The Alpha Kid

By G.A. Jahn

A story of middle school kids in the early 1990s, that forgotten epoch after phones had lost their coil cords but before they took over our lives.

• Language: English
• Publisher: G.A. Jahn
• Release date: Feb 22, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370661107

Book preview

THE

ALPHA KID

G A Jahn

Smashwords edition ©2018 G.A.Jahn

THE

ALPHA KID

"No, I hate it! said Lucy into the family’s cordless phone. All’a Debbie’s parties are like this. It’s the biggest joke in the whole school." Lucy turned her head side to side as she spoke, studying the depth of her cheeks in the bathroom mirror. She whisked herself once more with the brush.

It’s her mom’s fault, said Pamela on the other end of the line. She went to one of those, y’know, fancy colleges out east where they learn to do everything like it’s a big tea party or something. It’s so gross.

"I’m never going to a place like that. Lucy puckered her lips a moment, and with a tissue, picked at a tiny smear of pink gloss. I can’t believe this, but … I use’ta, y’know, tell everyone I was gonna be a doctor when I grow up? But if I have to go to one of those Miss Prissy places? Forget it. I’d just puke. I’d rather be a waitress or something." She puckered again and made an ugly face.

The girls were quiet for a moment. Then Pamela, her voice deep in the phone, sighed: So, what’re you gonna wear?

"Oh, don’t get me started! The invitation said something about, like, The Fabulous Fifties? So my mom dragged me all over town, making me look at every dorky dress in Saint Paul. There was one — I swear! — it had a French poodle stitched on the front! I almost barfed on it. Lucy paused a moment to lean toward the mirror and press a finger to her chin and frown. So, anyway, I wound up with this really dumb all-white thing. She like ooh’d’n ahh’d over all the frills and lace’n junk, but that’s the first stuff I ripped off when I got back home.

I know what y’mean, Pamela replied. My mom’s making me wear one that looks like I’m supposed to be dancing a minuet or something. Believe me, if anyone takes any pictures, I’ll just die.

That’s another thing! Lucy barked. "Debbie say what kind’a tapes they’re gonna play? If her mom puts on one’a those stupid … waltzes like she did last year — I’m walking straight home, I mean it!"

"You’d never leave a party with Rick there."

You watch. Lucy was looking at her scarlet fingernails. "Well, I’d make him leave with me."

"Ooh, sound pretty sure of yourself, Lootz. Only reason Debbie even has parties is to get him over to her house. She’ll be all over Rick."

Not if I can help it. Lucy glanced down at her pink underpants and padded bra. "Jeez, if I could just wear some decent clothes — and if the stupid party wasn’t in the middle of the day! — maybe I could get somewhere with him. I hate it."

Lucy’s feet were becoming cold on the tile floor of the little upstairs bathroom, and she rubbed one frilly red anklet sock on the instep of the other. You wearing nylons? she asked.

No! My mom won’t let me.

"Mine either. Jeez we’re thirteen! How old do we have to be?"

Blinking rapidly, Lucy pulled the drain closed in the sink. Hang on a sec, she said, I’m taking out one of my contacts. Some eyelash gook just fell on it.

As she bent over the sink (one hand cupped, and an index finger tugging on the corner of her eye), she could hear her brothers squabbling in the kitchen downstairs. Larry, in sixth grade this year, was announcing that the ice cream was all his because he paid for it.

Oh, I’m so sure! Lucy complained to herself, Big dork. Every time Mom leaves the house he thinks he’s Stormin’ Norman or something!

Then Billy, her five-year-old brother, began wailing.

And there goes the crybaby! Lucy shook her head.

Larry was yelling all the louder to make himself heard above the cries of his little brother.

Stomping to the door of the bathroom, Lucy thrust out her angry head. You brats shut up down there! I’m on the phone! She screamed this down the empty stairwell. I’m telling Mom when she gets back!

The crying had stopped, and Larry appeared at the bottom of the stairs in a dirty T-shirt and ragged, knee-holey jeans. He had a huge bowl of ice cream in his arms. You’re not the boss of us! he shouted back. "Mom didn’t say you were in charge!"

"I’m always in charge when Mom’n Dad’re gone!"

Are not!

Lucy made a look of disgust. You’re not gonna eat all that.

Billy arrived and began jumping up and down beside his brother, trying to grab the edge of the bowl.

"Stop that! yelled Lucy. You’ll spill it! And that’s Mom’s best bowl."

Billy’s fists went to his eyes. "He took all the ice cweam! I didn’t get … (sob) … any!"

"Don’t deserve any. Wimp."

Billy kicked an untied tennis shoe into Larry’s shin.

Ow!

"Will you stop!" Lucy was shaking her arms at them, flinging droplets from her bottle of contact