Cricket uttered some non-syllabic words and then hung up.

“What?” she asked.

I frowned, looking past her. “Nothing.”

“No, tell me, what?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

Cricket stared hard at me, and I stared back, behind the safety of my glasses. Man, without these glasses today, I’d be dead.

“Wait... were you...”

“No.”

“Were you expecting them to break up or something?”

“Maybe. Yes. Totally... That would’ve been awesome...”

Cricket suddenly let out a barking laugh. “Oh, no way,” she said. “Oh my God...”

I looked at her. “What?”

She stopped laughing and gave me a wary look. “Does Rika know you don’t want her going out with Darwin?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever said it to her face...”

Cricket rolled her eyes, “So yeah.” Shaking her head, she began to walk up the street, back towards the original bistro we were at earlier.

I followed her, my curiosity getting the better of me. “So... What?”

“I can’t believe it, she’s such a bitch...” she was saying, more to herself than anything. Her phone went off again, before I could say anything.

I slowed down and maintained a respective distance as she pulled out her phone and answered it.

“Yeah, I’m coming right now, it takes more than thirty seconds to... Just up the street. What?” Cricket glanced at me, and I innocently cocked my head to the side. “... Yeah. Um...” A flash of anger crossed her face, “No, I... No, that’s just... Okay, yeah, fine.” She turned away, and I took a step back to lean up against the building.

She finished up, her phone still in hand. I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Sorry,” she said. “That was Rika.”

I shrugged, “Whatever.” I knew that already.

“I have to go... I thought we were gonna hang out here longer, but... Rika’s dad is apparently right around the corner so we’re getting a ride.”

“Whatever,” I said again.

Cricket frowned and then surprised me completely by giving me this half hug... a strange combination of a pat on the back with both hands, while still standing in front of me, and not really touching me at all... thus making this not a hug at all. She leaned back after that and gave me a soft smile.

“Don’t let her get to you,” she said.

“She’s not,” I grumbled. If you put your arms around somebody, but the only point of contact is from the palms of their hands and maybe their wrist that bumps into your shoulder, does that still constitute as a hug?

“No really, don’t. I don’t really like it either, because I think Darwin’s too nice for her, so.. maybe we could plot something. I’m kinda in agreement with you wanting to break them up.”

“Maybe,” I said. Am I really lacking something in life, if I feel really gypped from an action that’s supposed to be all about having the other person against you, but... Wait, I’m confusing myself. If that was supposed to be a hug, then the whole non physicality of it pretty much annulled it as a hug, so if that wasn’t a hug, then that’s okay. But did she intend that to be that way? What was that? Should I ask her? Would it be weird to be like, ‘hey, was that a hug, or not?’ And if it wasn’t... how awkward would that be? And if I did ask that question, would it sound like I was fishing for another one, in which case... yes... but aside from that... would it be so obvious that like all non-attached males my age, I’m just craving for some human touch? Is that pathetic? Am I pathetic? Well... in asking myself if I were pathetic or not... would automatically make me as so.

I must be so horny right now. I shook myself out of this self-reflective stupor before I hurt myself.

“You should call Darwin,” Cricket was saying. “He’s probably still around.”

I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I should.” I wanted to change the subject and hopefully come off as joking when I ridiculed that so called hug I received, and maybe show her what a real one’s like, but it was far too late for that. That’d be like back tracking to a conversation from yesterday. There was a small gap of time when it would’ve been okay but I completely missed that window of opportunity.

“I’ll see you later then?” Cricket had begun to walk away, clearly feeling that she shouldn’t make Rika wait.

“Yeah, sure,” I called out to her and waved. That was another chance to be like, ‘hug?’ but alas... I missed that one too.

I dug my phone out of my pocket and called Darwin. I cut him off before he could say hi, “Yo, what the hell, you couldn’t do it?”

“Eh... No dude, I just... couldn’t... I mean...”

I sighed. “Yeah, I saw her today... she’s still hot, damn her. But still, you’re fucking weak. Be glad I’m not standing right in front of you where I could kick your ass. Where you at?”

“I left dude; I’m on a bus. Where are you? Aren’t you at home?”

“What? No, I’m still downtown, what the fuck... You didn’t wait for me?”

“I asked Rika to ask Cricket and Rika said that you went home like, a long time ago.”

I opened my mouth in surprise; what the fuck. “... That bitch...”

* * *

As pissed as I was at Rika for doing something so immature, I spent more time mulling over Cricket. Instinct told me that something was up with her. Could she in fact, dare I say it... like me? Is that even possible? I mean, I’m not one of those kids with such low self-esteem that I’d be in total disbelief that somebody could actually have a crush on me but still.

I’ve been such a asshole to her.

What in her right mind would make her like me? Well, I suppose, more importantly, do I like her? If she did, in fact, like me in that way, would I reciprocate those feelings? Is it wrong that I’m questioning this? When shit like this happens, shouldn’t I just know if I like her or not? Do I? And how do you even know if she actually likes you like that? What if she’s just manipulating me to get to Darwin, just like Rika? What if she was just being super nice because she still feels bad about being a bitch? Am I just reading way too much into this?

I was back at home, lying on my couch staring up at the cracked ceiling, my feet propped up on the armrest. It was silent in the apartment, with the exception of the barely audible tick of the clock in the kitchen. Linx’s cat was spread out on my stomach, a heavy but comfortably warm weight that would twitch and shift around every once in a while.

And what about Celeste? I know there’s absolutely no chance in anything there, but Goddamn. Goddamn. She actually called me. She called me. This whole thing just blows my mind, and I can’t even grasp this concept without getting mind fucked. Oh… em… gee…

Seconds, or eons passed (I wouldn’t know, I think I’ve been lapsing into short naps between every couple of thoughts) when the door busted open.

“Yo!” Linx bounded in. “Your sister here?”

“No,” was my monotone answer. I considered for 0.32423 seconds about asking him about my plight, or... not really a plight but my situation, but decided against it

because:

I don’t really know Linx’s history with women (I’m too scared to ask because that’d make me look like I’m in need of his experiences, and being too attentive and curious will ruin my image), except that he’s claimed to have pulled himself out of the dating pool because he says he’s too lazy. I know there’s probably much more to that, but I do know he’s gotten his fair share of ass. That and how I have a feeling that he’s kinda into my sister, which is a whole other situation all together, and I don’t really know what I feel about that. It’s a very weird, kind of awkward situation that’s never going to resolve itself, which would lead me to:

He’s the main reason why Tiff knows every step I make. This guy can’t keep secrets worth shit. I mean, I bet he can, but not when he’s in conversation with my sister. Weak Motherbitch.

Linx is the kind of nosy person who would go and investigate things for himself... and end up meddling with my affairs and fucking things up out of the natural order. I foresee this as a B grade chick flick, in which the girl of my dreams would go and fall for him instead because I’m too much of a pussy, blah blah blah.

This runs along the same line as reason A; I don’t want to make it seem like I don’t know what I’m doing. No other guy I know has ever not known what to do; it’s like dating to them is like what breathing and falling on my face in public is to me. Like, for Darwin and Simon... it’s a genetic trait or something. Maybe I’m just a mutant freak.

Linx stood, halfway in the room, the door still wide open. “Oh,” he said. “What are you doing?”

I spread my fingers across Mr. Fluffy’s fur and then pushed it over so it was lying on its back, still on my belly. “Nothing.”

“Huh.” Linx lingered in the door for a second and then turned and walked back out. “Later then,” he called out, as the door clicked shut.

The ticking of the kitchen wall clock became very audible again, and I briefly thought about doing homework to kill time. And when I said briefly, I meant like... less than two thirds of a millisecond.

I wanted to do something, but not anything big. Not only did I not have the energy to do that but also, black eyes are totally not in fashion. Do not want to go sporting that and make it look like I deserved it. With this shit on my face, it is not the time to go cavorting about town.

Maybe a chill hang out night, but I don’t think I wanted to make that laborious journey to Darwin’s place... who was probably not gonna be there anyway since he’s probably gonna be going to some parties tonight with Simon and Dane; a little activity that he dragged me on once, early in our friendship. It blew chunks and I’ve never been more bored in my life; I was very clear on that so he’s never asked me to come with ever since.

I am not interested in going to someone’s penthouse apartment downtown, or someone’s basement in the close by suburbs only to stand around awkwardly with your classmates, kids who I normally barely talk to begin with, and drink cheap beer and somehow get ridiculously drunk (or pretend that you are), dance with the girls who turn into flat out whores during these occasions and just bask in each other’s pretentiousness. And it’s always the same people at all of these parties from what I can tell and... they’re boring.

Now I say this all with my own sort of pretentiousness because I clearly haven’t been to one of these aside from that first one, and that was when I still didn’t really know anybody. I’m sure they’re alright... if you’re drunk. I’m inclined to agree that when you’re drunk or high, everything’s just dandy. But the hard part is getting there, and I realized that I have to be around the right people in order to do that most efficiently. And beer is not efficient at all, and I cannot ever see myself taking shots with Wendy or God forbid, Jonine. Ugh. I don’t ever want to be around them when they’re drunk (they seem like the annoying, squealing, over-the-top, ‘omiGod, I’m so drunk, omiGod!’ type of girls...), much less when I’m drunk. We all saw what happened with that last time...

Actually, I don’t think I’d want to drink at all today anyway... and God knows I’m keeping well away from bars for the next billion years of my life. We’ll keep it PG. Yes. Sounds great. Sounds awesome. Sounds... boring.

My God, I’m turning into an old man. Though I admit, sleep is always an option. I am never one to say no to sleep. Despite the fact that I earnestly need to get the fuck out of here, sleep sounds mighty fine right now.

No wait, sleep right now sounds awesome. With the mid-afternoon sun drifting across the wall, me sinking further into the couch and a Mr. Fluffy purring on my stomach... this was all very sedative.

Mmm... sleepy sleep... nappy nap...

---

Chapter 22

Who Punched Lucky in the Face?

---

I was sitting around Darwin’s kitchen, justifying his lame inability to break up with the wicked bitch of the west by cleaning out his fridge.

“Wow, this casserole, whatever it is, is damn good,” I nodded as I licked my fork clean.

“Dude, don’t eat it all, I was saving that for myself!” Darwin leaned over from the other side of the island counter and attempted to pull the platter away.

I pulled it out of his reach and stabbed my fork into it and proceeded to continue ripping it to shreds as it journeyed to my mouth. Darwin had no choice but to grab another fork and eat as much as he could starting from the other side, before I could finish it myself.

Even though I took a long nap yesterday afternoon, not soon after Tiff left, I sat around and ended up going to sleep fairly early. Even when Tiff came home, which I don’t even know at what time or if she did at all, I was out cold. So, when I woke up today, at some ungodly hour, I had no idea what to do with myself until I had to go to the garage and earn a few good bucks.

Which explains why, by mid-morning, I found myself at Darwin’s. The food completely makes up for the semi-out-of-the-way trip it takes to get here, even via Wifey II. However, it did not make up for Darwin’s reaction to my black eye, which I finally explained to him. I had to prod his convulsing body with my utensil until he stopped laughing, that bastard.

“What?” I irritatingly said. I had thought I seemed pretty bad ass myself, when I walked though his door, with my leather jacket, helmet under arm, black eye adorning my face.

“Wow, what timing,” Darwin finally said.

“What?”

“Wasn’t it like... Friday when you broke Jonine’s heart?”

“Don’t say it like that, it makes me sound like... wait, what does this have to...”

“Jonine has a tendency to be physically aggressive,” Darwin said sagely, sounding as if he was quoting that straight from a nature book. ‘The Jonine roam in large, similar sexed groups, called packs or posses. Several small packs may make up an even bigger posse, therein known as cliques. When in heat, the Jonine is usually known to work alone and singles out an oblivious male...’

“I have noticed,” I mused. “She is pretty physical.” It was one of those signs I took early on, during her days of flirting with me in an effort to get Darwin’s attention. She’d always be playfully slapping me on the shoulder or poking me in the side when I wasn’t paying attention, so I jumped. Those actions have been pretty consistent so after I caught on that I was nothing but part of her ploy, I sort of stopped paying attention to that. I’ll tell you though, the first thing you do to let someone know you’re into them, you start poking them and shit. There’s nothing guys respond to more as assertive girls who like to get touchy-feely, because God knows we’re all horny bastards.

“Your point?” I asked.

Darwin gave me a knowing look, “Dude, people are gonna think Jo punched you in the face.”

I immediately scoffed, “No way.”

“No, they totally are, everybody already knows you made her cry.”

“What the fuck, no I didn’t!”

“Yeah you did!”

“Whatever, what was I supposed to do? Shit.” I pushed the now empty casserole dish away from me and crossed my arms. “What does it matter, if people think she punched me in the face? Why would people think that anyway? And who cares?”

“It’s high school, dude. Everybody cares.”

I sighed and realized the truth to that statement. “I fucking hate high school.” And the equally lame people that inhabit it.

Darwin shrugged helplessly and offered me a cookie.

* * *

I went to work afterwards, almost looking forward to a day of dicking around with Linx, Jin and the rest of the garage crew, only to find that not only were they seriously shorthanded, but Michelle, the bimbo girl in charge of the cashier had failed to show up.

My original job compromised, I instead sat behind the front desk and probably pissed people off with my incompetency (and the fact that I’d get visibly agitated because every time I got close to beating solitaire, somebody would come in. I can see why Michelle was such an annoyed bitch.) It really sucked, and even more so since Uncle’s office was right behind me, so I couldn’t even get up and take a leak since I had to be his partial secretary. (Again, I can see why Michelle was always in a pissy mood. What I can’t see was how she was hired to begin with, except for the fact she had huge tits.) It put me in a weird situation since I’ve only seen him yell at us in a ‘joking’ manner (which didn’t seem to be all that joking until now), and I had to sit there and listen to him as he argued in Japanese, slam the phone down, pick up again, and then start yelling in English. And so on. All. After. Noon. That man has vocal chords made of steel. And then I would cringe every time I would have to interrupt him, like, every ten minutes, because I have no idea where the hell anything was since apparently Michelle has no organizational skills either. But I did find her stash of gum, which I stole half of.

But basically, it was not a good afternoon.

None of us were allowed out until an hour after the usual closing time... not that we could leave, we were so backed up, and even then I had to stick around since the fucking receipt roll ran out, and this guy absolutely needed a receipt that didn’t have those pink lines running down it for some anally retarded reason (so what if half of it was cut off, buddy, all you did was order a replacement rim, the cheapest and shittiest one.), and I had to break into Uncle’s office to find a roll, replace it, and then redo the entire fucking transaction after cancelling the last once just so it could get reprinted. Thus, pissing off Jin because he had to wait for me so he could close everything up and make sure I shut the system down correctly, and the anal retentive receipt guy got pissed as he heard me complain, because he had stuck around since he wanted to talk to Jin about ordering car parts from Japan, which pissed Jin off more, and me as well since I decided I hated this guy’s squirrely face. Just thinking about this pisses me off.

Linx was long gone by the time I staggered outside so I couldn’t hitch a ride if I wanted to, so I was glad I had the foresight to come over on Wifey II or else this night would’ve ended with me committing some homicide on the subway because I was just that pissed.

The drive home forced me to think of other things, so I slowly either weaned myself off my anger or I just suppressed it somewhere in my ribs, and by the time I got home, I didn’t have the energy to be anything other than tired. Actually, I even felt a little accomplished, to come home tired and weary from a day of money-grubbing work and to just sit on the couch and dumbly stare at nothing for a while. I guess that was the magic of manual labor. It was slightly sad when you think about it conceptually though.

“I mean, I worked all summer, but it wasn’t too depressing,” I was saying, spinning around on my office chair, my phone pressed against my ear.

“Well, you should be glad for that,” Cricket laughed warmly on the other end, “Most student level summer jobs are.”

I had vegetated on the couch for a while and then after a certain amount of time, decided I should get up before I got formally sucked in. After calling my sister to see if she was going to come back with some food (negative) I realized I was in a sociable mood, and also, I didn’t know what was due for tomorrow. I had called Cricket to mainly ask her about homework, which I felt was justified since she had called me once before for that same reason. Also, I wanted to see if she was still up for our little plan to break up Darwin and Rika, but since I didn’t want to appear selfish, I was going to ease into that topic gradually. As for how we got onto the topic of summer jobs... that was not a part of the plan. It’s gonna take forever to pull this conversation over to our friends’ eventual nullified relationship.

“What kind of job did you have?” she asked.

I sighed and thought for a moment. “Actually, I had like three.”

“That’s amazing, and... insane. Why?”

“I needed money, why else do people get jobs?”

“Ah, yes, I see your point. Were they easy jobs?”

“They were easy enough... I mean, I guess that’s why it wasn’t that bad. I valeted at a hotel a couple of nights during the week, but like, the graveyard shift and I’d just watch movies on the computer... I would hang out at the garage I’m still kinda at, and then you know, little jobs.. Odds and ends. Stuff like that.” I was intentionally vague on the last one, because well... I don’t think those were legal... Then again, if you make it into a stringent issue, none of those jobs were legal since I was paid under the table for all of them.

“So, basically most of your summer was spent getting paid to dick around.”

“Yeah, but it still sucked. I think the only reason why I managed to hang in there was because I was...”

“Always dicking around?” Cricket laughed.

I laughed with her, “Hey, shut up.”

“You’re the one who makes it sound like you did.”

I rolled off my chair and onto my bed, pushing aside my growing pile of clothes. “Did you have a summer job?”

“... No.”

“Oh. That... I’m jealous.”

“Why? I was the one who was bored all summer.”

“Eh, I guess.” Oh! An opening! “Did you just hang out with Rika most of the time?”

“Mm. Yeah. I was trying really hard to still like her then, but... not really.” Cricket suddenly sounded bummed, unlike two seconds ago when she sounded ultra amused by my mediocre summer experience. I could now pull this conversation into going two ways...

“Oh...” I said, stalling.

“Ooh, can you hold on for a moment?” She suddenly asked.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” The line went silent. I took this opportunity to swing into my kitchen and drink some orange juice. By the time two minutes had passed, I was looking at my shitty phone, trying to figure out if I had accidentally hung up on her or if I was still on hold.

“Lucky? Still there?”

I quickly brought the phone back to my ear. “Yo.”

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

“It’s cool.”

“Hey, so did I tell you about my brother?” Cricket ask, sounding reinvigorated.

Note to self: she has a brother; I didn’t know that. She made it sound as if she had told me before, but I most likely wasn’t listening. “Maybe. What about him?”

“So, we’re pretty close and all, but I still think he’s a huge idiot sometimes... but anyway, this morning...” And Cricket launched into this comprehensive story about how her brother bribed her into washing his semi-new car and how he had forgotten to close one of the windows all the way and she had decided to ignore it...

When I realized, she was going to go into story mode, about her family, God forbid, I started to zone out as I usually do, but it ended up being a pretty funny story... which surprised me since I actually got pretty into it.

We were both still laughing about it when I heard another voice on her end.

Cricket paused for a moment to listen. “Hey, I gotta go, but it was fun talking to you, I’ll see you tomorrow, Lucky?”

“I suppose,” I said. “See ya.”

“Bye!” She chirped, sounding so cheery it didn’t sound like her at all.

“Weirdo,” I muttered to myself after flipping my phone shut, but I couldn’t help but grin.

“Oooh, was that a girl?” I turned around to see Tiff leaning against my door frame, a taunting smirk on her face.

“What’s it matter to you?” I asked, “And when’d you get home anyway?” As in, when did you start eavesdropping...

“Like two seconds ago,” Tiff said with a wave of her hand as she turned and went back out. “Sounds like you were having fun though...”

I rolled my eyes, “We’re in practically all the same classes, I was just asking her what our homework... Oops.” Dammit. I had completely forgotten the whole point as to why I called her. All two reasons. I never got a chance to ask her about homework, and our whole ‘Destroy Rika’ campaign.

“Dammit,” I said again, and this time retreated to my room to call Darwin, who probably won’t know the homework either, but will most likely have a billion people online to ask.

* * *

I was so late for school the next morning, that Tiff actually defrosted her heart a little bit enough to flip over my mattress with me still in it. I just love how creative my sister is; last time she just jumped on my bed and broke half of my ribs because she didn’t try to avoid my prostrate body.

“You might as well just skip first period entirely,” she casually mentioned as she cut me half of her toast.

“How do I keep losing my tie?” I yelled, almost tripping over Mr. Fluffy. I swear to God, he spends all week doing nothing but building his energy, literally storing it all up in his fat, until the one moment when he sees an opening and darts across the floor right in front of my feet during the time of dire need.

I frantically searched for my tie some more, and finally found it stuck in the wheels of my desk chair. I pulled it out of its knot and didn’t bother to retie it, just stuffed it in my back pocket as I pulled on my blazer. “You know what?” I stumbled into the kitchen and slumped into my usual seat.

“Well, if it isn’t the amazing, wrinkled boy,” Tiff laughed.

I exhaled loudly out of my nose. Usually, I hung up my blazer on the handle of my closet, but apparently, I’m handicapped in that skill and it had lain in a crumpled heap all weekend. I blame the cat. “Yeah, I know,” I picked up the half piece of toast and took a huge bite, “I’m just not gonna go at all. Fuck that place.”

Tiff wordlessly got up and walked out. I drank half of her tea and leaned back in my seat, my mind made up.

My sister came back in and sat back down. “I plugged the iron in for you.”

I sighed and hung my head. “Thanks.”

“You should straighten out your tie, too. You have time.”

“How ‘bout my pants,” I asked in monotone as I dragged my feet out the kitchen, pulling off my clothes. I sounded utterly defeated.

“Nah, those are okay. You don’t have that much time.”

Indeed.

Despite the fact that I was already going to miss first period, I had to arrive at school at a very explicit time: right before first period got out (and no later since I didn’t want to get hassled by the hall monitors) so by the time I got my tardy slip from the office, I’d still have ample time to get to my locker and make it to second period with everybody else. As it was, I had wasted too much time trying to iron out my tie (Tiff sat there and watched me and when I was almost done, pointed out that I should’ve just done the one end that showed, duh.) and then did a shit job on the rest, and then flat out hit the ground running.

Two flights down, I skidded to a stop, had a realization, and then ran back to the apartment to grab my sunglasses. And then I turned back around and ran to school. When I got to there, I had been too far too late to carry out my simple plan and people were amassed in the halls getting to second period, and I had to swim my way to the office. By the time I got there, I was a wheezing pile of bones dying on the front desk. Naturally, it took forever for them to mark down my tardy and to print out my slip, and by then second period had already started.

The whole point of trying to get to school by the intended time was so I wouldn’t have to make it obvious that I was late. Which was now unavoidable as I had to knock on the door to my second period class since Mrs. Bublaski was the kind of teacher who locked the doors just to spite kids like me.

Bublaski didn’t stop her lecture as she opened the door, though she did raise an eyebrow as she glanced at my sunglasses.

I kept my head low as I darted towards my desk next to the window, the teacher wrapping up in her little monologue. Directly in front of me, Jonine didn’t turn around. Which was fine. Whatever. Better for me as I tried to shrink myself behind her shoulders as much as possible.

Except the teacher still called me out. “Lucky, no matter how cool you are, the shades have got to go. I promise that you’ll still be cool without them.”

“Is that actually written down in the rule book?” I tried to be as coy as possible. I was one of her favorites, after all.

Bublaski’s lips twitched into a smile, “Actually, yes. Right in the same line as no hats and no gang related paraphernalia.”

Dammit!

The entire class was now enraptured with this issue. It was probably a bad move on my behalf to question Bublaski at all. Even Jonine had turned around to give me a neutral look. And Cricket, damn that girl, from the other side of the room, I could hear her giggling because she knew what was coming. Just like the first time... Holy crap, no matter what situation, she’ll always have a leg up on me.

I sighed and took my glasses off as subtly as I could. And looked up.

“Good lord, child!” Bublaski gasped. “What happened to your eye?”

“Holy shit!” Simon yelled from the front of the room, “Jo, you totally kicked his ass!”

“Whoa, Jonine!”

“No, I didn’t!” she protested.

“Wait, why would Jonine punch Lucky in the face?”

“Oh, you didn’t hear?”

“No, tell me!”

“Oh my God! How does everybody know this and why do they care?” I yelled. “And no, it was not Jo!”

Jonine was working up a rage as well, “I am not a violent person!” she yelled as she slammed an open palm on her desk. “I would never!”

“Jo, whatever, even if you didn’t do it, just say you did. I would!” laughed Simon. Leave it to that dick to be the first one to succumb to Darwin’s speculation of everybody’s reaction.

“Guys, whatever, it doesn’t even matter,” I heard Cricket saying in a loud voice, attempting to help control the situation, but to no avail; she only added to the din of it all.

“Drama!” somebody else whooped.

“He wouldn’t even be worth it anyway!” Jo’s yell, though not as loud as the rest, cut everybody short. You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed.

“Now class,” Bublaski began to say.

“OOOHHH,” the class chorused simultaneously; they were all looking forward to a fight.

“Oh snap!”

“Yo, is he gonna take that?”

“Lucky, Lucky, what you got to say to that?” the kid who sits behind me began to slap me on the back.

“Nothing,” I said, not bothering to raise my voice. I had spent the majority of this chaotic moment completely mute, leaning against my elbow just feeling really tired. “She didn’t punch me.”

The ravenous gossip mongers that were my classmates looked disappointed.

Bublaski sighed, no doubt feeling a tinge of a migraine as she rubbed her temple. “Alright, now that we got that out of our system... Listen, it’s nice that we’re such a close-bonded class and we’re all interested in one another’s personal lives, but can we please leave that out of our class time? We have more important things to cover here.”

I couldn’t restrain myself. “Damn right we do!” I roared. I finished with a growl, “Now leave me the hell alone!”

Mrs. Bublaski gave me a look. “And you, Lucky, if you can spare a few moments after class, I’d like to have a chat with you.”

“Oh snap!” yelled the same kid who said it the first time. Dickwad.

For the rest of class, I stared over Jonine’s stiff shoulders. Usually, because our desks are against the radiator under the windows, we’d all sit leaning against that and face the middle of the room, if we weren’t looking the opposite way (as in, out the window). Jo, if not taking notes, would usually have her arm or elbow leaning atop my desk and we’d frequently chat or make side comments about whatever our lecture was about. At random intervals, she’d draw little morbid smiley faces in the top margin of my notes. There was this one day even, when I was fervently taking down notes and she’d try to poke me in the nose with her pen, which, for some reason, she found hilarious.

Despite the fact that I did turn her down and I don’t regret that at all, I do kinda curse myself for fucking it up so bad that it screwed up our friendship. Though... a friendship entirely based on her flirting.

After class, Jonine shot out of her seat so fast that I didn’t even have to worry about creating an awkward situation. Oh no, our awkward thing happened already. Check that one off the list... I gave half-hearted byes to certain people and went up to Bublaski’s desk and perched my ass on the corner.

She busied herself on the computer as the classroom emptied out.

“So...?” I finally said, feeling a little antsy being alone with my teacher.

“Lucky,” she said, turning around, “I’m just a little worried about you, that’s all.”

I was momentarily reminded of the time when the hot Miss Pereta said practically the same thing to me after the Tomo incident. “Oh, don’t be, Mrs. B., I’m fine,” I waved my hand around, dismissively, “I was just play fighting with a neighbor, it was an accident.” I had come up with that excuse because I knew that as a teacher and an old woman with grandchildren that were mostly boys, an excuse like this wouldn’t be questioned.

“It’s just not that, dear,” Bublaski said, “which, by the way, I’m glad that black eye wasn’t caused by something serious.”

“Serious?” I said, feigning innocence.

“…but I think there’s a lot of things going on right now, whether it be school related, or work, or girls, but...”

“Yeah, I guess it is just a little stressful, but I can handle it,” I said, trying to rush things up a bit before I’m late for yet another class.

“Yes, I know what you’re capable of, but it’s still just the beginning of the year. Things are going to get tougher once your courses pick up again. It’s going to get harder for you to balance your life.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be okay,” I started to get up; I still needed to stop by my locker.

Mrs. Bublaski sighed again, making me turn back around. “I signed you up for a session with the school therapist.”

“What!?” I exploded.

No, literally. I did. Spontaneously combusted. Blood, guts, parts of my spleen: everywhere. It’s going to take months for Bublaski to get my guts out of her hair. A combination of my suppressed anger from yesterday, coupled with the mind-blowing stupid interests of my instigating classmates, my decreased belief in the fate of mankind in general, Simon’s dumb face, and finally, the suggestion from my trusted advisor to go see the fucking school quack... To what, talk about my feelings? An insult from the heavens! An insult so great, my body reacted immediately, and in response, gave a glorious ‘fuck you!’ as my innards tore apart and went screaming in all opposing directions.

And thus, the great tragic life of Lucky ended, in an extreme yet gloriously defiant bang.

---

Chapter 23

The Pie Chart Epiphany

---

The rest of my school’s female population had deduced that I was an asshole of some sort by lunch (which I spent with Darwin and Dane on the school roof as they unsuccessfully tried to cheer me up with enough, ‘your mom’ jokes to last a lifetime). And what I mean by the rest of the female population, I just meant all of Jonine’s friends, acquaintances, extended acquaintances and any other girl part of their ‘we can only use the bathroom if there are more than five people crowded in there at once,’ crowd. Which, to me, pretty much is the rest of the female population in the school.

Statistics agree with me as well, as that we are considered a very tiny private school, with less than four hundred students per grade, which puts the entire high school under a two-thousand-person population. Also, about two thirds of the students, give or take a small percentage, had gone to middle school together, and two thirds of that population had attended elementary school together as well. I’d say that a quarter of the school played together during preschool while their nannies became lifelong friends.

So kids like Darwin, Simon, Dane, and Jonine have an extensive history with their fellow peers and in a way, know each other so well that it’s almost like being a part of some twisted family tree. It’s like, when you hear about so and so, who got dumped by that girl, who started going out with that other guy, who dumped his girl who blah, blah, blah, then it’s like, ‘Oh, he did that to her again?’ People have been primed to be familiar with their peers’ personality disorders and such.

It’s guys like me that fuck up that system. From out of nowhere, I dropped in, not even during the beginning of a school year, but in the middle of a semester. I’ve managed to be somewhat incognito (being unreceptive to their social society, thus labelled as distant and completely personality-less) and faded into obscurity, even after becoming friends with Darwin. It was only until somewhat recently when I started hanging out with the insta-friends more when I started participating in their world. So it is not without truth when I had adamantly claimed that Jonine knew nothing about me... nobody around here truly does, save for Darwin. And because I hang out with the Golden Boy, I too was given the title as a ‘nice guy,’ which did not make me any more interesting with my already bland label.

Until now.

It’s kinda funny how much they stress on telling the truth in any sort of relationship. Because let me tell you, it didn’t do jack shit for me. Instead, I get all of this, ‘Wow, Lucky’s a jerk,’ and ‘What is he, blind?’ bull crap for turning down a girl I didn’t like. What was I supposed to do, just go along with it, actually lead her on for a while, and then dump her? In my honest opinion, that’s way worst than just saying no from the beginning.

But of course, Jonine was considered as one of the members of the upper bracket in the hierarchy of Hot Girls at our school, so of course I was the idiot here. Now if we take this situation and tilt it, and let’s say Jonine wasn’t hot, and wasn’t on good terms with every other girl at this school, and I dunno, smelled bad, wore orthodontia and had birds nesting in her hair... Yeah. I wouldn’t be the bad guy here... Or actually, I still would be, but to a lesser degree because nobody would care.

And that’s why this sucks: Because people care. There’s millions of children starving out there, war, AIDS and overpaid actresses being sent to jail in the world, yet all these kids could talk about was my apparent suckage. And my questionable black eye. All of this caring in the world, being wasted on something as stupid as this. And because of that, here I was, wasting my time being pissed at my peers for their own shallowness, when what I should be doing was planning my course of action for my upcoming meeting with the school shrink.

Which, I actually had no idea when that was going to take place, but it doesn’t hurt to try and plan things ahead of time.

“Don’t hurt yourself there, Lucky.”

I shook myself out of it, “Huh? What?” We were in the middle of calculus, and by now, Cricket and I were pretty much permanent work partners since I’m, you know, just so entertaining to watch and all, as long as you were far enough away to point and laugh. This has actually worked out really well with me since Cricket’s work ethic was annoyingly top notch but to my advantage, I now have ample time to ponder my thoughts. Like I was two seconds ago.

“You were either thinking really hard, or being really constipated,” Cricket whispered.

I gave her a calm look and quirked an eyebrow. “Woman, you’ve never seen me constipated.”