Page 14 of The PTA President
“When are you gonna stop quoting that movie?” I groan, wishing the coffee maker would speed up so I can pour this shit directly into my eyeballs.
“When it stops being funny. So, how’d it go last night with my replacement?”
She’s stirring eggs with some kind of sausage, and it smells like skunk. “Someone’s dramatic this morning. When did I say Candace was your replacement?”
“When you took her to see my favorite band, duh.” Her apron says, kiss the cook and I’ve got no idea where she got it because she can’t cook anything.
“Not this again. Move on, buttercup. Find a new cause to fight for. Let’s revisit hugging trees.” Once my steaming hot coffee isin my hands, I leave her alone and check my phone. No new messages, and it hits like a ton of bricks.
The day flies by, and thankfully, these students aren’t half bad. Their parents are a pain in my ass, but as long as I don’t open or respond to their incessant emails, I’m happy as a clam. Still no word from Candace, and I’ve gone back and forth half a dozen times, wondering if I should check in and see what she’s doing.Will that make me needy? Fuck it.
Nat:What’s up?
I stare at my phone for what feels like an eternity, and nothing happens. Thankfully, there’s a meeting today–ew I’m nauseous admitting that.Two hours and counting.
I could not have raced out of my classroom fast enough, hauling ass to their office, hoping she’s there alone. My heart literally skips a beat when I see her in front of the printer. Gone is the tight black mini dress, and in its place a beige corduroy dress and a cream turtleneck. It’s cute and screams Candace.
The air is thick with tension, so thick a knife couldn’t penetrate it. Her hair’s noticeably shorter, hitting just above her shoulders.
“You look nice, new hair?” I smile, teasing her a little.
“Look, I’m sorry if my life doesn’t entertain you.” She turns off the printer with a sharp jab. "I'm not twenty-two. My days aren't filled with rock concerts and back alley nose piercings." My lip throbs from how hard I’m biting it, picturing her spanking me with a ruler, demanding I crawl to her.
“Take it easy, Princess. All I meant was, don’t you want every day to be like the one we had? Throwing caution to the wind, hanging out of cars and giving the finger to the patriarchy?”
“I’m not a Princess, and no, I don’t. Not everything can be all peace and love.” She waves two fingers around her face. “My lifedoesn’t look like yours, and I’m not trying to become someone I’m not.”
Letting out a deep sigh, I take my seat at the table letting her finish her printing. "You look really good when you let your hair down, and I wish you did it more often. This whole Stepford PTA wife thing can’t be fulfilling. I wanna see you enjoy your life and try new things.”
“I’m a mother. You wouldn’t understand the responsibility that brings. Our lives are completely different.”
This is taking a turn for the worse. At this point, I’ll take Megan’s roadkill over this no-win conversation. Thankfully, my worst nightmare walks in and saves me.
“Oh, you haven’t been let go yet? I thought you should know I’ve filed complaints that apparently Principal Martin hasn’t read through yet.” Betty smirks and sets her planners down.
“Complaints about what? My God, get a fucking life,” I snarl.
“For one, look at your shirt,--Nothing wrong with a little junk in the trunk. That’s extremely inappropriate for a professional.” She points, as if I don’t know what it says.
“Betsy, get fucked,” I snap. “I’m in no mood. If you’d rather, I’ll just take my shirt off so you can ogle at my titties for the next hour.”
That shuts her up, as the rest of the suburban mob wives enter, updating everyone on what fancy restaurant their husband took them to as an apology for golfing all day.
We discuss the bake sale next week, and like an idiot, I volunteer to bring a carrot cake. Betty started planning for prom, which isn’t for another seven months, and Candace ignored me theentiretime.
I followed her out, hating the way our discussion went. “Wait up. Come on, talk to me,” I pleaded.
“If we’re going to be friends, you can’t change my life.” She turns around, stopping me dead in my tracks. “I’m sorry if what Ifill my calendar with bothers you, but it’s not up for discussion.” She stands her ground firmly.
“I’m sorry.” I hold up my hands. “Seriously, I am. Nothing about you bothers me. Wearefriends, and as my friend, I wanted to see what you’re doing tomorrow night.”
“It’s family movie night. The girls and I order pizza, and they rent a movie.” Her face relaxes, and her shoulders fall.
I lower my chin and look up at her with my best sad puppy eyes. “Do you have room for one more? Can I crash if I promise to behave and not make fun of the movie choice or your weird, healthy snacks?”
By the grace of God and my irresistible charm, I got the movie night invitation. If I thought book clubs were scary, I waswrong.Walking into the home of middle school girls is downright terrifying. Not spending Friday night with Candace, though, was out of the question. I’ll take every chance I can to hang out with her.
Two girls stand with their arms crossed at the foyer, waiting for me as I walk up. They must hang out with their aunt because their attitude is one and the same.Shit, be cool. What the fuck is cool to a middle schooler?
