We're the Kirks
The year is 20. Grade school children swagger past me on the sidewalk with their ridiculous consumer 'garb' that marks them as the cool kids. A Frisbee whizzes past my head and a golden retriever races in front of me, catching the disk in the air. There is a hotdog stand, explaining the wretched odor wafting from the open crate, and oh dear lord is she wearing Uggs with those jeans?
This is Lima, Ohio. The lamest and most inviting place in the state. My dad, my little brother, and I moved here after some unfortunate events that involved him, my (ex) mother, and a .44 scoped revolver a bit over a year ago. Messy, huh?
It isn't so bad. My dad, Eric, managed to score a nice two-story house because of his realtor cousin. I even got a bedroom with a bay window. Not to mention the tiny 'knitting' closet, and then the big closet. I sometimes wonder if my dad could even afford it but, hey, I'm a teenager. I'm not supposed to worry about those things. Right?
My little twerp brother, Michael, is attending Lima Junior High. He thinks he's a big shot because he has a speck of facial hair, but every boy needs his hope. I, on the hand, have been homeschooled for the past year because I didn't really want to face anyone I didn't particularly like. I've driven past McKinley High School plenty of times. I see kids being thrown into dumpsters on a constant basis. I'm a kid with limited social manners and (ahem) a bit chubby on the side. I'm a target. So I stay at home.
Right now, with the sun shining and the smell of hot dogs in the air, I'm heading to Hummel Tires and Lube. Huh, lube. Pffft. My poor 67' Impala has been in the shop for a week. Usually I fix my car myself, and rarely do I let other people just pop open her hood, but I haven't been able to figure out what was wrong with her.
The mechanic, Burt, is actually a cool guy. I sometimes swing around the shop to help with other cars and what it costs comes of the final cost of my Impala. When I slide under the garage door, Burt waves his ankle at me from underneath a Pacer.
"Piece of shit," I hear him mutter, "could've been a nice car, but no, these folks had to go and destroy the poor thing." Burt slides out from underneath and throws me a dishcloth. "Would you mind looking in the hood of that Express over there?"
"What? Is Ms. Paranoid dropping her van off again?"
"It's worth to check. At least she pays us as we babysit her totally fine car. How's Eric?" Burt asks.
"My dad? He's been working late, haven't seen much of him in about a week. I think he might be seeing someone. How's Carol? The boys?" I pop open the Express's hood and shut it when nothing seems out of order. Some lady keeps dropping it off saying something is making a funny noise, but we can never figure out why.
"Carol is just great. The boys are doing well too, but you haven't met them yet have you?" I shake my head no. "Well, Kurt might be swinging around in about six minutes or so, has to pick up his designer notebook and bring me my lunch." He chuckles.
"What about my designer notebook? Did you find it?" A tall, lanky, but fabulous boy opened the door instead of limboing under the garage door. His hair quiff could dismantle the government.
"No, Kurt, I haven't. I have someone I'd like you to meet. This is Fern Kirk. She's been working with me in the shop for the past three months." Burt says and I step forward. Kurt's eyes swept over me, making me feel self-conscious, but I stick out my hand and keep my chin high. Kurt shakes it and I'm not surprised that his hands are baby soft.
"Have you read Patti Lupone's book?" He asks and I quirk an eyebrow.
"Excuse me?" I ask, knowing the name, but not knowing why he would ask me such a random question. He sighed and walked away.
"Um...Okay. Well it was nice mee-..." Kurt shut the door behind him and I trailed off. Burt noticed and clapped a hand down on my shoulder.
"Don't worry, he can be sort of a sour puss at first. You'd like Finn, though. I bet he'll be here in no time." He smiles and I smile back, grabbing my messenger bag and my army jacket with patches on the arms.
"Thanks for the offer, Mr. Hummel, but I've got to catch my bus. Is Lucy going to be finished anytime soon?" I asked, referring to my car.
"I'd give her another week. See ya, kiddo." He said. I waved and raced outside. The bus was starting to leave the terminal and I ran after it. Curse my thick figure. I skidded to a stop when the bus was too far for me to catch it. Great luck in Ohio.
I was surprised to see my dad's car when I reached the driveway. It took me an hour to get home, but a bus thankfully stopped near the corner I was at. The sweet smell of chinese takeout literally assaulted my nostrils. I dropped my jacket and bag at the door and raced to the kitchen. Right when I was about to turn the corner, a female voice stopped me.
"Are you sure the kids are ready to meet me?" The feminine voice seemed hesitant.
"Of course," I heard my dad say, "it's almost been two years. I'm sure they're ready and if they aren't, well, they'll adapt. I'm sorry the dinner is so cheap though."
"It doesn't matter, I love sweet and sour chicken." She giggled and I heard gross, mushy sounds. Oh, uccch. They were kissing! I knew my dad might be seeing someone but to hear it be true? I felt nauseated. I wasn't a big fan of my mom, but to hear my dad kissing someone else? It's a foreign, disgusting sound. I turned right around and headed towards the garage. I threw open the door and slammed it behind me. Michael's little boy band stared at me, amazed that a girl was in their presence.
"Mikey, did you know about the alien in our kitchen?" I asked. Mikey stared at me like I was insane. I grabbed his arm and tugged him to the corner.
"Woah, what the hell, Fern? We're trying to practice!" He whispered and I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, whatever. You can go back to your strumming and vocal grunts after I tell you about the alien in our kitchen." I forcefully spit the words from my mouth. Mikey was silent, but then his eyes grew wide.
"My experiment worked?" He asked, excited, and I gently wacked his head.
"No, you dingus, dad has a girl over." I whispered and he was silent. I didn't care that my dad was dating, but Mikey? He was the biggest momma's boy in the world, even though our 'momma' was a nut case. One outcome; he freaks out. Second? Second outcome is where he'll calmly accept it and I'll feel better knowing that at least my brother is comfortable with Dad dating.
Mikey doesn't really respond, but I can tell he's upset.
"Come on, guys, if we want a gig, we're going to have to practice." Mikey shot me a look and I took it as 'beat it'. I closed the door behind me, shutting out their whiny music. I took a deep breath and headed towards the kitchen. Dad was leaning over the island, blushing and muttering to himself.
"Dad, was someone here?" I asked. He glanced towards the bathroom and nodded.
"Yeah, yeah. It's just someone I've been seeing lately. Would you kids mind heading out of the house for a bit?"
"Mikey has friends over." I simply said.
"I'll deal with them, how about you? I could give you some money to go to the movies." He started to take out his wallet but I stopped him.
"I think I just want to go to bed. I don't feel well." I shook my head and started up the steps without another word. His room was in the basement, so he could go with her all he liked and thankfully I wouldn't hear it.
I shut my bedroom door behind me and fell on my bed, throwing the blankets over myself. My clock said it was 4 in the afternoon, but my internal one told me it was time for rigorous amounts of sleep. I closed my eyes and let the exhaustion take control.