Stupid Jerk

Disclaimer: Don't read what you aren't supposed to. If you do anyway, don't get caught. Sorry it took so long. Your emails encourage me to write; so those of you who have been on my case a bit. Thanks. Drop a line at getitright10@yahoo.com. Enjoy! Disfrutala! -K Stupid Jerk: Lo Que Quiero/What I Want

Her arms wrapped tighter around my neck as she lay her head against mine, kissing my cheek. "Paco?" she asked softly.

"Hmm?" I responded in a daze.

"Es lo que quieres? Is this what you want?" she asked, lifting herself up.

"Yeah, G," I answered.

She turned my head so that she looked into my eyes. I saw Sam. He asked, "Are you sure, Paco? Estas seguro?"

I blinked, shutting my eyes as hard as I could. I felt Sam get off me and sit on the other side of the couch. I opened my eyes seeing Rae Tanaka sitting next to me. She batted her eyes, telling me, "You know I want it just as bad as you, right?"

"Yeah," I answered.

"So, what makes yours better?" she asked, tucking her blue-streaked black hair behind her ear.

"No se," I told her I didn't know.

"Jaa, kikikonde kudasai," she bade me in Japanese.

"Que? I don't speak Japanese," I explained.

"I don't speak Spanish, either."

"Oh, I had said that Iono."

"Well, find out and wake up."

I did.

"Mijo, levantate. Get up now, mijo. School!" Dad called pounding on my door.

I looked over at the clock. I could get a few more minutes of sleep. I blinked and when my eyes reopened, I was twenty minutes late. "Shit!" I exclaimed, throwing on the nearest clothes and running down the hall to the bathroom. I opened the door to find Faber drying himself off, singing something in Italian. Then I noticed his large predicament. He saw me look and winked at me. "Lo siento," I muttered an apology and began to hastily brush my teeth. I made sure not to look in his direction. He continued to sing his song. He finally left the bathroom as I gargled. He passed by me, winking in the mirror, flashing me a bright smile. He somehow managed to rub against me even though there was more than enough room in this bathroom for him to get by. I shivered and ran out of the bathroom, picked up my book bag, and ran downstairs.

As I zipped past the kitchen, Dad yelled, "Overslept, no?"

"Si," I answered, grabbing my painting. I ran to the front door and then doubled back where Dad stood holding money in his hand. There was a click at the front door as Darryl let himself in. "Man, you always late!" he complained.

"Callate," I stuck the money in my pocket, pushing him out the door. Sam quickly got out of the driver's seat and opened the trunk to his SUV. The machine was brand new and humongous. He called it Minx and always talked about it as if it was a person. He said his parents had given it to him as a gift for the good season the football team was having. I put my painting in the trunk and hopped in a middle seat. A sleeping Tom drooped over in the seat next to me. I hit his arm, "Why you still sleep?"

"Fuck off," he mumbled, falling back to sleep.

Sam drove quickly and recklessly. Every time he broke another traffic law, he would give me a mini-lecture on what it meant to be on time in the mornings. I eventually just tuned him out. We flew threw yet another Stop sign as he berated me about the wonders of promptness. That led into some football comparison, and there he just lost me. As we waited at the light -- the most random and useless traffic light in all of West Bumblefuck -- Darryl laid a hand on Sam's arm and rubbed it, "Hey, lay off `im. It don't look like we gonna be late anyway." At that Sam's lectures stopped immediately. He punched the steering wheel, making the horn honk quickly.

Tom rose up, eyes wide open, "We here?!"

"No, sleep s'more," I told him. "Whatchu hit the wheel for anyway?"

"This is the longest light in town. And why? The intersection is only a three-way. I mean, this is technically a dead end for Lost Knife," Sam complained.

"The one traffic light you pay attention to is the most useless," Darryl chuckled, shaking his head. I laughed along with him. Sam flashed us dirty looks and sped off after the light turned green.

Sam pulled into a spot in the parking lot. I looked at the clock, "See, Sam, we ain't late." He just glared at me. I hit Tom on the head, "iDespiertate!"

He got out of the SUV slowly, rubbing his head. "No me grites, Paco."

"I didn't yell. You just sensitive," I defended.

"Well I'm yelling! I was supposed to see coach this morning! Be on time tomorrow, Paco!" Sam shouted and bounded away.

Tom, Darryl, and I made our way to the school and then to our lockers. I handed the painting to Tom. "Hold this a sec. And Darryl, tell your boyfriend to get the stick out of his ass."

Tom began laughing, and Darryl turned red. I stared at them confused for a moment and then it dawned on me. "Y'all sick!" I exclaimed, getting the necessary books from my locker. After putting them in my book bag, I grabbed the painting from Tom. Me and Darryl said bye to Tom because he was in a different homeroom than us.

We went to trig our first period, taught by the ever-perky Ms. Lamontall. She was a young teacher who always was ready to smile and tried her best to make math exciting. Though, if you got on her wrong side, the Devil Incarnate switched places with her as she ate your soul. Darryl and I were one minute late to class.

"Mr. Selva-Chevere and Mr. Michaels, late are we? Do you see the time?!" she pointed to the clock. "Please, Paco, tell me what time it is."

"Eight thirty-one," I sighed.

"Yes! Eight thirty-one! Not eight thirty! But eight thirty-ONE--" (she was the only person I knew who put an "hwh" sound in the word, one) "--you two are LATE! Now this seems as if it's becoming a pattern, gentlemen. PLEASE! BE! ON! TIME!" Her voice returned to its angelic perkiness, "That's all. To your seats." She beamed at us. A few people snickered at our admonishment. She threw the class her demon-face, silencing those who laughed. Again, she immediately smiled and continued talking about vectors.

Darryl and I shared exasperated looks as we sat down. Deirdre, who sat behind me in this class, leaned forward and whispered, "Is that it?"

I leaned back, "What?"

She pointed at the painting, "Is that what you're entering in the mural contest?" I nodded. She continued, "Well, are you gonna continue to keep it a secret?"

I smiled, "Yeah."

"But Sam said he saw it."

"That was a fluke."

"Fluke?" she asked and jumped when Ms. Lamontall shouted, "HAVE YOU A QUESTION DEIRDRE?!" Deirdre shook her head. "Then don't talk. And you, Paco, that's strike two." She held up two fingers. I had the urge to hold up a finger to her and almost did, but Darryl glared at me and shook his head, though he smiled.

Luckily the class went by quickly. The bell signaling Homeroom had rung, and Ms. Lamontall promptly stopped teaching and began chatting jovially with the students nearest her desk. Deirdre, Darryl, and I sat in the back of the room. I took out my sketchpad, flipping through the pages to see if I wanted to work on an older sketch. "Did you even get a peek at it?" she asked Darryl, pointing to my painting.

He shook his head, "Said it--"

"Would be a surprise," she finished and then pushed my shoulder, "Now you've decided to wrap it up in paper."

I smiled to the both of them, "Ya les dijo, `It's a surprise.' Now get outta my ass about it."

"Fucktard," Darryl called me, leaning over to see what I was sketching.

"Bitchlick," I responded automatically and continued shading. Darryl's mouth dropped open when he saw the sketch. He stared at me incredulously. Deirdre loomed over my shoulder and sat down heavily. She, too, stared at me with disbelief.

"Que?" I asked them nervously, slowly hunching over the sketch.

Deirdre blinked, "That's hot. I mean really hot." She then pouted, "Again, why don't you ever draw me like that?"

"When'd you draw that?" Darryl asked. "Better yet, why'd you draw that?"

"A couple of weeks ago, I started it. Tom asked me to draw something for him," I explained.

"And you drew that?" Deirdre asked.

"He was joking and asked me to draw something sensual. I don't think he thought I would, so I did anyway," I further explained. I looked at the sketch. It was exactly what he joked to me about. Something sensual. So I decided to draw him reclining in a chair in nothing but boxers, smiling a seductive version of his trademark smile with his right hand splayed across his left pec. I had begun shading his body so that the muscles stood out more.

Darryl stopped me for a moment, picking up my sketchpad. "But it's totally on point. I mean you got his body like totally right, if not a bit more `perfect' than it really is." Deirdre and I gave him the same look and asked, "And you would know because...?"

He blushed, "Hey, I never said I didn't do my fair share of peeking in the locker room." That made me and Deirdre laugh. He continued, "Draw us like this too and give it to us."

"Yeah," Deirdre agreed, "You draw me like this, and I'll never bug you about not drawing well enough again." She paused. "Okay, I take back that promise, but it would be so cool if you drew us like this -- and George, too."

"Like a set," Darryl added.

I imagined each of them in similar poses in my head, which caused me to get excited -- in a "big" way. Darryl smiled knowingly. Deirdre looked at the two of us, "I miss something?"

"Guy shit," Darryl answered. "He's gonna do it."

Deirdre sat there thinking, looking faraway yet concentrating. She jumped out of her thoughts and smiled at me. "Oh you're having a guy problem," she said a bit too loudly. Some people turned around towards us but didn't know if she was talking about me or Darryl. Darryl gave her a demeaning look. She and I looked at each other and just laughed.

I sat outside of Mrs. Stanton's, the principal, office. I nervously tapped my foot, one hand rested on my painting. All who were trying to pitch their idea of the new mural had to do so today during one of the lunch periods. I had fourth period free, so I decided to do it then.

As usual, nothing was absolutely clear. I get to the office and Ms. Roberts, the secretary, is just yappin' away on the phone, heavily into her charla about some man and his girlfriend. Ms. Roberts was young, blond, and ditzy. She's one of those stereotypical "blondes", though not at all hot. Look up trailer trash in the dictionary, you'd find her picture.

I stood there waiting for her to finally acknowledge my presence. She looked up. "Oh, Charlene, I'll have to get back to ya. There's a student here," she paused, "Yeah, I have to actually do work." She cackled at whatever the person on the phone said. "Really, Char, I gotta go. I'll call ya. B-bye now." She hung up the phone. Leaning her head to the left, she asked breathily in loud, over-pronounced English, "Do you need help?" She made a point of pointing at me when saying you.

The dumb bitch thought I couldn't speak English. "Si. Where do I go to submit my painting?" I asked her.

She still spoke loud, over-pronounced and breathy to me, "Sit. Over there--" (she made huge gestures to the chairs directly outside Mrs. Stanton's office) "--and wait. I am going to tell her another student has their mural idea. O. K?"

I gave her the evil eye, "Aight."

So here I was, still waiting. I leaned my head back, falling into a nice quiet relaxation, until I was jolted out of it. "Where do I go to submit my idea?" someone asked. I looked over to Ms. Roberts's desk. She was all smiles and answered, "Go sit by that boy over there. You'll be next." I tried to make it seem like I wasn't looking in their direction. "Wait a second, hun. What's yer name?" Ms. Roberts asked.

"Rae Tanaka," the girl answered. I sat up. I knew Rae from the art classes we had had together. We also had worked together on the set designs for the two main and the few student run school plays since our freshman year. I knew we'd be doing that again around the end of the month. I glanced over to her and Ms. Roberts and found both of them looking in my direction. Rae looked away blushing.

Ms. Roberts beckoned Rae closer, lean over, and failed at whispering to her, "He's a looker isn't he?" I stared in their direction. Rae looked alarmed and embarrassed. "Oh, don't worry hun. He was just over here. Doesn't speak a lick a'English," she continued at which Rae just looked incredulous. Ms. Roberts went on, "Yeah, he answered me with `see' -- whatever that means. Mmm, he sure is a hot one. Those Latin men. I dated a Latino once...."

I was saved the rest of her story when Mrs. Stanton ushered a student out of her office, pointing to me, "Ven aca."

I got up with my painting and walked into her office while she held the door open. Her office was large and clean. Her desk was all glass and metal. Two chairs sat in front of it, and behind it sat a large tall backed chair. She had the blinds open, letting sunlight pour into the space. It gave her desk a cool glow. I stood there awkwardly until she walked towards her desk. She sat in one of the chairs in front of it and held her hand out to the other, "Sientate por favor."

I sat heavily and commented quietly, "I never knew you spoke Spanish."

She laughed deeply. "Yes, I speak all the Romance Languages, German, Mandarin Chinese, and Japanese. I've always loved languages. Right now I'm learning Welsh. Ooh! How interesting it is! But I'm becoming tangential!" I smiled at her ebullience. She continued, just as enthusiastically, "Well, I have to know my students. We may be in small town America -- even though we're not small at all anymore -- but I have almost twenty-five hundred students, shockingly diversified. I know each and every one of your files. It's all stored up here! So knowing all the languages I do comes in handy. For some students, it makes them feel comfortable. So if you want, we can do this in Spanish."

"It's okay," I nodded.

"Good! Good," she said lightly, got up and went to one of her many file cabinets. She sifted through it and pulled out a folder. She opened it and smiled at me. "Francisco Beltran Selva-Chevere. Beltran, bright raven. That's such a unique middle name. Where's it come from?"

"I think my mother," I answered.

"Oh, you're mom," she read something in her folder and then looked at me in alarm, "Oh! I'm sorry, is she deceased?"

"Huh?"

"Well, it says in your file that it's you and your father. There's no one listed for your mom. I'm sorry if I've touched on something far too personal--"

"Esta bien," I interrupted, telling her it was okay, "She left me and my dad when I was a baby. I ain't seen her since."

She walked back over and sat in the other chair. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Well, let's move on then. You are known around the teachers as one of the resident `Art Buffs'. I was hoping you had something to submit. So, I need you to show me what you have and just pitch your idea!"

I tore the wrapping from around my painting and held it up. "I call it `Ravens Conquer'. The three people you see crouching and holding up their arms are from Webb, Reagan, and of course, Reynolds our biggest rival. The ravens are swooping down on them, overtaking them, and above watch more Ravens, each of them for the different school teams, keeping watch on their," I pointed to the swarming birds, "teammates." I smiled nervously.

She didn't say anything for a few moments and kept her face unreadable but happy. She looked at the painting and finally said softly, "On the wall behind you."

"Excuse...?" I asked her.

She blinked visibly and shook her head, "It's brilliant! I love it! It has school spirit, as shown by the triumphant expressions on the captains of each team with their brilliant black wings. Each sport got equal representation, and let me tell you -- you and so far only one other student have done this. I've received so many football only themes, but that's no surprise. It's good to see equal treatment of all the sports we offer. Though, we know Raven's footballers run the mill!" She laughed deeply again. "I'll tell you this Francisco, yours is in the running! Most definitely." She went to her desk and jotted something down on a pad, "Francisco Selva-Chevere in top running. Yes! You are . . . Wait is your father Alejandro Selva? One of the assistant curators at the Gallery in town?"

"Si," I answered.

"I thought your last name sounded familiar. Looks like art runs in the family! Well I'll be keeping the painting to consider it," she started to lead me towards the door. "As you know, the winner shall be announced at the end of the week!" She opened the door, her whole demeanor changing. "Bye, Francisco." She pointed to Rae, "Come in." Rae smiled at me before going in, and we wished each other good luck.

I ran to Ms. Place's class, making it there just as the bell rang. "Hellooo Mr. Selva-Chevere," she chimed in her long, slow tones.

"'Sup," I returned her greeting and sat down.

"Where's your painting?" Tom asked, pulling his hair back and wrapping a tie around it. His pulled back afro was as big as his head.

"In Stanton's office. She said I'm in the top running!" I answered.

"Does that mean we don't get to see it?" Deirdre complained.

"Didn't you hear what I said? I'm in the top running!" I repeated.

Tom smiled his trademark smile, "So that's a `no'?"

I nodded, "She told me to keep it in her office, pero you'll see it by Friday."

"But you promised!" Deirdre squeaked. Darryl, Tom, and I gave her inquisitive looks.

"Ms. Foxallll, pleaasseee refrain from outburstsss whiiile in classs," she pointed at Deirdre and continued, "Now about Shakespeare's Juuuliusss Caesarrr..."

"That it would be a surprise," I answered.

"I'm a end this," Darryl declared. He got out of his seat and went over to Sam's desk. Ms. Place was at the chalkboard writing something and talking, not paying the class any attention really. Darryl interrupted Sam's conversation with some other footballer. The look Sam gave him should've revealed all about their relationship, but as they were two footballers no one thought anything of it. The two of them whispered to each other. Sam looked at me, turned back to Darryl and shook his head. Darryl looked at me annoyed and whispered something more to Sam. Sam began to blush ever-so-lightly and said something else in Darryl's ear. Darryl came back to his desk, smiling triumphantly.

"Okay, Paco's painting is called `Ravens Conquer' and--" I stopped Darryl, placing a hand over his mouth. He licked my hand, which I took away immediately. I gave him a pleading expression and warned, "Don't make me embarrass you."

"With what?" he countered. "Deirdre knows all the embarrassing things about me."

"Pero Tom doesn't," I returned.

He thought it over for a moment, "Sorry, y'all. I got nothin' to say."

Deirdre glared at him angrily, "Like tellin' Tom would count now!"

"There are some events that I ain't about to reveal. Would you like me to tell Tom what you did in seventh grade at Kara's pool party?" Darryl asked her.

Before Tom could ask for any further information, Deirdre pointed a long finger at him, "Don't hold your breath."

Tom sighed, "I guess we'll have to wait until Friday then."

"Pues," I began telling Tom in Spanish, "Los dos me dieron la idea a dibujarlos, George y Sam como yo te dibuje."

"El dibujo desde la clase de Swanson?" he asked me.

"What are you two discussing in Spanish?" Deirdre asked us.

"I was telling him about you and Darryl's idea for me to draw y'all like a set."

"Oh," was all she responded.

"They saw it?" Tom asked, embarrassed.

"Yeah, problema?" I asked him if it was a problem.

Trying to be nonchalant, he answered, "No."

"Okay," I responded.

Everyone stopped talking when the intercoms chimed and Mrs. Stanton's voice came over the intercom, "Good afternoon students! Sorry to interrupt your class, lunch, study hall or whatever!" she paused to giggle some more, "Well here's my announcement. My teacher's committee and I have come up with the winner of the mural contest! Yes this an early decision, and we're sure there are more great ideas out there but we've come across exactly what we were looking for. Now this was a very, very difficult decision to make. All of your ideas and artworks were simple wonderful, marvelous, and excellent portrayals of school spirit and sheer talent, but there's only one winner. Or so one would think! Because of both of their deft talents we have declared not one but two winners of the contest. Yes, they're two murals shall share the same wall. The winners are Rae Tanaka and Francisco Selva-Chevere! That is all. Please continue with your stupendous day!"

I sat there letting the news sink in, while people congratulated me in class. Darryl and Tom both clapped me on the back giving me their congratulations. And for some of the girls in class, it was like I just became something to be noticed, for I received a cavalcade of batting eyes and lecherous expressions from them. I think it was Deirdre who summed it up the best. She leaned back towards me and said in a quiet tone, "Like you didn't know. I mean, really." At that I laughed because it was exactly what I needed to hear. I went back to working on Tom's sketch.

George punched my shoulder after I sat down at our usual lunch table. "Good going, P."

"Thanks."

When everyone got to the table she started telling a joke, and then she, Darryl and Tom fell into football talk while Deirdre and I chatted about nothing in particular. She had books thrown about the table in front of her as she finished some last minute homework. Just as she began asking me about some Trig problem we were interrupted by Rae.

"Paco?" We all stopped talking. All our attention went to Rae. She looked a bit taken aback by the sudden attention from all of us. She nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. I smiled to myself. In my dream it had been blue-streaked, but now it was a bright yellow in the front. "Mrs. Stanton wants to see the two of us after school."

"Aight, see you there," I nodded.

"Mmhmm." With that she walked away.

"I'll go with you," Tom told me, "Coach wanted me to see the Assistant Principal about Swanson's class. I didn't even know we had an Assistant Principal," he laughed.

"Yeah," George filled in, "That'd be Mr. Diodoro."

Deirdre fanned herself with her notebook and stared off into nothing, "That man is just sexy."

"You ain't lyin'," Darryl added at which we all laughed.

"Ion't know who you're talking about," Tom shrugged.

"I'll show you," I assured him.

Tom and I had been waiting for almost a half hour outside of Mrs. Stanton's office. Ms. Roberts had told us that she and Mr. Diodoro were in a meeting. This was after she openly undressed both me and Tom with her eyes and then have the nerve to describe us to the unseen `Charlene' one the other end of the phone.

I had been trying to put the final touches on Tom's sketch, but there wasn't enough light outside of Mrs. Stanton's office. "Let's go into Mainstreet," I said to Tom, getting up. "Por que?" he asked yet still followed.

"Not enough light here," I explained. As we passed Ms. Roberts I leaned over to her, "We're gonna be right in the hallway." She just nodded her head and kept talking to Charlene. "That woman is such a rubia," Tom commented as we sat down underneath a window. There were no lockers here on this section of the wall.

"I know," I laughed. I was finishing up the sketch while the two of us talked about nothing in particular until Tom reached over for my pad. I moved it out of his reach.

"Que?" he asked innocently and then pouted, "I just wanna see it."

"It's almost done. I just have to do one more thing."

"You're always making us wait. The unfinished product is just as good as the finished in my eyes."

"Thanks for the compliment, pero todavia tienes que esperar," I told him he still had to wait.

He made another grab for the sketch pad and again I kept it out of his reach. He grabbed my shirt and pulled me closer to him. His other hand was stretched out reaching for the pad.

"Ha! I'm taller than you," I laughed triumphantly.

"Soy mas fuerte. I'm stronger!" he retorted, smiling. He grabbed my shirt again, pulling me closer and began to climb over me while pinning me down with his other arm. I tried moving it, but it wouldn't budge. Damn his strength! He reached over me and plucked the pad from my hands and gave me his trademark smile. "See there, I win." Still pinning me down, he opened to the page with his sketch on it. He looked over it for a moment and then looked down at me, not saying anything.

I raised a brow, gazing back at him. His face was really serious; however, not in a bad way. He looked back at the sketch and then at me again. "Diga algo," I told him to say something. He put the pad down.

Next thing I knew, his lips were on mine.

Yay! I'm finally done. Sorry this one took so long. The past couple of weeks have been EXTREMELY hectic -- house renovating and all. I promise not to take so long with the next chapter. Hit me up at getitright10@yahoo.com. Thanks for all your emails. -K