True To Life
by Ann Douglas
Friday afternoon couldn't have come too soon for the students of
Peterson High School. It was the first week of June and they had less than
two weeks to go until graduation. For Michael Rossi and Bobby Williams, it
meant that in ten short days they would finish their years at Peterson and
move onto bigger and better things. In Bobby's case it was a football
scholarship at State, and for Mike Rossi a chance to study Industrial Arts
at Brookfield U.
"I thought that English Lit class would never end." Bobby said as they
headed for the bus stop on the corner. "I can't seem to understand Hamlet,
they speak so funny. You never know what they're talking about."
"Well you better figure it out real quick." Mike said to his longtime
pal. "Cause Old Man Winters is a bug on Shakespeare, and Hamlet is
supposed to be his favorite. You know he's going to put it on the final."
"Shit," Bobby groaned. "I'm screwed then. I even got those Monarch
Notes, but they still didn't help."
"Tell you what," Mike said as he suddenly stopped. "How bout you take
my story notes home over the weekend. Read then tomorrow and I'll come
over Sunday and go over with them with you."
"That'd be great." Bob said, the relief in his voice evident. "What am
I ever going to do without you when I get to State."
"Properly fail," Mike joked. "But by then you'll be someone else's
problem."
The larger boy joined in the laughter and slapped Mike on the back.
They had been friends since the ninth grade. Even back then, Bobby had
been a jock. Mike on the other hand had been a skinny, pale little kid who
more than earned the title nerd. He was the kind of kid that always seem
to get beat up by the bigger guys. That was until the day Bobby Williams
had come across a Junior about to deposit Mikey in a waste bin after he had
spilled milk on his jacket.
Bobby didn't know Mike from Adam, but he'd had a little brother who used
to get picked on by the bigger kids. In fact, since Bobby was left back in
the fifth grade, he was eighteen months older than the rest of his class.
That made his little brother Steve only six months younger than Mike.
From that point on, the two had formed an unlikely friendship. Mike had
spent many a night tutoring Bobby in one subject or other. Bob in turn had
helped his younger friend branch out in other areas that he normally
wouldn't have approached. True, he wasn't about to try out for the
football team, but he had long ago shed his nerd image. At least in
appearance.
Rummaging through his knapsack, Mike finally came up with a small red
binder and handed it to Bobby.
"Try not to drool on it when you eat." He said as his friend dropped the
binder in his own carry case. "I realize that I'm asking a lot, but I do
try to take care of my study notes."
"Funny, Rossi, real funny." Came Bobby's reply. "There are times I
wonder why I kept them from putting you out with the trash."
Mike didn't seem to hear the comeback. His attention seemed to be
concentrated on his knapsack as he sorted through it's contents looking for
something. A worried look flashed across his face as he began to shift
through the books and binders a second time.
"Lose something? Bobby inquired.
"My sketchbook," Mike replied as he looked a third time. "It's not
here!"
"You sure?"
"Of course I'm sure," He answered, a tense anxiousness in his voice.
"I've looked three times!"
Michael's great love was drawing, and his sketchbook was his pride. Not
that he ever showed it to anyone. Sure once and a while he would produce a
portrait for someone after he had ripped it from the book, but no one ever
saw the book itself.
"Hey don't worry about it, it's just a book. I'll bet it's sitting in
your locker or under your desk in one class or another." Bobby said as he
glanced at his watch and saw that the bus would be there in a few minutes.
"Don't worry about it, you'll get it Monday.
The hard angry look he suddenly got from his friend told him he had said
exactly the wrong thing. It was as if after causing a loosing fumble, Mike
had told him football was only a game.
"Ok, I'm a thick headed jock and don't know anything about art." Bobby
apologized. "I know you're going to go back and look for it, do you want
me to go back with you?"
"Nah, I don't want you to be late for your job at McDonalds." Mike said,
accepting the apology. "You might need those job skills some day."
"It's a good thing you're such a hot shot artist, cause as a comedian
you'd make a great waiter."
"There's the bus, get going!" Mike said as he pointed out the gray bus
rounding the corner.
"Ok, ok." Mike said as he grabbed his bag and started to head for the
stop.
Housewives that masturbate like strippers whores: a slutty housewife is simply the best!!
|
Check out other hot webmasters' links
|