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Abigail
“Abigail,” I can hear my name being called from somewhere in the distance. Maybe if I ignore it, it will be a dream. Tap, Tap, Tap, “Monkey.” That’s all it takes before I attempt to sit up, and it’s only an attempt because my head clashes with the bottom of the SUV Vic brought in late last night.
“Shit!” Dragging myself out from under the SUV, I look up into the eyes of none other than Fred himself.
“What the hell are you doing under this here Mazda, Monk? Where the hell’d it come from?”
“Vic brought it in last night before I could close up. I suppose I fell asleep while checking her out, Fred. It’s gonna need some work, but I can start on it this evening. I know you have quite a bit to get done today.” Looking at Fred, I notice he has my cup in hand. I snatch it out of his hand and take a big swig.
“Oh, she’s all yours. Now, why don’t you scoot along and get showered up so you can get to school,” Fred begins to walk off before turning. “Oh, would ya quit givin’ your old man a scare? I thought the fool was gonna break my phone this mornin’ tryin’ to find ya.” And off he goes.
Forty minutes later I’m showered, dressed, got my face on, and headed to the front office to let the old man know I’m off. Just as I turn the corner, I can’t help but stop and giggle, Fred has always hated anything that has to do with a computer. As a matter of fact, I usually have to deal with all the PC shit.
“Hey Fred, I’m headed to that place we all call hell. I just wanted to let ya know I finished up Johnson, Fritz, and Jacobs last night, so you can call ‘em to pick up. Have a good day!” Blowing a kiss, I’m out the door.
***
Lunch is probably, by far, my favorite part of school, just because this gives me time to perfect whichever song I am working on. Today just happens to be When I Call Your Name by Vince Gill. Been trying to get it right for about two weeks now.
It’s a warm September day and I’m out in the garden, strumming my guitar and learning my way around this song. I’m hoping to have it down to add to my set this weekend at Mac’s. Mac McKenzie lets me play at his bar on Friday and Saturday nights.
Wayde Davenport Jr, my best friend, and our other partner in crime, Adam Jacobs, take a seat beside me.
“Hey, Abi,” they say in unison.
“Hey, Dorks,” I throw out without breaking my concentration.
“Still workin’ on the Vince Gill song?” Wayde asks.
Before I can answer, Harmand Amel the Third or as I like to call him, Dickhead, stands in front of us. “Well, if it isn’t the goth, the nigger, and the faggy nerd. Always together. Ya know, I bet they all sleep together too.”
“Oh, Dickhead, it’s always a pleasure to associate with you on such a fine afternoon.” With a roll of my eyes, I stand to finish, “For your info, not a goth, just have my own personality and it doesn’t mesh with yours. Adam may be a nerd, but that’s only because he’s a million times smarter than you. Of course, you’d know this, and had you actually looked into a dictionary and read the definition of nigger, last time I checked it means an ignorant person. In this situation, that ignorant person would be you. As for fags, none of us are running around smacking the asses of other guys while grunting like wild animals and calling it a sport. Now, if you’d please run along, I’ve got things do to and certainly no time to be associating with the likes of you.” With a wave of my hands, I shoo him off. This causes him to take a step closer to me.
Wayde goes to step in front of me, but I push him off. I step forward and place my hand on my hip while cocking my head to the side, wondering if the dickhead has it in him. He tests me every time he sees me but never does anything.
Vic grabs Harmand’s arm. “You know the coach said you’d be benched if you keep your shit up. So let’s forget this and go throw the ball around. The new guy is here and we need to make sure he knows we aren’t all dicks.”
Vic gives me a nod and I return it before he walks away. The rest of the football team is not far behind and Harmand follows along.
Wayde, Adam and I go back to our conversation about the song I’m working on. Instead of talking anymore, I decide to sing while playing the guitar. Just as I finish the last few lyrics, I notice lots of people are watching. At first, I blush at everyone watching, then decide to just go into another song. Fancy by Reba McEntire seems to fit me at this moment.
