A/N: In case you're wondering, the bit about red vehicles being unlucky is in reference to a joke my dad made after he wrecked his red minivan after he hit a deer. Also, "bobeshi" is Yiddish for grandmother. Since the Kuhns are Jewish, Jake would address his grandmother that way.
CHAPTER 1: Jake
The four of us arrived at the office. "Gracias, I can take it from here," I told Sr. Gomez.
"No problem, amigo," he answered as he left.
"You two wait right here," I instructed the girls as I pulled my iPhone out of my pocket. "I need to make a quick call." I dialed Charlotte's number, and she picked up on the third ring.
"Hi, Char. I'm going to be a little late," I told her, and I explained the situation.
"Hoo, boy," Charlotte said sympathetically. "I guess the school board didn't like your idea of adding Anger Management 101 to the curriculum, huh?"
I couldn't help laughing. That's the one thing I've always loved about Charlotte. Even if you had the ultimate shitfest of a day, she could still make you laugh.
"You might say that," I agreed. "So, anyway, babe, if we don't have time to actually cook dinner tonight, we can go to that sub shop you like, unless you prefer Cici's."
"Sounds good to me," she said. "I'm with a patient right now, but I shouldn't be too much longer. I'll see you when you get off, okay?"
"Okay. See you later," I agreed. "'Bye." After I hung up and put my phone back in my pocket, I turned to the girls, opened the office door for them, and ushered them in-side.
"What seems to be the problem, Coach?" Principal Martin asked as I motioned for them to sit down.
"These two were going at it, and Sr. Gomez and I stopped them," I explained. "I don't know what their deal is, so I'll let them tell you." Then I turned to the girls and said, "Go ahead, we're waiting."
"Well," the black girl, whose name was Amelia, began. "Darla here took the pudding cup out of my lunch today,"
That's it? I thought in disbelief. I know that kids get into little scraps over the stupidest things, but come on!
"So?" the principal asked as both of us folded our arms.
"So, she's always whining about how much better my lunches are," Amelia said defensively. "If you ask me, her mama needs to buy better food."
Darla started to stand up to protest, but I motioned for her to sit back down. "Not another word," I ordered.
"Anything else?"
"Well, she stole the idea for the dress I was going to wear to the Fall Frolic next Friday night," Darla fumed. "It was going to be this hot-pink knee-length dress with spaghetti straps and ruffles around the skirt."
"Oh, come on, everyone knows you look like a rose in traction when you wear that color," Amelia taunted.
That made Darla really mad. "Is that so?" she snapped. "Well, at least I don't buy out the entire Mary Kay counter at K-Mart, like some people I know."
"Well, at least my face doesn't look like the Rocky Mountains."
"Well, at least my breath doesn't smell like a busted sewer line!"
"That's enough," the principal barked, slamming his fist down on the desktop. He did it so hard that the picture of his Boston Terrier almost fell to the floor. Luckily, I caught it and put it back in its place. "All right, for the next three days, both of you are to have thirty-minute detention, not to mention Saturday school. And if I hear anything about this again, you're suspended for three days. Are we clear?"
The girls nodded, then the principal said, "Okay, I'll call your parents and tell them you have detention. Go see Ms. James in the detention room for your first day."
As soon as I heard that name, part of me actually felt a little sorry for them. You see, Ms. James was a Marine before she was hired to be the girls' gym teacher, and from what I've been told, she's almost always yelling at the kids to be quiet. She reminds me of the time I'd played Andy Hobart in my college production of the Star-Spangled Girl, and whenever I see Ms. James coming down the hall, I'll always think, From the halls of Mon-te-zu-uma to the shores of Trip-o-li...I'm glad I'm chained to the steampipe, 'cause I wouldn't miss this for anything!
The girls got up and left the office. "Thanks, Coach," the principal said as he reached for a file the secretary had laid on his desk and picked up the phone.
"No problem," I answered as I headed out the door. On the way out, I wondered if Charlotte's day had been any worse than mine.
I soon found out when I saw a half-empty bottle of barbecue sauce lying on the hood of the car and the windshield completely smeared with it. "Son of a bitch!" I growled through clenched teeth, grabbing the bottle and throwing it in the nearby trash can. That's when I noticed a pocketknife lying on the asphalt next to the gray Jeep beside me, which belonged to Mrs. Segura, the Drama teacher, as well as the hole in the back driver's side tire. I shook my head, just picturing the look on her face when she saw this.
"They got to you, too, huh, Coach?" a voice asked. I looked up and saw Mrs. Martelli, the biology teacher, unlocking her white station wagon in the next row.
"Yeah, but Mrs. Segura got it the worst," I sighed. "I just saw the knife lying on the ground and the hole in her tire. You know, just between us, I don't think there's anything wrong with these little hellions that can't be cured by going back to the good old days of corporal punishment."
Mrs. Martelli nodded in agreement. "Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I got eggs on my car last week. Really rotten ones, too."
"Oh, that's lovely," I groaned. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow. I'm on my way to meet Charlotte."
"Oh, yeah. How's she like her job?"
"She loves it. In fact, she just got her degree last spring."
"That's great, Coach. Tell her we're all rooting for her, and there'll probably be a position for her at the school someday. Oh, and I'll tell Mrs. Segura about her car, too."
I nodded, and while she got in her car, I started trying to clean off the windshield—which is a real pain in the ass, if you know how barbecue sauce is. Looks like I'm spend-ing my last fifteen bucks at the car wash.