RE: Trailer Trash 46 pt 1

/// Guess who can't sleep at all and REALLY wants to get these sections finished before November! :D

   “Wait a minute,” Elena narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “We can’t be having your party here, right?”

   “We are, actually!” Tabitha laughed. “What, bad choice?”

   The building was a large, rather nondescript single-story edifice with a big parking lot, with a Florence Fundome sign the only indication that it might be anything other than an office building of some kind.

   “A… roller-skating rink?” Alicia blinked. “I mean, not a bad choice, but—Tabitha can you even skate? I mean with you recovering from surgery and all that?”

   “Nope!” Tabitha answered with a bright voice. “I both can’t skate and can’t skate. I don’t know how to yet, and also, I’m prohibited from physical activities until I get a doctor’s all-clear.”

   “Then, why…?” Elena made a face.

   “That’s what I said!” Mrs. Macintire shook her head in dismay. “Karen and I were pushing for the bowling alley instead, but—well, this is what Tabitha wanted.”

   “Roller-skating sounds more fun for everybody!” Tabitha explained. “I want everyone to have fun, even if I can’t, just yet. I can watch and still have a good time. Bowling sounded a bit too dull for Hannah or my cousins, and… yeah. My choice. Since it’s December, that rules out almost all of the good outside party ideas, and since I can’t do anything active anyways, there isn’t much left that’s good for a party.”

   “Can you girls skate?” Mrs. Macintire turned her bemused smile to the pair sitting in the back.

   “Yeah, I mean, I think so,” Alicia confirmed. “Never roller-skated, but I’ve been ice-skating with my mom before, at least? Basically the same.”

   “I have roller blades at home,” Elena nodded as well. “I can skate.”

   “Then, when we come back here sometime this spring, both of you can teach me,” Tabitha said, unbuckling her seatbelt. “In the meantime, it won’t even just be skating—Mrs. Williams said there’s another little arcade, there’ll be pizza, there’s a DJ, apparently. It’ll be cool?”

   “It’s one of the places Karen has marked in her little book for our church’s youth group and all the trips they go on,” Mrs. Macintire said. “She always picks out good stuff.”

   The girls disembarked, stepping out into the parking lot and stretching again in the mid-afternoon sunlight. Olivia’s mother—Mrs. Moreno—drove a Toyota Corolla that was just pulling into the lot. From a quick glance through the windows, Olivia and Clarissa seemed to be talking and socializing with one another at the very least, though Ashlee appeared to glower in silence. The third car wasn’t in sight yet, but with Officer Williams and the two teenage boys all heckling each other and laughing like idiots before even leaving the theater, Mrs. Williams had dubbed her Taurus the clown car—who knows what detour had delayed them.

   Before leaving the Acura behind Mrs. Macintire popped open the trunk and Tabitha watched in bemused embarrassment as Sandra, Elena, and Alicia each grabbed a different box wrapped up in gift paper. Alicia cradled hers against her chest as if its contents were fragile, Elena casually propped up the present she carried against one hip as she walked as if it definitely wasn’t fragile, and the one Mrs. Macintire carried was slimmer but appeared to be heavier than the other two. Tabitha very honestly had no idea what to expect or what anyone would give her.

   I mean. I asked my parents for A BUCKET for my birthday. Just so I could have one for composting. I don’t think I’ve ever really had much in the way of expectations, there. Part of it just goes in hand with having a birthday so close to Christmas, part of it’s just growing up poor.

   The trunk door was slammed shut, and the girls began to meander towards the Fundome entrance.

   “But, still,” Elena couldn’t help but criticize. “You should’ve picked some place where you’re not—I dunno, what are you even going to do? Sit off to the side and watch everyone else skate? For your birthday?”

   “Tthpphphhh!” Tabitha blew a raspberry at her friend. “It’s my birthday, I can pick whatever I want.”

   “It’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to—cry if I want to—!” Alicia sang out.

   “Very funny,” Tabitha sniffed and put on her most imperious voice. “I get to sit and be comfortable with cake and pizza and presents, while I watch all of you plebians roll around for my amusement. Crashing into each other and falling down and whatnot, I imagine.”

   “Oh, it’s that kind of party, is it?” Mrs. Macintire teased. “C’mon, let’s head in.”

*     *     *

   The inside of the Florence Fundome, in Tabitha’s opinion, looked like a bowling alley which had all of its lanes removed and simply replaced with an enormous flat expanse of polished hardwood flooring. It was a little bit of a letdown right after visiting the more grandiose Sandboro Theaters complex, but there was also a certain simplicity to the Fundome that gave it plenty of charm. Several dozen skaters were whirling giant loops around the rink, the aroma of fresh pizza hung in the air, and No Doubt could be heard blasting from speakers—Tabitha recognized Gwen Stefani’s voice and the jaunty ska meets punk rock melody, but couldn’t quite recall which song this was.

   “It’s pretty nice!” Tabitha remarked. “I like it.”

   “Golly, yeah,” Alicia grinned. “It’s just the keenest!”

   “Would you stop that already,” Elena rolled her eyes. “It made me gag already in the movie, let’s not just keep revisiting it.”

   “We’ve got a reservation,” Mrs. Macintire said. “They’ll give us a whole little section of booths to ourselves, and you’re all covered for your skates—we’re under the name TEAM TABBY, you should be able to just go up and tell them what size you need. I’m gonna get us some pizzas ordered and in the oven, I am absolutely famished.”

   “Team Tabby?” Tabitha laughed. “I think I see—yep, we’re right over there.”

   A quartet of booths taking up an entire corner of the dining area was roped off with caution tape, but a paper printout taped to one of the dangling lines read TEAM TABBY, and featured a rudimentary cartoon cat likely summoned from the clip art collection of some archaic version of Microsoft Word. Wow, just—wow. That whole printout brings me back. I haven’t even seen anyone using comic sans in years and years, and the last time I DID see anyone using that font, it was only in memes specifically making fun of comic sans!

   They ducked beneath the caution tape and claimed a table, setting down the presents just as Olivia, Clarissa, and Ashlee trooped in.

   “Heeeyyy,” Olivia said, clutching at her stomach. “Gawd, I’m starving.”

   “She’s ordering already,” Tabitha said with an apologetic wince.

   “It’s cool!” Olivia flashed a smile. “I’m totally exaggerating.”

   It was hard for Tabitha not to feel relieved—Olivia possessed pretty but unforgiving features, and until the girl actively put on a smile, she looked like an exceptionally pissed off Aubrey Plaza. Without knowing the teen better, her first assumption would have always been that Olivia was upset or angry, and the gap between the impression from her appearance and how nice she actually seemed to be was still something Tabitha struggled with.

   By comparison, Clarissa looked somehow… dull. Not dull as in appearing bored or dull as in less interesting, exactly. Rather, she gave off the impression of someone who had been a sharp, lively and vivacious personality, and in the time since then dulled or blunted herself. It was as if someone had taken Clarissa’s Clarissa dial and then turned it down by twenty or thirty percent.

   It’s probably weirder that Elena went through similar circumstances and just immediately hard-pivoted her life in another direction, Tabitha blinked as the girls added presents to the pile. What’s going on with Clarissa seems like a more normal sort of teen struggle. At the very least, I relate to what Clarissa’s going through a lot more. I’ve definitely been there. Not only have I been there—I friggin’ STAYED THERE, for most of a lifetime.

   Tabitha didn’t know what to make of Ashlee at all. Ashlee stared out across the roller rink in silence. Probably wondering why she’s here.

   Unlike the clean slate Tabitha had enjoyed with her other teen friends, with Ashlee there was a definite chasm between them that needed to be carefully addressed before she could even begin making overtures to bridge a new friendship across. To Ashlee, Tabitha wasn’t simply a stranger or a girl she didn’t know well, Tabitha was a usurper, an imposter, a foreign existence with a personality and appearance that were completely alien to her, implausibly masquerading in the identity of someone she’d known well.

   It’s almost funny. Elena just doesn’t believe I’m from the future—Ashlee doesn’t even believe I’m TABITHA MOORE. Again, I don’t know that I can even say that it’s strange she doesn’t believe it. It might be more bizarre that everyone else does.

   The Williams arrived with Michael and Bobby, right when two large pizzas were served up at their section of tables. Both pizzas disappeared almost instantly—before the Macarena had even reached its second chorus on the Fundome’s sound system, everyone was staring at empty serving platters in disbelief.

   “Well,” Mrs. Macintire cleared her throat in embarrassment. “Okay, I underestimated hungry teenagers? Hannah can barely eat two slices before she’s stuffed!”

   “Rookie mistake,” Officer Williams laughed. “Matthew’s not even here yet, and he can just about polish off a large pizza by himself!”

   “Sandy—Hannah is seven,” Mrs. Williams shook her head in amusement. “I’ll go put an order in for four more, to get us started.”

   “Won’t that be too much?” Mrs. Macintire still managed to look skeptical. “That seems like a lot.”

   “Not even close,” Mrs. Williams snorted. “Once everyone’s here, it’ll be five adults, five children, and ten teenagers. Ten teenagers, Sandy. Even if they had a big buffet here, we’d still clean them out!”

   “Well,” Mrs. Macintire put her hands on her hips. “Shit.”

   “Ma’am—I, for one, greatly appreciate your foresight and generosity,” Bobby put his thumb and forefinger together in the universal ‘okay’ gesture. “Haven’t eaten in like, three days, practically, and—”

   “—Bobby you just had a whole thing of popcorn—” Clarissa called him out.

   “—thanks to you, now I’ll have the strength to be able to skate—”

   “—like, an hour ago.”

   “Bobby you’re so full of bullshit—”

   “Olivia, you didn’t even eat the crusts from yours!”

   “Alright, alright guys—ease up on the swearing. Goes for you too, Sandy.”

   “Thank you for the pizza anyways, Mrs. Macintire. Your timing was great!”

   “No, you see… popcorn doesn’t count as food, technically.”

   “Yeah, we do really appreciate it. Thank you.”

   “Thank Mrs. Macintire, you heathens.”

   “Oh—Michael always eats my pizza crusts.”

   “Thank you Mrs. Macintire!”

   “Yeah, thank you.”

   “Gross Olivia, don’t share food.”

   “Thank you Missus Macintire!”

   “Yeah, I thought you guys weren’t dating anymore? Right?”

   “Crusts don’t count as food! It’s like the rind part on a watermelon.”

   “Wait, Macintire? I thought she was Tabitha’s mom.”

   “I’m with Olivia, crust is just bready carbs. It doesn’t even count. Same as popcorn.”

   “Shut up, Bobby, don’t agree with me—now everyone’ll think my argument is dumb!”

   “Sshh, don’t be weird, damn. She’s just staying with the Macintires right now.”

   “—What’s that supposed to mean?! I’ll have you know I have great arguments—”

   “Shut up, Bobby.”

   “—I’m a master debater—”

   “Gross. Shut up, Bobby.”

   “Alright, alright—clear out, you lot,” Officer Williams shooed them all away from the tables. “Go skate, ya bunch of locusts. We’ll have more pizza out for you in a bit.”

   “Sir?” Bobby asked, giving the officer a quick jerk of his head as if to indicate something.

   “Yeah, I know—I think we’re probably good right this second. Olivia and her mother’re here and they can uh, watch the tables for us, for now. Go get your skates, that’s all paid for already.”

   “Yessir.”

   Tabitha found herself to be blushing furiously—being part of a group of friends when everyone was having fun and talking over each other was exhilarating. She’d barely got in a word or two, but at the same time she didn’t feel left out at all. With the exception of Tabitha and Olivia, all of the other teens dispersed, with the teenage girls heading right out to the rink and the two boys walking over to the counter to pick up rental skates.

   “Are you not skating?” Tabitha asked Olivia.

   “I can’t, really,” Olivia smirked. “Twisted my one ankle real bad in eighth grade, now it resprains itself like, every three months. I’ll do a lap or two around the thing with Michael later, just so I can say I did. Besides, you’re the birthday girl, can’t just have everyone run off, right?”

   “Oh,” Tabitha said. “Thank you. And, sorry to hear about your ankle.”

   “Can you not skate ‘cause of your cast?” Olivia gestured towards Tabitha’s hand. “My ankle’s not even that bad right now, just—you know, don’t wanna tempt fate and be stuck with the dumb brace again for weeks.”

   “For me it’s the skull fracture and blood clot in brain thing,” Tabitha gave a small shrug. “From Halloween. Doctor’s orders: no physical activity for six weeks. I’ve got two to go on that, still.”

   “No shit?” Olivia’s eyebrows went up. “Like, I was there and saw it, but I thought you just got knocked out cold and that was it. No one really knew how bad it was, at school it’s all either kept hush hush, or it’s all these wild stories from people who weren’t even there. You know, on top of all the old wild stories ‘bout you.”

   “Ahh. Yeah,” Tabitha winced. “All the rumors. Ugh.”

   “Does it bother you?” Olivia asked.

   “The recovery?” Tabitha let out a wistful sigh. “Or, the rumors?”

   “The rumors, I guess,” Olivia said. “I first heard about you like, in the first couple weeks of school. New girl in town; she’s rich. Or poor. She’s a lesbo. She’s secretly dating so-and-so. Interested in so-and-so. She got plastic surgery. Liposuction—”

   “I’m actually,” Tabitha had to stop a moment to laugh. “I’m actually not new in town, though? I grew up here. I went to Laurel Middle with Elena!”

   “Eh, you know what I mean,” Olivia laughed. “Everyone who didn’t go to Springton Middle might as well be from outer space, and all that. God, that’s all so stupid—all the forced rivalry and shit. That stupid billboard they put up by the one little league field. Springton Bulldogs versus the Laurel Lions! As if podunk town middle school athletics really matters to anyone.”

   “I haven’t seen that one,” Tabitha chuckled. “But, I have heard about it? I think they have the high school art club paint that up, and then there’s another wall mural thing they do every year over at one of the elementaries. Alicia, Casey, and Matthew—they’re all in art club together.”

   “Right, right,” Olivia nodded. “I’m goin’ for student gov myself, but next year. It’ll be cool. Are you coming back to Springton High?”

   “I am!” Tabitha answered. “I really want to, I’m excited to go back and, well. Try again. Since I somehow made such a mess of it the first time.”

   “Ho boy,” Olivia rolled her eyes. “Well, it’ll give everyone somethin’ to talk about, that’s for sure.”

   “I just never understood it,” Tabitha shook her head. “Why me?”

   “Trust me, it’s always someone, and it’s always stupid nonsense,” Olivia said. “Every year it’s like this. Ma said it’s always been like this, like the whole way back to her time. Right, Ma? Ma.”

   “Hm?”

   Mrs. Moreno had been so quiet this whole time that Tabitha hadn’t even registered her presence—the dark haired woman was sitting alone in one of the booths just outside their Team Tabby area, with a novel. Olivia’s mother looked up at her daughter’s voice and turned towards them, the book in her hands now visible as a steamy romance, complete with a long-haired scoundrel with oiled up muscles clutching a woman in his arms upon the cover.

   Hah! Nice. Just readin’ a bodice ripper out in public—I like her already.

   “Mom, wasn’t the high school rumor mill all crazy back in your days, too?”

   “In ‘79?” Mrs. Moreno laughed. “Springton High? It was downright Biblical, always has been. We had a suicide my senior year, and there must have been at least three or four real bad accidents—drunk driving, of course. Girls were getting pregnant, but just swearing up and down they were virgins. History teacher got caught shacking up with a student, he got fired. Shelby Fisher, the student from that? Married him at seventeen, now she teaches history at Springton High. Hah!

   “That’s not even the half of it. Bunch of seniors beat the gay kid near to death, and all these parents were swearing up and down the gay kid needs kicked out, he was gonna give everyone AIDS—but, the gay kid’s mom was some well-connected IRS tax lawyer, so surprise! All the local businesses got audited. Total bloodbath. Ask your parents sometime why the Main Street Diner disappeared, they’ll tell you.”

   “Springton secrets!” Olivia’s eyes twinkled.

   “Oh my,” Tabitha was stunned. “I had no idea.”

   “Tabitha here got the brunt of it this year,” Olivia explained to her mother. “Showed up shy and pretty and—yeah, I guess that’s all it took?”

   “It was mostly some private issues,” Tabitha winced. “Between me and one of the sophomore girls.”

   “Oh, honey,” Mrs. Moreno shook her head. “No such thing as private issues in a small town like this. Everybody knows everybody, everyone hates each other’s guts, and sometimes? This stuff can go back generations. Grudges over the pettiest, most unbelievable nonsense just sorta sticks around forever. But, heck—I shouldn’t have to tell you that, if you’re seein’ it all first hand.”

   “Hah, I um,” Tabitha swallowed. “I kind of just stumbled into it all blind? My parents, they’re local, but… there’s all sorts of issues between them and I as well. Would you happen to recognize the name Shannon Delain?”

   “Shannon Delain?” Mrs. Moreno’s mouth fell open and she dropped the book she’d been holding up with a thumb flat on the table. “Jesus Christ. I thought there was something familiar about you—you’re just about the spitting image of her! ‘Tabitha got the brunt of it this year,’ hah, yeah no kidding!”

   “Was she that bad?!” Tabitha squeaked out.

   “Was who bad?” Mrs. Williams asked as she returned to the tables. “Pizza’s ordered! Ten minutes or so, the guy said. Where’d my husband run off to?”

   “This is Shannon Delain’s kid?” Mrs. Moreno turned a curious smile towards Mrs. Williams. “I had no idea!”

   “Oh, you stop that,” Mrs. Williams swatted the woman’s shoulder. “All of that was forever ago, and I don’t think a word of it was true. And anyways, Tabitha’s nothing like her mother!”

   “Did you—” Tabitha felt floored. “Mrs. Williams, did you go to school with my mother?!”

   “Of course not, I grew up in West Point,” Karen Williams shook her head in amusement. “West Point Kentucky, not the big New York West Point. I do hear all the Springton gossip, though—and none of that malarkey about your mother’s fit to be repeated to you. It’s all nonsense, anyways. Your mother was very pretty and popular, lots of girls were jealous of her, and your mother wasn’t shy about burning bridges. End of story!”

   “I… yes, I did gather that, somewhat,” Tabitha said. “My mother doesn’t like to talk about any of it, though.”

   “Then, let’s just leave it at that,” Mrs. Williams gave Mrs. Moreno a warning glance.

   “No, no, I didn’t have any problems with her,” Mrs. Moreno held up her hands. “Shannon’s brother was in my grade, but Shannon herself was two years younger than us. Olivia was just talking about how crazy high school nonsense is these days. I guess nothing much has changed, hah!”

   “My mother has a brother?” Tabitha asked, eyes going wide. “I… I had no idea. My whole life that side of my family has just been, well. Absent? I’ve never met or even heard about any of the Delains.”

   “Good Lord,” Mrs. Moreno said. “Did—”

   “Shh shh shh,” Mrs. Williams cut her off. “None of our business, and some of that’s sensitive! Tabitha, it’s something you can bring up with your parents if you want, when we have dinner with them. Okay hon?”

   “Okay, of course,” Tabitha said, exchanging glances with Olivia.

   “Right! Staying out of it,” Mrs. Moreno said. “Happy birthday, Tabitha. You do look just like your mother—and I really do mean it when I say your mother was absolutely beautiful.”

   The two older women then settled in for their own conversation at the more distant table, leaving Tabitha and Olivia to stare at each other in surprise for a moment.

   “Wow,” Olivia finally said. “I guess all the bullshit flying around about you makes more sense, now?”

   “No,” Tabitha shook her head with a smile. “I doubt it. From what I can tell, none of the people that had beef with my mother even knew she was still in Springton. She’s been… very low profile. Never leaves the house, really.”

   “Huh. Well, anyways—back to what we were talking about earlier,” Olivia grinned. “You’re coming back to Springton High, so. What do you think about student government?”

   “I can’t,” Tabitha said with a sheepish smile. “I really can’t. My mother wants me in theater, my friends want me in art club. I might do both. I might do both and some literature programs, and, look into track, actually. I want to try so many things.”

   “Ugh, art club,” Olivia made a face. “I don’t really picture you as a drama club kid, either, honestly. Literature as in like, poetry? I know there’s a poetry club thing. Did you know Elena’s going for cheerleading?”

   “She is?” Tabitha blinked. “Really?”

   “Yep,” Olivia nodded. “For the spring tryouts. I think it’s twenty pushups without stopping and running a ten minute mile, or something like that.”

   “I’m just… surprised,” Tabitha admitted. “I thought she was trying to steer clear of all that kind of culture, now.”

   “Oh, I think she’s out to prove some kind of point,” Olivia said. “There’s already some fuss about that. One goth cheerleader, in the sea of blonde. Since Springton Cheer is this stupid monolith of sorority solidarity or whatever they think they are. If she makes the team, then… well, that’ll be the new thing that everybody doesn’t shut up about.”

   “Then—” Tabitha paused. “Then, I can drop track and theater and everything but art club, and sign up with her. I can meet whatever physical requirements they have by Spring for sure.”

   “Are you into cheerleading at all?”

   “Not even a little bit!” Tabitha laughed, looking up Alicia and Elena began to approach. “But. My friends, they’ve done everything for me, and it always feels like I don’t do anything at all for them. I want to. To be there with them, support them however I can.”

   “Tabs!” Alicia called out, carefully clomping her way back across the carpet to them from the rink. “You were right, Elena’s dumb. This is an awesome birthday party thing.”

   “Did you just call me dumb?!” Elena strode past Alicia with casual confidence. “You, who doesn’t even know you can just walk normally, on the toe stops? Like this.”

   “The toe brake things? I…” Alicia trailed off as she carefully maneuvered her weight onto the rubber nubs protruding from the front of her roller skates. “Wow, I am dumb. I halfway thought these were for like, protecting the skates, or making them last longer or something. I tried braking with one and ‘bout fell on my face.”

   “Clarissa fell once already,” Elena turned to report to Tabitha. “Don’t know if you were watching. She’s okay, we got her back up. Ashlee doesn’t skate with us, she just goes around alone.”

   “Mrs. Macintire can skate backwards,” Alicia revealed. “And she’s like, fast. Who knew?”

   “Where are the chuckleheads?” Olivia asked, peering out across the mass of people out on the rink.

   “Bobby’s out there already, Michael’s still messing around with his skates over at the benches, I think,” Elena pointed.

   “Probably doing his stupid relacing thing,” Olivia sighed, rising up out of her seat. “I’ll go see.”

   “Are you okay here?” Elena asked, taking Olivia’s spot while Alicia staggered around the bench to take the other side. “Tabitha, this is fun, but it’s absolutely not a good birthday thing. Not with everyone out there, and you sitting here.”

   “Elena,” Tabitha said in a calm voice, quirking her lip. “Olivia just told me you were signing up for cheerleading?”

   “That rotten bitch,” Elena swore.

   “What?!” Alicia exclaimed. “Are you going back to blonde?”

   “No, and I wish everyone would quit asking that,” Elena huffed. “If I want to do cheerleading, I’ll do cheerleading. The cliques and subcultures have nothing to do with it.”

   “Don’t they?” Alicia wondered out loud. “I mean, they kinda do?”

   “You don’t have to be cheery to cheer,” Elena sniffed, crossing her arms. “That’s so dumb.”

   “I actually thought you did,” Alicia shrugged. “Annnd I think both the coach and all the girls already in cheer might agree with me?”

   “Well,” Tabitha took a moment to collect her thoughts. “Alicia, I’m joining the art club for sure when I come back to Springton High. So—”

   “Yessss!”

   “—So, Alicia, how do you feel about signing up for varsity cheer with us?”

   “Wait, what?” Alicia froze.

   “Tabitha… you don’t have to do that,” Elena said slowly. “Neither of you do. I know you’re not really interested in varsity cheer, because I asked you way back when. Remember?”

   “I’m not interested in cheerleading,” Tabitha said. “I’m very interested in doing things together with my best friends, no matter what form that takes. For that, I’ll be the one art club chick who can’t draw, or the one misfit cheerleader who sucks at cheerleading. I don’t care. Last lifetime I just didn’t try to do much of anything at all, and I really do regret it.”

   “It’s not just drawing,” Alicia put on a mock-affronted look. “You could pose for us and be our model, or you could get a sewing machine in there and do that redesigning dresses-into-blouses fashion stuff you’re into. Duh—fashion is art?”

   “She’s… got a really good point,” Elena nodded. “We could do that and do extremely well with it. And also—Tabitha you wouldn’t suck at cheerleading. Carrie’s going to suck at cheerleading, there’s almost no chance she can pass the physical requirements. I can. You can, for sure. Alicia… maybe can.”

   “I, uh…” Alicia blanched. “I’m gonna be honest with you, I do not want to be in cheerleading or parade around in front of a big crowd, ever. Sorry, guys. I love you both, buuut…”

   “That’s okay, too,” Tabitha reassured her. “I just wanted to ask. If we do pass tryouts and make it, will you come watch us perform?”

   “Hell yeah?” Alicia agreed. “I can definitely do that. In fact, once—”

   “We’re back!” Olivia announced in a sing-song voice, helping steady Michael as he clomped along beside her in roller skates.

   “You know, you can walk normally,” Alicia pointed out with a smug look. “You’re supposed to use the toe brakes, you just use those to walk like you normally would.”

   “Toe stops,” Elena corrected, rolling her eyes dramatically at her friend.

   “Hah!” Olivia’s face lit up and she tugged at Michael’s arm. “...You know what I think they mean?”

   “What?”

   “Toe pick!” Olivia taunted, leaning in to give Michael a little kiss on the cheek. “Toe pick! Toe pick!”

   “Oh God no don’t start that again,” Michael groaned in horror. “Please. No.”

   “Toe pick!”

   “Um…?” Tabitha was completely lost.

   “From that movie with the figure skater lady teaching the hockey player how to skate,” Alicia smirked. “I guess hockey skates don’t have toe picks?”

   “Toe pick!” Olivia said one last time with glee, giving Michael another small peck. “Alright. Go have fun, get out of here. Don’t want Ma to see me kissing you, if you’re not my boyfriend!”

   The girls all turned to see Mrs. Moreno give Michael a flirtatious teasing wave with wiggling fingers.

   “Guys,” Alicia deadpanned. “I think she knows.”

( 45, Let's all go to the movies. | RE: Trailer Trash | Next: 46 pt 2 )