High School Hangover Read online

  “Bernie, do you have a cell phone?” I ask, frantic. I can’t believe I didn’t think to call her when I was in the pawn shop but I was so taken back by Dad not helping me that I couldn’t think of anything else at the time.

  “Who the heck am I gonna call?” Bernie responds.

  “Does anyone have a cell phone?” I shout.

  Everyone shakes their head no.

  “An iPad? A Kindle? A Nook?” I ask, getting increasingly desperate.

  The only responses I get are a bunch of vacant, wrinkly-eyed stares. Super, I’ve entered the technological Bermuda Triangle. Not to mention the fact that if one of these ailing octogenarians kicks the bucket, we have no way of contacting the outside world.

  Jack makes his way back to us. “What’s wrong, Laney?”

  “I forgot to call Erika. She probably called Mom already. Oh my God, there’s probably already an Amber Alert out for me by now,” I say, going into full-blown freak-out mode.

  “Relax,” he says, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Dot let me borrow her phone before I left the diner and I called my parents and Erika,” Jack tells me.

  “You did?” I ask, amazed. “Why?”

  “I knew she’d be worried about you.”

  “That was really nice of you, Jack. What’d she say?”

  “She thanked me for calling and said she would make sure she stayed on the down low for the next few days so she wouldn’t run into your mom.”

  “Did she tell you if Leo asked about me?” I can’t help but ask. Jack jerks his hand off my shoulder and his grin is replaced with an expression that reminds me of the time I stuck an entire handful of Lemonheads in my mouth.

  “No, Laney. She didn’t tell me if Leo asked about you or not,” he replies in a monotone then moves back to the front of the bus.

  “Thanks again,” I shout to his retreating figure, but he ignores me.

  “Boy, you really screwed the pooch,” Bernie pipes up.

  “What does that even mean?” I ask, but already have a vague idea that it means I messed up with Jack.

  “That nice boy called your friend to cover your butt and all you can do is ask about another boy,” Bernie clarifies, shaking his head.

  “It has nothing to do with me, he just doesn’t like Leo.”

  Jack’s been pretty cool about helping to get us home, so I’m going to try not to say anything about Leo for the rest of the trip. If only I could remember how I got into that truck or anything after being in the pool. It’s so frustrating. I rest my head against the seat back and close my eyes, determined to remember something.

  I remember swimming, by myself, apparently wearing nothing but my underwear, which has probably hit Facebook by now. I watched Leo follow Amelia inside, then a few seconds later I remember somebody yelling about a girl missing. What name was that again? I remember not really caring because I didn’t recognize the name, which I guess must have been the punch talking because it’s not like me to be so uncaring. It was a weird name. Like Gigi or something. No, Mimi, it was Mimi.

  “Jack,” I yell, bolting upright, “did they find that Mimi person last night?”

  “False alarm,” he answers, not looking back.

  Okay, so Mimi wasn’t really missing. That’s a relief and so is the fact that something came back to me. Maybe if I’m patient eventually I’ll remember everything. One thing is for certain, I will never touch an energy drink again.

  “Are you gonna get out or are we gonna sit here all night?” Bernie asks, urging me out of the seat with the end of his cane.

  I look out the window to see us parked in front of an all-you-can-eat buffet. “This is a joke, right?” I yell, but everyone is already piling off the bus. What is it with old people and buffets? We haven’t even been on the road for fifteen minutes.

  “Move it or lose it,” Bernie threatens, holding his cane like a spear above my left foot. I scoot grudgingly out and follow the others. This is going to be one long road trip.

  *****

  Two and a half hours later, we finally get everyone back on the bus. Thank goodness the seniors sprang for a deluxe bus that has its own bathroom or it would probably take two weeks to get back home.

  At Ginger’s request, we have switched up the seating a bit. As annoyed as Bernie seemed to be at me, he didn’t take too well at being split up, especially when Milly plopped down next to him. I snuck in next to Jack, hoping to get him to talk to me since he spent the whole time at the buffet, literally eating as much as he could, even though his barbeque couldn’t have been digested yet.

  Archie makes his way past us in the aisle, but not before letting out a giant fart. I’m appalled but Jack cracks up.

  “There’s more room outside than there is in, huh, J?” Archie jokes.

  I’m not sure if I am more amazed that after only a few hours the seniors feel comfortable enough around us to break wind or that Jack has already picked up a nickname.

  “This kind of gives new meaning to the words, ‘senior trip’, huh?” I joke.

  “I just hope I’m this much fun when I get old,” Jack says, getting comfortable by stretching his long legs out into the aisle.

  I think the word “fun” might be exaggerating things a bit but I nod, feeling sleepy. It might have something to do with the fact that I’ve consumed about five days’ worth of calories in the last four hours. I wasn’t hungry, but the buffet cashier wouldn’t let me in without paying. But then Bernie faked having a heart attack, so we all ate for free, anyway. I feel like I’ve been thrown into a reality show where the goal is to survive a road trip with a band of elderly jokesters. The show could be called “Rollin’ with the Geezers”, and the sponsors could be Depends and Metamucil.

  “What’s the next stop?” I ask Jack, yawning.

  “I don’t know. Ginger’s guarding that itinerary like it’s The Holy Grail,” Jack responds, catching my yawn.

  “Do you think it would be okay to take a little nap? Or should one of us stay awake just to be safe.” I hate to be paranoid but my own grandparents tend to lose their car in the mall parking lot.

  “Kris is a retired cop, so I think he’s pretty level-headed,” Jack assures me.

  “Who’s Kris?” I ask. I thought I had everyone’s name down.

  “The one you call Santa,” Jack chuckles.

  “Oh, right. His name is really Kris?” I giggle. Jack nods. “That’s classic.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I’ll take the first watch,” Jack offers, patting my bare knee. I jerk involuntarily, causing him to make a face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,” he assures me.

  “It’s not that, I’m really ticklish,” I lie. I would never admit to Jack in a million years that his touch made me feel like I was being electrocuted, but in a good way. “I’d like that,” I say, causing Jack to raise an eyebrow suspiciously. “I mean, I’d like it if you took the first watch,” I clarify, rather mortified.

  “Sure, no problem,” he says, a slight smile playing on his lips.

  I lean my head back and close my eyes trying not to wonder how close Jack’s fingers are to my bare legs. To get my mind off his fingers, I will myself to try and remember some things from last night.

  *****

  “Wake up, lovebirds,” a gravelly voice says.

  My eyes pop open and I realize that the bus has stopped. The sun is still blazing in the windows telling me it isn’t even close to dusk, so we couldn’t have gone that far. I’m never getting home. I might as well send Mom a postcard from the next truck stop we pass and tell her it’s been nice knowing her but I’ve been abducted by a posse of mentally unstable senior citizens.

  “Mmmmm…” I hear someone groan before I realize my head is resting on Jack’s chest and his arms are wrapped securely around me.

  “Smile,” Kris teases, then snaps a picture of us. The flash nearly blinds me and I panic hoping it didn’t wake Jack.

  “Cut it out,” I warn him softly, trying to untangle myself fro
m Jack’s arms before he realizes we were snuggling in our sleep. Kris laughs and hobbles off the bus following the others to the hotel lobby.

  So much for Jack taking the first watch. I manage to free myself of one arm without waking him. I hold my breath and gently raise Jack’s other arm off me and scoot past him into the aisle then lower it gently back down onto his chest. I stand in the aisle watching him sleep for a second. Then, realizing what I’m doing and terrified he’ll wake up and bust me, I hightail it down the aisle.

  When I get a good distance from our seat, I yell out, “Jack, we’re here,” then I bound off the bus and follow everyone else into the lobby of the hotel. The seniors are all giggling like a bunch of preschoolers when I walk in.

  “What? We fell asleep on each other. Big deal. Don’t make an issue out of it,” I warn them.

  These seniors are worse than a bunch of tweens. I hear the hotel door opening and Jack yawning. I don’t dare turn around. I’m afraid it will be written all over my face how good it felt to wake up on his chest. I wouldn’t be feeling any of this if it wasn’t for that stupid magical kiss he just had to give me. I can’t do this, I have to focus. The most important thing is that I get home as quick as possible so I can explain what happened to Leo. I’m sure Leo’s kisses are even more magical than Jack’s.

  “What are we doing at a hotel, anyway?” I ask, realizing that we are never going to get home if we keep stopping every few hours.

  “Following the itinerary,” Ginger informs me.

  “But we couldn’t have driven that far. It’s still light out,” I point out. “We could probably get to Kentucky tonight.”

  “Sweetie, I thought you didn’t have to be back until Monday,” Ginger says, concern lacing her voice.

  “Well, technically…” I start.

  “Monday is fine, Ginger,” Jack interrupts, sauntering up yawning. “We don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

  “Are you sure because we could probably skip some of this stuff?” she says, gazing longingly at the clipboard in her hand.

  “Seriously. It’s fine,” Jack assures them, steering me out under the hotel canopy.

  “I borrowed some money and I’m going to have Kris drive you to the bus station,” Jack tells me, pushing a wad of cash into my hand.

  “But what about you?”

  “I’m not in a big hurry to get home, so I’ll just ride with them.”

  “You want me to leave?” I ask, hating how disappointed I sound.

  “It’s not that. I just don’t want to rush their trip.”

  I’ve been such a brat. I whined the entire time at the buffet, most of the drive, and I just tried to make a group of senior citizens feel guilty about stopping for the night. If this was a reality show, I’d definitely be the first one voted off the bus.

  “I want to stay,” I hear myself saying. I shove the money back into Jack’s hand. Our fingers intertwine for a moment and it makes me wish those moving guys would round the corner so Jack would kiss me again.

  “Good.” He tucks the money in his pocket, runs his hands through his hair, and lets out a small sigh. “After you,” he says, holding the door.

  I refuse to let myself read anything into Jack’s relieved sigh, but I do resolve to lighten up and stop being such a buzz kill.

  We stroll into the lobby and I stop at a giant map hanging on the wall.

  A big red star on the map says that we are in Hot Springs, Arkansas. Wow, Jack and I must have been asleep for a few hours after all. I feel a tiny bit relieved knowing we are at least one state closer to home. The map has several different routes traced to other cities with the distance noted. Memphis is only three hours from here. It instantly makes me miss Dad, which is silly considering he isn’t even home.

  “We need three rooms,” Ginger tells the bored looking guy at the hotel checkin desk.

  “Why three?” Trudy asks. “We usually get one for the gals and one for the fellas.”

  “Jack and Laney need their own room,” Ginger blurts out.

  I’m not sure who moves faster, me or Jack. But we both manage to spit out that we don’t want to share a room. Awkward.

  “Oh, quit being such prudes. We’re down with the pre-marital sex thing,” Milly says, rolling her eyes.

  “We aren’t having sex of any kind,” I practically scream, scaring the clerk.

  “So that means he’s fair game?” Milly asks, devilishly. I want to slap the rhinestones off her, but that would make me look jealous, which I kind of am, even though I wouldn’t admit it.

  “Okay, so we’re going to need two rooms at the senior rate,” Ginger tells the clerk.

  “Since it isn’t all senior citizens staying in the room, I’ll have to charge you the regular rate,” the clerk declares stiffly.

  Trudy steps forward and puts on her best cookie-baking grandma smile. “Isn’t there something you can do, young man?”

  “Company policy. You can talk to the manager if you want,” he offers.

  “Yes, why don’t I do that,” Trudy says wickedly. I don’t know what she has up her sleeve but I have a feeling this manager might be begging her to take the discount by the time it’s over.

  The clerk disappears to a back office and returns with a bald middle-aged man wearing khakis and a polo shirt adorned with the hotel logo. He doesn’t look like the type to back down to little old ladies so this might turn into quite the showdown.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re going to have to charge you the full reservation rate,” he begins before Trudy even gets a word out.

  “Why are you staring at my boobs? My face is up here,” Trudy exclaims.

  Jack, the hotel employees, and I jump back like we’ve been electrocuted while the seniors don’t skip a beat. No. She. Didn’t. These geriatric devils are so bad.

  “Ma’am, I assure you, I’m not,” the manager insists, but even as he says it his eyes automatically drift and his face gets splotchy.

  “See, you’re doing it again,” Trudy tricks him.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself,” Ginger cries, appalled.

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Mister,” Kris booms.

  The rest of us are too busy trying not to laugh at Trudy’s scheme to say a word.

  “I don’t think I want to stay here after all. They’re nothing but a bunch of perverts,” Trudy yells, attracting the attention of some people browsing travel brochures in the lobby.

  “I’m so terribly sorry for the misunderstanding,” the hotel manager says, throwing hotel card keys in Trudy’s direction so that he doesn’t have to touch her and risk being called a pervert again. “Please accept these complimentary rooms as our sincere apology.”

  We pile out of the lobby and head toward our rooms.

  “That was so wrong,” I tell Trudy as she unlocks the door to our free hotel room.

  “Oh, quit being such a Girl Scout. I tried to get him to do the right thing,” she counters.

  “The world thinks they can push old people around. Not our gang,” Ginger adds.

  “I could’ve got a free breakfast buffet thrown in,” Milly boasts, ignoring the eye rolls she gets.

  Jack shrugs his shoulders at me, amused. I would never admit it to the gang but the whole thing was kind of funny. I guess when you get to their age, you don’t worry about following the rules anymore. That kind of freedom would be nice. Sometimes I get tired of always doing the right thing.

  The hotel is nothing special but at least it looks clean. Ginger fiddles with the card key, not understanding that she has to wait until the little light turns green to open the hotel room door. She keeps slamming up against the door saying the key doesn’t work. The guys piled in their room nearly five minutes ago minus the drama.

  “For the love of everything holy, Ginger,” Trudy exclaims. “I’ve got to drop some kids off at the pool.” So much for the room smelling clean for very long.

  I gently take the card key from Ginger and slide it in the slot. The light
turns green and I open the door. Trudy nearly bulldozes over me yelling something about the buffet tearing her up.

  Ginger requested adjoining rooms, so apparently there will be no escaping Archie’s flatulence or Kris’s incessant humming of Lady Gaga tunes tonight.

  There are two queen size beds, one of those old TV’s that have the huge box on the back of them, and a mini refrigerator. Not exactly the Ritz, but I guess it’s better than spending the night in the back of a moving van again.

  “Dibs on this one,” Milly shouts, throwing herself on the bed closest to the window. “And I’m sleeping with Trudy.”

  “We’ll figure out the sleeping arrangements when Trudy gets done in the restroom,” Ginger states politely.

  “No, Miss Piss Pants, we won’t. I’m not sleeping with you,” Milly says snottily.

  Ginger’s face turns practically crimson as Milly’s words seep into my brain. Ginger must have incontinence problems. I can’t believe that Milly would be so cruel as to out her for such a personal issue. Milly is nothing more than a geriatric mean girl. My stress level and lack of good sleep cause my temper to flare.

  “I want to sleep with Ginger,” I lie. “I’d rather take my chances getting peed on than catching a venereal disease from you,” I blurt out, giving it right back to her. I can’t believe I’m disrespecting an elder like this, but Milly really deserves it.

  “Touché’, Mary Poppins,” Milly says, acting wounded.

  “Girls, please,” Ginger says. “I can sleep on the floor.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I was only teasing,” Milly says, having the good sense to look ashamed.

  “I really don’t mind sleeping with you, Ginger,” I stress, wondering if Ginger has spent her entire life looking out for everyone but herself.

  “Do not go in there,” Trudy warns, pulling the bathroom door closed, which succeeds in breaking the tension.

  I giggle despite being totally grossed out. Who knew that old ladies had about as much class as the guys I went to high school with.

  Milly flings open the adjoining room door and starts pounding on the one going into the guy’s room. After a few seconds, Dom walks through our door wearing only a pair of swim trunks. Even though my brain knows he isn’t actually wearing a shirt, my eyes are a bit confused. His chest is covered with so much salt-and-pepper hair that he almost appears to be wearing a sweater. A gold chain hangs around his thick neck and a gold charm that looks like a horn twists dangerously in a clump of chest hair. His oxygen tube dangles from his nose intertwined with some seriously long nose hairs. My undigested buffet food threatens to make a reappearance.