This story is in the first book created from this website, Mentally Incontinent. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please consider picking up the book. It's chock full of stuff just like this.

I'm Just Dying To Know You | I | II | III |

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We made the short trip from the cafeteria to the art room; just two short halls connected by a 90 degree turn. Luckily, Mrs. Daughtry, the art teacher, was there tending to some work she needed to do.

“Joe Peacock!” Mrs. Daughtry announced with her hands on her hips and head tilted, as if scolding me. It was a posture that she adopted instinctively upon seeing me, as I had probably done something worth scolding in her class every single day for four years.

“Hey Mrs. D,” I replied.

“And Aimee Walters?” She asked in greeting Aimee, who just smiled and waved back. “What are you two doing in here? Aren’t you supposed to be helping with the Booster Cookout?” She picked up a book that lay on her personal art table and returned it to its rightful place on the bookshelf.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “We – Aimee and I,” I said, pointing to each of us in sequence, “Needed to talk for a second. Is it okay if we hang out in here for a bit?”

Mrs. Daughtry gave me a sly look. “And what is Matt going to think of this?” She asked.

“Oh, nonono,” Aimee said quickly. “It’s… Not like that. At ALL. We’re JUST talking. Besides, I’m not his type.”

“Oh?” Mrs. D and I asked nearly simultaneously.

“Yeah,” Aimee replied. “For one thing, I’m SANE.”

Mrs. D cracked up at Aimee’s joke, not realizing the seriousness of the statement. She waved us off with a toothy grin as she headed into her office and closed the door, affording us a little privacy. Aimee turned and looked dead at me; no trace of amusement on her face.

“What?” I asked, and then stood and watched as Aimee fought through whatever mental process was firing in her head that made it difficult to proceed with what she had to tell me.

“Uh… Joe…” She said, fighting with the words as she spoke them. “How much do you… Know… about Amanda?”

“Hmm,” I replied. “I know she likes me!”

“Yeah, but… What ELSE?”

“Well, I know she’s had a crush on me for the past two or three years…” I said, looking at the captain of the softball team and wondering just what the heck she was trying to get at. “I know she plays softball… She used to ride horses, she has an aquarium with a bunch of fish… Oh, and I know she really, REALLY likes to use the phone!” I snickered to myself. Aimee just stared at me.

“Did you know that she’s had… Like… Issues… In the past?” She asked me.

“Uh… no?” I replied, pulling out a chair and taking the seat that I knew I was about to need. “Like… What SORT of issues?”

“Well…” she began, taking a seat on the art table across from me. “You know how she wasn’t here for, like, half the year last year?”

I thought for a moment. “No,” I finally responded.

“Well, she wasn’t,” Aimee confirmed. “Do you know where she actually was?”

I thought for another moment. “No,” I said again.

Aimee was just about to reply, and then thought better of it. She turned her head quickly and looked behind herself at the opened art room door. She rose with great haste and trotted over to it, then shut it lightly and returned to where I was sitting. “Ok,” she said, sitting once again on the table and flipping her long black hair back over her left shoulder, “If I tell you this, you have to SWEAR that you’ll never say a word to ANYONE.”

“Yeah… Okay,” I replied.

She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. “Not even your friend Mike,” She appended.

“Sure,” I lied.

“Alright,” she said, then turned to look back at the door once again. Satisfied that we were secluded and in no danger of being overheard, she leaned even farther forward. I did the same, and soon, we were separated by only inches. “She was at Charter,” Aimee whispered, then leaned back and awaited my response.

I sat there, still bent over, processing what Aimee just revealed to me. Slightly dazed, I leaned back in my chair and said, with a great deal of concern, “Cool.”

She looked at me in disbelief, unable to understand why I wasn’t more impacted by her revelation than I appeared to be. In an effort to ensure that we were on the same page, she added, “Peachford.”

I stretched my legs out and folded my arms over my chest. “Okay… so she was at another school last year… What’s the big deal?”

“Charter-Peachford isn’t a SCHOOL, you big retard!” Aimee shouted as she threw her hands in the air.

“What is it, then?”

She tilted her head to one side, much the same way Mrs. Daughtry had done when I entered the room. “Don’t you ever watch television?” She asked me defiantly. “They run the commercial for that place all the freakin’ time!”

It took a moment for it to register. I sat and thought of the 1:00 AM showings of “Kung-Fu Theater” on Channel 69 that played in the background as I sat at my drawing desk on the weekends… I tried to cycle through the low-budget commercials that would run at that time – The grey-bearded spokesman for Gallery Furniture demanding that we “Ask for the Wolfman!” as he pointed at the camera… Terry Cullen dressed in a cowboy outfit screaming about “Wranglin’ in the deals” for his Chevy Silverados… Images of perfectly well-adjusted people enjoying shady pines and serene lakeshores as the deep baritone of the announcer’s voice pleaded, “If you don’t get help at Charter-Peachford… Please. Get help somewhere.”

Oh, shit.

“Yeah,” Aimee said in reply to my unspoken realization, which I could feel painted all over my face.

“What… Why…” Was all I could manage to say as I slumped a little farther down in my chair.

“Apparently, she got really depressed last year, and she tried to…” She paused, taking a deep breath. She looked right into my eyes and continued, “She tried to commit suicide.”

“Oh, wow…” I replied, unsure what to think. “I… I didn’t know…”

“There’s more,” Aimee stated.

I unfolded my arms and pushed myself upright in my chair, both eager and scared to hear what else was coming. “Go on.”

“It’s not the first time,” she said.

I couldn’t even look at Matt as I returned to my station at the yummy desserts table, nearly half an hour after I’d left. I just slid behind him and took a seat in my chair, which sat between his and an empty one once occupied by Tony. I placed my elbows on the table and my face in my palms and proceeded to sulk as only a senior in high school – who just found out that the only girl who’d ever openly expressed any interest in him was a manic depressive nutjob with multiple suicide attempts under her belt – can.

“Bad news?” Matt asked sarcastically.

“Shut up,” I said through my hands.

“Well, it could be worse.”

“Oh?” I asked, lifting my head and turning to look at him. “How so?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, actually. I was just trying to cheer you up.”

“Thanks,” I replied, planting my face back into my hands.

“That’s really messed up, though, huh?” He said, shifting in his seat. “I mean, it’s kinda crazy for someone to try that stuff once, you know… But seven times? Boy… And she likes you, Peacock!” He said, slapping me on the back. “If THAT isn’t crazy, I don’t know what is.”

“Oh, MAN…” I groaned, folding my arms on the table and laying my head on them. Just then, I heard a bit of shuffling to my right.

“What’s wrong with Peacock?” I heard Tony say from somewhere above me.

“Aimee just told him about Amanda,” Matt answered.

“Oh… That’s some crazy shit, ain’t it?” He asked rhetorically.

I lifted my head and turned to look at him. “Of COURSE it’s crazy – Wait a second! How the hell do YOU know about it?!?”

“Uh… I think everyone does,” Matt said from my left. I shot around to face him.

“But…” I said, clenching my fists and shaking them in frustration. “I thought that it was some huge secret!” I snapped.

“Yeah… right,” Tony said from my right. I whipped around to look at him as he started laughing jovially.

“Dude, think about where you are!” Matt demanded as I turned once again to face him, becoming a bit dizzy in the process. “You know how that shit goes – ESPECIALLY here.” He smiled and slapped me on the back again, then added, “Come on. Use your hea… Uhhhh... Hey!” He adjusted his position to face the approaching customer. I turned to look and was shocked – but not surprised – to see Amanda’s mom standing in front of us.

“Hi… And hi there, Joe!” She said, smiling vibrantly.

“Uh… HI!” I said, trying my best to force a natural excitement to see her. As if thrown with high heat from across the room by a Major League pitcher, a toothy grin became embedded on my face. “What, uh… In what… May I interest you? In? Today?”

“Well,” she said, humming a little as she looked down at the vast selection of homemade treats laid out on the table before us. I quickly turned to Matt with the same stupid grin on my face and my eyes as wide as Kennedy silver dollars, non-verbally begging him to somehow help me out of this situation. He looked at me quizzically and shrugged, non-verbally indicating that he had no idea what the fuck I was trying to get at. I heard her smack her lips, which brought my head back to the upright and locked position. “I think that… Hmm…”

“Uh… I think the Rice Krispie bars are quite good,” Matt offered. I could see him looking over at me from the corner of my eye, attempting to confirm that he was doing whatever it was I had attempted to ask him to do. She looked up at us, asking “Is that so?” As her eyes slid upward from the table to bring me into view, my spine shot straight and the dumb grin I wore got just a little dumber.

“YES MA’AM, THAT IS INDEED SO,” I said just a little too excitedly; my voice cracking under the pressure. “In fact, these are… They’re on the house! THEY’RE YOURS!”

“Oh, no!” She protested, reaching into her purse to find her wallet. “I couldn’t possibly…”

“TAKE THEM!” I squeaked. She looked at me as if I’d just laid an egg, which is pretty much what it sounded like I’d just done. I nodded toward the delectable marshmallowy squares, looked up at her, and bobbed my head. “YES! THESE ARE YOURS NOW! GO ON AND TAKE THEM!”

“Uh… Well, alright…” She conceded, picking up the spoils of the strangest victory she’d ever won. “Thank you… I guess…” I heard Tony laughing from off to my right, amused beyond belief.

“NO PROBLEM! HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!” I said, ushering her away in the most viciously cheerful voice I’d ever heard come out of my own mouth. Even I was scared of me at that point.

She nodded cautiously, looked down at her dessert, then back up at me as she began to step away. She finally broke her dazed stare and headed for the door when she suddenly stopped and turned around and headed back. “I got so distracted with the desserts that I almost forgot why I even came over here,” She said with a slight chuckle. “Do you know where Amanda is?”

“Uh… No! Why, NO! No, I sure don’t!” I snapped. “Nope. Don’t have a clue, actually. Haven’t seen her all day… HAVE I, MATT?” I turned to look at him, nodding with my huge eyes and gigantic grin.

“Um…” he answered.

“See!” I said, whipping my head back in Ms. Peters’ direction before Matt could utter another word. “We haven’t seen—“ “MOMMY!” Said the loud voice from behind Ms. Peters. She turned, and as she did, she revealed a softball-jersey-clad Amanda running down the aisle toward us.

“Oh,” I heard Matt say, figuring it all out at once. I just sighed.

The mother and daughter talked for a moment, with occasional glances back in our direction. I tried my best to avoid any and all eye contact with either of them, all the while trying my best to look like I wasn’t trying to avoid eye contact. I engaged Matt in a conversation about next week’s big game against Riverdale, the first of our season, mentioning that we’d need to be prepared and how impressive their offence was supposed to be and such and the like. To each statement, he tacitly agreed with nods and affirming noises such as “Mm Hmm” and “Yup.” Tony chimed in only once during the exchange to remind me that, amidst all the events of the day, he still thought that I was “A trip.”

Suddenly, I heard an excited squeal as a blonde blur rushed toward our station. “Guess what!” Amanda exclaimed, placing her palms flat on the table and smiling brightly as her mother walked toward the exit far in the distance behind Matt.

I feared the worst.

I continued to talk about nothing of any importance whatsoever to Matt, who nodded slightly in her direction. I failed to look that way, so he boldly pointed at her and nodded once again. I looked over to see her. “OH!” I exclaimed, feigning surprise. “I’m sorry… I was, you know… Engrossed in our conversation about the big game. Lots to discuss.” I nodded and smacked my lips, then looked anywhere in the room besides at her. “Yep, big game. A lot’s riding on it.”

“Oh, okay, cool,” she said, “But guess what!”

I broke my longing gaze at the exit door and whipped my head around to her direction. “Hmm?” I muttered in response.

“I’m going home with you tonight!” She said brightly.

My eyes grew wide. Matt coughed. Tony laughed.

“Isn’t that great?” She asked, soliciting some sort of response from me.

“Uh… I don’t… Know about that, there, Amanda,” I said. “I’m probably going to… Need to, you know… Pass on that.”

“Aww, why, sweetie?” She asked with a pout.

“Because I… Uh… You see, I was planning on… Jogging home.” I winced as I said it, knowing that, even though it was the best I could come up with, it was pretty damn pathetic. Immediately, Tony snorted and began laughing out loud. Even Matt smirked as I continued digging my little trench. “I need the exercise for the game. It’s next weekend.” I nodded, continuing, “It’s the big game, you know. First of the season. Gotta be ready.” I stretched my arms high and groaned.

“Oh,” she responded, let down that she wasn’t going to get to spend the evening with me. “Well, how long does it take you to run home from here? I could run with you… Have you ever done it before? Did you time yourself?”

Oh, I’d done it alright. Anytime I was in trouble at school – which was constantly – my father’s choice punishment for me was to make me walk home from school. The first time I’d done it was in ninth grade, and it took nearly four hours due to the fact that I’d stopped at the mall, the bookstore, a quickie mart, and a friend’s house on the way home. The next day, he left work early specifically to follow me home in the truck and time my walk. For nearly five miles, I had a white Ford F-150 creeping behind me slowly with its hazard lights on. Amazingly, it took only 45 minutes at the pace I’d suddenly developed.

“Oh, gosh, I dunno, Amanda,” I replied. “It’s probably, what… About a three hour run? Maybe four?”

She tilted her head to one side and glared at me. God, was I getting sick of women doing that.

“So yeah,” I continued, “I’m sure you won’t want to do that, and since it’ll take all night—”

“Hey,” I heard from my left. I looked over at Matt, who immediately thumbed behind his shoulder at the Mike who had suddenly grown on it.

“OH. HI MIKE,” I said, the eyes and grin reappearing suddenly. “WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE?”

“What? What do you mean, ‘What brings me here?’” He asked as I grimaced. “We’re going to Walter’s after this, aren’t we? And what’s with that stupid look?”

My eyes drooped and became pitiful as I looked back over at Amanda, who was glaring at me. Then, suddenly, she gasped and became very doeful. “Aww,” She said, clasping her hands together and bringing them under her chin. “You didn’t want to hurt my feelings! That’s so sweet!”

I just looked down and shook my head.

“Well, I could come with you,” She suggested.

“NO!” I said a little harshly. Quickly, I tried to adjust my tone and cover the outburst. “I think that’s probably a bad idea… Walter’s parents are, uh… Amish. He’s forbidden to see girls, so you can’t go there.”

“They are?” She asked. “Doesn’t he drive to sch—”

“He’s not, they are,” I interrupted. “It’s complicated. Anyway, you can’t come. Not tonight.”

She pouted, then huffed. “Well, I just sent my mother home, so now, I don’t have a ride home.”

“Well, why don’t you and your buddy give Amanda a ride home, then go see your friend Walter?” Matt suggested with a huge grin on his face. I shot him a look and telepathically suggested that he fornicate himself. He caught on and laughed.

“Great idea!” Mike announced. I then shot him the same look as he added, “That way, you can give her a nice kiss before we go out tonight!”

“That’d work!” Amanda agreed, smiling.

“WONDERFUL!” I said with my fists and sphincter clenched tightly. “LET’S GO NOW!” I shot out of my seat, turned in place to my left, walked behind Matt and began marching toward the door.

The entire ride home, Mike kept asking me “What’s wrong, buddy?” knowing fully well what was bugging me. Each time he did, Amanda reached forward from the back seat, placed her hand on my shoulder, and asked the same thing. Each time she did that, I’d say “NOTHING IS WRONG! WHAT MAKES YOU THINK SOMETHING IS WRONG? EVERYTHING’S FINE!” which would then invite silence for around 60 seconds, when the cycle would begin anew. We finally arrived at the Peters residence, and before Mike could even bring his car to a complete stop, I had the door to the Camaro open and one foot out the door. I flipped the seat forward and stood aside as Amanda exited. I looked quickly in her direction, waved, and said “See ya!” as I attempted to get back in the car. She reached forward and wrapped her arms around my waist. I sighed, lightly patting her on the back in return. I felt her loosen her grip a bit and I looked down to flash a quick goodbye smile when I saw her head raised, eyes closed, and lips pursed in preparation for a kiss.

NO NO NO, I can’t do it!

I think you’re going to have to.

NO!

I felt my head lowering.

Hey, WAIT! NO! Don’t… NO!

My lips scrunched up and I tilted my face to one side.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

And with that, I kissed her. She stood on her tiptoes and hummed in response.

You sonuvabitch!

It was the only way out of this. You’ll thank me later.

“Mmm,” she said. “That was nice.”

“Uh... Okay,” I said flatly.

She looked at me funny, and then smiled. “You know… You COULD skip out on them tonight and…”

“NOPE!” I said without even considering what the hell she might have been suggesting. “Got plans! Gotta go do them!” I pushed her away lightly and quickly plopped in the seat of Mike’s car, then reached to grab the door and close it. As it swung closed, Amanda quickly stepped out of the path so as to avoid getting crushed. Immediately, she turned around and bent down to look in the opened window.

“I hope you have fun tonight,” She stated.

“YEP! SURE WILL!” I said, looking straight forward.

“One more for the road?” She asked. I looked over to see her doing the lip thing again.

“Uh… Yeah, okay,” I said, leaning forward to kiss her again. With my left hand, I reached behind me, slapped Mike’s leg, and then made the “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE” motion with my thumb. I heard the quick shifter slapping backward and the engine revving, and just in time, I broke from the kiss as the car began rolling backward. It squealed a little as it entered the roadway, then squealed a LOT as it proceeded up the road. I waved at Amanda without looking in her direction.

“Way to go Peacock!” Mike exclaimed with a huge smile.

I stared forward. “Fuck you,” I stated.

“What!” He exclaimed. “What’d I do?!?”

I said nothing in reply.

“Want to stop at your house for anything while we’re in your neighborhood?” He asked.

“Yeah, sure,” I replied sourly.

He tapped his steering wheel to the beat of the song that was barely playing over the speakers. With a sigh, he said, “Look, I don’t know why you’re so pissy… You just got a kiss from that girl. You should be happy.”

“No way, man,” I replied. “That girl is seven kinds of fucked up – like, literally.”

“Who, Amanda?” He asked. I looked over at him, confirming that I was indeed talking about Amanda – just like he had been not a second earlier. He smiled in response, knowing exactly what he was doing. “Yeah, no shit she is,” He stated.

“Um… Excuse me?” I asked.

“You know she was in some sort of rehab last year?” He asked.

“Yeah,” I huffed, “For trying to kill herself!”

“Yep,” he stated. “I hear she’s tried it a bunch of times… Big attention whore, that girl.”

I stared holes through him as we pulled into my driveway. He threw the car into park before it had stopped rolling, causing it to skid slightly on the concrete. He turned the ignition off and glanced over in my direction. I continued to stare, a look of disbelief hanging on my face.

“What?” He asked finally.

“You KNEW about that?!?” I asked.

“Yeah… Didn’t you?”

“Uh— NO!” I replied. “I wouldn’t have even talked to her if I knew that! Why didn’t you TELL me?”

“I figured you knew!” He answered. “I thought maybe she was one of your charity cases, or maybe you were looking for an easy lay. How the fuck am I supposed to know what you don’t know?”

“You know EVERYTHING I don’t know!” I yelled. “You’re my best fucking friend, for chrissake! You know I don’t know shit about what’s going on most of the time!”

“Oh,” He replied, knowing I was right. “Well… Sorry.”

I grit my teeth and banged my fist on the dashboard, then immediately placed my pinky in my mouth in response to the intense pain I’d just caused in it.

“Smart,” he stated. I flipped him off with my spare hand as he continued, “So, what are you going to do?”

I removed my little finger from my mouth with a pop, then stated, “What else CAN I do? I’ve got to call it off.”

He nodded in agreement. “Probably a good idea.”

“Yeah…” I said, opening the door to his beat up Chevy and stepping out.

“WAIT- Not right now!” He yelled out as he exited the driver’s side.

“Why not?”

“We’re already late for Walter’s as it is,” He answered. “You know how he gets if we’re late.”

“He can wait!” I yelled back as I opened the door to my house. I heard Mike growling from outside as I stepped indoors and made my way back to my room, intent on calling Amanda up and laying down the hard truth – that we simply cannot go any farther. Just as I passed inside the threshold of my domain, I heard the phone ring.

“WOULD YOU ANSWER THAT STUPID THING?!?” I heard my sister yell from her bedroom.

“HUH?” I shouted back.

As I turned back into the hallway, her bedroom door swung open and revealed a sleepy-eyed Virginia. “That phone has rung, like, TEN times in the past TEN minutes. Take it off the hook or something, will you? I’m trying to get a little sleep!”

“Sorry, Jen,” I said, extending a single arm around her neck and hugging her as roughly as an older brother is obligated to hug his younger sister. She groaned disapprovingly, slapped my chest with her right hand and pushed me away with her left.

“Dork,” She said playfully as she marched back over to her bed and collapsed in it.

“You want the door shut?” I asked as I leaned inside her room.

“Yes, please,” She answered. “And tell whoever’s calling to stop calling so much.”

“It’s his new girlfriend, Amanda Peters,” Mike barked from down the hall, grinning wide as he took pleasure in setting up the shitstorm that was about to befall me.

Jen sat bolt upright in bed. I hung my head and grimaced.

“Joe?” She asked sternly.

“Look,” I said pitifully as I sighed.

“JOE!” She yelled, standing up. “You can NOT be serious.”

Mike laughed from the hallway. “Yep, it’s true!” he affirmed to my sister. “Your brother’s dating a psycho!”

“NO!” I cried out. “I’m NOT dating her! I don’t even like her! She likes me and she’s obsessive and…”

“And you're using her to inflate your ego?"

"NO! Of course not," I answered somewhat honestly. "It's just that... I dunno. She has the wrong idea about me..."

"And you've done nothing to change this idea?” Jen asked.

“Well… Not… YET,” I said with my palms facing the air.

“And WHEN were you planning on it?” She said, fists on her hips and head cocked to one side, joining the legions of females giving me that goddamned look.

As if summoned to do so on cue, the phone rang once again.

“Dollar to a hole in your head, that’s her,” Mike stated.

“Fine,” I snapped. “I’m putting an end to this right NOW.” I turned to my left and marched into my room, slapped my hand down on the phone receiver, snatched it up forcefully and brought it to my ear. “HELLO?” I yelled into the mouthpiece, ready to give Amanda what-for.

“What the FUCK are you doing there?!?” Walter’s voice cried, cracking through the earpiece. “You were supposed to be here half an hour ago!”

“Yeah, well… Long story,” I answered.

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with you dating Amanda Peters, would it?” He asked. "That girl is a fucking nutjo--"

“I’m NOT dating Amanda Peters,” I insisted. From somewhere inside Jen’s room, I heard Mike take a break from harassing my sister to scream out, “Yes you are!”

“NO I’M NOT,” I demanded, holding the phone away from my mouth. “No, I’m not, Walter,” I demanded once again as I put the phone back to my face.

“Well, whatever you’re doing with her, quit it and grab your butt buddy and GET OVER HERE DAMMIT!” He insisted, terminating the conversation with a sharp click.

I placed the phone down on the cradle. Not ONE second after I did, it began ringing.

Don’t pick it up.

But what if it’s Walter?

He’ll just snap at you for talking on the phone instead of driving over to his place.

Hmm… And what if it’s Amanda?

Yeah, that’s PRECISELY what you need right now – a thirty minute cry fit on the phone and another hour of harassment from Walter when you finally DO show up.

I grit my teeth, turned in place, snatched up a few video games I figured I could let Walter borrow as a peace offering / distraction measure, and walked back out of the room.

Walter’s house was uneventful. He was all set to lecture me on being late and dating Amanda when I flashed Super Metroid in front of his face. With an “OOOOH!” He grabbed it and turned on his heels to go plug it into his Super Nintendo. Mike and I looked at one another, shrugged, and walked in to once again compete in a little air hockey. We went to Waffle House a few hours later, talked about generic nonsense, and went home. As I walked into the house with Mike in tow, I was once again greeted by my extremely angry mother.

“I’m calling Bellsouth on Monday and removing your phone line,” she snapped before I could say a word. “You OBVIOUSLY don’t know how to tell your friends to respect the phone.”

“Uh… It’s sort of a… Delicate situation, Mom,” I said in defense. Mike nodded to her, affirming that it was indeed. She scowled, stood up, and announced her intention to finally get some “Much needed sleep – and I BETTER not be disturbed by that damn phone.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered. Mike just nodded and wished her a good night, then headed toward the kitchen as he always did upon entering my house.

I entered my room to find the phone turned upside-down and off the hook. I shrugged as I returned it to the cradle and began removing my grimy, cigarette smoke-infested tee shirt to replace it with something a little more fresh. Within seconds, the ringer on the phone began to chirp. With my best Bruce Lee imitation, I flashed my arm to my side and snatched the phone right up. As I did, I looked toward the door to see my mother standing there with a scowl. “Uh… Hello?” I answered as I waved and smiled extremely widely at my mom, who just shook her head and turned to enter her room.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” I heard Amanda yell from the other side of the line. I held the receiver away from my ear to avoid permanent auditory nerve damage, grimacing at both the pain produced by the sharp tones and the pain produced by knowing what I was about to do.

“Uh… I told you, I had plans with Walter and Mike this evening,” I answered.

“Well, I was WORRIED!” She replied. “I tried calling Walter’s house to talk to you, but his mother said that you were at Waffle House – and by the way, I asked her why she would answer the phone if she were Amish, and she said—“

“Look,” I said with a sigh, “We… Need to talk.”

“Yeah, we do,” She replied. “If we’re going to be together, you can’t keep worrying me like this.”

“Yeah, about that…” I muttered. Mike entered the room with a couple cans of Dr. Pepper. He tossed one to me which I caught with my left hand, then he popped open the other and guzzled half the can in one shot.

“About what?” Amanda asked. “Our being together? It’s been wonderful so far, but this sort of indiscretion has got to… Uh… What was that?” She inquired in response to an extremely loud belch that broke loose from Mike’s mouth.

“It, uh… It was my iguana,” I answered, not wanting to reveal that Mike was party to the conversation. “I have an iguana. He’s loud.”

“Well… Okay, whatever. Can you, like, put him away while we talk?” She asked. “This is serious. I want to talk about US.”

“Amanda,” I stated flatly, “There IS no ‘us’.”

Silence. And then, “Uh… Excuse me?”

It was hard. It was SO VERY HARD. And it took FOREVER -- For the next two and a half hours, I had to manage Amanda’s delusions of relationship bliss produced by a day and a half of not dating on one side of the phone and Mike’s childish attempts at breaking my concentration on the other. But somehow, I managed to bring the conversation to a close after finally convincing a crying and distraught Amanda that we could never be a “WE” and convincing an annoying best friend to shut his mouth for a few minutes so I could try to put an end to the nightmare this entire thing had become.

“I… I will ALWAYS love you, Joe,” She said through her sobbing.

“Yeah… Okay, that’s cool,” I replied.

She became silent for a moment. “Oh my God,” She finally said.

“What?”

“It’s… it’s really… over…” She said.

“Umm… Yeah. Yeah, it is,” I answered, smiling to myself in selfish relief that she'd finally caught on.

She sighed. “I guess this is goodbye then.”

“Okay, goodbye,” I said, and slammed down the phone.

Mike looked over at me. “Joe,” He said.

“Yeah?”

“I… I know this is hard,” He stated, “And I know you’re depressed and all… But don’t kill yourself over it.”

I shot him a look, and tried my best not to crack a smile as he lost his composure. It was too much to bear, however, and the two of us cracked up as we made horribly tasteless jokes about Amanda for the rest of the night.

Sunday morning came, and with it, a sound I relished.

Silence.

No phone calls. No visits. Nothing from Amanda whatsoever. It was bliss. I spent the entire day at my drawing board, half focused on a comic strip I was doing with a friend of mine named Jay and half expecting the phone to ring at any moment. It did only once as Mike called me to find out if Amanda had been harassing me all day.

“No, amazingly,” I said, nestling the phone between my shoulder and the left side of my face as I went back to inking the pencils that Jay produced. “Not a peep.”

“Hmm,” He said contemplatively. “You don’t think she… You know…”

“Eh, if she did, I’m sure I would have heard from her mom or something by now,” I replied. “Don’t you think so?”

“Hmm… Probably. Still… I wonder…”

“Well, why don’t YOU call her?” I suggested.

“Fuck that,” he answered quickly. “Hey – if she actually DID, at least you know you won’t have to deal with her anymore.”

“Dude,” I answered, laying my brush down. “That’s horrible.”

“But true.”

I thought for a moment. “Yep, I guess you’re right,” I said with a laugh as the lack of couth that always accompanied conversations between Mike and I reared it’s ugly head.

Monday morning came and with it, no less than three hundred inquiries from classmates and some faculty members, all asking, “So… Amanda Peters, huh?” I spent the entire first half of the day deflecting the jabs and jeers of a student body who was SUPPOSED to be unaware of any of the troubles Amanda had experienced in the past, but of course, were more than completely aware of the entire ordeal. As always, I was the very last person to know.

Lunch period finally came and I joined my friends at our table near the soda machines. More inquires as to my dating Amanda, and more deflection ensued. “Hmm… you know, come to think of it,” Walter mentioned amidst the constant haranguing from my friends, “I don’t think I’ve seen her in school all day.”

“Well, she was really depressed after Joe broke her heart,” Mike answered, garnering from me a strongly extended middle finger.

“You don’t think she...” Walter half-asked.

“Bah,” I replied. “No way. We’d have heard about it by now.”

"Mike would have, maybe," Walter stated. "YOU wouldn't know if the freakin' school caught on fire until after your shoelaces started burning."

"BAH!" I stated, putting them out of my mind as I focused on the delectable lunch before me – a chunk of foam rubber covered in synthetic pork and "cheese product" and branded as "Sausage Pizza" on the cafeteria menu. As I opened my salivating mouth and brought the rectangle o’ tasty nutrition to my teeth, I heard from somewhere across the table someone muttering, “Well, speak of the devil…”

And then it hit me.

Or rather... She did.

---

This is Part II of a 3-part story. Please check at the top of this page for links to the other parts.