Date: Fri, 24 Oct 2008 14:16:51 -0700 (PDT) From: Joe Parker <joejoeparkertex@yahoo.com> Subject: I think I'm in trouble, Part I Chapter II I THINK I'M IN TROUBLE Chapter II Four weeks ago Jake~ You know how you can be going through something kinda intense and dramatic? Then seemingly all the normal incidental peripheral things going on around you suddenly align themselves and somehow become relative to your situation? Well I'm driving home like a lunatic right, my heart is pumping like a runaway pair of Nike Air Jordans and this song comes on the radio. Now I don't know old music real well but I have a good musical ear (Dad says it's a gift from Mom's side), well anyway this songs playing on the radio and it's soooooooo right! -- like maaaan this song is creeping me out it's so on the button you know? "I should run on the double . . . I think Im in trouble, I think Im in trouble" These lines in particular describe exactly what happened today when I saw him. And it's gonna be terrible coz I'm gonna be singing and humming this song for the rest of the week. I'm one of those guys who seems to be able to influence what tunes other people hum or whistle you know what I mean? I hum something and then they subconsciously will copy and when I hum another tune they will take up that one too.., kinda weird huh. Well I need to get this song RIGHT OUT OF MY FRICKEN MIND because if the household picks this one up, even when I'm over it.., they'll still be humming it - grrrrrrr! Today was not a good day, I repeat.., today was NOT a good day! It started out fine, everything going to plan just like always. I woke up, jerked off, showered, looked at myself admiringly in the mirror, shaved, deodorized, anti-persperized, threw on a sexy pair of expensive black hip briefs, admired myself again, slid into some tight jeans a jade green A&F polo, a wisp of Oscar De la Renta cologne, blew a kiss towards my mirror and I was ready to conquer another day. Breakfast with Grandma - kiss for her, electric toothbrush, stormed Dads office kissed him on the top of his head (Shut up!) and then into my Jeep Grand Cherokee and down the mountain to Garfield High, my other domain. There in the car park was my baby Jessica, hottest, sweetest girl in 10 counties and all mine. 5 feet and 10 inches of gorgeous blonde bombshell. My buds Clarke and Junior also await my arrival and together with their girlfriends Sue and Beth we six rule the world, well ok the school. So it all went well until pretty much the last period. Earlier in the day I had overheard Sue (biggest gossip in 10 counties) talking about some new guy from Kentucky or Tennessee or some place who had just transferred and how hot he was. I was like blah whatever in my mind you know? - stupid girls and their ridiculous carry on. Yeah and then just before last period I am rolling with my two buds down to study hall and what do I hear??? "Oh Jessica you really gotta meet this new boy, tell her your name sugar?" -- Now that was Sue talking and as we round the corner I can sense Clarke (her boyfriend) beginning to tense.., he doesn't take kindly to his woman gushing over other boys. Just as they come into view I hear a light as air but still low musical voice respond. "Hey Jessica, pleased to meet you, my name is Felix Jarrow" I freeze.., Jarrow? - that's not a common name and my Momma's name was Jarrow. Did Sue say he was from Kentucky maybe? Coz my Momma was from there too. Jessica - who knows very well who my Mother was (everyone knows), contemplates the new boy, a strange look in her eyes and asks.., "Are yall any relation to the country singer Shonta Jarrow-Maxson, coz you got her eyes?" "Yes Mam she's cousins to my Mom and her name ain't Maxson, those bastards froze her out of their family" I am standing just behind him now and Jessica is flickering me a worried gaze. Suddenly Clarke enters the fray from my right. "You don't wanna be dissing the Maxsons' in this town son. And if you even look sideways at these two fine young ladies, well then I'm gonna hafta learn you a lesson real good!" New boy turns around and spots me, Clarkes' tirade totally forgotten. Sue rolls her eyes, Jessica nervously begins to nibble her manicured nails and an utterly weird sensation takes over me as mine and his eyes collide. Like being underwater, like when your ears ring with that strange high pitched "Dooooooooooooool" sound. He and I have tuned out everything else, everyone else. And we have linked directly into one another, a perfect double simulcast of innate recognition and incomprehensible static. His eyes are ultra-violet colored, just like mine. They have a ring of black around the Iris, so do mine. They are reading me like a book, something not even Jess can do. And they are afraid, and so am I. I try to squint, attempt to recover but I can't see anything but him. If only I could refocus on Jess but she is just an inconsequential blur, a side order to his mains. My whole body has tightened and my mind is blank to all usual stimulus except for him.., HIM.., my Mother's cousins son? What does that make us? Second cousins or something? I don't know. We stare into one anothers eyes. Our sight locked into a purple haze of uncommon color. Wide eyed, throats compulsively gulping and a mutual understanding that our lives are about to be changed irrevocably. Next thing I hear is Junior on my other side hollering away.., "What are you looking at faggot?!? You scoping out my bud Jake here huh faggot? - answer me!!!" Junior isn't known for his tact or his fine intellect and his winning personality falls off the back of his Dodge Ram truck every morning. If I could have rolled my eyes at that moment, I would have but alas I was otherwise engaged. Lost in the exploration of a boy who clearly shared my mothers blood, of this I was certain. I suddenly felt that heated sensation around my temples as my face began to flush. If Junior thought Felix was a faggot then he might say the same about me. What the Hell kinda name is Feeeeelix anyway? I am, instantly on guard since I do not want my own reaction to Felix to be picked up on by my buds. Even though they may only be able to light up the first letter of a neon Bud Light sign.., they can read me well enough. With one huge mental and physical effort I drag myself out of the tractor beam influence of my 'kinda-cousins' irresistible force and and take immediate measures to reassert my thus farunchallenged and inherent dominance of all I survey. Including him. "What the Hell!?!?" I manage to rasp out, still a little too high... "Just because you say your name is Jarrow, that doesn't mean anything" I try to ignore the sceptical look on Jessica's face, obviously to her - 'The eyes have it'. My voice has now returned to it's growly raspy timbre that instinctively warns all comers not to mess with me, but New Boy doesn't seem to be a subscriber. "Considering you ain't never met any of us, I don't really think you are qualified to know the difference" He smirks, his ultramarine eyes morph into a flinty amethyst blaze, just like mine do. His neck muscles pop and his jaw grinds, just like mine do. His hair is like sugar drop, sun kissed, syrupy honey, all golden and just long enough to run my hands though while he's taking care of my... WHAT THE HELL!!! -- my mind is shot and I am starting to think WAY GAY things! All I got for you is two words - can you guess them? TRACTOR BEAM... With one final mighty effort I tear my betraying eyes away from his and commence dirty tricks proceedings. With the element of surprise I stiff arm him in a clothes-line type maneuver spinning him round and slamming him into the nearest available locker. Ahhhh the ubiquitous locker, dontchya just love them? Cliche I know but somehow I reckon that I'm gonna miss having these handy props around once my High School years finally end this Summer. Meanwhile... Ok so I have just crushed New-smart-mouth-cousin-boy against the locker and in my favorite menacing-type voice I whisper... "Today, you just enrolled yourself into your worst nightmare, if you got any brains you won't be coming back heretomorrow" I butt my head into the side of his head producing a high pitched keening sound of pain from him. A bunch of gasps and outraged female cries go up behind me.., and in my heart, and in my heart... Something breaks, something from deep inside of me. That mechanism which allows me to look in the mirror and like myself. That thing which lets me justify why I should breathe air, why I should exist. He is shaking now and even though he is quite tall, maybe about 6'2, I have another 5 inches on him. I feel terrible but the encouraging jeers of my buddies behind me urge me to finish the job. I have known Clarke and Junior since 1st grade and I have always thought that without my stern hand over them, they would have bullied their way clear over the Appalachians. I am ashamed that I am doing this right now and cannot really fathom how I got to this point, but I guess I better finish off what I started. I grab a fistful of his molten honey hair and yank his face right next to mine. I am distracted by the thought that we are both chewing Big Red... ok yeah pretty weird eh? I can see his face in profile and there is fear there. I bring my mouth up to his ear and prepare to deliver his death sentence. Only I make yet another mistake, a real big one. My traitorous nose decides it wants to get in on the act too and it gives him a big old sniff. My head spins as my olfactory sensors go into overdrive and begin sending back news flash reports about the way Felix Jarrow smells, his scent and the pheromonal effect of him. I can smell Irish Spring, I can smell Pert, Axe, CK One and even a hint of Bounce! Beyond that is his own personal scent, unfathomable, mysterious, addictive, beautiful. I am experiencing such a sensory overload that I end up whispering the wrong thing into his ear. I almost nuzzle him as I say to him gently.., "I'm sorry ok, just don't come back tomorrow.., it won't be good for you" He breathes in raggedly and as I give him one last cowardly knee to the back as a final shot he collapses to the floor and assumes a position not bound by culture, time or border. The fetal position. I am the victor. I remain unchallenged, all is supposedly right in the world. The first eyes I see as I turn around are blue, hard and incredibly saddened. Jessica. Perhaps I will look back and think of this whole incident and my response to it as a huge overreaction but somehow I dont think so. I lurch woodenly towards her seeking, Hell I don't know, affirmation?, absolution?, support? She shakes her head in a one, two jerky movement and cannot look me in the eyes. It's over, I know it's over already. I've just gone and lost the respect of the most special girl in my whole world. She slides past me and joins Sue and now Beth who are tending to the boy lying injured on the ground. Clarke and Junior quickly attempt to help me regroup clearly intending to apply J.O.C.K. therapy to me with lots of high fives, man hugs and backslaps. But I'm done, I slowly walk past them, stalking off down the corridor until I'm running and then sprinting through empty spaces hearing nothing but the sound of my own anguish soaked breathing. Drawing breath, sucking in air that I no longer deserve to breathe. **************************************** Somehow I must have blanked out because I'm now here in my truck driving at insane speeds all the way up the mountain and away from the 'scene of my crime'. My eyes are awash with tears of guilt and shame, I keep having to wipe snot from my nose and I have lost control of my breathing, hyperventilating to the degree that my truck keeps swerving in 'S' type arcs edging closer each time to the sheer cliff that promises a very dire and certain demise. A strange atmospheric song is playing on the radio and I can't get it out of my mind. What's the radio doing on anyway? I don't usually listen to the radio coz one of Mom's old songs might come on and her music is banned in our family... I gotta concentrate! I gotta quit driving like this. I stop the truck and leave it in the middle of the road, get out and start walking. I walk for about 2 miles before I hear the sound of a car coming down the road from above. This is a private road and only Maxsons or Maxson employees frequent it so I can guess that whoever this is it's someone who knows me. The whir of a big engined car alerts me immediately to who it is. Presently, a huge ghost grey Cadillac town car glides around the corner, perfectly executes a tight 3 point turn almost on a dime and then stops. I self consciously sidle up to it. I have inexplicably lost all of my ability to be a mature soon to be 18 year old. (If there is such a thing) I am 8 once again and my Grandmother awaits me... I shuffle up to the back left hand window trying not to look directly at her, doing the sideways look I perfected as a child. I lower my head and bite my quivering lower lip trying not to cry anymore. "Ma am" I say, stealing glances at my Grandmother, wondering what all she is going to make of my current predicament. She responds with a bemused "Out for a walk are we?" I just nod and look down and she continues.., "Hmmm security reported that horrid truck of yours was unattended and in the middle of the road" I just nod again and sniff, her driver, Mr James Belmont hops out and opens the back door on the other side of the car. He stands there waiting for me to enter. "In you get sweetheart" She says. "I haven't got all day" See that hangdog, pathetic, feeling sorry for himself, poor excuse for a Maxson getting into the car? Well that's me. I slip in beside Granma and she opens her arms and I veritably leap into them with a gurgle of embarrassing hiccups and tears. "Take me home Grandma, take me home to my Daddy" I snuffle into her shoulder, comforted by the childhood scent of Chanel No5. My Grandmother's silvery voice then intones to Mr Belmont.., "Home James, and don't spare the horses" Alicia Maxson kisses and strokes the head of her beloved Grandson as she stares consideringly out the window seeking out the tiny buildings of Garfield High School far below. An ill wind this way blows, and it brings trouble, this she knows. She can smell it all over her grandson. she used to smell it all over her son. Trouble -- from Lindsay Buckingham's 1981 Album, Law & Order -- Reprise Records.