Scratch that Itch

What is a kiss? 

I’m not looking for a life changing answer.  I’m curious, sincerely.  It’s not like I haven’t received pecks from my family.  Mom gives me good kisses (That sounds weird).  I should be more specific. 

 At Daniel Webster Middle School, what is a kiss?  Putting lips on lips or lips on cheeks or other body parts. Very unsanitary. 

Gross. 

But at my school, if this happens between a non-family member; a girl or a boy, then it’s like the moon landing (if you believe it; I have some questions) or winning the Super Bowl (Go Giants!).

“But Josh, why are you concerned about kissing? I thought you were fighting the devil and stuff.  Did you get a girlfriend?”

Yes. No. Maybe? It’s complicated, I think.  Let’s review.

I made a deal with Mr. Scratch, the devil, over cupcakes (double gross).  I hate cupcakes.  If I don’t get four people to agree with me by noon, when the deadly pastries are sold, then he gets my soul and the school. 

 Forever. 

Let’s continue.

I darted to the school, half-dressed and with an apple in my mouth.  Of course, the doors were locked and barred (state policy), but my mom would let me in, right? 

 No.

  I banged on the door, but no entry.  Her voice did speak to me on the outside speaker.

“Josh, honey, what are you doing here?”

“I feel lots better.  I want to go to my classes.  Please let me in.”

“ I can’t.  Honey, you are delirious. Just go home and get some rest.”

“Come on, Mom.  I need to be here, for…for the cupcakes.”

“Sorry Josh.  I can’t let you in after being an hour late.” 

I pleaded into the camera.  She didn’t buy it.  It was her job on the line.

“Didn’t you read my note? Of course not,” She mumbled, “I will bring  you a …”

“I don’t want a freaking cupcake!” 

But I didn’t say ‘freaking’. 

Have you ever seen a volcano erupt?  Mr. Rattlehammer (science dude) explained there are five varying volcanic eruptions.  Some are calm and majestic, but others are violent, destructive, and explosive.  Guess which one was the assistant principal?

To be fair to my mother, she deals with my colleagues, who constantly test her patience with modern colorful language.  She just never expected it from her baby boy.  My college bound brother, Chris, is another story.  Sailors learn from him. 

The fate of the school and my soul were in the balance.  It might have been better (probably not) if I used ‘beaver dam’.  Emphatic language was necessary, right? (Mrs. Depuy, back me up.)

“What the heck did you say young man?”

She did not use ‘heck’.

Sometimes I forget how strong a grown adult can be.  My mom is a triathlete, seriously, Iron-man sort of conditioning.  That’s how she met my dad, according to the family legends. 

The school door flashed open and before I knew it, I was in her office.  I don’t remember exactly what she said.  Let’s just say, I know now where my brother obtained his panoramic vocabulary.  I did not apologize. 

I received a detention and then Mrs. Fenton, the school secretary (gossip), escorted me to history.  The entire school would efficiently know of my unsavory antics before the end of the hour.  Thankfully in history, we were working in groups, so the noise level was high when I entered.  

I joined my group and continued the work on ancient Chinese culture.  The class presentation will be next week (I am the main speaker).   Mr. Huck,(short for Huckleberry) the teacher, wandered to each group, giving advice and suggestions.  He is everyone’s favorite.  He called me over to his desk. 

 Not good.

“Mr. Carpenter, how are you doing today? I heard about your incident at the door.”

“I’m okay.  Mrs. Fenton is working overtime, am I right?”

He did not laugh. 

“I will give you points for your creative entry into school, but I must warn you.  If you inform any one of our deal before noon, you forfeit your soul.”

“What are you talking about Mr...? 

His brown eyes glowed red for a second. 

I whispered, “Mr. Scratch? What are you doing here?”

I scanned the room and my classmates were frozen in place. 

“Keeping tabs on your soul.  Also points for not spilling the beans to mommy.  I forgot to inform you of that little detail. Sorry.”  

He strolled around the room.  Damaging and messing with the various projects.  The students became his puppets. He arranged four into the YMCA poses.  Joey’s head was glued to a pyramid. Salley’s hand-written report on Babylon turned to ash.  Michael had a small Hindu statue shoved up his nose.  He hovered over my group’s 3-D model of a Chinese dragon.  He reverently held it up.

“This is very good.” 

“Thanks, we have worked hours….”

He smashed it on the ground.

“Hey!  You jerk!”  I tried to pick up the fragments.

“Devil.” He slithered back to his desk.

 “So we are clear, Josh.  Don’t mess with me.”

“I don’t think you are the Devil, Lou.  You are just an ordinary, boot-licking flunky, struggling to be a kiss ass minion!”

 I lost my temper. 

“Don’t ever call me a minion.  I hate those little yellow freaks.”

He did not say freaks.  

He snapped his fingers and my classmates reanimated. 

He yelled, “Joshua! Why did you throw your project to the ground?” 

My teammates glared at me.

“Can I use the restroom, Mr. Scra…. Mr. Huck?” 

“I don't know, can you?”

The entire class laughed at me.  Mr. Huckleberry was no longer my favorite.

“May I?”

I ground my cavity covered molars and left the room.

At this pace, I will never find another soul to like me.  Let alone agree with me.  I ran down the hallway and into the bathroom.  I hid in the third stall.  I slammed the door. 

The fourth stall spoke. 

“What’s your problem, bro?”

“Austin?”

“Josh?”

We both stuck our heads out at the same time.  It was Austin “the Beast” Beasley.  The greatest athlete Daniel Webster had seen in several generations.  He all-starred in every sport including our swim team.  He doesn’t get the best grades, just enough to keep playing all year long.  We are friends, most of the time.

“What’s that smell?”  I asked.

He removed a small rectangular device from his pocket.  It jumped to his mouth and then a mango puff covered my clothes.   He extended it to me.  I held it in my right hand.

“You seem stressed.  Try it.  It takes the edge off.” 

“Not my thing.” I said. 

As I handed it back, Mr. Rattlehammer stepped inside and watched the exchange.  Of course, Austin pointed at me.

  I need better friends.  

Needless to say, I returned to my mom’s office.  I did not snitch.   I received another detention and an earful of bombastic words.  Mrs. Fenton placed me in pseudo-handcuffs and marched me to my third period class.  

9:10 am. 

Mrs. Depuy greeted me at the door. 

“Thanks, Mrs. Fenton.  I’ll take our little felon from here.  We are reading the textbook page 57-60.  Have a seat and no trouble please.”

“Yes ma'am.” 

As I moved to my seat, I thought scrutiny and judgment would be cast upon me from my classmates.  Instead, I witnessed looks of respect, a few winks, five fist pumps, one dab; as I sat down, and two ‘call me’s from the Bixby girls, twins. I sat down and opened my book to page 57.  Someone had left a note inside.  I read it and stuffed it in my backpack.

“Meet me at Janitor closet # 3 in ten minutes.  Find a way. 😉 Hallie.”

Hallie Coleman, eighth grader, prettiest girl in school, wants to meet me.  I should not go.  How would I even get out of class?  How did this note get here?  No, I will not scratch that itch. 

“Students.  In five minutes, we are going to the library to choose a biography.  Bring all your things, including your backpacks. I am talking to you, Sherod.”

The timing is perfect.  I could leave my bag…No. I can’t.  One more detention and I’ll be suspended and sent home.  This is no coincidence.  Nice try, Mr. Scratch.  A note from Hallie, clever.  I’m going to the library.  I read the story. 

 Tell-tale Heart. 

“Line up at the door.” Mrs. Depuy said.  

9:15 am.

I ended up at the back of the line, but I was determined to be a good student.  We only had to traverse the length of the school.  Janitor closet #1 passed.  Just two more to go.  No!  It is a trick.  She will not be there.  My heart is NASCAR. 

The cafeteria loomed on the left.  The Scratch Cupcakes display illuminated the dreary food court.  I spy Janitor closet #2.  One more to… No!  It’s a trap.  My heart is an F-16.  Sweat drops tumble from my forehead.  Sneaker squeaks and grunts from the gymnasium cover the pounding in my chest.  We are almost to the library. 

Oh no. 

A beauty is walking toward us with a notebook in her arms. 

Hallie. 

 I strolled past Janitor closet #3.  My heart is SpaceX.

Her coordination of this rendezvous is impressive.  I keep my gaze forward.  The class has entered the library.  No direct eye contact.  Wow, her face is so pretty.  Are her eyes green?  Eyes straight, soldier.  Be strong.  She just winked at me. 

With perfect timing, my crush opened the janitor’s door with her right hand and grabbed the top of my backpack with her left.  She maneuvered me into the closet.   Without a trace, we disappeared from the hallway for our private meeting. 

Some necessary backstory.  

Hallie and I are the same age.  She is only a few days older.   We have grown up together.  Our parents know each other and hang out.  I missed the kindergarten cutoff by one day, October 1-Hallie-September 28.  Completely unfair.  We have hung out every summer.  We have played video games.  We have goofed around as pals.  Until fifth grade, I  thought of her more like a sister than friend.  

Then it happened. 

First day of school, I was walking down the hallway and this gorgeous female teenager with perfect makeup, killer tan, and sporting a summer dress, waved to me.  I looked around, but she waved me over with a brilliant smile. 

“How was your summer, Joshy?  Looking cute this year.”  She caressed my hair. 

“Fine.  Thanks.  How are you?”

“Amazing.  How’s your mom?”

“Fine. How do you know my name?”

“Duh, I’m like your neighbor.  Did you sit in the sun too long?” 

“No.  Only one person calls me Joshy and …” 

Then I beheld her; all beautiful sixth-grade her: no glasses, no braces, and no kiddie clothes.

“Hallie. Hallie Coleman. Hallie. Hallie. Hallie.”

“Stop saying my name. You’re weirding me out.”

Suddenly, something stirred in me.  I got warm and started sweating.  My voice seized up and my pants shrank especially around the zipper.  It got very uncomfortable.  My eyes peered at her chest, her bare knees, and her caramel flowing hair without interruption.  I tried to look away,  but I couldn’t.  I didn’t want to.

“Hallie. Hallie. Hallie. How’re you doing?” 

I raised my eyebrows up and down. 

“Get away from me, you creep.” 

She slapped me across the face.  We didn’t talk again until Christmas break.  I had an awkward talk with Dad that evening.

Puberty sucks.

Eventually we became friends again, but it has been a hard road (seriously, no pun intended).  Let’s head… return to our secret session. 

Hallie placed her right hand over my mouth and locked the door with her left.  She placed her index finger over her perfect lips.  We could hear some scuttlebutt (last week's vocabulary quiz) in the hallway.  Mrs. Depuy's muffled angry voice vibrated in the hallway.  She jiggled the handle of the janitor’s closet.  She stormed away back into the library.

Hallie lowered her finger and removed her hand from my mouth.

I whispered, “What is going on? Why the cloak and dagger?”

“I was worried about you, Joshy.  I heard about your cussing and vaping.  Are you okay?”

She was worried about me.

“I’m fine.  First of all, I only cursed so I could get inside.  Second, I don’t vape.  It was Austin.”

“Ok, I believe you.  But the rumors and your legend have grown.  I heard you busted down the front door and sold marijuana.” 

“Really?”

  “Why come to school at all?  Your mom said you were sick all weekend.”

She checked up on me.

“Because of the cupcake thing.  I feel responsible for…”

“Bringing the entire school a snack.  Your mom and I are proud of you.  It was sweet.”

She is proud of me. 

“Thanks.”

I heard a noise.  I put my finger to her lips. 

Heavy footfalls trampled outside the door.   Hallie slipped closer to me.  The sweet vapors of coconut filled my nostrils.  My mom’s muffled vocal cords barked orders.  The handle rattled again.  The hallway silenced. 

“Hallie, there isn’t much time before they find us.  I need you to do me a favor.”

“What? Anything.”

“I need you to convince my mom to have a Good Nutrition Assembly for the whole school at 11 am.”

“That’s it?  I loved the last one your mom hosted.  I learned so much about bad sugars and good sugars and eating a more balanced diet…”

“Will you do it?”

“Yes.  Does this have to do with the cupcakes? I’ve never been a big fan, way too much frosting and all those fake colors….”

“What did you say about cupcakes?”

“I’ve never been a fan of….”

“Would you sign a petition against cupcakes?”

“Yes, I guess…”

“Can I have a piece of paper?”

My ray of sunshine in the darkest hour.  I grabbed my pen and scribbled a title at the top of the scrap paper.  I signed my name.  I handed it to her.  She signed it.  We stared at each other in the semi-dark. The hallway light glowed upon her trusting eyes.  I was overjoyed to have a true friend.  

I stepped forward and placed my lips on Hallie Coleman’s lips.  My eyes closed.

I expected fireworks or symphony music, but it was just nice. To finally connect with someone and have nothing between us.  It was nice to be on the same page.

Do all kisses taste like ripe strawberries?

I pressed my advance and moved my hands to her hips.  She responded with a slight head tilt and her arms around my neck.  Our mouths remained locked as our breathing intensified.  Automatically, I lowered my sweating hands to her soft denim buttocks.  

I activated a NASA launch code (In my mind, it’s a big red button).

Her whole body catapulted against my chest.  A slippery tongue entered my mouth.  Her ignition knocked us into the shelves.  Several metal cans and other debris clattered to the ceramic tiles, but we kept going. 

 It was very nice.

The door slammed open and the light exposed our sweet affair to Janitor Joe, Mrs. Depuy, and all the students in the library.  We opened our eyes.  Our lips popped apart. 

9:35 am.

We were ceremonially dragged to the office.  We were seated two chairs apart directly in front of the secretary’s piercing eyes.  My mom came out of her office and pointed to my partner.   I couldn’t get a read on my mother.  Hallie stood and then unexpectedly hugged me. 

She whispered, “Don’t worry,  I will convince her.”

Her soft lips pressed against my blushing right cheek.

“Come on, Juliet,” the assistant principal called, “Don’t worry, Romeo won’t be exiled. Yet.”

I shrunk down in my chair.  I am so dead. 

9:45 am

Mrs. Fenton scanned the monitors and then buzzed the front door.  The principal, Mr. Cliff,( no one knows his last name) sauntered into the office.  He scowled at me. 

 This was unusual for many reasons.  

First, Mr. Cliff does not come to school on Mondays or Fridays.  My mom complains all the time about it.  Second, Mr. Cliff wears the same dumpy gray three-piece suit and puke green tie everyday.  Today, he entered styling a silky obsidian suit with fiery red trim, matching tie, and a coordinated ‘tude.  Finally, how he looked at me.  Mr. Cliff only knows my name because my mom works with him.  We have zero personal history.  He does not care.  He does not know any of the kids’ names.  Not one.  Nada.

“Thanks for contacting me, sweetheart, about our little delinquent.  I’ll take it from here.”

“No problem, Mr. Cliff.  Nice suit.  Is it Armani?”

“Only the best for my school.” He winked at her. “ Oh, would you page the cupcake rep and have him come to my office ASAP.”

Mrs. Fenton drooled and winked back, “Sure thing, Mr. Armani.”  

Gross.

“Let’s go, Joshua Carpenter, to my office.  I have a deal for you.”  His irises changed from brown to fire. 

Once again, crimson eyes scared the urine out of me. 

I knew this wasn’t Mr. Scratch, but a new demonic force, which also hated my guts. 

I still need three signatures to stop the devil from taking my soul.

I have two detentions and possibly a third for skipping class and wonderful PDA.

I have to rebuild my destroyed project and somehow repair my reputation. 

I had my first kiss and Hallie might be my girlfriend.

I guess I will just follow my dad’s universal motto. 

“Put it on the list!”