Freedom of Personal Power - Day 357 : 5 Minute Freewrite

Here is my 5 minute #freewrite on today's prompt. Yes, I’m a cheat who keeps going long after my 5 minutes are up, and I try to catch all typos before posting. Thank you to all who point out any errors I’ve missed, and thanks again to @misterakpan for catching me at getting my own character’s name wrong in Her Well Being.

If you'd like to join the fun, check @mariannewest's blog each day for a new daily prompt. This one is Day 357 : 5 Minute Freewrite: Friday - Prompt: Freedom of Personal Power
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“You got his work number, right?”

Jessica asked, her hand poised over the old flip phone. The number showed up on her screen and she hit the red phone icon.

“Mr. McBird,” she said in a smooth, adult voice, disguising her usual girlish lilt. “This is Adam’s teacher, Ms. Cooper. Sorry to bother you at the office, but it’s getting close to your usual pickup time, and I’m afraid show choir practice is running late tonight. One of the students will give him a ride home, if that’s all right by you. She’s a good driver.”

Jessica had to repeat herself a few times. Her voice betrayed none of her eye rolling or smirking. “Ok, good. We’ll see that Adam and his trombone are home safe in two hours.”

Laughing hysterically, she ended the call, then high-fived Clancy, Brie, Bex, and me. We were the cool kids, and we had powers that the Anti-Bullying goons would never intercept. Nobody would ever trace the old phone with the bogus user name.

“We ought to set up a surveillance camera,” Clancy said. “We’ll miss Adam Ick-Bird’s crybaby performance when he sits there til the sun goes down and still no ride from Daddy.”

I glanced over at the front door of the school, picturing Adam walk out to the steps and stand there waiting while cars pulled up one by one, kids piling in, until he was the last guy out there.

I didn’t have to picture the face of Natalie Wenisch when we invited her to the mall and didn’t show up. Brie, incognito, had filmed the whole lip-quivering scene from behind a pillar. The video went viral. Everyone guessed it was us but nobody could prove it, and why would they want to? We were the best entertainment since the video arcade went under and another cell phone store took its place at the mall.

“Jules, hey.”

I looked up at the sound of my brother’s voice. He was all button-down neat and clean in a soundless little hybrid electric car, window rolled down. Zach was my usual after-school ride to the car dealership which had been in our family for three generations. Mom would say “Quitting time” and take me home while Zach picked up the Thursday night shift.

Jessica grabbed my arm as I was shouldering my backpack into place. “Hey, see if you can get your dad to let you take out that pink convertible. You owe us.”

“For what?”

“For letting you be part of our awesomeness!” Jessica said.

Zach pressed the pedal to the metal, but there was no roaring engine or squealing tires in these pansy-ass cars that would reduce our carbon footprint by some microscopic amount.

“I hope Dad says no,” he said.

“Huh?” I glanced his way but Zach was gripping the wheel, grimacing at the road. “What are you all uptight about now?”

“You think you and your friends are so hot,” he said. “Well, you’re not.”

“Ok.” I slumped into a more relaxed pose to show how bothered I wasn’t.

“If I ever catch you little snots pulling your shit, I will get all five of you so busted, you…”

I tuned out his lecture until we got to the car lot, only to find he had the doors locked. All these new safety features were almost as annoying as a control-freak older brother.

“Jules. Look at me.” I finally met his fiery gaze. “You used to be the nicest person I ever knew. What happens to girls when they turn into teenagers? It’s like you get possessed by demons.”

“Yep. Better call an exorcist.”

“Not cool, Jules. You think you’re popular now and people look up to you, but you’re not in control at all. Your friends are. Having power means you have choices and the ability to influence others. Not by tearing them down, either.”

I tried the door again. Still locked.

“I don’t know what you little teeny boppers were giggling about when I pulled up, but if I find out you were bullying someone again, don’t be surprised if you get moved to the back row in show choir. Within smelling distance of the band geeks. And I was one of them, you know.”

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“You still smell like one too.” He didn't, actually, and in fact the only thing the boys at school smelled of was too much cologne. "You don't have power to put me in the back row of anything."

“Annie Cooper and I go way back. She sees and hears more than you think, and she doesn’t think too highly of you all right now.” With a quiet click, he finally unlocked the car door. “Do the right thing, Jules.”

My phone buzzed. Jessica. “Is Daddy letting you take the pink convertible out for a spin? If you’re not here with it in ten, you’ll have to sit with Ick-Bird tomorrow at lunch.”

Zach was reading over my shoulder. “If you were really had the freedom of personal power,” he said, “you’d choose to sit with the band geeks tomorrow, after you drive the pink car up and down First Avenue--without those little snots.”

I read her text again. Bossy little bitch. Why was I taking orders from her?

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Ten minutes later I was in the convertible,

approaching the school. There was Adam McBird, alone on the front steps, long legs dangling over the edge. I drove past him. Standing on the corner, Jessica and company looked up from their phones and stepped off the curb as I braked to a stop. Before they could touch the door, I gunned the engine to make the tires spin and burn rubber, then checked the side mirror before peeling out and leaving them in the lurch.

No cops in sight. I did a U-ee and roared back to school, squealing to a stop at the front door. “McBird,” I said. “Need a ride?”

He stood and squinted at me like I was some stranger. “No thanks. My dad should be here soon.”

“Um, Adam? There’s something I need to tell you.”

Suddenly there was no way to explain it. What was so hilarious about having a kid get stood up by his father after school? I took a deep breath and told him the deal.

“I’m sorry, Adam. There’ll be hell to pay tomorrow, but I’m done with Jessica. You’re free to blow me off, and I deserve that. You’re also free to say yes to a ride home in a pink convertible. You got a license? I might even let you drive.”

He smiled, picked up his big black trombone case, and shook his dark, shiny hair out of his eyes. He had really nice brown eyes. And long suntanned arms with white shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows.

Across the street, the girls were aiming their phones at us, recording everything.

Let them. No matter what embarrassment they had in store for me, I would handle it.

Adam had a license to drive, and four mean girls had no more power over me.

Until next time,

Keangaroo

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