Chapter 4: Stranded

Terry

Damn, getting to know Lupe had been fun. The train ride was a mere seventy minutes, but I enjoyed every minute of it. I had known before that she wasn’t the bitch she was painted as by the rest of the class, but I hadn’t known how easygoing, even funny, she could be. She had a wicked sense of humor, and her vocabulary was not what you learn at a Catholic girls school.

I had a prom date, too. I realised that I would have to use the time together to sound her out about her expectations. She wouldn’t settle for anything cheap and tacky. This likely meant a stretch limo, flowers, dinner at some place with table cloths, the works. A hotel room for afterwards? Get real, Terry! She was a major babe, smart too, and whatever college she was going to attend, she would own the place. Me, I’d likely revel in a blissful anonymity.

I’d also need something nice to wear. I would have to trust some piranha working on commission to fit myself out, but again, maybe Lupe would have an idea. A proper haircut would also help, not the usual $10 jobs I got at the mall once a quarter. Thank God I wasn’t suffering from pimples anymore. That had been bad during puberty, but I had gotten a vitamin A treatment over the summer break when I was sixteen, and the shit had cleared up miraculously.

“We’re almost there. Time to face the jerks!” Lupe said listlessly.

“Yeah,” was my witty answer, but the train was already slowing, and we had to collect our stuff to get off.

Much to our surprise, the drab little train station was festooned with balloons, flower pots with daffodils in bloom, and big posters advertising the Rome Spring Festival to be held from March 31 to April 2. To guess from the number of people alighting from the train, it had to be a popular event.

“Wonder if Sally knew about this,” Lupe mused.

I shrugged. “If the party’s a bust, we can go and mingle with the natives.”

“Lame, but maybe preferable,” Lupe grinned. “Let’s find the Maison Wilcox.”

It took a twenty-minute walk to reach the street address we had been given, and then we stared at a currugated metal shed on an otherwise empty lot.

“This can’t be it,” I said, looking around.

“No shit! Let’s check the street signs at the next intersection,” Lupe agreed, and we trudged the 200 yards to the next corner.

“Chrysanthemum Drive. It’s the right street. Let’s check numbers.” I said.

We counted lots starting from a house with a number up at the mailbox, and we ended up at the same lot with the shed.

“Something stinks,” I stated the obvious. “Look, there’s a realtor’s sign. Let’s look.”

The sign read “Wilcox Real Estate”, with a phone number underneath, but there was also a print-out on yellow paper on the ground underneath. I grabbed it. It was damp, and there was sticky tape on the corners. It had obviously been taped to the sign but fallen off. It turned it over, and then we stared at the print:

April Fool’s Day! You’ve been punked!

No bastards and bitches at our parties!

There’s a mattress in the shed, so make yourselves comfortable and enjoy a romantic night together!

“Those assholes! I knew I shouldn’t trust that cunt!” Lupe seethed.

I was feeling cold in spite of the sunshine. Why on earth did the whole class hate me so much? Not one of them had given me a heads-up, so they had to be in the know.

“Hey, Terry! Don’t let the assholes get you. This was probably mostly about me.”

“Yeah, I get that. I’m only here to increase the humiliation factor for you. You’re stranded with the class pariah for company!”

“Shit, Terry, you being here is the single ray of light for me. Let’s walk back to town and look for transportation.”

“I’m pretty sure they knew what they were doing. Probably no train until tomorrow, and with that festival going on, there won’t be any free rooms either.”

“Jeez, don’t plan your suicide yet! Let’s check the train station first.”

“Maybe they have a cab company,” I admitted. “It’ll cost a fortune, but I’d rather not rough it on a park bench.”

Of course, there was no train for us until the next noon. The station master was anxious to get us out, since he was done for the day and wanted to take his family to the Spring Festival. At least, he found a brochure for us that listed the B&Bs and the single motel.

Twenty minutes later, we had come up empty with our quest to find rooms. Mostly, nobody at the B&Bs answered their phones, and the motel clerk had no openings, not even a broom closet.

“They’re likely at the freaking festival,” Lupe said darkly. “How are you set for money, Terry? We could try cabbies, but I’ve only about sixty bucks on me.”

“Let’s try cabbies,” I sighed. “We can also make plans for payback.”

“Oh, yeah! I’ll stomp that cunt into mud come Monday. Mary-Rose must be in on it, too.”

“The whole class is, Lupe. Face it, they all backed this.”

“Fuck them! We’ll get even. Now, let’s find a cab!”

It was no good. We reached one cab owner, but he was already half-potted, having thrown back a few beers at the festival. We were truly fucked.

“Let’s find a food stand at that stupid festival,” I suggested, and Lupe agreed listlessly.

“Should we just shack up in that shack?” she asked. “We both have blankets, so we won’t freeze or anything. I brought a bottle of Sonoma Red, too.”

I thought about it, but then I realized that perhaps, just perhaps, those assholes were not quite done with us.

“What if they call the local law tonight with a complaint about two people squatting in that shed? It’s private property, and that realtor is probably Sarah’s dad. We even have alcohol with us. We’d spend the weekend in jail, likely into Monday, and they’ll laugh their stupid heads off while we’ll get chewed out by the principal. You know, we have nothing to prove that they lured us here, and that note Sally left can be our work.”