The raven haired girl

After school activities

“So, describe this guy to me again?”

Olivia groaned and flopped onto her back. She was sprawled out on a stone bench in the park. She had come straight there after school to meet up with Charlotte, her best friend. Charlotte always skipped the first day of classes. She said it started the first year off on the right foot, But even though she abstained from going to school, she still wanted to know what everyone had worn and how people had changed.

Olivia had made the mistake of mentioning Ben. “He looked normal, but not overly preppie.” Olivia knew that she should have never mentioned him to Charlotte. She may have been her best friend, but she could get annoyingly obsessed over the silliest little things, and her full attention was now on Ben, and Olivia didn’t feel right picking him apart to the atomic level. Charlotte sat planted on the ground, dissecting dandelions while Olivia lounged on her back staring at clouds. At the other end of the park, young mothers watched their children play on the jungle gym. They had their part of the park to themselves which is how they liked it. As a distraction, Olivia offered, “Ortega called me in today.” “Today?”

“Yep.” “He knows it’s the first day of school, right?” “He wanted to call me out of first period. The teacher saved me from that at least.” “So when did he call you in?” “Second period. Called me over the PA system.” “Oh man,” Charlotte said with a shake of her head. “Yeah, and all he wanted to know was what I did over the break.” “What’d you tell him?” her friend asked with a knowing smile. “The usual. I drank pig’s blood and partied with bikers.” “I bet he was jealous.” “Yeah, but I’m getting tired of that shtick. I need to come up with some new material.”

“How about you become a Bible thumper? You could rave that everyone is going to burn in the fires of Hell, the four horsemen have been sighted, and Armageddon is upon us!” Charlotte’s voice had slowly risen with every word until she sounded like a raving lunatic. Across the park, several of the young mothers turned to watch them nervously. Olivia smiled at her. “Maybe I should start sending you in for me. You’re more inventive.” “Nah, you’re more believable.” Charlotte dropped another dismembered dandelion. Her fingers had turned green from her dissecting. Olivia doubted that Charlotte wouldn’t be any less ‘believable’.

She’d made dysfunctional into an art form. Her hair was a new color every week. Her ears were pierced a combined total of nine times plus her right nostril. She was an avid Good Will shopper. If there was a psychedelic, mushroom-patterned, polyester dress for sale, Charlotte would be wearing it proudly the next day, but no one would dare suggest she was a little unhinged because her father was a hotshot lawyer, and he would aim his full litigious wrath at anyone suggesting his daughter was unbalanced, which she was—but just a little. That was why Olivia liked her. “Back to Ben. Was he cute?” Charlotte bounced up and down, fixated once again. Olivia squirmed. “Haven’t we worn this subject out?” “No. You said he seemed normal, and he didn’t like Hoey, which means he’s very smart, but you didn’t really tell me anything about his looks.”

“Um...” Olivia was getting a little uncomfortable. Why did his looks matter? “I guess he was kind of cute...” “How cute?” “Let’s talk about something else.” “Do you think he’s really cute?” She shrugged her shoulders to mask her sudden unease. “I wouldn’t go that far. He’s not Quasimodo, but he’s no one to pursue like the Holy Grail either. Anyway, Zoe has set her sights on him.” “Oh, Zoe.” Charlotte’s head c****d sharply on the second syllable so that her hair bounced like a valley girl. “You give me the word, Liv, and I’ll set my sights on her. I wonder what she would look like bald. If we’re lucky, she’ll have an ugly birthmark, like that guy—Gorbachev. She’d be known as Gorbie for the rest of the year! We have to think of a song now to make fun of her with! What rhymes with Gorbie?”

Olivia wasn’t about to encourage this plan for a second because that’s all it would take for Charlotte to rush to the drugstore, buy whatever hair removal lotion was on sale, swap out Zoe’s shampoo with it, write a song titled Gorbie, and for Olivia to be the one in detention at the end. She shook her head. “Why do anything to Zoe when old age will do all that for us?” “Oh, let time do all the dirty work? The perfect slacker revenge.” Charlotte began to pull apart another dandelion. “But I still think we should ask your grandma to throw a voodoo curse on the zozo. Think of all the fun we could have with one of those voodoo dolls. We could stick pins in it, twist its limbs in ways God never intended, set it on fire, flush it down the good old commode, pour hot wax—” Olivia reached over to put her hand over Charlotte’s mouth to cut her off. If she didn’t, she may very well not get a word in until Charlotte passed out from lack of oxygen and then what she had to say wouldn’t matter, seeing as how Charlotte would be unconscious. In a slow, clear voice, Olivia reminded her, “Gran doesn’t do voodoo.” Remembering the time, she checked her phone. “Speaking of, I’ve gotta go. She’s probably fixing dinner, and I should set the table.” Charlotte jumped up and began vigorously brushing herself off with a pout on her lips. “I knew it! You won’t let me Nair bomb zoe, you won’t show me how to make voodoo dolls, and you always remember to do your chores! You’re not really an outcast, loner, anti-establishment teenager at all. You’re really a secret agent, sent by my father to instill a good influence on me, aren’t you? Aren’t you?!” Olivia solemnly nodded. “Yes, you’ve found me out. Under this latex mask, I’m actually a thirty-five-year-old man from Nova Scotia whose interests include polka music, macramé, and professional dog racing.” Charlotte tilted her head and gave her a saucy wink. “Really? Do you want a girlfriend?”