Funny Boy

Two

"You're quiet," My older brother, Jack, said to me the next morning while I shoveled cereal into my mouth. My head ran rampant with thoughts of last night. As much as I hated the guy, I couldn't stop thinking about the encounter. It was all way too coincidental.

"Tired," I sighed. Yeah, also, a Beach Boy took me home from work last night, and I'm pretty weirded out right now. But tired works too.

"Well wake up, you got a shift at Mabel's in an hour," Jack hid his grin of satisfaction behind his coffee mug, and I groaned.

"Oh, Jack, can't you take the shift today? I've been working everyday since summer began. I'm only 19, I need to have a life. You're 21, so you have no life," I pleaded with him, also throwing an insult in there.

He raised an eyebrow at me and laughed. "You really think I'll take your shift with you talking to me that way?"

Jack ended up taking my shift, as I offered him free Foster's Freeze later. So, this Sunday was mine. A nice, lazy Sunday all to myself. My dad was doing business in Arizona and my mother was at my grandma's all afternoon. Oh, and Jack was taking my shift at Mabel's of course.

Jack left the house and suddenly I found myself on my bike. Johnny's, a record store, was right down the street, only a couple blocks from Mabel's. I was on a mission.

Riding past Mabel's I caught a glimpse of Jack and stuck my tongue out at him (although I'm sure he didn't see me.)

Johnny's wasn't too busy for a Sunday at all. The moment I walked in though, the shop owners' teenage son approached me. His name was Oliver, and he was a year below me. He was always known at my high school for his shaggy hair and black, thick-framed glasses.

"Hi miss, need any help?" He asked, a little too close for comfort.

"No, thanks," I said, attempting to escape him. I clenched my jaw upon noticing he was following me.

"Surely you're looking for something, Faye," I shuddered at the fact he knew my name. Now I glared at him.

"I'm quite alright. Please go away now," The words slipped out of my mouth, but I wasn't even sorry. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and backed away slowly, leaving me to browse the records sans annoying kid.

I went to the B's and quickly found a few Beach Boys records. What would I even pick out? I cringed at the album art: waves and cars and surfboards. I began questioning what I was even doing here. I don't even like this music, in fact I was just hating on these guys yesterday! I laughed to myself and flicked Brian's face on the cover of Surfer Girl. I left the store empty-handed.

I went home and put on George Gershwin, apologizing to him and all my favorite composers in my head for almost buying a pop record. Gershwin's "Summertime" filled the air, leaving the door of my bedroom and traveling down the stairs, all through the TV room and kitchen. All was forgiven.

Sam visited me that afternoon. We laid on my bed, and he dealt with my music for a couple hours. He left before dinner, and then my mother made beef stew. I was setting the table when I realized it was already 6:00. Jack should've been home 30 minutes ago.

"Where's Jack?" I asked aloud.

My mother checked the clock. "Oh gee, I have no idea. Maybe Poppop made him work later?" She paused. "Faye, why don't you tie your hair up? You don't want that curly mess getting in your soup." She gestured to the nest that was my hair.

"Gee, thanks," I said, tucking my hair behind my ears.

15 minutes later, no sign of Jack. My mother and I decided to eat anyway. Neither of us were too worried about Jack. If he was kidnapped or something, the kidnapper would bring him right back because he's so annoying. I'm sure of it. My mom on the other hand was just a very lenient woman. She let us do close to anything we wanted, and she didn't worry too much if we were out later than normal.