Brandy

Finally, just the girl for me.

Chapter Five

Brandy

 

The year seems to be flying by. It’s November already and the last football game of the season will be Friday night, Friday the 13th.

 The day before, on Thursday, I met Brandy. She was just the girl for me, so I thought. Who was I trying to fool? When it came to matters of the heart I hadn’t faired too well.

 She had dark brown eyes, a rounded face, long chocolate brown hair, and the most desirable looking pair of lips I had ever seen. I could have kissed her right then, in front of the entire school, if not for fear of having the fire slapped out of my face.

 I’m not too brave when it comes to impulsive acts of bravado. I’ve never been too sure what that means, but I think it means a great fear of kissing girls without at least getting some hint that she wants you to. This is usually a pretty good rule to adhere to, unless you just like getting slapped.

 I bumped into Brandy at the school cafeteria lunch line. She was having the Mamma’s Meat Loaf Special.  I love meat loaf, but I opted for the old style, semi-real beef hamburger. It tastes OK, but I would rather have a real DQ burger. My favorite is the Belt Buster. It’s a cornucopia of double meat, double cheese, and double anything else.  It’s scrumptious delicious. If a person ever had any desire to gain weight, this would be the way to go.

 “Hi,” I said bravely as my knees began shaking. “Going to the game tomorrow night?”

 “Nah,” she said, turning up her nose at the prospect, “football is so archaic. I don’t get enjoyment watching a bunch of boys running around, knocking one another down, and physically attempting to beat the pulp out of each other; and for what, a stupid little leather ball. It makes no sense to me at all.”

 “Well,” I replied, “maybe you should try going sometime.”
 ”I did,” she returns, “A boy broke his upper leg; the femur bone. It stuck right through his pretty white pants. Blood spewed everywhere. The girl next to me fainted. They had to haul him off in an ambulance. I’ve never cared for the sport much since.”

 “Yeah,” I said, “It is a violent sport alright, but things like that don’t happen very often, maybe you aught to give it a second chance.”

 “Nope,” she replied abruptly, “I’ve seen enough, besides, I think its savagery at its highest level.”

  “What does that mean,” I thought. Suddenly I’m at a loss for words. How do I impress a girl who doesn’t like anything I’ve said so far?

 “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” she stated abruptly. “You’re one of those jock football players, aren’t you?”

 I looked at her with puzzlement.

 “Yes,” I confessed almost shamefully.

 “Hah,” she replied, “I am standing in the presence of barbarianism.  Next thing you know you’ll be telling me your name is Conan.”

 It was plain to see I was winning no points with her. I should have turned around and walked away, but silly me, I had to push things a bit farther. On a whim I blurted out,

 “Look, do you want to go out Saturday night or not?”

 She gave me a funny look and said to my surprise, “Yes.”

 “Fine,” I said, “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

 “Fine,” she replied, and just like that it was set.

 “My name is…” I start to tell her, but she breaks in first.

 “I know who you are; you’re Conan, Conan the Barbarian.”

 “What,” I replied, confused by her response.  

 “I know who you are already…Mark. You don’t have to introduce yourself.”

  Now I was really confused. How, out of a thousand other students, did she know me? Sticking my chest out proudly I proclaimed to myself, “Hah, I must be more popular than I thought. Little did I know that was not the case.

 As it turned out, Brandy’s younger sister and my younger sister were practically best friends. That was the leaky hose through which information had been exchanged. Turns out, as I would discover later, the entire cafeteria incident was a set up. I had been duped. It was fine by me because I had wanted to meet her anyway.

 After paying the cashier I went off to my own set of friends, and she with hers.

    Just before the bell sounded she came over and handed me a napkin with her phone number and address printed on it. At the bottom is her signature; Brandy Ziegler.

 “Thought you might need this,” she says smiling.