Rock Bottom Girl(107)

“Morning, Mom,” Marley whispered, her voice gravelly. “Sorry for the unannounced guests.”

“It’s no problem,” Jessica said, attention stolen by Vicky stumbling into the kitchen.

“Please tell me there’s grease and coffee,” Vicky begged. She was clutching a pillow over her head and ears.

“Mom, if I give you directions on how to make a hangover breakfast, do you think you could make it for us?” Marley asked, slumping into a chair at the table.

“Sure thing, sweetie.”

While Jessica flipped bacon and Marley made a second pot of coffee, Vicky and I divvied up ibuprofen.

“And this is the kitchen,” Ned said, waving the stranger from earlier into the room. “As you can see, we have a few extra guests this morning.”

The guy, now fully dressed in jeans and a sweater, offered a shy wave.

“Come on in, Vicente,” Jessica said, pointing him in the direction of the coffee.

I cleared my throat. “Mr. Cicero, about your shorts.”

“Keep them,” he said. “And let’s never speak of this again.”





63





Marley





“Over my dead body!” Coach Vince loomed over Principal Eccles’ desk in his best impression of a sweaty vulture.

“I understand that you’re disappointed,” Principal Eccles said blandly.

I wondered if she kept pepper spray or a taser in her desk drawer in case students, staff, or parents got too aggressive. I hoped she at least had a bottle of booze in there somewhere.

“The Homecoming game is mine,” Vince shrieked like a wounded zombie. Spittle flew from his thin lips and dotted the desk.

Principal Eccles jerked her thumb toward the window. “You want to play in this? You think anyone is going to turn out for a parade in this?”

The remains of Hurricane Patricia were bathing Culpepper in a torrential downpour of biblical proportions. Now a tropical storm, Patricia had lumbered her lard ass up the East Coast, turning the Outer Banks and most of Virginia into a dumping ground of floodwaters. Pennsylvania was enjoying her wrath now.

The stadium field was under four inches of water, and we were ten minutes away from an early dismissal before all the local creeks barfed up storm water and closed roads. I was packed and ready to go spend an unexpected free afternoon naked at Jake’s.

At least, I had been before receiving the summons to the principal’s office.

“Then we’ll reschedule,” Vince said stubbornly.

“We have rescheduled. Homecoming will be next Friday.”

It was becoming clear why I was invited to a front row seat of Coach Vince’s rage. I swallowed hard.

“We have a home game Friday,” I said. Not just any home game. We were playing Culpepper’s rivals the New Holland Buglers. Buglers sounded friendly and peppy. Unfortunately, the New Holland Buglers were aggressive, eyeball-gouging Amazonians who could put the ball in the back of the net better than any other team in our league.

I remembered losing to them spectacularly my junior year. One girl hit me so hard going for the ball that I lay there staring up at the lights wondering if I should head toward them or not.

“Ms. Cicero, your game is now the Homecoming game,” Principal Eccles announced.

Shit. Shitty shitty shit shit. Homecoming games were meant to be won. No one wanted to get slaughtered on the field in front of the entire town and then go to a dance where your classmates made fun of you.

“This is bullshit, Eccles,” Vince raged. I wondered if I could talk him into the nurse’s office next door for a blood pressure check. I didn’t like his color. “I demand that you reschedule. We have a game that Saturday.”

“Your Saturday game is an hour away,” she pointed out, not particularly disturbed by the hulking primate throwing a hissy fit inches from her face. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I demand that you get out of my office so I can send everyone home before the buses float away.”

I stood up and followed Principal Eccles out of the office in a fog while Coach Vince snarled his disappointment behind me.

“Uh, Principal Eccles. I don’t know if you’re aware, but I was kind of banned for life from Culpepper Homecomings,” I explained, jogging after her.

“That was just a rumor started by a disgruntled student. I checked,” she said, ducking outside to check the bus line.

“A rumor?” Amie Jo. Oh, for fuck’s sake. I’d adhered to a punishment that hadn’t even been real.

Coach Vince elbowed his way past us. He kicked at a fire hydrant and then howled in pain.

There was a hard glint in her eye. “I’m going to admit that it gives me a small sliver of pleasure to take something away from that gigantic ass.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I said dryly.

“Just do me a favor and don’t screw it up,” Principal Eccles said.

I nodded and swallowed hard.

She paused. “Oh, by the way, thank you for volunteering to chaperone the dance.”

“I did what now?”

She gave me a knowing smile. “Ask Jake. He volunteered the two of you to chaperone the Homecoming dance.”

I had several more important questions for her, but the dismissal bell rang, and hundreds of excited students came flooding toward us. We’d made it past lunch. The school day counted and wouldn’t have to be made up. I’d initially felt the residual excitement of the students at an unexpected surprise afternoon off. But the damn New Holland Buglers had stolen that excitement from me.