Krushed
As told by David Michael Thomas
My older sister is considered an idea machine by those who know her best. What people don't realize is that the idea machine gene sort of runs in our family. My brother, Sam, was the most finely-tuned idea machine of the Thomas clan. No offense to Kristy, but compared to Sam, she was about as creative as a plain white t-shirt. While Kristy paid attention during school, Sam spent his days dreaming up new ways to annoy teachers. For instance, Sam's senior prank was throwing a party in the principal's backyard while he was out of town. Kristy's senior prank was… nonexistent.
But she did think of the Babysitters Club. And the Krushers.
The Krushers got their start as the oddest, most randomly constructed softball team that ever walked on to a field. No offense to Kristy, but who in their right mind puts a two-and-a-half year old on a softball team? Not one of her best ideas.
By the time I became a junior in high school, I was long overdue for a big project of my own. What I needed was motivation, and I got it when Myriah Perkins came back from working at a summer camp: tanned, toned, and perfect. Myriah had been a good friend for a long time. I had known her ever since her family moved into the house that I used to live in. I had always been too preoccupied with my usual guy stuff to really think about her.
Suddenly the usual guy stuff became thinking about Myriah. And one day, my need to impress Myriah suddenly collided with my need to demolish a certain idiot named Kyle Taylor.
"Daddy," I overheard Karen, my stepsister, say sweetly to her father on a Thursday morning before school. "Now, don't get upset, but… but a boy invited me to the movies on Friday night. Hannie and Ricky are going, too, and the movie is clean and appropriate and –"
"Sounds like a date to me," I chimed in helpfully, watching my stepfather furrow his brow in concern. Karen apparently didn't think so. She shot me a nasty look. I nearly choked on my cereal. Sitting on my left, my stepbrother Andrew wore a slight smirk.
"Now Karen, you know how I feel about dating at your age…"
HA!
"But you said Hannie and Ricky are going? Well, as long as it'll be a group function, Karen, I really don't see the harm in it. Make sure you're home by curfew."
Dammit.
I was confused for a moment. Then it hit me that Watson and Mr. Taylor play golf together. And I remembered that Bart Taylor had taken Kristy to her senior prom. Watson must've figured that if Bart was okay, Kyle was okay.
I knew better. Andrew did too. After Karen flounced happily out of the room and Watson wandered off to look for Emily Michelle (adopted sister - my family's huge), my stepbrother leaned over to me. "Kyle has a reputation for being a bad ass, doesn't he?"
Now here's the thing. I like Andrew, but he can be incredibly naïve – even for an eighth grader. I blame Watson for sticking him in private school. I had to snicker at his word choice and the fact that he nearly whispered when he said ass.
Kyle was captain of the basketball and baseball teams at Stoneybrook Day School. Last year, he dated Amanda Delaney, an untouchable cheerleader. (She promptly dumped him after one month – her limit.) I knew all this without even going to the same school as the guy. And I knew that you didn't get a status like his without doing your fair share of partying.
Karen is a very pretty girl and a very good girl. Kyle, being Kyle, was obviously sick of the Amanda Delaney type. He was bored with girls who were already labeled bad. He wanted to turn a good girl bad instead. I just knew that was his motive with Karen. It made me sick.
I had to stop him somehow.
