Richie looked at Duncan and Tessa from across the kitchen table. Neither
one said anything. He sat quietly picking at his fingernail, waiting for
someone to say something. It was the silence that made him nervous.
"Richie." Duncan started.
"Yeah, I know," Richie sighed, not giving him a chance to finish.
"Know what?" Duncan asked, casting Tessa an amused look.
"It sucks, right?"
"Actually, I was going to ask if there was any more."
Richie perked up considerably. "Really? You liked it?"
Tessa smiled and held up her empty bowl. "It was wonderful. Is there any more?"
"Yeah!" Richie jumped from his seat, took their empty bowls, and went into the kitchen. "You guys really liked it?" he asked, handing them each a new crème brulee.
"Yes, Richie," Tessa assured him.
"You're not just saying that? 'Cause I gotta take this stuff to school. Like, my friends are gonna eat this stuff. So if there's anything wrong with it, you really need to say something, okay? Like, seriously. Are they okay?"
"You did a great job, Rich," Duncan smiled. "Like, seriously," he added.
Richie looked at Tessa who nodded. Finally, he seemed convinced. His worried expression vanished and was replaced with a magnanimous smile. "Well, cool then."
"Did you have any problems?" Tessa asked.
"No," Richie answered quickly. Then he amended, "Well, uh, there was this one insy-wincy, um. fire, but I ."
"Fire!" Duncan and Tessa repeated together.
"Well, yeah, but I totally got it under control."
"Fire?"
"Just a little one."
"Fire?"
"But I took care of it."
"Fire?"
"Well, yeah, but."
"A FIRE?"
"I think we've established that part."
"What happened?" Duncan asked.
"I, uh, dropped a dish towel on the stove and it. well, you know that part. But I took care of it."
"Did you burn yourself?" Tessa asked.
"No. well, I did, but not 'cause of that. I did before."
"I thought I smelled charred flesh," Duncan mumbled.
"Funny, Dad," Richie scowled. "But to the serious stuff. I'm not going to poison people with those, right?"
. . . . . .
"Okay, I need a list of all who plan on participation in the fair tomorrow," Richie's first period history teacher announced Wednesday morning. "So, hands up people!" The entire class raised their hands. "Everybody? Very good," the teacher smiled. "Now, who's only cooking?" Most of the hands stayed up as the teacher jotted down the names. "Who has only a costume?" No hands. "And what brave souls are doing both?" Richie's hand along with three others went up. "Very nice. Do any of you care to share?" All the hands went down. "Richie, what will you be wearing tomorrow?"
"Why me?" Richie demanded, looking to his left at Ginger.
"Because you like to be the entertainment," the teacher answered, remembering Richie's first day in her class.
"Well, uh, let's just say I'm half Scottish and leave it at that," he offered.
"Well, I'll just say I hope the wind cooperates and leave it at that," the teacher smiled back. Richie decided long ago that this elderly woman had been easily swayed by his charms and loved his constant interruptions.
"See, you just ruined it!" Richie complained as the class started to laugh and whistle. "I was trying to be subtle."
"You, Mr. Noel-MacLeod, are never subtle."
. . . . . .
"You are one brave dude," Nathan told him that day at lunch. "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing a skirt in public."
"It's a kilt," Richie corrected. "And my parents are making me." Richie had made it very clear to Duncan and Tessa that if anyone asked; it was not his idea to do this. "I don't have a choice." He picked at the taco salad on his tray.
"So change when you get here," Nathan suggested picking olives off his salad.
"And then I won't get the credit and my parents will notice and be all over me about it. It's only one day; I'll live."
"What are you making?" Ginger changed the subject.
"Crème brulee. What about you?"
"Fish. My mom's Irish. Nathan?"
"Biscuits and gravy; Good ol' down south cookin'. Shawna's bringing enchiladas."
"Shawna's bringing enchiladas," Ginger sing-songed back. Shawna was Nathan's newest infatuation. "What is Shawna wearing today?"
"Same thing as you. and every other girl at this school," Nathan shot back.
"How embarrassing!" Richie gasped. "How can you stand dressing just like everyone else?"
"Shut up!" Ginger laughed, swatting at his shoulder.
"So you're still trying out for baseball, right? I mean, you haven't changed your mind or anything.." Nathan asked worriedly.
"Not yet, but I'm starting to wonder if I should. Is the coach a jerk or something?"
"No, no. just we barely have enough people trying out to make a cut list. You're probably guaranteed a spot. What position do you play?"
"Outfield mostly; I pitch a little, too," he shrugged.
"You'd be set if you played catcher. we need a good catcher."
"I've been catcher a little."
"Can we change the subject?" Ginger cut in.
"Try out for catcher," Nathan told Richie ignoring Ginger's request.
"You guys!"
"Everyone tries out for pitcher or outfield."
"Do you mind?"
"Does." Richie started to ask.
Ginger clamped her hand over his mouth. "Don't encourage him."
"I was going to say," Richie said moving her hand away. "Does anyone think these salads are as gross as I do?"
"Yeah," Nathan agreed pushing his away. "Tacos are healthy enough without making them into salads."
"Seniors have it made," Ginger added. "Off campus lunch."
"Hey, that's us next year," Richie reminded her.
"What I wouldn't give, to go to Study Hall right now," she continued.
"Me, too," Nathan agreed.
"Study Hall?" Richie repeated. "Did I miss something here? Why would you want to spend the hour we have away from teachers in study hall?"
Nathan laughed. "It's got the best pizza in town and it's a practically adult free zone."
"It's a restaurant?"
"Yeah. You guys wanna go this Friday?" Ginger asked. "It's R.I. Prep night."
"I'm in. maybe Shawna, too," Nathan agreed. "What about you, Rich?"
"Um. okay. what's R.I. Prep night?"
. . . . . .
"I can't believe I'm doing this," Richie groaned, as Duncan fastened the plaid to his shoulder Thursday morning.
Duncan smiled. "You're the one who agreed to do this. not that you'll admit it in public."
"Me an' my big mouth."
"You and your big mouth," Tessa agreed. "You look very cute. Now hold still; I want a picture." She held up the camera.
"Oh, no." Richie ducked behind Duncan. "First off, I don't do pictures in general. Second off there is no way I'm leaving proof that I did this."
"You don't think you're going to make the yearbook like that?" Duncan asked.
Richie's face paled. "I didn't think about that. You don't think so. do you?"
"I think you're centerfold material," he told him.
"That is wrong on so many different levels."
"What?" Duncan asked. "I happen to think you are a very nice looking young man."
"Save it for your wife," Richie grinned. "What time is it?"
"Time for you to find your watch," Duncan answered.
"I know where my watch is," he insisted. "I just don't think it goes." He gestured to his current ancient attire.
"Good point," Duncan smiled. "Let Tessa take your picture, then we'll go."
Rolling his eyes, Richie stepped out from behind Duncan. "Fine."
"Not here," Tessa told him.
She led Richie into the back yard and positioned him in front of the bushes for a more 'authentic' look. Duncan came out a few seconds later with a long Celtic sword to complete the outfit. He stuck the tip of the blade in the ground and posed Richie grasping the sword with his left hand on the hilt, his right hand on his hip, looking slightly left of the camera.
"Chin up, chest out," he muttered fixing the bonnet.
"It's as out as it will go," Richie told him.
"How's that look?" Duncan asked Tessa.
"Perfect," she answered.
Duncan stepped out of the shot. "Look serious, don't smile," he instructed.
Richie posed and Tessa took the picture. "He looks like he's posed for a painting," she told Duncan. "Okay, one more," she told Richie.
Richie groaned and rolled his eyes. She busied herself taking pictures. Richie with his arms crossed and trying his best to look intimidating. Richie kneeling behind the sword with his hands on the hilt and his chin resting on his hands with a smirk. She decided to zoom in on just his face for that one. Richie holding up the sword with a cocky grin. Richie hands on hips, in what he called the 'Peter Pan' pose. And finally Richie pouting because she kept saying one more every time she came up with an idea.
. . . . . .
Richie walked into his first period class to check in and prove he was in costume.
"Richie, you look wonderful!" the teacher exclaimed looking him up and down.
"Thanks," he answered.
"Okay, you have your credit, now go show your other teachers so they can give you credit too."
Richie walked through his schedule, stopping in each room to be admired and whispered about. Finally, he made it to the gym where the start of fair assembly was being held. He found Ginger and Nathan and slid into the seat they had saved for him.
"Oh, my gosh," Nathan drawled looking at Richie. "I can't believe you're wearing that."
"My teachers like it," Richie shrugged.
"But still!"
"I think you look kinda cool," Ginger cut in. "It takes a certain kind of man to pull off a kilt. although the hat.."
"It's part of the outfit," Richie told her still grinning from her calling him a man.
The head master rattled on for twenty minutes about how the students were expected to conduct themselves; no making fun of another country. After all very few people are true Americans; nearly everyone's ancestors immigrated at some point. And they were reminded to cast their votes for favorite dish at every country they visited. Finally, the students were allowed to visit the various counties that were being represented by booths set up by parents and teachers.
"Where do you want to go first?" Richie asked, as they wondered out into the halls.
"Shawna's in Mexico," Nathan hinted.
"Fine, we'll go get Shawna," Ginger laughed. "I swear could you be any more in love with the girl?"
They went up to the second floor where Mexico was displayed along the back hallway. They found Shawna and sampled the foods. Nathan dared Richie to eat a jablano pepper that sent Richie running to the nearest water fountain. They made their way down the corridor to France where Richie dared Nathan to eat a snail in garlic sauce. Nathan offered Richie ten bucks to eat one instead; Richie ate three.
"My mom makes them," he explained at the horrified looks he got. Then he picked up three servings of crème brulee. "Try it," he encouraged. "It's a snail free desert." Everyone liked it and snuck another despite the reminders that you only got one sample per item. The teacher working the booth almost looked grateful when Richie took some of the snails off the tray and didn't try to stop him as he grabbed some more before they headed to the next country.
They made their way through Spain and Italy and were still snacking on meatballs when they got to Ireland.
"Here's my fish," Ginger announced proudly.
Richie took a sample and choked down the bitter fish. "Not bad," he commented politely.
Nathan took some. "Um. unique flavor."
Shawna took a bite. "Girl, whoever gave you this recipe, should be shot!" she laughed throwing the rest of her sample into the trash.
Ginger smiled broadly. "I know, isn't it horrible?"
Richie and Nathan exchanged a look. "You could have warned us," Nathan told her.
Next they went to England and had some chips. Then onto Germany where they got mini bratwursts. Then they made it to Scotland. Loud bagpipe music was playing from a stereo under a table. Nathan and Ginger complained about the noise, Shawna seemed indifferent, and Richie hummed along.
"Five bonus point to whoever can name this song!" the teacher behind the table called out.
"The Battle Cry of Killecrankie!" Richie called over the music.
"Very good, come claim your prize, lad!" the teacher called back. Richie worked through the small crowd that had inexplicably gathered at the display and got a certificate good for five extra points on any quiz for any class. He noticed that there was a TV showing a video of the Scottish games and that was what had drawn the crowd.
At one o'clock the favorite food ballots were taken away to be counted and the teachers were to cast their votes for the various costume categories. The students were all ordered to the auditorium to be watched by the parent volunteers while the votes were counted.
"How come your parents aren't here?" Shawna asked Richie.
"I transferred too late. They want to do it next year."
"I must get the name of your tailor!" A girl from Richie's chemistry class joked as she walked past him.
"Obviously!" he yelled after her. She turned around and pretended to be hurt but broke into a grin before waving at him.
"Oh, my God," a voice snickered from behind him. Richie turned around and found himself face to face with Amber. "You know what?" she asked in a falsely sweet voice. "I have that same skirt. If I had known you were getting one too, I would have taken mine back." Her small army of friends laughed.
"You really should think about that," Richie told her. "Because it looks better on me. You just don't have the legs to show too much."
Amber's mouth dropped open. "Yeah, well at least I didn't bring some icky snails expecting people to eat them."
"They're not icky," Richie said. "And I brought the crème brulee. You know that custard like thing you ate about three of."
"Whatever," Amber rolled her eyes and stalked off her army following her.
Richie turned back to his friends who were laughing. They all hated Amber. The head master went on stage to announce the awards. Nathan and Shawna got snubbed and Ginger got best dish of Ireland (the audience roared with laughter as she accepted the certificate and bonus points). Richie got best dish of France, most authentic costume, gutsiest costume, and best over all costume.
Richie, Nathan, Ginger and Shawna laughed their way to get everyone's coats from their lockers. Richie's locker was the last stop.
"Man, when they announced that you had won, Ginger, I almost died laughing," Shawna announced.
"Dude, tell me about it. That stuff was disgusting!" Nathan added.
"I can't believe you did that," Richie laughed.
"Um, hello? You're the one in the skirt," Ginger shot back.
"Yeah, well. uh-oh." Richie stopped mid-sentence and stared down at the floor of his locker.
"What?" Nathan asked looking in the locker as well. "There's nothing in there."
"That's the problem."
"What?" Ginger asked.
"You know how I go to my dad's office after school?"
"Yeah, so?"
"I walk."
"And?" Nathan prompted.
"I left my clothes in his car," Richie answered. "I can't go out in public like this!"
"So take off the kilt and wear whatever you have on under," Shawna answered. Richie looked down and mumbled something. "What?"
"I'd, uh, kinda get arrested if I did that."
"Oh, man!" Nathan laughed. "That is too wrong!"
"Well, these things are hot. And nobody was supposed to know!"
"Call your mom," Ginger suggested.
"She has some meeting today."
"Your dad?"
"Class."
"You're screwed."
"Nice knowin' ya," Nathan told him.
"You're never going to live this down," Shawna added.
Richie's shoulders slumped. "Might as well get going. Will you guys come to my funeral if I die of embarrassment?"
"We'll think about it," Nathan assured him as Richie slipped on his coat and slowly made his way down the hall and out the front doors into the cold February wind.
"Richie." Duncan started.
"Yeah, I know," Richie sighed, not giving him a chance to finish.
"Know what?" Duncan asked, casting Tessa an amused look.
"It sucks, right?"
"Actually, I was going to ask if there was any more."
Richie perked up considerably. "Really? You liked it?"
Tessa smiled and held up her empty bowl. "It was wonderful. Is there any more?"
"Yeah!" Richie jumped from his seat, took their empty bowls, and went into the kitchen. "You guys really liked it?" he asked, handing them each a new crème brulee.
"Yes, Richie," Tessa assured him.
"You're not just saying that? 'Cause I gotta take this stuff to school. Like, my friends are gonna eat this stuff. So if there's anything wrong with it, you really need to say something, okay? Like, seriously. Are they okay?"
"You did a great job, Rich," Duncan smiled. "Like, seriously," he added.
Richie looked at Tessa who nodded. Finally, he seemed convinced. His worried expression vanished and was replaced with a magnanimous smile. "Well, cool then."
"Did you have any problems?" Tessa asked.
"No," Richie answered quickly. Then he amended, "Well, uh, there was this one insy-wincy, um. fire, but I ."
"Fire!" Duncan and Tessa repeated together.
"Well, yeah, but I totally got it under control."
"Fire?"
"Just a little one."
"Fire?"
"But I took care of it."
"Fire?"
"Well, yeah, but."
"A FIRE?"
"I think we've established that part."
"What happened?" Duncan asked.
"I, uh, dropped a dish towel on the stove and it. well, you know that part. But I took care of it."
"Did you burn yourself?" Tessa asked.
"No. well, I did, but not 'cause of that. I did before."
"I thought I smelled charred flesh," Duncan mumbled.
"Funny, Dad," Richie scowled. "But to the serious stuff. I'm not going to poison people with those, right?"
. . . . . .
"Okay, I need a list of all who plan on participation in the fair tomorrow," Richie's first period history teacher announced Wednesday morning. "So, hands up people!" The entire class raised their hands. "Everybody? Very good," the teacher smiled. "Now, who's only cooking?" Most of the hands stayed up as the teacher jotted down the names. "Who has only a costume?" No hands. "And what brave souls are doing both?" Richie's hand along with three others went up. "Very nice. Do any of you care to share?" All the hands went down. "Richie, what will you be wearing tomorrow?"
"Why me?" Richie demanded, looking to his left at Ginger.
"Because you like to be the entertainment," the teacher answered, remembering Richie's first day in her class.
"Well, uh, let's just say I'm half Scottish and leave it at that," he offered.
"Well, I'll just say I hope the wind cooperates and leave it at that," the teacher smiled back. Richie decided long ago that this elderly woman had been easily swayed by his charms and loved his constant interruptions.
"See, you just ruined it!" Richie complained as the class started to laugh and whistle. "I was trying to be subtle."
"You, Mr. Noel-MacLeod, are never subtle."
. . . . . .
"You are one brave dude," Nathan told him that day at lunch. "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing a skirt in public."
"It's a kilt," Richie corrected. "And my parents are making me." Richie had made it very clear to Duncan and Tessa that if anyone asked; it was not his idea to do this. "I don't have a choice." He picked at the taco salad on his tray.
"So change when you get here," Nathan suggested picking olives off his salad.
"And then I won't get the credit and my parents will notice and be all over me about it. It's only one day; I'll live."
"What are you making?" Ginger changed the subject.
"Crème brulee. What about you?"
"Fish. My mom's Irish. Nathan?"
"Biscuits and gravy; Good ol' down south cookin'. Shawna's bringing enchiladas."
"Shawna's bringing enchiladas," Ginger sing-songed back. Shawna was Nathan's newest infatuation. "What is Shawna wearing today?"
"Same thing as you. and every other girl at this school," Nathan shot back.
"How embarrassing!" Richie gasped. "How can you stand dressing just like everyone else?"
"Shut up!" Ginger laughed, swatting at his shoulder.
"So you're still trying out for baseball, right? I mean, you haven't changed your mind or anything.." Nathan asked worriedly.
"Not yet, but I'm starting to wonder if I should. Is the coach a jerk or something?"
"No, no. just we barely have enough people trying out to make a cut list. You're probably guaranteed a spot. What position do you play?"
"Outfield mostly; I pitch a little, too," he shrugged.
"You'd be set if you played catcher. we need a good catcher."
"I've been catcher a little."
"Can we change the subject?" Ginger cut in.
"Try out for catcher," Nathan told Richie ignoring Ginger's request.
"You guys!"
"Everyone tries out for pitcher or outfield."
"Do you mind?"
"Does." Richie started to ask.
Ginger clamped her hand over his mouth. "Don't encourage him."
"I was going to say," Richie said moving her hand away. "Does anyone think these salads are as gross as I do?"
"Yeah," Nathan agreed pushing his away. "Tacos are healthy enough without making them into salads."
"Seniors have it made," Ginger added. "Off campus lunch."
"Hey, that's us next year," Richie reminded her.
"What I wouldn't give, to go to Study Hall right now," she continued.
"Me, too," Nathan agreed.
"Study Hall?" Richie repeated. "Did I miss something here? Why would you want to spend the hour we have away from teachers in study hall?"
Nathan laughed. "It's got the best pizza in town and it's a practically adult free zone."
"It's a restaurant?"
"Yeah. You guys wanna go this Friday?" Ginger asked. "It's R.I. Prep night."
"I'm in. maybe Shawna, too," Nathan agreed. "What about you, Rich?"
"Um. okay. what's R.I. Prep night?"
. . . . . .
"I can't believe I'm doing this," Richie groaned, as Duncan fastened the plaid to his shoulder Thursday morning.
Duncan smiled. "You're the one who agreed to do this. not that you'll admit it in public."
"Me an' my big mouth."
"You and your big mouth," Tessa agreed. "You look very cute. Now hold still; I want a picture." She held up the camera.
"Oh, no." Richie ducked behind Duncan. "First off, I don't do pictures in general. Second off there is no way I'm leaving proof that I did this."
"You don't think you're going to make the yearbook like that?" Duncan asked.
Richie's face paled. "I didn't think about that. You don't think so. do you?"
"I think you're centerfold material," he told him.
"That is wrong on so many different levels."
"What?" Duncan asked. "I happen to think you are a very nice looking young man."
"Save it for your wife," Richie grinned. "What time is it?"
"Time for you to find your watch," Duncan answered.
"I know where my watch is," he insisted. "I just don't think it goes." He gestured to his current ancient attire.
"Good point," Duncan smiled. "Let Tessa take your picture, then we'll go."
Rolling his eyes, Richie stepped out from behind Duncan. "Fine."
"Not here," Tessa told him.
She led Richie into the back yard and positioned him in front of the bushes for a more 'authentic' look. Duncan came out a few seconds later with a long Celtic sword to complete the outfit. He stuck the tip of the blade in the ground and posed Richie grasping the sword with his left hand on the hilt, his right hand on his hip, looking slightly left of the camera.
"Chin up, chest out," he muttered fixing the bonnet.
"It's as out as it will go," Richie told him.
"How's that look?" Duncan asked Tessa.
"Perfect," she answered.
Duncan stepped out of the shot. "Look serious, don't smile," he instructed.
Richie posed and Tessa took the picture. "He looks like he's posed for a painting," she told Duncan. "Okay, one more," she told Richie.
Richie groaned and rolled his eyes. She busied herself taking pictures. Richie with his arms crossed and trying his best to look intimidating. Richie kneeling behind the sword with his hands on the hilt and his chin resting on his hands with a smirk. She decided to zoom in on just his face for that one. Richie holding up the sword with a cocky grin. Richie hands on hips, in what he called the 'Peter Pan' pose. And finally Richie pouting because she kept saying one more every time she came up with an idea.
. . . . . .
Richie walked into his first period class to check in and prove he was in costume.
"Richie, you look wonderful!" the teacher exclaimed looking him up and down.
"Thanks," he answered.
"Okay, you have your credit, now go show your other teachers so they can give you credit too."
Richie walked through his schedule, stopping in each room to be admired and whispered about. Finally, he made it to the gym where the start of fair assembly was being held. He found Ginger and Nathan and slid into the seat they had saved for him.
"Oh, my gosh," Nathan drawled looking at Richie. "I can't believe you're wearing that."
"My teachers like it," Richie shrugged.
"But still!"
"I think you look kinda cool," Ginger cut in. "It takes a certain kind of man to pull off a kilt. although the hat.."
"It's part of the outfit," Richie told her still grinning from her calling him a man.
The head master rattled on for twenty minutes about how the students were expected to conduct themselves; no making fun of another country. After all very few people are true Americans; nearly everyone's ancestors immigrated at some point. And they were reminded to cast their votes for favorite dish at every country they visited. Finally, the students were allowed to visit the various counties that were being represented by booths set up by parents and teachers.
"Where do you want to go first?" Richie asked, as they wondered out into the halls.
"Shawna's in Mexico," Nathan hinted.
"Fine, we'll go get Shawna," Ginger laughed. "I swear could you be any more in love with the girl?"
They went up to the second floor where Mexico was displayed along the back hallway. They found Shawna and sampled the foods. Nathan dared Richie to eat a jablano pepper that sent Richie running to the nearest water fountain. They made their way down the corridor to France where Richie dared Nathan to eat a snail in garlic sauce. Nathan offered Richie ten bucks to eat one instead; Richie ate three.
"My mom makes them," he explained at the horrified looks he got. Then he picked up three servings of crème brulee. "Try it," he encouraged. "It's a snail free desert." Everyone liked it and snuck another despite the reminders that you only got one sample per item. The teacher working the booth almost looked grateful when Richie took some of the snails off the tray and didn't try to stop him as he grabbed some more before they headed to the next country.
They made their way through Spain and Italy and were still snacking on meatballs when they got to Ireland.
"Here's my fish," Ginger announced proudly.
Richie took a sample and choked down the bitter fish. "Not bad," he commented politely.
Nathan took some. "Um. unique flavor."
Shawna took a bite. "Girl, whoever gave you this recipe, should be shot!" she laughed throwing the rest of her sample into the trash.
Ginger smiled broadly. "I know, isn't it horrible?"
Richie and Nathan exchanged a look. "You could have warned us," Nathan told her.
Next they went to England and had some chips. Then onto Germany where they got mini bratwursts. Then they made it to Scotland. Loud bagpipe music was playing from a stereo under a table. Nathan and Ginger complained about the noise, Shawna seemed indifferent, and Richie hummed along.
"Five bonus point to whoever can name this song!" the teacher behind the table called out.
"The Battle Cry of Killecrankie!" Richie called over the music.
"Very good, come claim your prize, lad!" the teacher called back. Richie worked through the small crowd that had inexplicably gathered at the display and got a certificate good for five extra points on any quiz for any class. He noticed that there was a TV showing a video of the Scottish games and that was what had drawn the crowd.
At one o'clock the favorite food ballots were taken away to be counted and the teachers were to cast their votes for the various costume categories. The students were all ordered to the auditorium to be watched by the parent volunteers while the votes were counted.
"How come your parents aren't here?" Shawna asked Richie.
"I transferred too late. They want to do it next year."
"I must get the name of your tailor!" A girl from Richie's chemistry class joked as she walked past him.
"Obviously!" he yelled after her. She turned around and pretended to be hurt but broke into a grin before waving at him.
"Oh, my God," a voice snickered from behind him. Richie turned around and found himself face to face with Amber. "You know what?" she asked in a falsely sweet voice. "I have that same skirt. If I had known you were getting one too, I would have taken mine back." Her small army of friends laughed.
"You really should think about that," Richie told her. "Because it looks better on me. You just don't have the legs to show too much."
Amber's mouth dropped open. "Yeah, well at least I didn't bring some icky snails expecting people to eat them."
"They're not icky," Richie said. "And I brought the crème brulee. You know that custard like thing you ate about three of."
"Whatever," Amber rolled her eyes and stalked off her army following her.
Richie turned back to his friends who were laughing. They all hated Amber. The head master went on stage to announce the awards. Nathan and Shawna got snubbed and Ginger got best dish of Ireland (the audience roared with laughter as she accepted the certificate and bonus points). Richie got best dish of France, most authentic costume, gutsiest costume, and best over all costume.
Richie, Nathan, Ginger and Shawna laughed their way to get everyone's coats from their lockers. Richie's locker was the last stop.
"Man, when they announced that you had won, Ginger, I almost died laughing," Shawna announced.
"Dude, tell me about it. That stuff was disgusting!" Nathan added.
"I can't believe you did that," Richie laughed.
"Um, hello? You're the one in the skirt," Ginger shot back.
"Yeah, well. uh-oh." Richie stopped mid-sentence and stared down at the floor of his locker.
"What?" Nathan asked looking in the locker as well. "There's nothing in there."
"That's the problem."
"What?" Ginger asked.
"You know how I go to my dad's office after school?"
"Yeah, so?"
"I walk."
"And?" Nathan prompted.
"I left my clothes in his car," Richie answered. "I can't go out in public like this!"
"So take off the kilt and wear whatever you have on under," Shawna answered. Richie looked down and mumbled something. "What?"
"I'd, uh, kinda get arrested if I did that."
"Oh, man!" Nathan laughed. "That is too wrong!"
"Well, these things are hot. And nobody was supposed to know!"
"Call your mom," Ginger suggested.
"She has some meeting today."
"Your dad?"
"Class."
"You're screwed."
"Nice knowin' ya," Nathan told him.
"You're never going to live this down," Shawna added.
Richie's shoulders slumped. "Might as well get going. Will you guys come to my funeral if I die of embarrassment?"
"We'll think about it," Nathan assured him as Richie slipped on his coat and slowly made his way down the hall and out the front doors into the cold February wind.