“I see you left your comb at home. Honestly, Keith, you look like you just stepped out of one of those 70’s communes where the leader was trying to poison everyone and you were only set free when the place was raided by law enforcement and then the cops gathered all the kids of the sister-wives together, sprayed them down with a hose, and sent them to the local school to be ridiculed and picked on.”
“That’s…” My brain took a moment to process her incredibly visual description of my hairstyle. “Very detailed.”
Emma nodded, and we exchanged nearly identical grins. I could feel the tension ease after the confrontation with Mrs. Lee. Sometimes I just needed my sis’s unique brand of humor.
“So, Jethro,” she said, now assigning me a cult name. “Do you have a problem with my outfit?”
Of course I had a problem with her outfit. Where to begin? Too much makeup. Too much leg. Too much boob. Too much of everything I liked to see on other girls – just not on her, my little sister.
Emma was only a sophomore, after all; too young for the attention she was receiving from the guys my age. More and more, I was finding myself in the unenviable position of shutting down conversations centered on my sister’s body parts. It was creepy, and it needed to stop.
“No way did Mom green-light this get-up.”
“Of course not. I changed in Lydia’s car on the way over.”
I pushed my backpack into her arms. “Here, wear this – on your front.”
“It’s notthatrevealing, Keith.” She glanced back at her posse, as if to get their reaction to my ridiculous request for modesty. “Until I’m dress-coded, the outfit stays. Geez, Keith, since when did you get so conservative?”
“Well, you know, back in the commune…”
Emma threw her head back and laughed. This was the sister I knew and loved – the one I could hang with and not worry about having to kick the ass of every guy who gave her a sideways glance. If only we lived in a chilly climate, my life would be so much easier.
Suddenly serious, Emma grabbed my arm and steered me away from her gaggle of friends, all while still impressively micromanaging the team. “Go on ahead. I’ll catch up with you guys in a few.”
A chorus of giggles erupted from Emma’s squad. “Bye, Keith.”
I waved and smiled at the departing herd parading themselves down the hallway. I swear you could almost see the little animated hearts pulsing from their eyeballs.
“Stop encouraging them,” Emma complained once they’d gone.
“What? I’m telling you, Em, it’s the whole cult thing. Chicks love it.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like that my friends think you’re hot. It makes me want to throw up in my mouth.”
I nodded, her comment making perfect sense. “I get the same shit about you, only instead of throwing up, I punch people.”
“Yes. And speaking of punching, you need to be careful, Keith. Strong-arming a hundred-and-twenty-pound sophomore is not up to school code. You can’t afford to get in trouble.”
I mimed a perfect pout. “He started it.”
“Well, you finished it, and that’s all administration needs to kick you out of here with a backpack full of pot.”
Emma never sugar-coated things, always telling me how it was whether I wanted to hear it or not. And since I didn’t have the type of friends who were up for deep conversations, Emma had become my go-to confidant. Contrary to what her appearance said about her, Emma was no mindless beach-bunny. In fact, she was the smartest person I knew… although to be fair, that wasn’t saying much.
“And not only that, but I overheard Mom and Dad talking about how to deal with you, and they were throwing around the idea of some family bonding and communication class. I mean, why should the rest of us kids suffer because you’re a dim-witted pothead?”
“Right, because god forbid we get closer as a family.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “We live in a shoebox. How much closer can we get? Look, all I’m asking is that you don’t be stupid. Can you do that for me, Keith?”
“Sure Em, I’ll give it a shot.”
“Good.” She patted my shoulder, smiling. “Now get to class. The bell is about to ring.”
The first rule of high school: never run. A tardy was always preferable to dashing across campus like an overeager freshman. Besides, getting to class on time had never been my thing. It just extended the amount of time I had to spend learning. And for that reason, instead of taking a direct path to my classroom, I ducked into the bathroom first, followed by a quick detour to the C-wing to check in on a hot chick I hadn’t seen since I’d made out with her at a party last week. She was happy to see me. Her teacher? Not so much.
By the time I wandered into fourth period, I was in trouble again. It was an endless cycle made possible by the fact that I couldn’t make a good decision to save my life. My irresponsible behavior could all be traced back to one very damaging character flaw – impulse control. Or rather, the lack of it. If something seemed like a good idea at the time, I did it, no questions asked and no costs considered. I’d always been of the mindset that it was better to deal with the consequencesafterthe fact than to never have done it at all. And, while that approach had proved epic for me in the short run, long term it wasn’t nearly as satisfying… or safe.
