Girls Don't Know Jack

John Cusack Wannabe

He whistles as he resumes his work and I dash towards the garage, eager to pursue my redemption arc.

..................

With tired arms, I tighten my grip onto the handle of the heavy boombox. My dad wasn't lying, this thing really is an antique.

An ancient art form of playing music—who in the world thought this was ever convenient.

Grumbling, I use both of my hands as I strain to carry the dusty, clunky stereo down the sidewalk. It bangs against my bare shins as I huff and puff, making my way around the block towards Jade's house.

Once the tall, gray two-story home comes into view, I squint my eyes looking up to my friend's bedroom window on the second floor. Behind the glass, I can barely make out a mass of dark hair; my two friends' heads nestled together onto the bed.

A pang of jealousy returns like a knife in my side. But shaking it away, I step backwards from the grass onto the sidewalk. Carefully, I position myself in perfect view for them as I press the sticky button of the radio.

Emitting our signature song, I turn the knob cranking the volume full blast. And then, like a bad John Cusack movie, I strain to lift the boombox up over my head, smiling back at my friends.

Slowly, their heads begin to turn, revealing their scrunched faces pressed up against the glass, peering down at me below.

But my already exhausted arms grow tired fast. Too scrawny and weak to keep the heavy, janky metal above my head, my elbows begin to wobble, threatening to give out as I attempt to take a step back to steady myself.

Instead, my foot hits the curb, rolling my ankle as I stumble backwards into the side street. The stereo tumbles from my grasp, as pain erupts in the joint of my ankle.

And then, my eyes connect with bright red tail lights to my left, growing larger until—crash.

A heavy force connects with my hip and my body collapses, colliding with warm, rough asphalt. The silver metal boombox clattering into pieces beside me as the sound of a car door flings open.

Mind blank—I lie on the side of the road, staring up at the blue sky. The air is warm, bright sun beating down on me, cooking the asphalt beneath me. Damp sweat pools at my forehead.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" a soft woman's voice calls to me. And then a mop of dark hair and freckled skin pops into my frame of view.

Anger boils over as I spread my arms open, laying spread eagle on the asphalt. "You hit me with your car!" I exclaim.

The pale face frowns. "I barely tapped you, I was just backing out of my parking space."

At that, I sit up onto my elbows, dirt gritting beneath my skin. With a scoff I spew, "You could have killed me!"

Her light eyes roll at my dramatics. "You're alright, then?" she grumbles before turning around to head back to her car.

But then, the sound of footsteps pumping into grass grow closer as voices call out, "Molly!" and "Are you alright?"

Grateful for the familiar sound of my friends, a smile spreads onto my face. Coming to a full sit on the ground, Naila and Jade stare down at me with concern.

"Are you hurt?" Naila squeaks.

And while my ankle aches, and I rub my hip where the car tapped me, I feel better than I have in days.

I shake my head. "I think I'll be okay."

Jade releases a breath and then the two extend their hands out to me, pulling me to my feet.

With angry eyes, Naila whips her head back to the driver who is attempting to escape back into her driver's seat. "Are you crazy? You could have really hurt her!"

The red-headed woman straightens, looking back at the three of us with tired eyes. "Again, I was barely moving. I'm not even certain I hit her—I think she ran into my car."

Her accusation insults me. "Learn how to drive, lady!" I shout, stomping over to kick my foot into the rubber of her tire.

The driver parts her mouth staring at me blankly before stating flatly, "Please don't do that."

Twisting my mouth into a frown, in one last act of defiance, I give the tire two more kicks as she shakes her head entering the vehicle before quickly peeling out.

Leaving just the three of us standing on the side street outside of Jade's home, the tall girl looks back at me. "Molly, what are you even doing here?" Jade sighs.

With a heavy chest, I look at my friends with desperate eyes and then back at the shattered boombox. "I was trying to apologize," I mutter. "About missing our song at the dance, and crashing Drag Day with Jack Moody, and just being a total self-obsessed brat in general."

Chewing on her cheek, Jade glances down to Naila who gives a small smile. Exhaling loudly, Jade states, "You're not a brat." She smiles at me and then adds, "At least not all of the time."

Relief floods over me, thankful for the witty remark, showing my old friend is still there after all.

Jade wrinkles her nose pointing to the decimated boom box shattered across the street—my dad's not going to be happy about that. "But that was so corny, Molly," she teases with a scrunched face. "Don't ever come to my house pulling that shit again."

A wide smile spreads across my face as I open my arms for them. Naila bounces over nestling into me as Jade follows reluctantly, having never been one for group hugs.

Pushing away from them I whine, "I really am so sorry." I drop my hands down to my side. "I've been awful. Only talking about myself and my problems and Jack Moody. I promise I will be a better friend from now on."

Placing a hand onto my shoulder, Jade's dark eyes settle onto mine. "So, no more Jack Moody talk, then?"

I bite down onto my lip, looking up at them sheepishly. "Yeah, well, about that."

A groan escapes Jade as she throws her arms up before crossing them.

"What about him?" Naila asks softly with a crinkled nose.

"Okay, so I know it's really bad timing," I begin. "But I can explain." I press my palms out to Jade calming her before she can even attempt to erupt on me.

The girl narrows her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, I begin to explain, "Jack Moody really needs our help right now." With a sigh, I look up at my friends with hopeful eyes. "And I think I have a plan."