CHAPTER 7

We ended up calling the school from a pay phone at the corner of the block, pretending to be each other's parents. Whatsername, not being a student at our school, did my mother's voice, mimicking it so well that for a minute I thought she was my mother in disguise. Jimmy made some background chatter, pretending he was Brad. The office believed it, and we hung up. We waited for ten minutes, and then picked up the phone again.

"Pinole Valley High School, Administrative Office," the bright sickly sweet voice of Mrs.Hillman, the secretary, rang out.

"Hello," I began, making my voice as low as it would go and more adult-like. "This is Bob Coleman, my foster son, James, won't be attending school today, he's quite ill."

"James is in what grade? Oh, never mind, I know exactly who you're talking about." The secretary groaned slightly when she figured out I was talking about St. Jimmy and hung up. I gave Jimmy the thumb's up sign, though my insides were churning. I'd never skipped school before, and I was kind of nervous. What if I was caught? Mom would kill me for two things, running away and skipping.

Whatsername seemed to know what was going through my head. "C'mon, Jesus, it'll be totally okay. We're going to have fun!" She grabbed my arm excitedly. "Let's go see that new horror movie that came out today!"

Jimmy nodded vigorously. "What theatre? Down the street, by the Rite-Aid, or the mall?"
Whatsername gave him her trademark, 'You're the one in charge, dumbass,' look. "Which is the easiest to sneak into?"

"We're not paying?" I asked, surprised.

Jimmy and Whatsername rolled their eyes in unison.

"Duh," Jimmy said. "They still owe me for kicking me out of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre without a refund. I'm going to get it."

I decided to save myself, so I agreed. We all donned jackets and stuffed some of Jimmy's money in various places. I had a ten in my shoe, Whatsername had several ones hidden in her hair clip, her bra, etc., and Jimmy had the rest tucked inside a rip in his blue "Sweet Children" baseball cap, which he wore backwards. I asked why, and Jimmy told me that there were several people out to get him and his (seemingly endless supply of) money, but he was low on weed and so he'd made an appointment with some dealer by the mall. I have a feeling Jimmy really is rather rich from the hundreds of scams he's pulled from New York to Hawaii, and he's also a brilliant pickpocket. I was actually holding my wallet in my hand one day, and Jimmy still managed to snake my money and ID without my knowledge. (He gave them back of course.)

We walked down the Boulevard and caught one of the many buses that passed frequently. Jimmy dumped a shitload of pennies into the ticket box and we all sat down in the back of the bus. When the driver wasn't looking, Jimmy leaned over to mutter in my ear.

"That's about one dollar, what I just put in there. I should have paid three."

I smiled. "Evil."

Whatsername asked what, so I explained very softly as the bus drove down the road. Jimmy unearthed a cassette player and started to listen to Sweet Children, a well-credited local punk band that Jimmy idolized. I have no clue how this kid manages to live on the streets, buy more marijuana than is grown in all of California, support himself and two friends, and still have money left over to buy cassette tapes. Jimmy really has it all together.

The mall came quickly into view after a discussion of punk politics and the latest on Gilman Street, a make-shift club where punk, metal, and other rock bands through out the whole Bay area came to challenge one another and perform. Jimmy lazily yanked the cord above our heads. The bus slowed for us and stopped, and the three of us and a few other passengers got off. One called out to Jimmy as he passed. "Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

Jimmy looked over at the man, and then let out a raucous laugh. "Are you kidding me? I graduated last year!" Jimmy waved a listless hand at him and led Whatsername and I away to the theatre.

Fortunately, for us, it was completely packed. Under the pretense of using the bathroom, we walked down the corridor of the theatre, and then casually ducked into the cinema itself, Jimmy in the lead. We filed into the backmost row, Jimmy, Whatsername, then me. We chattered mindlessly until the movie began, and then started watching it instead of Jimmy climbing the back wall, which he did during the previews.

It wasn't a frightening movie. At least, not to me or Jimmy. But then again, Jimmy is a desensitized freak that wanted to go swimming after watching Jaws and spent the night in a haunted house armed with only paint thinner. It's rumored to be a good ghost-repellant, but Jimmy used it all up to get high. Of course, he did watch both his parents commit suicide when he was 4, and that would desensitise anyone. I wasn't scared either, but when things popped out suddenly on screen I would jar slightly.

Whatsername, on the other hand, was totally freaked. She may be older than both of us, but there's no denying that she spent the entire movie clinging to my shirt, her face buried in my chest. About halfway through the movie, Jimmy stood up, placed his hands on Whatsername's waist (which made her yelp because she thought it was a ghost) and deposited her in my lap!

"Jesus, I trust you to take care of my baby sister. I'll be right back," he whispered loudly to us.

"Where are you going?" I responded just as softly.

Jimmy muttered something about drinks and popcorn and then I heard his combat boots clunking down the balcony steps to the exit below.

My attention returned to the girl Jimmy had just dropped on me. I'm pretty sure she would have gone back to her seat then, but a woman in the movie screamed bloody murder, and she buried her face in my neck, whimpering. I wrapped my arms about her, but continued to watch the movie myself. I spent it wondering if she would go back to her own seat, which was slowly growing cold, but she untended in my arms and soon we were both very comfortable.

Jimmy came back soon, his messenger bag loaded with stolen soda and candy and a large tub of (actually paid for) popcorn in his hands. He eased past us, by way of going in the row in front of us and flipping over the back to get to his seat, and then a flash went off. A few people turned in the direction of it, and Jimmy was pocketing a camera.

"Sorry," he hissed to them. "I'm sorry, but you two looked so cute together." He directed to us.

Whatsername blushed in the movie's dim light, and I'm pretty sure my face was not less pale than hers. I could feel my skin burning. I frowned at Jimmy, who only smiled innocently and offered me popcorn. I took some, and one of his nicked sodas. He'd managed to get some beer as well, so we spiked all of our drinks. Well, Whasername's and mine, whereas Jimmy drank flat-out beer from the bottle.

"Your son's going to die!" Jimmy yelled suddenly to the woman in the movie after having a little too much to drink. Most of the audience burst into relieved laughter, but one rather plump woman jumped up and stormed past us.

"I think we pissed someone off," Whatsername said as the fuming woman strode past.

"You sure' did!" She barked, slamming the exit door behind her.

Jimmy, still thinking straight, made us move quickly. We went into the very front row, and much to my surprise and pleasure, Whatsername opted for my lap again. It made me happy, because it proved that she liked me just a little bit. If only a little. And after the movie, what made me the happiest, was when I gathered up enough courage and asked her out whilst Jimmy was in the bathroom losing the beer.

She said yes.