It's Not A Chick Flick

By J.L. Hohler III

Penny is an average teenager, living with her divorced, over-bearing Mother. Though she has vague notions of life beyond going to movies and hanging out with friends, it isn't until she stumbles on a used video camera in a junk shop that she realizes what she really wants to do in life is make a movie.

With a little help from her brother and best friend - and a whole lot of nerve - she seizes the opportunity to live her life her own way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.L. Hohler III
• Release date: Jan 8, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301850396

J.L. Hohler III

Mr. Hohler is a writer, living in Michigan with his wife and two children. A devoted soccer fan, Mr. Hohler's favorite clubs are the Manchester United and L.A. Galaxy, though he'll watch just about any game he can. In his spare time, he practices family law. You can read his blog at www.TheLastBlogNameOnEarth.com.

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it’s not a chick flick

By. J.L. Hohler III

© 2012

Smashwords Edition

Contents

first

second

third

fourth

fifth

sixth

seventh

eighth

ninth

tenth

eleventh

twelfth

thirteenth

fourteenth

fifteenth

sixteenth

seventeenth

eighteenth

nineteenth

Special Feature

Also By The Author

So, you want to know how I made a movie?  Well, I’ll tell you this: It started with a fight.

first

Edie wanted to go to the mall to look at boys – that’s all she ever wanted to do.  But I wanted to see a movie.

Again? she said.  "That’s all you ever want to do."

So?  I like going to the movies.

Yeah, Edie said.  Except you can’t see any boys in the theater.

If you can’t, then you’re not looking hard enough.

"I’m always looking hard enough, Edie said and sighed – she always sighs.  Come on, Pen, we have a half-day from school – don’t you ever wanna do something besides sitting around in the dark?"

Not really, I said.

Where’s your sense of adventure?

Don’t have one, I said

Edie shook her head.  How did we ever become friends?

If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you pick the movie, I said, even though I knew low-brow Edi would pick some awful teen comedy, with the incredibly obvious title of High School Movie: The Movie –  In 3-D.  But even if I really didn’t want to see that – I had it on good authority the 3-D portion of the program was not for boobs, but projectile vomiting – losing 90 minutes of my life that way sounded a lot better than watching her run around the mall after some boy like a dog in heat. 

I don’t know what you have against boys, she said, not satisfied at getting to pick the movie.

"I like boys – just not the ones you like," I said.

What’s wrong with ‘em?

You always pick stupid ones, I said.

What’s wrong with stupid ones? she said.  I’m not using them for breeding purposes.  Just fun.

"You might."

Might what?

Breed.  With them.

Well, if I did, I’d love it love it just the same, she said. 

And besides, I said.  The type of boy you want isn’t the kind that wants us.

Why not?  What’s wrong with us? She looked down at herself in torn jeans, ironic t-shirt, black fingernails and nose-ring.  I’m not some hag.

You’re not a cheerleader either.

I could be, she said. 

"Not with those legs," I said.

Whaddya mean?  They need sturdy girls at the bottom of the pyramid, too, she said.  "You never know – I could be the best cheerleader to ever cheer.  Did you ever think of that?"

Sure, get yourself a little skirt, some makeup and a lobotomy and you’re perfect, I said.  Maybe they’ll make you queen.

You never know.  Could happen.

I guess it could happen, but I doubted it.  There was no way the bitches running the cheerleaders would ever allow one of us anywhere near their precious team.

Finally, Edie said, You know, Penelope, sometimes, you can be a real drag.

"So now I’m Penelope?"

"When you’re acting like this you are, she huffed.  Then she said, This is because of Oscar, isn’t it?"

No!

You cannot possibly still be hung up on him, she said.

I’m not, I said.  "And I thought we promised not to talk about him."

I’m not talking about him, she said.

"Or talking about talking about him, I said.  Or anything else."

"Pen, it’s been months."

Two months, I said.  "Two."

I thought it was Christmas break, she said.  That was more than two months.

I don’t remember.

"I don’t see why I can’t talk about him – you should be over him by now, Edie said.  Anyway, I got no problems with him.  It’s not like he stuck his tongue down my throat."

"You’re my friend, that’s why, I said.  And you’re supposed to support me."

"All this choosing sides is so tiring, she sighed.  But I don’t get why just because you went out with him and let him feel you up and you had the good time that means I can’t even think about him?"

Because we’re friends.

She sighed – more sighing – then said, "Probably glad you didn’t sleep with him, huh?  That would make it so much worse?  Losing your virtue to a scumbag?"

What makes you think I didn’t?

She laughed.  "That’s funny, Penny.  You are hilarious"

He slept with everybody else?  Why not me?

"Oh, Penny, Penny, Penny.  Don’t be silly."

"I’m serious, I said.  I don’t know why you don’t think I did.  I totally could have."

Right, right, she said.  I believe you.

She laughed and laughed and laughed I kind of stewed over it and if it were anybody but Edie laughing I would have been really mad, but since it was Edie, I tried not to take it seriously.  After all, she was my best friend.

***

Edie didn’t stop laughing until we got to the bus stop, where we were reminded again of one of life’s great tragedies – that we were probably the only 16 year-olds on Earth who didn’t have a car.  When we were younger, begging for rides from my Mom or her’s wasn’t that bad, but once we turned 16, begging was the worst humiliation we could think of.  A close second was riding the bus.

I just want one, doesn’t matter what kind or how old it is or anything, Edie said, of our auto-less state, when we sat down on the bus stop bench.  It just needs a working motor and that’s it Doors optional.

I don’t know what you’re whining about, I said.  "Even if I had a car it’s not like I can drive it.  I’m probably the only sixteen-year-old on earth who passed her driving test and doesn’t have a license.  You should consider yourself lucky your parents even let you have that."

Lucky?  Cursed is more like it, she said.  "I’ve driven and know what I’m missing – you don’t.  You should consider yourself lucky."

She was serious, but how could anybody be lucky when the only reason you didn’t get your license was because your stupid brother got in an accident when he was your age and that meant you’d obviously have one too?  As pathetic as it was Edie didn’t have a car, it was only standard pathetic compared to me.  And her no-car problem?  She could have one, she just didn’t want to work for it.  Work was hard, complaints were easy.

Uh oh, Edie said, suddenly, cutting right through the self-pity.  Look out below.

What, I said.  Oscar?

Not quite, she said and it figured that just as Edie and I were sitting there minding our own business Giselle Turner, head cheerleader, number one hot stuff – and didn’t she know it – and her two goons, Missy Alexander and Pru Steinberg, otherwise known as the Trio of Whore, would come squealing up in the car Giselle’s parents bought for her on her last birthday, just in time to continue her never-ending goal of making our lives miserable.

Well, well, well, would you look at this, it’s Putrid Penny and Barnyard Edie, Giselle cackled – her minions cackled right along with her.

What kind of a name is Edith, one of the minions said – I think it was Pru – and poked the other in the arm. 

"That’s my grandma’s name," the other said.

It’s a slut’s name, Giselle said.

Fuck off, Gizzie, I said and right off, the minions quit laughing.

What did you call me, bitch? Giselle snapped.

"She called you Gizzie, Gizzie, Edie said.  Clean out your damn ears."

Giselle ignored Edie and kept looking at me, hatefully.  "My name is Giselle, bitch.  You got that?  Giselle"

Sorry, guess I forgot.

Then you probably forgot who I am, maggot, she said.  "And who you are and why girls like me kill girls like you."

No, we know who you are, Edie chimed in.

Shut up, bitch, Giselle said and snapped at Edie this time.  When I want your lip I’ll rattle my zipper.

Edie shook her head.  "What does that even mean?"

"It means don’t fucking talk to me!"

Sorry, Edie said and held up her hands in front of her in apology.  Guess I forgot.

"Yeah, you better be sorry because I’ll scratch your fucking eyes out if you even look at me again."

Hey Gizzie, you think if me and Penny suck off six football players we can be cheerleaders? Edie said.  Or does it have to be seven?

I heard it was eight, I couldn’t stop myself saying and looked at Giselle.  Isn’t that what you did to be head cheerleader?

Like giving a football player head makes you something special, Edie said.

All right, bitch, you’re dead, Giselle said and waved her finger in my face.  "Both of you."

Yeah, we’re so scared, Edie said.  Why don’t you run along before you start crying?

Edie took glee in taunting Giselle, like it was just going to be some funny repartee back and forth between them, but as it turned out, Giselle had more than taunting in mind. 

All right, that’s it, she said and all at once Giselle drew her arm back, in this big show of getting ready to hit me – or Edie, I couldn’t tell which – and for a second I wasn’t sure if I should duck or fight back, but before I could decide Edie shoved me over and threw a right jab right in the middle of Giselle’s face.  Just like that I heard a crunch and saw blood.

"Did your grandma ever do that? Edie screamed as she landed the punch.  Bitch!"

Oh my god, Giselle bawled, blood dripping down the tip of her crooked nose into her hand.  You hit me!

All right, who’s next? Edie said and looked at Giselle’s little posse, and even though they looked pissed, they also looked like they didn’t want to tangle with Edie, which was probably why they jumped me instead.

"Wait, I didn’t touch her, I screamed, as they dragged me to the ground by my hair.  It was Edie.  Get her!"

Judas, Edie screamed.  "We’re friends!"

I…I…

"We make out at my birthday and this is what you do to me? Edie screamed and all at once Missy and Pru dropped me like a sack of dog poo.  How dare you?"

What are you doing? Giselle shouted, a wet, bloody shout.  Beat her ass!

She’s fucking queer, Pru said.  I’m not touching her!

Who cares?  Get her!

I didn’t wait to see if they would get me – I jumped right to my feet and me and Edie were out of there as fast as we could go.  Edie’s never been much for running – she’s got tree trunks for legs – and I’m not Usain Bolt either, but it’s still amazing how fast you go when your life depends on it.

Why did you say that? I yelled, as we ran.

Say what?

"That we made out?"

I couldn’t think of anything else.

The rumors? I said.  What are they…?

Come on, you should be happy, she said.  "Boys love lesbians!"

I didn’t answer, just looked back over my shoulder at the cheerleaders gaining on us.

So, you still want to be a cheerleader, Edie?

I’m reconsidering!

Well, let me know when you made up your mind.

You might be surprised how fast you run when you’re in mortal peril, but apparently bloodlust makes you run faster, especially when you’re a trio of cheerleaders in peak physical condition – sluts or not, those three were in great shape – and even though we had a head-start they caught up pretty quick and I got ready for a pummeling.  Before it could happen, though, I heard sirens.  I was never so happy to see cops in all my life.

All right ladies, let’s break it up, one of them said, dragging the minions off me and then me to my feet.  The cop looked like one of the Village People, only less gay and way more heroic.  That’s enough of that.

They assaulted us, the minions screamed and pointed at us like rabid schnauzers.  We were just walking and they jumped us!  Arrest them, officers!

No, they jumped us, I said.

I’m bleeding, Giselle whimpered, perfectly victimized.  My nose!

I swear we’re innocent, I whimpered right back, but hardly as convincing.

Yeah, that’s what they all say, the less-gay-Village-People-officer said and started to look a lot less heroic all the sudden.  Come on, ladies.  We’ll get this all sorted out at the station.

second

It didn’t take long for the police to sort out Edie and I were the victims, or at least were acting in self-defense, so I guess there is justice in the world after all.  But just because we were victims didn’t mean they were gonna let us walk out without calling our parents first – after all, we were in a fight and blood was shed, and somebody did wind up in the hospital.  And just because the police knew we were innocent it also didn’t mean our parents would agree, because nobody sounds innocent when they call from the station house.  They sound guilty as hell.

My Mom’s gonna kill me, Edie said, when we finished making our calls and were plopped on a bench in the lobby, where some bored officer – not the hot, gay Village People officer, but a stereotypical doughnut-eating officer – could watch us.  "She sounded pissed!"

You told her it wasn’t our fault right?

What do you think?

Did you tell her the cops said it wasn’t our fault?

"That’s the first thing I said, but she heard ‘police’ and that was it, she said.  Then, Man, if my mom was pissed, I can’t wait to see what your Mom’s gonna do to you."

She’s not gonna do anything, I said.  Because she’s never gonna know.

  How’s that?

I’d kill myself before I let her find out.

Well, then it was nice knowing you, she said.  And I got dibs on your IPod when you’re gone.

***

Edie’s parents were the first to arrive, sneaking in with a disappointed look on their faces and hoping they could get out before anybody noticed it was their daughter who was the juvenile delinquent. 

Take that thing out of your face, Edie’s mom said first thing, and pointed right at Edie’s nose ring.  "This is all because of that."

It’s not the nose ring, mom.

"And why did you have to fight with that little Steinberg girl, her mom said, dramatically.  Haven’t we Jews had enough problems without fighting ourselves?  What more must our people endure?"

She was talking about Pru Steinberg, of course, Giselle’s trusty number two.  One time I remember staying the night with Edie and went to church with her – her family called it Temple – and I saw Pru there.  Pru never liked me before that but for some reason, after I figured out she was Jewish, she liked me even less.

"We are so humiliated, her mom said.  Do you know how humiliating this is?  How can we show our faces at Temple again?  What will the rabbi say?"

Her mother went on and on with it until her dad told her to Stop kvetching, Muriel, and they tried to sneak out again without being noticed and might have gotten away with it, too, if Tom Turner, Giselle’s dad, didn’t come barging in with a full head of steam.  Giselle wasn’t there, of course – she was the one in the hospital – but Mr. Turner came in with blood on his shirt sleeve that he waved in our faces as he barked about lawyers and damages and lawsuits.

I will take everything you have, he kept saying to Edie’s dad.  "I will…I will…put you in the street."

He said all kinds of other stuff too, about Jews and extermination – classy stuff, really – and I tried to duck my head and stay out of sight, hoping he didn’t recognize me, but after Edie’s parents escaped he made sure to point me out, too.

I see you over there, Penelope Adams, he said.  Don’t you think you’re getting away with this, because you are not.

I didn’t say anything, just shrunk further and further down and didn’t want to argue and didn’t know what to do and he kept going at it until finally the officer threatened to handcuff him to a desk right next to me and charge him with assaulting a minor if he didn’t give it a rest.

This isn’t over, he said on his way out and wagged a finger at me, the same way Giselle would have done it.  This is only just starting.

After he was gone I looked up at the officer and gave a little smile.  He might not have been Village People cute, but he was definitely teddy bear cute.

Thanks, I said.

Not a problem, little lady, he said.  Glad to do it.

***

When Dad finally came, I was glad he was late with it just so he didn’t have to stand around arguing with Giselle’s Dad and we could just get out of there without much trouble, or drama.

"Well, I’m sure glad I missed that, he said when we were in the car and I told him what happened with Giselle’s dad and Edie’s parents and their little brouhaha.  After your Mom, I’ve had about all the fighting I can stand for one life."

I agreed, then made sure to look extra-pathetic when I said, Thanks for coming, Daddy.

No problem, sugar, anything for my little girl, he said.  So I guess you couldn’t get a hold of your Mother?

I didn’t answer directly, just said, She won’t understand.

I guess that means you didn’t try to call her.  He looked at me and I didn’t deny it.  Well, do you wanna tell me what happened?

It wasn’t our fault, I said. 

"Of course it wasn’t, he said.  Never is."

"Seriously, we were just minding our own business and those bit…uh… girls…just jumped us.  Just like that."

I’m sure, he said.

"We’re innocent."

I didn’t say you weren’t.

I looked at him and could tell he still didn’t believe I could be completely innocent, no matter what the officer said.  But I gave him those puppy-dog eyes I knew he couldn’t resist and that helped.

So how do you plan to break this to her? he said.  Your Mother, I mean.

I didn’t say anything, just gave a little gasp and pouted harder and really gave him the puppy-dog eyes.  He looked at me and sighed. 

"I guess you want this to be our little secret then, right?"

Can it be, Daddy?

I kept puppy-dogging him and hoped he’d pat me on the head and smile and say Sure, baby, anything for my little girl, but he didn’t say anything.  I should have known that meant Mom would have to know but it wasn’t until we pulled in the driveway and there was Mom, standing on the front steps with a less-than-happy look on her face, that I figured it out.

Don’t worry, Penny, nobody’s dying tonight, Dad whispered, before we got out of the car.  "I promise."

That’s what you think.

***

I hid in my room while Mom and Dad ‘talked’ over what to do with me, which wasn’t really talking but was actually Mom deciding everything and telling Dad what they were gonna do and I could hear her going on about it all the way upstairs, voice muffled through my door, and I hoped she’d vent at him enough it’d take the edge off her, but it was a futile hope.  More likely it’d only work her up some more so when she finally called me down she was ready to kill. 

When she did call me down I thought about not coming and almost didn’t.  I had the window up and was ready to dive out and just disappear, maybe hit the road and live like a drifter, but I’m not one who likes sleeping outdoors or not having a shower every day and without a car or license I couldn’t get very far and besides, my room is on the second story and jumping out the window would probably give me a broken neck and even if I said Mom was gonna kill me, I wasn’t actually going to die, so I sucked it up and went downstairs to face the music like a woman.

Dad was still there when I came down – this was surprising.  Since the divorce they haven’t exactly been best friends and to get them on the same side of any argument was rare and I thought he might’ve snuck out while she was yelling for me.  But there he was on the