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Growing Pains
Robbie starts his vacation

Robbie starts his vacation

  Robbie drummed his fingers rhymical on the metal arm of the office chair. School had already let out and he was even more restless than usual to get out of here. So, to pass the time, he was playing a game where he tried t make the loudest noise possible with just his fingernails and the metal of the chair’s arm. He kept score by how many times the secretary tried to make him keep quit. One point for a glare, two points for a shush, and three for an “Will you please stop that.” He’d been waiting fourteen minutes and was up to eleven points.

       It was ungodly hot in the office that day. The air conditioning had broken two weeks ago and with the end of the school year so close, no one had bothered to have it fixed. It was unfortunate that today had to be the start of a heat wave, according to the weatherman. He supposed it was only right, seeing as it was the first day of summer vacation and all, but that didn’t do much to calm his sweat glands. If for no other reason, he wanted to get out of here before he sweated through his shirt.

       "Robert,” the secretary started again. Robbie smiled, thinking he’d just scored three more points, but instead she pointed to the principal’s office door and informed him they were ready for him.

       The principal’s office was painted a faint yellow, giving it a cheerful, airy feel that made the room far more welcoming than a principal’s office ought to be. Principal Stilts, likewise, was a cheerful and welcoming man. He was heavy set, with a full black beard and crows feet behind his glasses. Robbie liked Dr. Stilts, he liked him a lot.

       “Robbie! Come in! Come in! How are you, my boy?” Dr. Stilts eagerly waved him inside. He was one of the few adults Robbie knew who bothered to remember he liked to be called Robbie.

       “I’m alright. How you doing?” Robbie replied with a smile as he took a seat, plopping his yet-to-be-emptied backpack unceremoniously on the floor

       “I’m just fine, thank you.” Dr. Stilts said. A moment passed between the two of them in silence, then Dr. Stilts cleared his throat “Robbie, do you know why I called you in here?”

       “I believe you have some property that belongs to me.” Robbie replied, knowing full well that wasn’t the reason.

       Dr. Stilts opened a drawer and pulled out a report card. “I called you in here, because I wanted to deliver this myself.” He said. Robbie made to grab the card but Dr. Stilts pulled it back out of his reach.

       “All A’s again, Robbie. You’re at the top of your class, my boy, the very top!” Dr. Stilts praised

       “Thank you, Dr. Stilts!” Robbie said, sounding as much like one of those kids in the background of kids shows when they’re trying to teach manners as possible. If Dr. Stilts got the joke, he didn’t show it.

       “You’re a bright young man, my boy. With a bright future. But I do worry about if that’s possible given you’re recent . . . behavioral problems.”

       Dr. Stilts ducked his head under his desk a moment before re-appearing with a cardboard box with the word CONFISCATED written across one side in black marker. Inside, Robbie knew he would find amongst other things, a few dirty magazines, some three-week old brownies in a Ziploc bag that they had suspected but not proven contained pot, and a bunch of rubber bands he’d been shooting at Timmy Weiser in math class. They were all tings that had been taken from Robbie throughout the year. Each time, he’d be treated to a trip to Dr. Stilts office where he’d deliver much the same speech he was about to give now.

  By this point, though, it was easy to tune out, for which Robbie was grateful. Instead of listening, he mentally recited the lyrics to Toto’s Africa which had been stuck in his head all day.

  “All your teachers agree,”

  I hear the drums echoing tonight

  But she hears only whispers of some quiet conversation

  She's coming in, 12:30 flight

  The moonlit wings reflect the stars that guide me towards salvation

  I stopped an old man along the way

  Hoping to find some long forgotten words or ancient melodies

  He turned to me as if to say, "Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you"

  “I understand your young and don’t see the consequences of your actions, but”

  It's gonna take a lot to take me away from you

  There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do

  I bless the rains down in Africa

  Gonna take some time to do the things we never had

  “And there’s some, ah, unfortunate rumors about you and the other boys,”

  The wild dogs cry out in the night

  As they grow restless, longing for some solitary company

  I know that I must do what's right

  As sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti

  I seek to cure what's deep inside, frightened of this thing that I've become

  “Do I make myself clear, Robbie?”

  “Crystal, sir.” Robbie snatched his report card and the box of his things and fled the room before he could say anything more.

  It wasn’t until he was safe in the hall that it hit him with a small wave of sad nostalgia that that would probably be the last time they spoke. They might see each other in the grocery store or wherever else, they might even wave to each other, but there was no need to talk to each other now that he was no longer a student of Clifford Middle.

  He found the nearest trashcan and zipped his backpack open over it, letting it’s contents fall out in a clunky cascade of papers and notebooks and garbage he’d forgotten was in there. He replaced them with his dirty magazines and other crap from the CONFISCATED box, then he dumped that, too, in the garbage.

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  He retrieved his skateboard from his locker and, seeing as the hallways were already empty, skated down the halls and out the building. He had made it himself, and it showed. What he called a skateboard was little more than a clunky plank of wood with four wheels screwed on one side. It handled like a bitch, and he’d fallen off it countless times. In fact that very day his knees were decorated with pink and green band-aids from a nasty fall when he’d tried to turn down Locust Avenue. But his parents had been too cheap to buy him a bike and it was all he had. Besides, it took him from point A to point B faster than walking so he’d probably end up using the damn thing until he could get his license.

  Outside was probably only a few degrees cooler than it was inside but it felt like heaven with the slight breeze his board provided. The school was deserted but the school grounds were alive and well with kids milling around before their bus left or parents came to pick them up. Robbie checked his watch, 3:10, he should still have time.

  “Robbie!”

  Robbie skidded his board to a stop and scanned the crowd before he found Becca King waving him over. She was, unsurprisingly, surrounded by about a half dozen boys. Becca was always flanked by at least a couple of boys. She was probably the prettiest girl in the 8th grade. Her red hair curled gently around her pale shoulders, her smile was bright and her eyes a dazzling green. Robbie thought sometimes she looked like what that Jolene who gave Dolly Parton so much trouble must’ve looked like. But he would not admit it if you held a gun to his head. Because that would mean admitting he had listened to a Dolly Parton song.

  And that was to say nothing of her boobs. They had sprung up almost overnight this year and by this early June day, she was bigger up top than even some high school girls. And she was wearing a tank top today of all things. It was a wonder the entire male population of the school wasn’t there to salivate like stray dogs.

  As he made his way over, he spied a single rose in her hand. Mark Liebowitz was among the boys around Becca toady. He must’ve finally plucked up the balls to ask her out. He was head over heels for her, and everyone knew it.

  Robbie and Becca got along alright. They had no classes together this year but Clifford was a small town and simply being in the same grade as someone usually meant you knew them pretty well. She was into fashion and make-up and girly things like that but she had a good sense of humor and took no shit.

  Robbie remembered on day in late February when she’d punched Wendy Silverman in the nose in front of the whole cafeteria. Wendy had been going around telling anyone who would listen that Becca had seduced her boyfriend, which was why they were having trouble. Wendy had to go to the nurses office and was sent home. When she came back to school, it was with a massive bandage on her nose and rumors Becca had broken it. (Which Wendy refused to comment on) Thinking back on it, he wondered why Becca had gotten so upset. No one with anything between their ears had believed Wendy. He figured it must be one of those unspoken laws girls followed, like going to the bathroom in packs and not wearing white after labor day.

  “Firecrotch.” Robbie greeted pleasantly

  “Dickhead.” She replied with an equally friendly smile

  “And what can I do for you this fine day?” He gave a dramatic sweep of his arms through the air, forcing Mark to take a step back to avoid getting hit

  “Do you have any pot?” she asked

  “And if I do?” he replied

  “Don’t be difficult, Robbie.” She said “I got three bucks.”

  “You know the deal, four dollars a piece.” He said

  “Oh come on. It’s the last day of school, can’t you swing something for me?” she said.

  She didn’t twirl her fingers through her hair then, as he knew other girls to do when they couldn’t cough up the cash. She wasn’t the type to pull shit like that. She simply spoke with such easy confidence it was obvious she knew she’d get what she wanted. Robbie knew it too, but he still had to put on a show for whoever might be paying attention.

  Robbie pretended to think for a moment, putting his fingers to his chin and snapping his fingers after a moment for dramatic effect. “Tell you what. I’ll give you the brownie. IF you give me your rose.” He’d have gladly handed her all the weed brownies he had on him, but she didn’t need to know that.

      “Deal.” She said without hesitation. Robbie had to fight back a snicker at how Mark’s face fell when she handed it over.

      “Who’s the lucky girl?” she asked as he handed over the brownie

      “Ah, how presumptuous of you, Queen B. You know my affections are available to anyone who pleases.” He replied playfully

      "Oh, don’t we all.” Mark said, making most of the boys around them laugh.Becca smiled, too, but didn’t laugh. “Good luck.” She said with a wink

      He hopped on his skateboard and rode off. He was almost around the corner of the building when he heard her gag on the three-week-old stale brownie.

      “Asshole!” she yelled after him but beating up your weed man was generally a bad call, so she didn’t chase after him.

      Charlie Sullivan stood apart from the clusters of kids scattered around the front entrance. He was short and skinny with a round face and rosy cheeks. He wore kakis and a white sweater in spite of the heat. While other kids gossiped with friends and discussed plans he looked at his watch and tapped his foot impatiently. His mom must be running late to pick him up, Robbie thought, Good. He shoved the rose and his skateboard in his backpack for now and, taking a deep breath, made his way for the cutest boy in Clifford Middle.

      Charlie didn’t notice him approach until it was too late. Robbie snatched his waist and pulled him tight against his chest with one arm. Mike gave a yelp of surprise and tried to pull away, but he quickly realized what was going on and simply let it happen. The other made a finger gun which he pointed around in a frantic semi-circle at anyone looking their way.

      “Alright, nobody move!” Robbie yelled loud and clear so he could be heard across the yard “This here’s a kidnapping! I will release the hostage only when my demand for one million dollars is met! I want it in unmarked bills and I want it here in exactly one hour! No funny business or the boy gets it!” he pointed his finger gun to Mike’s temple.

      “Oh my God, Robbie.” Charlie muttered under his breath. Most people in the yard were looking at them as Robbie puled him inside. Some ignored them, but most. Some were laughing, other’s whispering to each other. Just Robbie being Robbie, they’d be saying, juts ignore him.

      “Robbie what the hell!” Charlie demanded as soon as Robbie had let him go in the privacy of deserted hallways. There was a slight hesitation before he said ‘hell’ and Robbie was sure he’d have liked to use stronger language. But Charlie was pretty tight lipped when it came to using naughty words.

      Robbie fished the rose out of his backpack. It had already been smooshed a bit beneath his skateboard but it was still in good shape. He dropped to one knee. In one hand he held the rose, in the other he grabbed Charlie's hand.

      He was not a handsome boy, he knew, but he hoped he looked attractive at that moment. “Charlie Sullivan, would you do me the honor of accompanying me for ice cream this fine afternoon?” he asked with the most charming voice and dazzling smile he could muster.

      Charlie's face was cold with fury, his lips drawn into a pencil thin line, his blue eyes blown wide. His body was tight with tension, like a spring wound to tight. “Are you fucking insane?” he asked in a surprisingly calm voice compared to the furious hiss Robbie had braced himself for.

      “Well, perhaps a tad.” Robbie replied, not letting his smile waver “So what do you say?”

      “No!” Charlie yelled, yanking his hand away as though it burned and storming off

      “Hey! Wait!” Robbie grabbed him by the shoulder.

      “No! Piss off!” he roared. Robbie let him go and shrunk away a bit.

  Charlie huffed, running a hand through his thick brown hair, which he always kept combed neatly to one side “Look, it’s one thing for you to be into boys. That’s your own business and none of mine. But do not try and drag me into  . . . whatever this is.” He was retreating away from Robbie, making steady steps backward towards the exit. Outside, a car horn honked “That’ll be my mom. She’s taking me to a doctor’s appointment and I can’t be late. Don’t follow me out, okay?” He all but sprinted out the heavy metal doors.

  Robbie was left alone in the abandoned hallway once again. “That went better than expected.” He said to no one in particular. He looked down at the rose in his hand and decided it was better not to waste it. He would put it in water when he got home and his kitchen window would look pretty for a week or so. He tucked the flower behind his ear, pulled out his skateboard, and took off for the south exit.

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