Driving Me Crazy

Part 5

On Monday morning a loud beeping woke me, I reached over to hit the snooze on my alarm clock but the noise didn't stop. I sat up in bed still half asleep and looked at the time on my cell. It was 8:40, and the noise was Kelly blaring her horn outside. Shit, I was so late.

Twenty minutes later still half asleep I strode purposefully down the Phys Ed corridor towards the Gymnasium.

Despite all my begging and pleading my dad had held firm on the grounding meaning I'd missed Sundays beach trip. But it turned out OK cause Kelly had a Bio test she'd forgotten about and the whole thing got cancelled anyway.

Anyway I'd figured the best way to get some cash for driving lessons was to tap Danny for the damage to my shoes before class, so I was looking for him in the Gym.

Not that Danny would be doing anything athletic, he wasn't a member of a team or anything. Not like Patrick who was captain of both the lacrosse and track team and looked awesome in those little shorts. No, Danny thought he was way too cool to take part any school activity, more like way too lazy.

But the Gym was where the cheerleaders were and more often than not where the cheerleaders were was where Danny Harper was.

Sure enough, he stood with one arm against the wall while Megan Murdoch the head cheerleader flicked her hair and giggled at everything he said.

He glanced up as I approached and gave Megan a little pat on the ass and then walked over to meet me.

Danny's uniform always looked creased and rumpled as though he'd just picked it up off some girl's bedroom floor and then come to school. He practically oozed sex. He only wore his tie when he felt like it, today he apparently hadn't and the collar of his white shirt hung open.

"Hey, if you're looking for lover boy lacrosse practice isn't til after school."

"What are you talking about?" I spluttered.

"Patrick."

"Patrick?" I echoed faintly. There was no way he could know that I was into Patrick, could he?"

"You know, Patrick Thomas, he's a junior, bout this tall," he made a gesture with his hand in the air, "looks like a Backstreet Boy."

"Patrick does NOT look like a Backstreet Boy." I screeched outraged.

He laughed. "So you do like him. Want me to put a word in for you?"

"No." I said quickly. The last thing I needed was him butting in.

"Why not?" He asked his fore head creasing in confusion.

"I don't need your help getting dates." I snapped.

This conversation was getting way off track.

"Look I wanted to talk to you about Saturday night." I tried to get to what I wanted to say.

"Oh yeah, that's right you do owe me an explanation. It was something about how good I am in bed, right? " he grinned.

"What? No! You ruined my shoes, so you owe me $400." I blurted out.

He laughed. "Shannon, it was just a little beer. It's not like you can't wear them again. And what the hell kind of shoes cost $400 anyway?"

"Gucci pumps. And I'm not kidding Danny; I needed to return those shoes so you're gonna have to pay up."

"You really paid $400 for a pair of shoes?" he asked incredulously.

"YES! So do you want to give me cash or just write me a cheque?"