Chapter Text
Chapter One: One on One
October 5th, 2001-October 7th, 2001
Song: “Livin’ for the Weekend” by Wayne Brady
Everybody’s running and the world - it gets so crazy!
People work so hard, there’s no time to be lazy!
The weekend comes, I’m down with that, grab your ball, grab your bat
Head to the beach, grab some rays, better hurry up, just got two days!
Playing games, hanging out
Roller coaster, there’s no doubt! Go to the mall, lot of fun,
Pizza run!
It’s time for all of us to crank it on out!
Hanging’s what the weekend’s all about!
Shout!
Best buds, hanging strong! Best friends can do no wrong!
Just two days, we need more! Video games, I’ll beat your score!
Watch cartoons on TV! Drink that frosty Chug-A-Freeze!
That’s what we like to do, come on, y’all, I’m talking to you!
I’m livin’ for the weekend! I’m livin’ for the weekend!
Hey!
FRIDAY
TINO’S POV:
Ha hey! Tino here! Welcome to another awesome weekend in our lives! Who’s this “our” I’m speaking of? What, don’t you remember? Maybe it’s been a while… Well, I’m Tino Tonitini, as previously mentioned! As you can see by my broad shoulders and statuesque physique, I’m the leader of this joint… Nah, I’m just messin’. But I am your guide to life in Bahia Bay right now!
See the boy next to me, with the crazy hair and crazier love for shoes? That’s my number one guy, Carver Descartes! He can be a BIT in love with himself…
‘Dang it, the sauce fell on my shoes! I’m gonna have to buy a new pair today.’
…Okay, a LOT in love with himself, but he’s cool, honest! Plus, he’s always got your back, at least, by the end!
Over there is our resident jock and meathead extraordinaire, Lor MacQuarrie! She’s not the SHARPEST cheese grater in the pizza place, but she’s all heart!
‘Hey, guys, watch me make Tino’s soda disappear!’.
…Charming. And, rounding off our little group, it’s… Tish Katsufrakis! Our lovable brainiac who’s part time control freak, part time tortured artist, and all time weirdo. But in a good way!
‘Carver, will thoust passeth the bread sticks post haste towards my person, so I may make it then exit, stage left, into the depth of my domain?’.
‘...What?’.
‘Sigh. I want a breadstick.’
‘Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?’.
Ha ha! Yep, that’s us! 4 crazy kids, 2 crazy days, 1 crazy life! What more could a kid want?
What’s that? Where are we? Well, that’s a little hard to answer! See, we’re at our local pizza joint, but it’s never quite the same. The owner’s got this rare disease, “totallyinsaneitis”, so he’s ALWAYS changing the theme! Space, ninjas, zombies, you name it, he’s done it! Well, at least, he’s gonna do it! This time, it’s… Well, why don’t I show you?
Over there are batwing doors, where people come in and out in pretty dramatic fashion; the room is narrow, a few brown wooden tables overlooked by a long and wide bar, which has every soda you can dream of; atop us hang some nifty looking chandeliers, but not the fancy kind, more like ones you’d find for a discount alongside your aunt’s christmas present of socks; and everyone’s wearing cowboy hats, jeans and spurs.
Yep, it’s…
‘Yee-haw! Giddup, pardner!’, The Pizza Guy cries, as he storms inside the joint atop a “horse” (read: his co-worker), carrying a large pepperoni with extra cheese (plus one side without pepperoni for Tish, she’s tragically vegetarian). Boots clicking and sheriff star sparkling, the man gets off his “horse” and begins to draw close to us, as if we’re in a standoff.
‘High noon… High time… For some pizza!’, he declares, as he lassos our table towards him, drops the pizza, then kicks it back, somehow placing it perfectly by us. Then, taking out a water pistol, he shoots our glasses, filling them with soda. ‘Hi-ho, Silver! Away!’, he shouts one last time, as he rides off into the sunset.
Yeah, wild west theme! Pretty neat, huh? I wonder what it will be next week…
But there’s no time to think about next week! Not when this weekend is about to kick off! Gotta plan accordingly: You’d be surprised what wacky shenanigans can occur in one weekend! So, what’s on the agenda, besides stuffing ourselves full of greasy Italian crust? I’m about to find out! Feel free to join!
‘So, for our weekend plans…’, I begin, taking a slice and taking charge of our destiny, ‘I say we hit the usual places! Mall, Funville, beach! In that order! Thoughts, council man and women?’
Tish, raising her breadstick as if it was her hand, cries ‘I second the motion enthusiastically and aggressively!’.
‘Heard and noted. Carver, Lor, care to make it unanimous?’, I ask, but not really. I mean, I know these guys, okay? We’ve been hanging out every weekend since First Grade, and we’re in Eight Grade! They’re gonna say ‘Heck yeah, Tino!’, watch! One, Two, Three…
‘Um, actually, I got some bad news.’, Carver interjects, in a tone that would feel just as home with him if he was asked to clean his room. This is serious.
‘Woah oh. What is it?’, I say, holding back those starter nerves. You know, the lil stress balls that begin to squeeze in my heart anytime something different or wrong happens. Jeez, would it be so hard for things to stay the same forever? What about my peace of mind, universe?
‘My parents are dragging me to some lame work conference thingy. Something about me “Not applying myself enough” and “Exhibiting concerning behavior for a child my age”. I don’t know WHAT they’re talking about. So what if I said that my dream job’s junk food tester? It is. I thought they wanted us to be honest.’, Carver rants, and boy, I don’t blame him. That DOES sound like a drag. There’s just one problem: It’s gonna make our weekend a drag too!
‘Can’t you weasel your way out of it?’, I ask, making little wiggling motions with my arm. Do they look like a weasel? Maybe more like a slug.
‘Already tried. They said that unless I can get a doctor to confirm it, being allergic to hard work won’t cut it.’, he sighs, eating a slice of pizza all wearily and stuff. The cheese drips a little from the edge, splashing onto his shoes, but this time he doesn’t notice. Like I said, this is serious.
‘Well, this isn’t exactly ideal, but hey, at least you and Tish are still free, right, Lor?’, I ask, though it’s less of a question and more of a hopeful plea, ya know? I mean, can you imagine if more than one of my friends was busy during the weekend?
Tish, thankfully, nods in agreement. It would seem that she hasn’t been bitten by the busy bug.
Lor, however, has been infected by Patient Zero (Carver), and she hacks up all over my plans like some kind of occupied zombie. ‘Actually, Tino, I, um… Might also be a little busy.’, she grimaces, clearly uncomfortable. For a moment, I feel a little bad. It’s not her fault, obviously.
But I don’t exactly have the time for nuance right now, not when our weekend is careening off a cliff! ‘Busy? You are BUSY too? Come on, Lor, don’t tell me you too have joined this mad cult?!’, I shout the way I do when I feel reality closing in on me. It’s something my mom would tell you is one of my major “character flaws”. I don’t quite see her point. Plans are made for a reason: To be followed. Of course it’s gonna annoy the planner if things don’t align themselves just right! Would we not let an architect blow some steam if his building turned out all ajar? Though, I suppose, that’s the Tower of Pisa. My metaphor is losing steam, but you get what I mean!
‘Tino, chill! It’s not that I don’t WANT to hang out!’, Lor replies, cutting me off and calming me down. She’s right, I WAS getting a LITTLE out of control there. I should at least let her finish.
Sighing, she cups her chin with her hands and explains why she was unavailable. ‘My granny’s visiting from Scotland! You know I can’t pass up a visit from her! Even if I wanted to, my parents told me to cancel any and all weekend plans. It’s a no-show from me, man.’
Great. This is about as ideal as a “Friends” marathon (I hate “Friends”). Two of my best friends are totally busy this weekend, which leaves only…
‘Tish, you’re not busy! You and Tino can hang out!’, Carver points out, Lor nodding enthusiastically. ‘Yeah! That’s better than nothin’, no?’.
Tish and I exchange glances, ones that aren’t quite as brimming with anticipation as our friends are. ‘We’ll get back to you on that one.’, I reply, while she wears that half miffed, half dry look of hers. You know the one. I guess. I can’t read minds.
However, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m making such a big deal out of all this. Tish is my friend, after all. Surely I can hang out one on one (hey, that’s the name of the chapter!) with my friend?
Well, see, Tish isn’t like Carver or Lor. Carver and I can hang out one on one with ease. We’ve done it tons of times before. It’s not like we even need to think about it: Give us a basketball or an empty room, and we’ll take up residence like bacteria on a yogurt cup.
Same thing with Lor, more or less. I haven’t done it with her nearly as much, but Lor’s not complicated. She’s kind of like a dog, in that way. Just gotta make sure she’s getting to take out all that energy of hers.
Tish, though? I have NEVER hung out with her one on one. Not on purpose, mind you! It just never really occurred to us. In fact, the only time I can even think where we hang out one on one is when we’re doing some kinda school project together, like this super cool Egyptian Pyramid diorama we made once! Oh, man, that one was a real success, I gotta show it to you! You’d be amazed what two people can do with cardboard, glue, sticks and paint!
Anyway, that’s my point: Tish is a great STUDY BUDDY. But is she a great SOLO BUDDY? The evidence is inconclusive, but I fear I will be forced to find out soon enough.
Of course, my mom being my mom, she was going to find out about this sooner or later. I swear, that woman has ESP or something!
‘So, you’ve got a Tish problem, am I right?’, she asks me when we’re sitting down for what I hesitate to call “Dinner” (it’s jellyfish meatloaf, in case you felt like losing your appetite too). Lifting my head with a lack of bemusement, I voice out ‘You know, you should join the carnival with such staggering mental feats. What gave it away?’.
‘You have a particular sigh when it comes to Tish. It’s sort of nasally.’, she replies dryly, just the same as I would. Secretly, it’s something I cherish. I’m a lot like my mom, but I’m the rare boy that doesn’t mind that. Cooking aside, she’s awesome.
‘Yeah, well, it’s not really her fault. We’ve just never hung out just the two of us. Not really, at least.’, I say, and my mom’s already raising an eyebrow in question, finding my problem ridiculous, as per usual. ‘Gosh, then whose butt was that on that side of the couch when you two were playing Armored Core 2?’, she asks teasingly, making me roll my eyes and add under my breath ‘It’s Armored Core 2: Another Age, to be precise.’
‘What’s the difference?’
‘Can we go back to solving my problem?’, I snap her back into focus, and she obliges, but not in the way I want. ‘Well, I’m assuming your problem is that you don’t know what to do.’, she asks, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
‘Assuming is a dangerous hobby to pick up, mom. It’s also terribly accurate.’, I reply, poking at my jellyfish meatloaf. I wonder if poking it enough times will make it come to life. That could be kinda neat.
‘Well, I’m not sure what the big deal is, then. Just do what you always do, minus Carver and Lor.’, she proposes, but I shake my head, aghast at her lack of understanding. ‘Mom, it’s not the same! Tish and I are GROUP FRIENDS, not SOLO FRIENDS! We work well in an educational setting, but we’ve never hung out alone before, and I believe that has to be for a reason! God would have willed it so if it was meant to be!’, I shook my finger importantly, my mom observing it like it was a limp, greasy fry that even a dog wouldn’t eat. ‘You don’t believe in God.’, is all she had to say.
‘...True, but it makes for a powerful statement!’, I shoot back, while my mom somehow manages to stomach a bite of her dinner (I, by now, have elected to chew on my napkin. Mmm, I detect subtle hints of nothing). ‘Okay, Saint Tino, how about this: Why not just ASK Tish what you two should do this weekend? Hmm?’, she tilts her head a little, in a way that makes me feel silly for worrying, but I’m not quite at the stage yet of accepting her advice, especially when it sounds so unlikely to succeed. ‘She’ll tell you the exact same thing, mom. She’s not dumb.’.
‘I find it a little unlikely that she’s going through the exact same meltdown as you are.’, she replies, twinkle in her eyes.
TISH’S POV:
‘Mama, it’s not the same! Tino and I are GROUP FRIENDS, not SOLO FRIENDS! We work well in an educational setting, but we’ve never hung out alone before, and I believe that has to be for a reason!’, I tell my mom, fighting back an eyeroll as I poke her apple and honey knish with my fork. That probably sounds yummier than it looks… The, um, “meal” is oozing like a doctor’s syringe before an operation. Not very appetizing, I’ll tell you as much.
‘So, what, Tishy, are you just gonna sit somewhere and do nothing until weekend end?’, she asks me, chuckling a little at my problem. Alas, most adults view my problems that way. They think that size equates to maturity. I pity such perspectives.
‘Of course not!’, I snort-laugh, like I tend to do (I’ve been told it’s kind of disturbing), shaking my head at the suggestion. ‘I have an idea, one Tino’s sure to go for! He’s a lot more open to such artistic endeavors than, say, Carver and Lor are.’.
TINO’S POV:
‘So, what, you two just gonna sit there like your dinner is?’, my mom points at my plate, and I shake my head, urging the ideas out by poking the sides, as if maybe that will help me refocus my neurons. ‘Nope, I just need a plan, it will come to me…’, I mutter, as she shrugs and takes my plate to the sink.
I’m proud to say it didn’t take long at all. Soon enough, I cry out ‘I’ve got it! It’s foolproof! There’s no way Tish won’t like this! It’s got drama AND art! Heck, it could even be OUR thing, without Carver and Lor!’, I raise a finger into the air, feeling like a bonafide genius.
‘Well, what is it?’, my mom asks.
I tell her.
TISH’S POV:
‘What is it, Tishy?’, my mom asks.
I tell her.
TINO’S POV:
‘...Tish won’t like that.’, my mom replies matter of factly.
TISH’S POV:
‘Are you SURE Tino would like that?’, my mom asks, uncertain.
TINO’S POV/TISH’S POV:
‘Obviously!’, I say, smirking and raising an eyebrow./’Obviously!’, I snort again, crossing my arms and smirking.
SATURDAY
TINO’S POV:
‘...Meditative outdoors sculpting?’, I ask, eyes blinking slowly, as I try to figure out what any of those words mean when put together in a sentence. Even the gentle breeze by the Snack Shack and the cooling taste of Chug-A-Freeze on my tongue can’t snap me out of my Tish caused stupor. Why did she think I would like that?
Tish seems about as confused as I am, with a touch of annoyance added to the mix. ‘Monster trucks? What on earth POSSIBLY made you think I’d wanna go and watch a bunch of trucks smash into each other with you?’, she asks, in a way that seems a little harsh. Um, duh, because it’s monster trucks!
That’s exactly what I decide to tell her. ‘Um, duh! Because it’s MONSTER TRUCKS! They go beep beep and vroom vroom, and then they collide! Boom! Crash! Whapow!’, I try to show her what she’s missing out on by demonstrating the awesome might of the monster trucks with my bare hands. It’s a daunting task, so I don’t quite blame her for not being convinced by my display.
Rolling her eyes and leaning back on the stone wall that separates us and the sand, she says ‘Well, I don’t get why you’re so judgy about Meditative outdoors sculpting! What’s not to get?’, she shrugs, as if it’s obvious. Newsflash, Tish: We’re not all insane.
‘I don’t know, how about EVERYTHING?’, I say in my sarcastic way, which she responds to in kind. ‘Oh, wow, standing still and sculpting clay while surrounded by nature, it would take a rocket scientist merged with a brain surgeon to get that one!’, she berates me, sticking her tongue out a little while pretending to be dumb.
‘...How do you sculpt while standing still?’, I ask, genuinely confused. I know it sounds like I’m just being sarcastic again, but I really had no clue how that works.
Unfortunately, Tish clearly didn’t see it that way, and she let out one of those growls of hers, which sound a LOT scarier than you’d think for someone as normally quiet as her. I resist the urge to let out a terrified yelp. I have SOME reputation to preserve.
‘Sorry I asked. Clearly an insane question.’, I shoot back, this time employing my world famous sarcasm. It works like a charm, because Tish drops the subject and chooses to approach our far more important problem: What the heck DO we actually do? ‘Well, obviously we’re not going to agree on this, so we need to find a way to choose what to do.’, she says, and for once today, I find her logic sound. ‘Right. There’s only one way, as taught in the ancient scrolls: Rock, Paper, Scissors.’, I propose, shaping my palm into a fist and preparing my unbeatable tactic: Rock, rock, scissors, scissors, paper, paper.
Tish, however, shapes nothing, despite being all about sculpting. ‘Ugh, no, I hate that game!’, she protests, crossing her arms, and crossing my circuits. What’s she on about? ‘You hate Rock, Paper, Scissors? Why? You usually win!’, I remind her, but she soon explains to me why, as she sculpts her hand into each form. ‘Because it makes no sense! You get a strong enough rock, it can tear through paper! And not EVERY pair of scissors can cut paper, or get destroyed by a rock! How can I play a game when I fundamentally disagree with its makeup?’.
‘Truly a first world problem.’, I retort, but I’ll let her have it. Easier than getting into yet ANOTHER argument with her. Leaning on the wall too, but with my shoulder, a glazed look growing onto my face, I say ‘Well, what SHOULD we play?’.
‘Odds and evens.’, she says instantly, but I shake my head. ‘Nah, I can never calculate the odds and evens quickly enough. I’m like a math turtle.’
‘Okay, then what DO we play?’, she counters, and we stand there, thinking deeply, for a good old 25 seconds. That might not sound like a lot, but trust me, when you’re doing that in silence with your friend, it IS.
Finally, it comes to me, and I snap my fingers in realisation. ‘Of course! We can just flip a coin!’.
Tish considers it a while, and it passes her “lofty” standards, thankfully. ‘That seems reasonable and fair. Can’t go wrong with that.’
‘Exactly! It’s 50/50, heroes fight far worse odds than that! I’d say that’s pretty good!’, I beam, pleased with myself. Finally, this weekend can get going! One coin flip away from fun!
Or brain numbing boredom, but those are the kicks.
Fishing a coin out of my pocket, I flip it into the air, watching it spin, spinning our destiny like a spider with its web, all dangly and gross. Eww. ‘Call it.’, I say, and Tish shouts out ‘Heads!’. Dang it, I wanted heads. Oh well.
We watch it land, and…
(ONE COIN FLIP LATER)
I stand with my hands in my pockets, looking pretty annoyed, as the pillows on the grass free up (as if they were even occupied) for meditative outdoors sculpting. You’d think I lost, but Tish looks annoyed too, and for good reason.
‘Totally random question, but… What are the odds of a coin landing on its edge?’, I ask, and Tish, of course, knows instantly. ‘One in 6000.’, she grumbles, crossing her arms even harder.
‘Well, there you have it. My new least favorite number.’, I reply with a glazed look on my eyes, as we take our seats for our “fun activity”. You know, right below vacation slides and above waterboarding on the awesome scale.
‘Welcome to Meditative Outdoors Sculpting!’, a hippy with a voice that always sounds like it’s halfway to snoring declares, his nose rings jingling like wind chimes. Waving at the pillows, he says ‘Here you will not only sculpt a work of art, but sculpt your own inner peace.’
I lift a hand, dragging the crowd’s attention (Tish’s too, but I doubt she’s excited to hear what I have to say). ‘Yes, little frog faced looking boy?’, the hippy asks, which makes me squint in annoyance, while Tish giggles a little. ‘Okay, first of all, that was totally uncalled for. Secondly: How can we sculpt while standing still?’, I ask, drawing an annoyed elbow from Tish. Sorry, Tish, but I’m still asking. Deal with it.
The hippy strokes his beard, then adds ‘But we’re sitting’, like that changes anything at all.’
‘Okay, but my question remains. Like, do we close our eyes while doing it? Sounds like a recipe for disaster.’, I keep probing, which is probably a bad idea, especially considering the look Tish is giving me, but I’m curious, okay?
The hippy strokes his beard once more, but this time he answers in a different way. ‘He who needs eyes to see life is already blind.’
A silence settles on the crowd as they ooh and nod in agreement, Tish included.
‘...What?’, I flatly ask, because I did NOT get that.
‘Let’s begin!’, the hippy declares, so I guess he didn’t hear me. Oh, well, not like I care.
‘I still think this is dumb.’, I whisper to Tish, who’s already started placing her hands on the clay while closing her eyes. Groaning, she mutters to me ‘Well, so are the monster trucks, but I’m going, right? Can’t you TRY and give this a shot, Tino?’.
Ugh, she raises a good point. I hate when she does. Why can’t she be wrong for once?
Oh, well, I guess it’s either this or scratching my behind for an hour. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I reach out to the clay to shape it. Who knows? Maybe there’s a masterpiece hiding inside of me, waiting to emerge, bursting out like one of those aliens in “Alien”, you know, the chest bursters? That movie was SICK, I had nightmares for, like, a fortnight, ha ha! Fortnight, that’s a weird word, right? Like, why do we have a word for two weeks but not three, or even four? I mean, some say there are four weeks in a month, but that’s only true for February, and even then only 3 out of 4 years! Leap day is also such a weird thing, no? Like, imagine if your birthday was on leap day! Would you only celebrate it once every 4 years? Would you celebrate the day before or after? Wouldn’t that feel strange? I’d hate that. Bet my mom would make leaping food for that day, like… Frog legs or something. Frog face, what was that hippy on about? I don’t have a frog face! I have a Tino face! I’m a Tino, not a frog! A Tino, dang it!
‘Tino, you’re whispering, it’s very distracting.’, Tish hisses, breaking my little rant there. I can get a little carried away when it’s just my thoughts. ‘I gotta do SOMETHING.’, I whisper back, and she growls back ‘Crazy suggestion: how about you meditate while sculpting outside?’. Geez, sarcasm much?
‘Um, I’m already doing that? Did you forget?’, I whisper in return, and she says ‘Are you? Or are you whining because we’re doing something I wanna do for a change?’
What’s THAT supposed to mean? ‘We do stuff you wanna do all the time! Don’t you remember when you made us go on all those museum tours? Or when we were in that radio play? Or how about that fancy dinner party? Or did I just make all those up?’, I counter, and she counters with ‘And you all whined about it the whole way! Just once you could give one of my things an honest try!’.
‘And WHY am I the only one being given this punishment?’, I retort, and she shouts ‘Because Carver and Lor aren’t here, Tino! So right now, you’re the only one driving me crazy!’.
‘That doesn’t sound very meditative. How about we take a deep breath and…’, the hippy began to say, but by then, Tish had gotten so mad that she accidentally dropped her clay onto the ground, making a huge, goopy mess on the grass. It kinda looked like cow poop, but I’m not sure that’s what she was going for, nor was I going to take the chance and find out.
‘Ugh! Look what you made me do!’, she berates me with clenched fists and gritted teeth, and I decide to play it down to save my skin. Yeah, I’m a coward, get used to it. ‘Chill, it’s just a stupid piece of clay.’
‘It was GOING to be a masterpiece!’, she declares with frustration and flailing arms, which I find a little presumptuous? I mean, we have no idea if it was gonna look good, especially after that Carver statue she made. ‘Is the masterpiece in the room with us?’, I barb her, and that was one too many, it would seem. Growling again, Tish takes the clay and tries to throw it at me, but a crazy gust of wind makes it fly back and…
Oh boy. Hippy down, hippy down.
Slowly getting up, the instructor looks a lot less groovy and peaceful, and not just because of his clay beard. Pointing away, he says ‘You are both banned from this class permanently!’.
Tish exclaims many annoyed grunts and groans as she stands up and leaves, but I’m not sure what the problem is. I’m gonna wear that ban like a badge of honor.
Oh, well. At least now the fun can begin! No way do the Monster Trucks fail!
(ABOUT AN HOUR OR SO LATER, WHAT DO I LOOK LIKE, A WATCH?)
‘WELCOME TO THE DEATH ZONE! POPULATION: YOU! WHICH TRUCK IS GONNA COME OUT ON TOP? WILL IT BE LOCKJAW, THE TRUCK WITH A BITE AS BAD AS ITS BARK? HOW ABOUT TRUCK-O-SAURUS, OUR GUEST FROM THE PALEOLITHIC TIMES, WHEN CAVEMEN ONLY HAD DINOSAURS TO DRIVE? AND LEST WE FORGET BEETLEMANIA, THE TINY CAR WITH A ‘TUDE? FIND OUT RIGHT NOW!’, the announcer screams into the microphone, shaking our ear drums (and that’s before you remember you can hear dozens of trucks roar their engines, and tons of people screaming out their support for their favorite trucks). Taking out a soda can, he adds ‘Brought to you by the all new Mountain Dew Code Red! It will make you feel CHERRY good! Ha ha!’, as he chugs the whole thing, then mutters something like ‘No wonder she divorced me.’. TMI, dude.
‘Isn’t this great?’, I ask, fists pumped, as the trucks speed off through the dirt, colliding into each other and performing awesome, death defying tricks! ‘Check out the airtime on Lockjaw! And wow ,Truck-O-Saurus just totally squashed that one car over there, sick!’, I laugh, having the time of my life.
Tish, however, is not. Shocker, I know. ‘If by great, you mean “mind numbing, soul deadening and incredibly childish”, then yes, I agree. It’s “great”.’ she does that air quotes thing, which is always annoying when done to you. Frowning, I reply ‘You know, last time I checked, you LIKED cool things too.’, while Beetlemania crashes through a larger car, tearing it in half. Pretty sure I heard the driver’s soul escape his mouth.
‘I may be partial to racing video games, fighting video games, and machines tearing each other apart, but I draw the line at all 3 at the same time. I have SOME standards.’, she explains, then adds with a huff ‘And besides, this is blatantly inaccurate! Cavemen didn’t ride dinosaurs, let alone cars! And how can a car have ‘tude, Tino? Answer me that. How can a car have ‘tude?’, she rants, begging me to give her the answer. I’m not a fan of how she grabs my shoulders to shake me for it, though. What am I, a magic 8 ball?
‘Maybe if you watched, you’d find out.’, I reply, frustrated, as I roll my eyes at her own attitude. She should know, she’s got all the ‘tude right now. Why can’t she just give this a fair chance, like I gave her meditative statue thingy?
Don’t laugh. It’s not becoming.
‘That’s rich after what happened earlier. Besides, my activity was at the very least enlightening. What could I possibly learn from this, besides how little I enjoy this announcer’s voice?’, she hits me back once more, while the announcer screams out ‘CALL AN AMBULANCE, OR MAYBE NOT, BECAUSE THE EMERGENCY VEHICLE IS PROVING THAT YOU REALLY DO HAVE TO EAT THOSE APPLES TO KEEP THE DOCTOR AWAY! AYO!’.
‘Granted, his voice IS a tad grating…’, I concede, covering my ears, before grinning like a lunatic. ‘But you can’t tell me this isn’t a LITTLE fun! Where else are you going to see all this bone crunching?’, I cry, as another car gets totaled, the driver flopping out with two broken legs while set on fire.
‘A battlefield, a graveyard with no budget for gravestones, a fried chicken restaurant that serves only dogs…’, she teases me, which is really annoying, because she has that smug smirk of hers, ugh. ‘Why do you always have to act like you’re above everything? Would it kill you to enjoy something that’s actually fun for a change?’, I counter, and she takes umbrage with that, criticizing me for my astute observation. ‘I do stuff you and the other guys want all the time! Why do you think I keep suggesting stuff more my speed? I can only dumb myself down for you guys so much!’.
‘So you’re saying we’re dumb? Gee, thanks, Tish. You’re a real shoe-in for “Most Likely to be Kind” in this year’s yearbook.’, I furrow my brows at her, genuinely getting mad. She doesn’t have to be such a jerk about it. Besides, we’re not as smart as her, but that doesn’t make us stupid!
‘I’m saying everyone here is dumb! I mean, seriously? This is what you resort to for entertainment? Shakespeare would roll in his grave! Why, anyone who actually likes this is no smarter than a… Than a… Than a common house fly!’, Tish declares, eyes closed and arms crossed, nose up in the air too. This is bad, because she can’t see me pointing at the 8 tough guys that just popped up behind her. Tish, open your eyes!
Oh, wait, I’m narrating. Whoops.
‘Tish! Open your eyes!’, I call out, and when she turns around, she instantly gets why. Growing shy and nervous, she twirls a hair strand with her fingers as she chuckles out ‘Oh, ha ha, hello! Enjoying the show?’. It’s pretty bad, which considering her acting dreams, does not bode well.
‘So we’re flies, huh? Maybe we should teach these kids how to fly too.’, the main tough guy, who looks like he eats glass every morning, threatens, and we get the picture instantly. ‘Now, wait, let’s not be too hasty!’, I shout out, waving my arms and hoping they accept my olive branch. ‘I mean, I heard that house flies are very in right now! Yeah, did you know that Armani are planning to make a whole house fly inspired outfit? It’s gonna be so fly, ha ha, get it?’, I try, but my efforts fall on deaf ears. ‘That was the best you could do?’, Tish complains, making me shoot her a death stare.
Just like that, we got lifted by the scruffs of our necks, as if we were cats getting let out for the night. I just doubt we’re gonna get let out gently. ‘WAIT, WAIT, I DIDN’T GET TO SEE IF BEATLEMANIA WINS!’, I scream, only to hear a deafening crunch as Beatlemania got eaten by Lockjaw. ‘Oh, man… The little car got eaten by the big car. That makes me sad.’, I comment, just as we get tossed out of the arena.
‘Well, at least we can go home now.’, Tish says, clapping her hands off like she did something great. Can you believe her?? Standing up and dusting myself off, I confront her as we cross the street, the little green man in the traffic light witness to our argument. ‘So, you get us kicked out, and you don’t even think about apologising?’, I wig out as I toss my arms around, kinda like how she did before.
Tish, scoffing at me, turns around and plays dumb, really getting at my goat. ‘Gee, I wonder where I’ve heard that before?’, she voices in a really high pitched sarcastic tone, tapping her chin thoughtfully. ‘Maybe because YOU DID THAT?!’, she suddenly shouts, prodding me in the chest. Ow. She’s got some sharp fingers there.
‘I didn’t do it on purpose!’, I shout back, pointing at myself defensively. She doesn’t buy it, though. ‘You didn’t even give it a chance!’, she retorts, sounding more and more frustrated. She’s not the only one.
‘You didn’t give my thing a chance either! You dismissed it from the beginning! Besides, was it not OBVIOUS that I would hate meditative outdoors whatever?’, I rant, as we pass a bunch of houses that are shutting their windows. Sun’s about to set, and Tish and I are gonna be covered in darkness soon.
Frowning, with glazed over eyes of annoyance, I add ‘And by the way, I thought we said once that we would only do things we like doing together, remember that?’, I call back to a previous escapade of ours with Carver and Lor, pointing accusingly at her. Long story, but it’s all about us going to stuff we did NOT enjoy.
Tish, clenching her fists, turns around and points in return, like a lawyer in a video game that’s not out for another 8 days or so. ‘J’accuse! You withhold evidence from the court!’.
‘The court of what exactly?’, I ask, pointing at all the nothing around us. It’s just a bunch of streets, hedges and mailboxes. Not sure they can deliver a riveting testimony.
‘Ugh, never mind.’, Tish rolls her eyes, then continues, staring daggers at me as she keeps on pointing. ‘Point is, I STILL attended your dumb Captain Dreadnaught convention! I wasn’t whining the entire time!’.
‘You take that back!’, I clutch an invisible Captain Dreadnaught comic defensively, before adding with a poisonous glare ‘And besides, you forget I STILL attended your lame Dulcimer contest! That was more like snooze-a-palooza! But that makes sense, considering YOU like it! You’re the most boring, least interesting person I’ve ever known!’, which, I admit, may have been a bit too far. Tish’s expression shifts, from anger, to hurt, then to resentment, as the sun leaves her face and the moon shines all over it. She starts to walk away, and only now do I realise we got to my house a while ago. Wow, arguments can be so distracting.
At first, I don’t care that she’s walking away. After all, I’m just as angry too. But then, she stops, turns her head around slightly, like some kind of disappointed owl, and darkly whispers ‘You know something, Tino? Maybe there’s a reason we don’t hang out one on one. Maybe you’re only tolerable in a crowd.’
Now I’m the hurt one. Only tolerable? We’ve been friends since First Grade, how can she say that?! ‘Oh yeah? Takes one to know one.’, I shoot back, which isn’t the best insult, but I’m too mad to care right now, okay? She seems to take offense to that, shaking for a moment, before stomping off.
‘Don’t bother coming tomorrow.’, we both say at the same time, shrouded by shadows, and at that moment, I suddenly realise I just had a huge fight with one of my best friends. Turning around, I begin to say ‘Tish, I’m…’, but she’s already gone. At least, I think she is. Wow, fast walker.
TISH’S POV:
I stand behind the big tree by Tino’s backyard, hearing him turn around. For a second, I think he’s going to apologise, like I was about to, but he goes back in. Ugh, what a stuck up jerk. Fine, I won’t apologise either.
TINO’S POV:
Sighing, I open the door with my spare key and walk inside. I’m sure mom will have something to say. Worse… I kinda want her to.
She’s vacuuming the carpet when I enter, and like a nurse on a rush during blood tests, she gets straight to the point. ‘I’m assuming it went badly?’, she asks, calm, cool and calculated. Wish I could be like that.
‘What did we say about assumptions? Dangerous hobby.’, I remind her, but she can tell my heart’s not in it. ‘Ooh, looks like it really did go badly. Not sure how you thought monster trucks would work.’, she comments, and I add ‘It’s not like I was the only one with a bad plan.’
‘Spill.’
‘Three words: Meditative. Outdoors. Sculpting.’, I signal with a finger pointed upwards each time.
‘Yeesh.’, she reacts, and I nod. ‘Bingo.’
Sitting down on the couch, I sigh, chin cupped by my hands. ‘Plus, the little car got eaten by the big car, and it made me upset.’
Mom’s by my side in a moment, ruffling my hair and sitting by my side. Don’t tell her, but she’s my favorite person. ‘I’m sure the little car is in heaven right now.’
‘I thought you don’t believe in heaven.’, I raise an eyebrow and she smirks and replies ‘Makes for a powerful statement, though.’
Heh, she’s always got a good callback.
Sighing again, I think back to what just happened between me and Tish. ‘We had a real big fight. Like, BIG big. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that mad.’
‘That’s saying something.’, Mom taps her chin thoughtfully, and I nod. ‘We’re not gonna even see each other tomorrow.’
‘Yes you will.’, she shakes her head, like I just said something really silly, then she kisses my forehead. ‘Maybe you should just do what I told you to do: Do what you two always do. Trust your friendship in Tish. It’s gone on this long.’
‘I guess… But that would mean today was totally unnecessary.’, I remark, and she laughs and says ‘No surprise there. This is why you have to listen to me more.’
‘Oh, yeah? Should I start taking cooking lessons then?’, I smirk, she playfully bops my head, and for a moment, I feel better.
Still, when I go to sleep, I feel bad about what I did. Tish… She’s my friend. I know we have our differences, but I didn’t have to be such a jerk. Then again, knowing her, I doubt she sees how terrible she was.
TISH’S POV:
‘And then he had the GALL to say that I didn’t give it a chance! After what he did? He even said I was boring! I’m not boring!’, I rant and rave to my mother as I lay in bed while she turns off the lights. Smiling, she shakes her head and says ‘Must be an American thing, this friendship drama. Always squawking like Kittens!’
‘You mean chickens.’, I correct, and she says what she always says. ‘That’s what I said! Kittens!’.
Whatever. ‘Look, mama, I just wanna sleep it off, okay? At least I don’t have to see Tino tomorrow.’, I say darkly, as I take my glasses off.
‘No? I thought you were going to apologise to him.’, my mom remarks, confused, which confuses me. I put my glasses back on and say ‘Me? Apologise to him? He was the one who didn’t even try!’.
‘Sounds like you did the same with his scary cars thing. Often I find that when friends fight, both are a little right and a little wrong.’, she says, and I can’t lie, it sounds pretty wise. Still, I huff a little and add ‘He called me boring.’
‘And you called him terrible.’
‘Tolerable.’
‘That’s what I said!’.
Kissing my forehead, she says ‘Good night, Tishy.’, then leaves, closing the door and leaving me to my thoughts. Atop my wall, right above the Shakespeare bust and next to my Chum Bukket poster, there’s a photograph of me, Tino, Carver and Lor. I can see his dumb smile as he puts his hand over me and Carver, and just like that, I feel a tear trickle down my cheek.
I can be such a jerk.
‘Maybe we should have just done what we always do, like she said. Maybe it was a mistake.’, I think, but I still feel mad. But also terrible. But also hurt. But also selfish. Ugh. I hate being 13.
I don’t even know what I’ll do tomorrow. I don’t want to see him, but I also do kinda wanna see him. At least to say sorry. But what if he doesn’t say sorry to me? That would be typical. Tish is always the problem, after all. Ugh.
…I guess I could go to Wild West Pizza. There’s a chance Tino will be there, but also a chance he won’t be. 50/50, I guess. He just better serve up an apology with that pizza.
One thing I know for sure: This weekend SUCKED.
TINO’S POV:
…Maybe if I eat a pizza tomorrow, I’ll feel better. Plus, maybe Tish will be there. If she is, maybe she’ll even say sorry for being a jerk. Though, I guess, then I’ll have to apologise.
Now I kinda hope she won’t show up. Ugh, life’s so confusing.
I guess I’ll find out tomorrow. One thing I know for sure: This weekend SUCKED.
SUNDAY
Well, I’m walking to Wild West Pizza, and I can tell you that it’s not as distracting as I hoped it would be. In hindsight, going to the place we go to every weekend at least once was a mistake. Every little thing is reminding me of our fight and her hurt face. Like, see that bus over there, with the bumper sticker about radishes? When I saw it, it turned into Tish and she was all sad and stuff!
…What? She looks like a radish, no? It’s no less dumb than saying I look like pumpkin pie, CARVER.
‘This blows…’, I grumble as I kick a pebble and turn the corner, wishing I could forget. What’s worse is that I know it’s not just my fault, but I can’t help but feel bad! I was such a jerk, remember? I can rewind if you don’t.
(REWIND SOUNDS)
‘Gangway, the onions on my pizza were a mistake!!!’, Tish screams as she rushes to the nearest trash can…
Wait, that didn’t happen.
Oh, whoops! Pressed Fast-Forwards by mistake. These remotes are so confusing, why don’t they mark the buttons? Okay, maybe this is the right button?
(REWIND SOUNDS)
‘Plus, the little car got eaten by the big car, and it made me upset.’
Ugh, not quite. Little further back.
(REWIND SOUNDS)
‘Ribbit, ribbit!’, I say while clapping my hands in my frog onesie, my mom and dad smiling at how silly I can…
WAIT WHAT? Oh, wow, I rewinded WAY too far, that’s when I was 3!
…Is that why that guy said I had a frog face? Wow. Guess I was wrong about not being a frog.
Okay, okay, I think I’ve got it locked in now.
(REWIND SOUNDS)
‘You take that back!’, I clutch an invisible Captain Dreadnaught comic defensively, before adding with a poisonous glare ‘And besides, you forget I STILL attended your lame Dulcimer contest! That was more like snooze-a-palooza! But that makes sense, considering YOU like it! You’re the most boring, least interesting person I’ve ever known!’.
Wowza. I really went hard there, didn’t I?
Then again, she wasn’t exactly Mrs. Nice either, ya know? That’s the problem! I feel like I should apologise, but I want her to apologise too, and I doubt she will. Tish can be so blind sometimes, it’s like all she can see is herself. Imagine being so distracted by your own problems and stuff that you don’t even notice anything el…
WHAM!
Geez Louise, that was a doozy! Did anyone catch that car’s license plate?
Oh, wait, it’s not a car, it’s a person. In fact, now that my vision is returning, that looks a lot like…
TISH!
‘Owwww…’, she moans, rubbing her nose and wincing, a bit of a red spot on her forehead now (though I imagine mine’s got one too). Looks like she got a heavy hit there, yeesh. That doesn’t help my feelings AT ALL.
Suddenly, she starts panicking, as she frantically searches the floor, pawing it like a dog with a crippling addiction to kibble, tragically stranded at a cat food factory. ‘My glasses! My glasses! I’m visually impaired to a beyond manageable level without my glasses!’, she cries out, which sounds oddly familiar. Was that a thing in a cartoon? I haven’t got a clue. Eh, what’s new?
Well, I might be mad at Tish, but I’m not gonna be a colossal jerk to her (at least, not again). Spotting them by the welcome mat to Wild West Pizza, I reach out for them and say ‘Hold on, Tish, I’ve got ‘em!’.
‘Tino? Is that you?’, Tish asks, blinking like a mole that’s left a 12:35 screening of Zoolander. ‘Yeah. Wow, you really can’t see anything without them, huh?’, I ask, surprised. Tish’s glasses weren’t anything I really considered before. They were like Carver’s hair: Just another feature.
The question seems to fluster her a bit, because she lets out a little whine and blushes. ‘Yes, so it would please me beyond words if you GAVE THEM TO ME!!!’, she shouts the ending, but I don’t blame her. I’d be annoyed too if I was half blind. Handing the glasses over to her, I suddenly take them away, but not to mess with her. ‘Wait, wait!’, I say, and she growls and asks ‘Why?!’.
‘They’re filthy! I think some pizza flour got on them. Just a sec, I’ll have them clean in a jiffy!’, I declare, as I blow some air on them and use my shirt. That’s how Tish usually cleans them, when she doesn’t use that fluid thingy.
Tish gets a little quiet after that, probably a little sheepish at getting angry at me for that. ‘Oh… Thank you.’, she finally coughs out, and I shrug, because, well, yeah, it’s nothing to think about. ‘Don’t mention it.’
A few moments later, and I hand her the glasses, which she quickly places back on her face. It’s kind of a relief, to be honest. Tish without glasses is kinda spooky, like an puzzle with one piece missing.
For a moment, we just sit there, before Tish says ‘I… I didn’t expect you to be here.’
‘I mean, I always eat here.’, I say, squinting at her strange statement.
‘Well, duh, but I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t be here today.’, she admits, bringing her knees up to her chest and looking away, clearly a little upset. Maybe even sorry?
I don’t blame her. I’d be a hypocrite if I did. ‘Yeah, I was kinda hoping I wouldn’t be here either. I mean, you… I mean… Oh, you know what I mean.’, I say, before repeating her knee motion.
‘Yeah.’, she says.
‘Yeah.’, I say.
A few moments of silence pass, but I can tell you they feel like a century. I want to say something, anything. Apologise, get mad, get mad and then apologise… But no words are coming out. It seems contagious, because Tish is uncharacteristically mute too. Every once in a while, it looks like one of us is about to say something, but we close our mouths as soon as we open them.
Well, I guess we’re just going to sit here until one of us talks. I just wonder who’ll be first: Me or Tish.
‘WELCOME TO CARNIVAL PIZZA!’.
Huh… Take a third option, then.
Tish and I both share an odd glance, then stand up and stare at none other than Pizza Guy! He’s no longer dressed like a cowboy, as he’s now all garbed like one of those Carnival Barkers, know what I mean? Pinstripe suit, straw hat, cane… He looks like he’s going to sell us evil licorice. Ooh, that sounds neato, I’d eat it.
‘What will be your order? Fun or funny fun fun? Test your luck at one of our games! Each one gets you either a pizza or a drink!’, he says, twirling his cane, tipping his hat and winking. Now that we’re inside, we can see what he’s talking about, and it’s gasp worthy indeed! The whole place is totally different! There’s a ring toss game, a ball in a cup game, another ball throwing game, and some kinda dart throwing thingy, you know the ones? You throw the dart and it lands on the balloon and it goes POP and you get something! I love those, it always gets you! POP! Ha, did I get you?
‘How did you change the place so quickly? We were here just two days ago!’, Tish questions in amazement, and I totally feel her, because I’m flabbergasted too. ‘Yeah, you usually keep these up for a week!’, I point out, laughing as a kid runs past me with a huge Captain Dreadnaught action figure. I gotta win that one!
‘Eh, I wasn’t feeling the wild west theme anymore. Besides, the pizza winning gimmick is cool, no?’, he asks, and we nod, obviously. ‘Duh, a pizza that only costs 2 bucks if you win? That’s totally gnarly!’, I grin, only to get a reality check. ‘What? No, it still costs 14 bucks.’, he corrects me, wagging his finger.
‘What? But carnival games aren’t THAT pricey!’, I argue, and he shrugs. ‘I don’t want to lose money.’
‘So in other words, I could just BUY a pizza, but instead I’m buying the OPPORTUNITY of buying a pizza, one that I might fail to get?’, I raise an eyebrow, and he shrugs again. ‘Them’s the breaks, kid.’
Gee, why do I feel like I’m getting ripped?
‘Well, whatever. Not like I’m brave enough to eat a different kind of pizza.’, I resign myself to my fate, slapping down the cash. ‘Um, I’ll do that ball game over there, I guess.’, I point at one where there’s some kinda box on a chair, and Pizza Guy gladly takes us over there.
Tish, who’s been uncharacteristically silent the entire time, suddenly asks me ‘Um, why this game?’.
‘Um, I don’t know, I guess I’m the least LAME at ball throwing? I’ll still stink, but you know, gotta try and lower the potential humiliation as much as you can.’, I reply, as Pizza Guy hands over three balls to me.
Tish, wearing that know it all “Oh, Tino” face, tuts as she says ‘Oh, Tino (see?), don’t be so harsh on yourself!’.
‘Why not? Don’t you remember I was only good at ONE sport? And that was horse shoe throwing. You know, the geekiest sport possible? That’s like being only good at one dance, and it’s the Robot. Speaking of…’, I demonstrate, as I do the robot next to her. ‘Beep beep, boop. Does not compute. See? Geekville, population: Me.’, I point at myself, as she observes with a look that seems half concerned, half puzzled.
‘Why don’t you do the ring toss then?’, she asks, confused, and I shrug. ‘See, that was what I thought too, but last time we went to Tesla Park I tested that theory out.’
‘And?’
‘Chloe Montez.’
‘Oh, right… Poor girl. I didn’t know noses could bend like that.’
‘Exactly. Best to stay safe with the balls.’
Turning to the game wall, I focus my eyes on my target: The box on the chair, that’s all red, with a hole that seems big enough… Really shouldn’t be that hard to reach, just need a good ol’ toss!
Besides, I have my motivation: Right up there, next to that big, round owl doll with the glasses, there’s a Captain Dreadnaught action figure! The universe’s safety LITERALLY depends on this, what more motivation do I need?
Actually, on second thought, that’s stressful. Let’s just say that it will save my boredom, huh?
Sticking my tongue out, I whisper ‘It’s go time’, spin my arm around, toss the ball as hard as I can, and…
BOMP!
The ball jumps off the wall, but flies right back to my face! Ow!!!
Rubbing my nose, I groan out ‘Wow, is this what Chloe Montez saw?’.
‘Probably, if you pretend a ball is a ring.’, Tish says, picking me up and dusting me off. She has more to say than just that, though. ‘Tino, I don’t think that BRUTE STRENGTH is the wisest strategy here.’, she informs me, and I nod, annoyed. ‘Gee, Captain Obvious, when’s your crossover with Captain Dreadnaught? I know that now! I need to go all gentle and delicate, like a mouse fart.’, I reply, a little bitey, but I just threw a ball at my own face.
‘I doubt that would be gentle and delicate.’, she rolls her eyes as I squint and take the second ball, preparing to toss it lightly. This needs to be soft, like an angel’s kiss. I think. I don’t know what an angel’s kiss would be like.
‘Second time’s the charm!’, I cry, as I lightly toss the ball, and…
BOMP!
It kisses all right… Kisses the edge of the hole and falls down. Cue the waa waa trombones.
‘One ball left!’, Pizza Guy shouts out unnecessarily. Yeah, dude, I’m in 8th grade. I can count down from 3.
‘Gah! Why is this so hard? I told you I blow at these things!’, I exclaim in annoyance, pulling at my hair, but Tish is surprisingly not annoyed with me. Well, she’s a little judgy, but when isn’t she? ‘You don’t BLOW at these things, you’re just going about it the wrong way! Here, let me explain…’, she says, grabbing my shoulders to massage them for a moment (ooh, that’s the spot), then grabbing my hand and placing the final ball on it. She’s practically attached to my back now, like a Tish shaped backpack, and with her head on my shoulder, directing my vision, it’s like we’re that two headed monster from Sesame Street. Only not purple. Well, not not purple, considering Tish’s outfit, but… Oh, you get it.
‘It’s all in the WRIST, Tino.’, she enunciates, as she keeps my head straight with her other hand. I couldn’t move if I tried, she’s got me locked like a boa constrictor. ‘Remember what I taught you about Pool?’.
‘That the cue stick’s not for bonking other people’s heads?’, I ask, making her roll her eyes. ‘The other thing!’.
Right. ‘It’s just Geometry.’, I nod, remembering, and she smirks proudly, patting my head. It should feel condescending, but it didn’t, for some reason. ‘Ex-ACTLY! What YOU need to do is aim the ball so that it LIGHTLY taps the wall, GENTLY falls onto the far edge of the box, and then ROLLS right in!’, she explains, each step lighting up in my mind as part of a diagram. It makes a lot of sense (of course it does, it’s TISH), but with one try left, can I REALLY get it done?
‘I’m gonna totally whiff it.’, I mutter to her, and she suddenly squeezes my shoulder and says ‘Not if you do what I say. When you toss it, you want to sort of use your wrist in tandem with your palm. It’s like your gently tossing a wad of paper into the trash can RIGHT in front of you, get me?’, she instructs, before then showing it with her own palm. Seeing is believing, they say, and I see it, it makes perfect sense. I just still don’t think I’ll manage. Poor Captain Dreadnaught. He’ll be all alone.
And we won’t get pizza, there’s also that.
But when I feel her hands on my shoulder and arm, her chin near mine, totally believing in me despite all logic dictating no… I can’t lie, it gives a guy some confidence. She can be real bossy, but Tish is a great supportive friend when you need her to be.
‘Okay… I get you.’, I nod, choosing to believe in myself (or, well, to let her believe in me). Instead of gripping the ball hard, I loosen my palm and shoulder and let my wrist do the talking. ‘Eyes on the prize.’, we whisper at the same time, as I focus entirely on that spot on the wall that will drop the ball spot on.
I start moving my arm back and forth, like a pitch windup, getting used to the movement Tish was teaching me. Tish helps me move it, but after a while, like a kid riding a bike for the first time, she lets go of it so I can go off on my own, and once I am 100% certain I get the movement, I take a deep breath, count to 3, and…
FWOOSH!
Everyone stares wide eyed at the ball as it swoops up into the air, like a soccer ball getting chipped. It moves like it’s in slow-mo as it hits the EXACT area Tish pointed out… Floats down to the edge… And…
CLUNK!
IT GOES IN!
‘Oh my gosh… I did it! I actually did it!’, I cheer, jumping up and down, a huge grin on my face. Wouldn’t you? No one EVER wins those games, unless they’re on TV, but this is real life!
Tish is ecstatic too, her glasses bouncing up and down as she jumps with me, clapping her hands like an Eastern European seal with a passion for theatre. ‘Yes, you did it! I mean, it was technically both of us, but still!’, she crows, while Pizza Guy claps his hands too, impressed. ‘No one’s won that one yet! Great work, kid!’, he praises me, then points at the prize wall. ‘Your pizza will be ready in a few minutes, but until then, which prize will you be picking?’, he asks me, and like, duh, which prize, dude, don’t you know me? That Captain Dreadnaught’s got my name on it!
But just when I’m about to say it, I see Tish off the corner of my eye still celebrating, and I remember that I wouldn’t have even been close if it weren’t for her…
And that for how angry I was (and kinda still am) at her, I DID act like a total jerk to her…
And suddenly, the choice is obvious, but not in the way I thought.
‘I’ll have that big owl up there, my good man!’, I say, snapping my fingers and closing my eyes confidently. Tish, who now looks like a fish with how her mouth is opening and closing, squeaks out ‘But… Tino! Captain Dreadnaught is RIGHT there! There’s no way that’s not the one you want!’. She almost seems angry that I didn’t choose him, heh.
As I grab the round, squishy owl from Pizza Guy (dang, this thing is really huggable! Kinda jealous of Tish now), I smile and say ‘It is, but I wouldn’t have won the game without you. Ergo, I think the prize should be yours, and there’s no WAY this isn’t the one YOU want!’.
Tish turns a little red, embarrassed by the gesture. She waves me off like I just said she’s the only ten I see or something, ha ha. ‘Tinooo, leave the mushy stuff to your mom’s cooking.’, she whines a little, but you can see that it touched her, and I’m happy it did. She can be a pain, but she’s still one of my best friends.
However, I’m not all fluff (unlike this plush). Pulling it away, I smirk and tease her. ‘Well, if you don’t want it, I guess I could…’
TISH POV:
‘OKAY, OKAY, I WANT THE OWL, GIMMIE!’, I scream, grabbing the plush and giving it a big hug, then shooting Tino a real, genuine smile. ‘Thanks.’, I say, and I don’t say more, but I don’t need to say more, and he knows that too. Smiling back at me, he sort of closes his eyes, as if to make his smile even more true.
TINO POV:
Well, she’s happy. Now or never.
Rubbing the back of my head, I say ‘Hey, um… I’m sorry about… You know…’
‘Being a total jerk yesterday?’, she says, wearing a frown that tells me she’s been thinking the same things as me. ‘Yeah, me too.’, she apologises, now weakly smiling and offering her hand. I shake it. ‘Yeah, it was so dumb. Like, duh, of course you wouldn’t like Monster Trucks. I should have known dragging you there would go wrong.’, I add, but she surprises me with a head shake. ‘Well, yeah, but you’re right, I didn’t give it a fair shot, and I’d hate that the other way around.’, she says, without an ounce of artificialness, and I decide to pay that kindness with my own. ‘That’s what I did too, so…’, I start saying, and we begin to laugh, realising how needless this whole drama was.
Wiping a tear from my eye, I grin and say ‘How’s about we just start the weekend over, huh? We still have today! Let’s just do stuff we know we like to do together!’, offering my hand again, and she takes it again and says with a cute smile ‘I’d love that.’
Well, great! I guess we’re back to normal!
TISH POV:
When I shake hands with Tino and see him smile again, my new owl friend still underneath my other arm, thanks to his kindness, I suddenly feel weird… Like my blood sugar is low. My vision blurs up and I put a hand to my forehead as I step back a little, almost tripping. ‘Woah! You okay?’, Tino asks, concerned, and I reassure him, even though I’m a little worried too. ‘Y-Yeah, I think so… Just got dizzy for a second.’
‘Maybe because you didn’t have your glasses for a while.’, he offers soundly, and I nod, taking whatever logic I can get, because that was weird. I never have dizzy spells unless I’ve been skating. Speaking of…
‘Speaking of things we like to do, how about we go skating by the beach? It’s been AGES since we last did that.’, I suggest, sitting down by the table and eating my meatless side of the pizza, while Tino chows down on the super melty cheese of his slice. Yeah, I think my mama was right. It was dumb to try and force stuff on each other again. You’d think I’d have learned my lesson from last time!
‘Sure, I’m down!’, Tino agrees enthusiastically, then frowns a little, worried. ‘But are you sure you don’t wanna do it when Carver and Lor are around? You know, just in case you have an accident again.’
Oh, ye of little faith. ‘Tino, please, I’m FAR more experienced than I was. I’ll be fine.’, I brush his worries off, taking a big slurp of my soda. It’s simply math on wheels, and I’m great at doing Algebra homework on the bus, so what’s the big difference? You watch, I’ll be even better than him!
(ONE LARGE PIZZA WITH CHEESE, PEPPERONI, ONIONS AND SODA LATER)
‘MATH ON WHEELS BAD, MATH ON WHEELS BAD!’, I cry in fear as I shield my eyes with my hands, my rollerblades careening off the sidewalk and straight into that… Well, have you ever seen that “George of the Jungle” movie? You know, that dumb movie with that kinda hunky but intellectually bland Brenden Fraser?
WHAM!
Yes, that one.
As I rub my aching noggin, praying that a skating accident isn’t what costs me my early college application, Tino rolls by, having already gone back and forth down the whole broadwalk. Twice. I’m not jealous, by the way! It’s just really crazy how someone so usually uncoordinated can do that!
…Okay, I’m a little jealous, happy? Nosey.
‘Is a completely useless for my future skill set really worth the permanent brain damage?’, I ask, hoping that my vision isn’t blurring again. Tino, shrugging with a dumb smile, says ‘Anything that’s fun is worth permanent brain damage! That’s, like, half the rides in Tesla Park!’.
‘True…’, I admit, smiling at the memory, then giggling. ‘I love the atom de-scrambler!’
‘Oh, yeah, the one that shakes you like a maraca and makes your limbs limp for two days. That one’s a classic!’, he agrees, shaking his head violently to illustrate the motion, eyes rolling around in his head. I can’t help but laugh again. He can be so silly sometimes, but that’s a big part of why me, Carver and Lor love him. He’s like our little goober.
Offering me his hand, he suddenly says ‘Hey, why don’t I pay you back the favor and show you how to keep your balance?’, and while I HATE not knowing things and needing them explained, I can handle it this time. Plus, it WOULD be nice to not be the only one in my group who can’t skate. Even my mom can! My mom! You don’t live that down in the street, yo.
‘Well, okay. Just because I’m tired of crashing into trees.’, I acquiesce, and we roll back to the top of the road, the sun shining brightly above us, the warm southern California air nipping at our shirts and shorts. Bahia Bay is nothing like the Old Country, but I wouldn’t trade it for all the knowledge in the world.
Grabbing my hand, Tino tightens his helmet, then mine, and says ‘We’ll go down together at first, and when you feel like you’re ready, I’ll let go, okay?’.
‘And then I’ll crash again.’, I remind him, huffing, blowing a strand of hair off my eyes. I know I sound kinda whiney, and maybe I am, but I just… Hate not being perfect! No judging! There’s no shame in having high standards.
Tino rolls his eyes but keeps his smile, as he pats my helmet, which should feel condescending, but I know isn’t. Still, I give him a beady eyes look as he does. ‘No you won’t. You just have to stay calm.’, he says, which is INSANE, because…
‘I do stay calm!’, I counter, and his look makes the Sahara look moist. ‘Tish, the police held you in custody last time for “Disturbing the peace”.’, he reminds me, making air quotes in the, well, air.
I shudder, remembering it. ‘Once you’re in the slammer, Jack, you never really leave.’, I say in my film noir voice. Yes, I like film noir, I have layers.
Stretching his hand out to me, Tino smiles softly and says ‘I was scared until I got used to it too. You’re, like, rocket scientist smart, Tish. You’ll get it in no time.’
My friends have never ignored my braininess. It’s pretty much my defining feature to them. So no, I’m not surprised when Tino says all that…
But I am seriously touched. I’m not used to him being mushy… Or, well, super mushy. He has his moments. I’m not complaining though. After that terrible day, it’s nice to know one of my best friends thinks so highly of me!
‘Okay… I’ll try.’, I nod, smiling weakly, grabbing his hand. He squeezes it just before we set off down the foreboding hill, and when he does, I feel a jolt of confidence and security buzz through me. He’s right… I can TOTALLY do this!
‘BOOYAHHHHH!’, we holler as we soar down the road, the wind in our hairs (or, well, mine), our hearts pounding like jackhammers. My shirt keeps slapping onto my skin and I can hear the wheels of my rollerblades burn rubber. The adrenaline is intoxicating, I have to admit. Maybe I could try bungee jumping for my birthday… Wouldn’t that surprise everyone? Tipsy Tish jumping down from a billion feet…
CRASH!
I may have spoken too soon. Pardon my PDA but I have a date with this redwood.
‘Tish! You okay? How many fingers am I holding up?’, Tino asks, putting up two fingers. Call it cruel, but I feel like having a little fun after my latest failure, so I pretend to be delirious and say ‘4?’, crossing my eyes to sell the deception.
‘Oh my gosh, that’s literally double vision! Okay, stay calm, I’ll call 911 and…’, Tino panics, as he tends to, rushing to find a phone booth, but I quickly cut my prank off with my snort laugh (ugh, it’s not intentional, stupid laugh). ‘Tino, chill! I was just messing with you.’, I confess, making him widen his eyes for a moment, then scowl with a glazed look in his eyes. ‘Oh, come on, Tish, you can’t do that!’.
‘Yes, I can. It’s called ACTING.’, I brag, standing up and taking a little bow. Raising an eyebrow, I smirk and purr out ‘Impressed?’.
‘...Yeah, actually.’, Tino admits, loosening up and chuckling, now seeing the funny side of it. ‘Wow, you’re really good at this acting stuff.’
‘I wasn’t Peasblossom for nothin’!’, I keep bragging, which may be seen as unbecoming, but when you’re like me, you gotta get them when you can. I’m liable to get criticized for making my friends more enlightened soon, after all.
‘Heh, I bet you would have been great as Hermes or Helana too!’, Tino flatters me again, seemingly flashing back to the play, and while I’m happy he still fondly remembers it, I HAVE to correct him. ‘Hermia and Helena, Tino, Hermes was the Greek god of swiftness (and numerous other things) and Helana isn’t even a…’, I begin, only to freeze when I realise his implication. Feeling warm in my cheeks again, I smile weakly and cough out ‘You… You think I would have been great as the lead roles?’.
‘Well, yeah! You sold that one line perfectly!’, Tino says, like it’s matter of fact, like it’s normal, like it’s not EARTH SHATTERING. Yes, my friends were all saying nice things to me after the play, but that’s just what you do! It’s been, like… A whole year! Does Tino really think that… About me?
Even though I’m not skating anymore, my legs suddenly grow numb. ‘Maybe we should stop skating for a bit, I need a lie down…’, I say, and we do that for a while, but I don’t know why I’m feeling this way. Maybe that crash was harder than I thought?
It hasn’t deterred me though. One day, I’ll skate just as well as my friends do. As God is my witness, I’ll never crash into a tree again!
(A few more crashes later)
‘You know, I think that last crash was extremely unfortunate. You’re really starting to get it!’, Tino informs me as we stand by our usual pool table at Funville, where I am, to put it mildly, kicking his butt! ‘Yeah, I think my equilibrium is improving! Another 177 tries, and I’m sure to get it!’, I beam, and I mean it, too. But right now, I gotta focus on this shot. Here, see, it’s simple Geometry. If I hit the cue ball at a 45 degree angle at the left corner pocket, it will ricochet off the middle there, strike Black, and…
PLINK! PLUNK! CLINK!
‘SCORE!’, I cheer, lifting my cue in celebration, while Tino claps respectfully, wearing that ‘I don’t like losing but I’m not gonna be a baby about it’ face. ‘Well done, but I’m just warming up. I’ll return this booty bashing right now!’, he declares, and I decide to tease him a little by pointing the cue at his chest, like it’s a musketeer sword. ‘Ah, mon ami, tu fais des promesses que tu ne peux pas tenir.’, I tease, and he stares at me blankly, like there’s not a single thought running through that head.
‘It’s French. The language of love.’, I tease again, smirking, eyes half lidded, and he responds in kind by saying ‘Woah, Tish, take me out to dinner first.’, wearing the same expression as I am, at least, for now.
It’s just a joke. The kind of joke really good friends can make… Yet my cheeks are burning again, and worse, I feel queasy. It doesn’t make sense, because I’ve technically had dinner with Tino tons of times! At his house, at my house, at places in town… Admittedly, we were usually accompanied by Carver and Lor, but still!
Yet, for some reason, when I imagine it now, with the implication of our joke… It feels so strange. I’ve never even thought of Tino like that, he’s just Tino! My friend, my amigo, my close of kin…
My stomach starts twisting into knots. I feel like a pretzel who drank expired milk.
Or maybe something else… My stomach is REALLY feeling weird…
TINO’S POV:
‘Woah, check it out, it’s Carver and Lor!’, I cry, turning away from Tish, who seems to be weirdly red. I wonder if she forgot her sunscreen. Crazy if true, there’s no day where Bahia Bay doesn’t try to peel your skin like an orange loving maniac. My life in a tanning bed, by Tino Tonitini.
Running over to them, I slap some skin with Carver and get a punch on the shoulder from Lor, both of them looking happy to see me. ‘Man, I am PUMPED to be back, that trip was BRUTAL!’, Carver tells us, and Lor and I share a knowing look. ‘He’s gonna rant the entire time, isn’t he?’, I whisper, and she whispers back ‘I’ll tell you about my weekend when he comes up for air.’
Carver, meanwhile, presses pause on his pity party to greet Tish. ‘Yo, Tish! Good to see you! I hope you and Tino didn’t die of boredom without us!’.
‘It wasn’t easy at first, but we figured it out, right, Tish?’, I ask, winking, but she doesn’t seem to be listening. Instead, she grabs her stomach, turns green, and dashes off.
‘Gangway, the onions on my pizza were a mistake!!!’, Tish screams as she rushes to the nearest trash can…
Ooh. Yikes. Cleanup on Aisle Tish.
‘Yo, I wanna see!’, Lor shouts out (because of course), while Carver winces and steps away a bit. ‘Don’t get any of that on my shoes!’.
Heh… Back to normal.
Oh, hey, I should probably sum up things, no? Well, Tish and I learned that just because you don’t spend time one on one with someone in your group, doesn’t mean you can’t, and that maybe it’s best to stick to what you both like to do, instead of forcing something! Though, I guess we already learned that once… Eh, whatever, I guess we re-learned that one. Later days!
…
Huh. Usually that makes you guys disappear. Like, the whole thing irises out into black, like an eye closing. Is that why it’s called irises out? Huh, never thought of that.
I guess you guys are staying around for longer than usual, then? Neat! Tell me if you see anything interesting next time we meet!
TISH’S POV:
I lie down in the bed, hugging William Henry Waddlesworth (my owl plush), thinking about the emotional rollercoaster that was my day. Everything was going so well… Why did I suddenly feel so weird? Was it just because of that one joke by Tino? Come on, I don’t feel that way about him, nor about any of my friends! Heck, I STILL haven’t had any crushes yet!
And why would I have it on Tino? I mean, we’re like family almost!
‘Besides…’, I say outloud, with a satisfied smile, as I turn over to close my eyes and sleep. ‘I didn’t even have the 3 starting signs of a crush.’
What were those again? Let’s see… Right, the first indication is dizziness, then numbness of the legs, usually followed by vomiting!
…
‘WHAT THE FUCK?!’, I whisper shout out loud, since it’s 23:59 and I don’t wanna wake my parents up. Not that that’s gonna be a problem, because I faint right after.
TO BE CONTINUED…