Chapter Twenty-Nine
A re we done yet?” Gabe whined, leaning against the counter at Miller’s Outpost.
Stacey looked through her shopping bags, mumbling to herself. “Dickies, Levis, tank tops, flannel shirts. Yeah, I think that’s good for now. What time does the movie start?”
Gabe looked at his watch. “Thirty minutes.”
“Perfect. We’ll have time to get candy and popcorn.”
“You know, when you said you’d finally take me to see Cable Guy , I didn’t think you’d make me go shopping with you first, then only spring for the dollar theater, cheapskate.”
“What difference does it make?” Stacey juggled the bags in her hand, looking for her keys.
“It’s the principle of the thing.” Gabe pushed open the glass door and held it open for Stacey.
Stacey handed him the bags, then pried open her purse continuing to dig for her keys while they crossed the parking lot to the Silver Bullet. “Will it make you feel better if I also buy your snacks?” Keys in hand, she popped open the trunk.
Gabe set the bags inside, then closed the hatch. “I want nachos. Not popcorn. A large Mountain Dew and a Butterfinger.”
Stacey climbed in behind the wheel and turned the keys in the ignition, turning the AC on high. “It’s hard to believe school is starting the day after tomorrow.”
Gabe closed the passenger door and buckled his seatbelt. “I’m bummed we won’t have any classes together.”
“At least our lockers are close.” Stacey backed out, then put the car in drive. “And we got spaces in the senior lot next to each other.” She turned out onto the road.
“I was thinking of designing mine with a solid blue background, my white home jersey in the center. That way it has something for basketball with my name, and ‘13,’ my lucky number.”
“You mean my birthdate?” Stacey grinned.
“Mere coincidence. What are you painting in your spot?”
“It’ll look like the Tragic Kingdom album cover, with ‘Have No Doubt’ across the top ‘Stacey Chapman parks here!’ at the bottom. There’ll be a rude girl with short yellow hair dancing in blue Docs holding a red lifeguard buoy. I’m going to put a black-and-white checked border around the whole thing.”
Gabe laughed and shook his head. “You never cease to amaze me, Chapman. Ms. Moreno should give you extra credit now that you switched into advanced art.”
Stacey shrugged. “Painting makes me happy. And while I’m painting, I go into this zone where the lyrics just sort of come to me.”
He drummed the dashboard. “Yeah. You’ve got a new song for band practice tomorrow night, right?”
“Seems weird to call it band practice when I’ve only learned two chords.”
“That’s all most punk bands play anyway, and you’ve gotta start somewhere. How else are we gonna record your songs and open for The Juvenile Delinquents in January?”
Stacey blushed and scrunched up her nose. “Do you really think the songs are that good?”
“I told you they are! Martin said if we didn’t want to play them ourselves, the Juvenile Delinquents will. ‘Out of the Blue,’ ‘In Too Deep’ and ‘Warrior’ are his favorites. But I still think ‘Absorbed’ is the best. It’s what we have to call the band, and our first album. It’s perfect.”
Stacey nodded. “Did I tell you about the lyrics I was working on last night? It’s about that night at Travis’s party. Kind of a ‘fuck you’ to Trent and Jason.”
“Really? That’s hard core.” Gabe chuckled. He slid his arm between the chair and her back to rest his hand on her left shoulder, watching her out of the side of his eye. “What’s it called?”
Stacey glanced at the dimple in his cheek, then caught his gaze, lifted her eyebrows and smiled. “Easy A.”