Avoidance Is Futile

Chapter Four

Avoidance is Futile

 

On Thursday evening after football practice my sister Ellen Mae asks me if I knew, “that Carli McBride girl?”

 “Yeah,” I reply with a sigh of disgust, “I know her.”

 “Well,” Ellen Mae says, “I have a few classes with her and…well, she really likes you, and I mean a LOT.”

 “She does, does she, well that’s just great.” I say in a dry brash tone.

 “Yes, she does,” Ellen Mae continues persistently.  “She’s kinda’ cute, don’t you think? Maybe you should ask her out sometime. She’s coming over this afternoon to help me with my English lesson. She’s really smart and funny too. Maybe you could ask her out when she comes over.”

 “She’s coming over here?” I shout. “What time?”

 “About five” answers Ellen Mae.

  “Good, I’ll be sure to be gone by then.” I snarl.

 “Mark, please.” Whines Ellen Mae, “She’s staying for supper too; you can’t escape her forever.”

 “I’ll starve first before sitting at a table with that girl. Do you know how much she pesters me at school?”

 “Yeah,” Ellen Mae replies, “I’ve heard. I hear you pester her just as much too. All my friends think you two would make a cute couple.”

  I stare at my sister and walk out the back door, slamming it as I leave.

 I manage to avoid her that night, but another day looms before me like a dark cloud. I wonder what lay in store for me next.  

 That night I sleep the sleep of the tormented.  Images of her rush through my head like a train heading to the end of its tracks.

Tomorrow is Friday and our second football game of the season.

 I play wingback.  That means I get to run with the ball sometimes. I don’t have any outstanding abilities except I can run faster than anyone else on the team. I wasn’t going to plow over multitudes of defenders, I just run away from them. I knew if I didn’t get some sleep soon I’d be worthless to everyone. No amount of swiftness would help me then.

 After hours of tossing and turning I finally drift into a blissful slumber only to be rudely awakened five minutes later by my annoyingly loud alarm clock.

 “Markie,” shouts my mother, “Time to rise and shine.  I have cocoa and toast, just the way you like it.”

 “Oh Mom,” I slurred groggily, “You rise, you shine. I have some more sleeping to do.”

 “No Markie,” she says excitedly, “you can’t. You have a big game tonight.”

 “The game,” I mumbled, “I, uh, I forgot.”

 I drag myself out of bed, and stumble into the vanity room that separates my sister’s room from mine.

 It’s a long room with a long counter that has two chairs so you can sit and look at yourself in the long mirror that accompanies it. I never have understood that part. It’s a girl thing I think.  Directly behind the counter is a small entryway into the bathroom. On either side of the entryway are large linen closets. The bathroom is separated from the vanity by a curtain that slides from left to right or vice versa. Beyond the curtain is a sink, toilet, and bathtub/shower combination.

I slink into the shower and turn the water on cold. The initial shock helps, but soon the effects wear off.

 I drag myself out of the shower, groom myself the best I can, get dressed, and go into the kitchen where my mother has toast and cocoa, just as she said.

 The kitchen is the shape of a large horseshoe.  The entry is to the left of the main kitchen area. To the right of the entry is a bar that looks into the den area and faces away from the kitchen. Tall stools provide a comfy sitting place, as well as a great view to the television. To the left of the bar is the refrigerator, and a stove with an overhead oven. About fifteen feet behind the bar is the sink. It overlooks the side yard, and nearby street.

 “Markie,” my mother cries out, “You’ll have to hurry this morning. We’re picking up that Carli McBride girl today. She’s so cute Markie.”

 “MOM,” I said almost shouting, “I’m taking my bike this morning, like always.”

 “No you’re not,” she said defiantly, “You’re out of gas, remember. You told me so last night, now let’s hurry up.”

 Oh no, she’s right. I had been riding on fumes that night. There’s no way that thing can make it to school.

 “This girl,” I thought, “is a menace to my health. Not only do I not get any sleep because of her, but now I must face her first thing in the morning. 

  As we arrived at her house I see her standing and waiting on the sidewalk. She half heartedly makes an attempt to sprint to the car, but drops several books in the process. I laughed at her as she attempts to pick them up.

 “Markie,” Mom said, “get out of this car and help that poor, poor girl.”

 “Mom,” I say wearily, “I can’t. I think I have a broken leg.”

 “Get out there and help her Mark or you will have a broken leg.” My mother insists.

  “Alright,” I said begrudgingly. “I’ll do it.”

 I get out of the car and started picking up books when she looks at me and laughs,

 “How did you like this trick? I can fake dropping my books pretty well, huh.”

 I looked at her and glared hatefully. If I were a girl I’d probably be crying. Instead I got angry, so angry I couldn’t speak, “You…you…

 “What’s the matter Markie,” she interrupted, “can’t talk? Well, just so you know, this is for avoiding me last night. Haven’t you figured it out yet you dense head, avoidance is futile.”

 The ride to school was nothing less than pure agony as we bickered ceaselessly over the smallest issues.

 “Is your hair getting longer?” I asked.

 “Yes,” she smiles, “It’s grown a whole two inches since school started. I’m surprised you noticed.”

 “Oh, I didn’t,” I said, sneering at her, “I was only curious. You still look like a boy.”

  I thought I had my revenge, but she covers her face and starts crying.

 “I can’t help it,” she weeps, “it’s my hair, I hate it.”

 At that moment in time I received the wrath of Mother Mary.

 “MARK,” my mother shouted, “you apologize to Carli this instant. How can you say such an awful thing? I think her hair is precious.”

 She would say that, a woman who has spent most of her life hiding behind silly wigs to cover up her own ratty hair. Naturally she would think the girl’s hair is precious.

 I managed to scratch out a weak apology, but Carli keeps crying.

 Arriving at school we all pile out and head for the main entrance. Carli grabbed me by the arm, grinned, and said,

“I can fake crying pretty good too, don’t you think. Remember,” she adds in a sinister like tone, “avoidance is futile.”

  I tried to be angry and hate her, but I couldn’t. Her sharp wit and cleaver sense of humor captivated me somehow.  The sharp exchange between us was like a competition, each throwing out jabbing kidney punches, and shots to the head. It was actually becoming fun.  I’m almost certain I’m losing the battle though, just as she predicted.

 “Hey Mark,” she said shouting back at me, “tonight, when the quarterback hands you the ball, don’t forget to run in the right direction.”

 Not to be outdone I shouted back,

“Any direction away from you is the right direction.”

 She gave me thumbs up and laughs, “Way to go McCoy, I knew ya had it in ya.”

  I laughed back and shouted, “See ya later McBride.”

 I guess she was right, avoidance is futile, but I wasn’t giving up just yet.

 

Reviews

[Marie]

I've read all the chapters so far; this is pretty good.

[Larry Dyson]

too cute..im reading all of them..