CHAPTER 15: A Date of Horrors
"Are you kidding me?"
Sage kicked the stand down and left the motorcycle to lean on it. She hopped off, pulling the blood red helmet from her head.
"That's not a car!" I stressed.
"Very observant," she deadpanned.
"You promised me a car!"
"I promised you a car if you won the game," she shot back, shoving the helmet at me. "And as I recall, the game was a draw. So, technically, you didn't win."
Yes, the El Clasico match ended with a draw. Let me just be clear that I was about to win. I remember very clearly that my main man Messi was about to do a flawless bicycle kick from Villa's assist when zap!
The electricity went down. For a moment, silence washed over Sage and me, just sitting there in the darkness with a sense of shock and confusion. Realizing that it was a blackout, Sage doubled over, laughing her ass off at my misfortune.
The chances of the power going back on were meek.
I suggested that I'd be crowned the winner since it was obvious that I was about to win.
Sage suggested shoving the controller up my ass.
In the end, we just settled in calling the game a draw and agreed to comply with each other's bets.
She promised to provide a vehicle for my date and I promised to help out at the Montaño Theater this weekend.
But, of course, the hustler found a loophole. Well, she's not the only one.
"Fine!" I gave in. "But this means I won't be rendering my entire weekend at your little theater."
She glared. Ooh, she didn't see that coming. "Fine," she copied. "You can just help out on Sunday."
"Sunday," I agreed and she passed me the helmet.
"You know how to drive this, right?" she asked, pointing to the motorcycle.
"Of course!" I exerted effort to sound convincing.
"Have you ever driven one before?"
"No," I answered, "but I'm a guy. How hard can it be?"
"You think being male gives you some kind of power to learn driving a motorcycle?"
I shrugged. "How hard can it be? You do it."
She shook her head and dragged me to the vehicle. "This," she pointed to the metal thingy on the handle, "is the clutch. That's the brake. Please don't mix them up. You kickstart the motor, rev up, slowly release the clutch, walk the motorcycle until you're going fast enough to put your feet up on the pegs. Got it?"
My jaw was hanging by the time she finished her minute motor safety course. Still, I nodded like I actually got the instructions. It's a pretty convincing nod, I practice it every time my Chemistry teacher asks if we know how diagram compounds.
"Kickstart, rev, clutch, vroom, vroom," I said dismissively and snatched the keys from her. She didn't let go of them. Instead, she gripped my hand and pulled me closer.
"You scratch this vehicle, I'll scratch your eyes out," she threatened. It was coming from a 5"2' blue-eyed blondie but it still made the hair on my neck stand.
I tried my best to gulp as subtle as I could but I think she still noticed it. I nodded.
She finally let go of the keys. "See 'ya!" she chirped, practically transforming from a menacing little gremlin to Bubbles from The Powerpuff Girls. She bounced away towards school like nothing happened.
Geez, girls are scary.
×××××
Kickstart, rev, clutch, vroom, vroom.
Kickstart. Rev. Clutch. Vroom-frickin-vroom.
Oh, dear God! How hard can riding a motorcycle be? Sage "The-Dwarf" Dewirth can do it effortlessly, why can't I?
"You sure you got this?" Emma asked from behind me. Her legs were dangling on both sides of the motorcycle, not sidesaddle, not ladylike.
"Yeah, I got it," I lied, trying the kickstart again.
"Trev?"
"Yeah?" I asked absentmindedly, still kicking at the damn thing but to no avail.
"Can I try?"
I sighed and slumped down on the handles. I was failing badly and my date was well aware of it. There's no greater punch to the nuts for a guy who prides himself of masculinity than failing to start the epitome of manly vehicles.
"Knock yourself out," I said, and we changed positions.
I grabbed the rear bumper to stable myself on the passenger seat. My masculinity's been butchered; I couldn't possibly bring myself to hold on to her waist! It's the cold metal for me.
Emma looked at me with a cocked brow.
"What?"
She smirked at me like I was stupid. "You forgot to turn the key in the ignition."
I am stupid. In my defense, Sage said nothing about turning keys!
Emma started the thing with one swift kick and I felt the motor rumble.
"Okay, I think I can take over - WHOA!"
The delinquent revved up to full throttle and let go of the clutch. The bike went zooming through the school parking lot faster than Quicksilver could dodge those bullets. The sudden change in momentum caused me to get whipped back and I was certain that I'd have fallen off if I didn't grab Emma's waist.
"Are you crazy?!" I yelled as we left school premises. I quickly, but carefully, slipped Sage's helmet on her head.
"As Harley Quinn!" She laughed, leaning forward as she went even faster.
"Do you even know where we're going?" I questioned.
"No!"
I sighed. "Alright, I'll give directions."
I was almost scared and skeptical to tell her to turn because it didn't seem like she knew how to use the brakes. Every turn was like a rollercoaster drop that gave me one hell of a whiplash. Couple that with the fact that strays of her platinum blonde hair kept sticking out of the helmet and slapping me, it was one hell of a horror ride.
Fortunately, we got to the place in one piece. And, by some divine miracle, Sage's motorcycle didn't have a single scratch. Hallelujah!
"What is this place?" Emma asked, propping the helmet on the handle.
I took her closer to the gate of the trailer park. I smiled and paused. "Smell that?"
She looked at me incredulously. "Just do it," I said and she inhaled.
"Chili," she said. "I smell chili. No, wait, it's nachos. No, no, no. Is that waffles? I smell corn, too. What is this?"
We entered the square. "Welcome to the Fairgrounds!"
You know how moms always say that a way to a man's heart is through his stomach? Well, my dad told it was the same with girls. Food equals happiness. Happiness equals love. It's a simple equation.
The secret to an amazing date doesn't lie on you and your date's compatibility or some other bullshit. It's in the food! And there's no better place in Westmont than here.
"I didn't know Westmont had a food festival."
"In this place, it's a food festival every day."
"You come here often?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Her tone was teasing, but not as teasing as the eyebrow she had cocked.
"What? You don't like it here?" I said. "It's a great place! It's just like a carnival, but instead of playing to win a prize, you just pay. It's much simpler. Plus, the prize is food! And, come on. What could be better than food?"
Emma snorted, rolling her eyes. She shrugged and fell in step with me. "Okay, food expert. Which of these stalls should we hit first?"
"Easy," I said, taking her hand. "Billie's Pizzeria. Pizza always comes first. Always."