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“Pick up your pencils and begin the final examination,” Mrs. Lombardo commanded.
I lifted my pencil off of my desk and leafed through my exam. 10 pages long, just fantastic. The equations and monomials looked like Chinese to me. I wrote my name at the top of the exam. I winced and looked desperately around at the other students, hard at work. I should’ve studied. I should’ve paid attention to Mrs. Lombardo instead of watching dust float aimlessly through the classroom.
“Lillian, keep your eyes on your own paper!” Mrs. Lombardo snapped at me from her desk.
“Sorry.” I nodded.
“Shh,” she hissed.
Give it a break, you bitch.
My hand was sweating as I selected my multiple-choice questions by the eeny meenie miney moe method. I stared at Skye’s back as she scribbled hastily on her exam. Calm down, we have 2 fucking hours to complete this test. I hated smart people. They are kiss-ups to the teachers and always go, “Oh My God I totally failed that test,” and then proceed to get a 100% on it.
Skye had finished her exam in record time. There was one hour and thirty minutes left. What a little rat. I watched her find things to occupy herself with. Girls at school usually used their purses for entertainment. They kept everything in there. Pens, pads, lint rollers, peanut butter, and socks were only naming a few.
Skye reached in her leather white purse and grabbed out a bottle of rose petal scented lotion. She squirted out some white cream onto her palm and rubbed it all over her hands and up onto her arms. The scent radiating off the lotion was making me nauseous. I turned away and tried to breathe some fresh air in, but it was no use, rose-petal had spread across the entire area around Skye. Sweat covered my forehead, I felt like I was having a hot flash. I closed my eyes and tried to think of anything but the scent, but images of juicy cheeseburgers and wet nacho cheese came to mind. I knew I was about to throw up, so I ran up to Mrs. Lombardo’s desk with my hand covering my mouth.
“Lillian, what are you doing up? This is an exam,” Mrs. Lombardo stammered.
What the Hell does it look like I’m doing, you brainless imbecile?
Puke filled my mouth; I held my lips closed tightly.
“Are you okay?” she asked me.
I shook my head back and forth; I thought for sure I was going to explode onto her.
“Do you need to use the bathroom?”
That was all I needed to hear, I ran out of the rose scented room like I was on fire. I forced open the bathroom door and threw up all over the floor. I fell onto all fours panting on the tile like an animal, in a puddle of my own vomit. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t my stomach hold the smell of lotion? It didn’t seem to bother anyone else. I was probably getting sick, seeing as that I had also gotten sick from Fay’s stew a few weeks back. Now that I thought about it, a lot of things had made me nauseous lately. It didn’t make any sense, why were my senses so heightened. I was sure I had the stomach bug, maybe a tapeworm or parasite, definitely something like that.
I called my mother to pick me up from school. It was her weekend. I was sitting on a bench in the school lobby when my mother arrived. She pushed through the school doors, in a loose-fitting tank top, no bra, tight cheetah print capri pants, fluffy slippers and a cigarette in hand. I wanted to die.
Mr. Sagresta, the principal, approached her.
“Excuse me ma’am, there is absolutely no smoking on school premises,” Mr. Sagresta stammered.
My mother looked him up and down, “says who?”
I buried my head in my hands and prayed to God for my mother to just take me home.
“Says me, I am the principal and you will need to dispose of that cigarette.”
My mother laughed, “Okay I guess I will have to do what Mr. big principal tells me.”
Mr. Sagresta looked confused; he played with the knot in his tie as he watched my mother slowly strut over to the garbage can.
“There you go boss man.” My mother threw out the cigarette.
“Um,” he cleared his throat, “Lillian got sick during her Mathematics examination.”
“Oh no, not my poor baby girl.” My mother faked sincerity.
I couldn’t believe she was attempting to hit on my principal, what a joke. God has to have something against me.
“She will need to re-take her exam when she is feeling well,” Mr. Sagresta said.
“Oh well, we will have to get that done. You know, I always put my children’s schooling first, that is by far the most important factor in a growing child,” my mother lied.
“I agree, that is why I became a principal.”
“Ha, you know what?” My mother laughed, “No, I can’t, I’m too embarrassed to say.”
Mr. Sagresta looked around, “say what?”
“Well, when I was a teenager I had the biggest crush on my principal. All proper with his suit and tie,” Pam grabbed my principal’s tie and played with it sensually. “It just turned me on.”
Mr. Sagresta gulped and nodded, he was clearly uncomfortable and seemed to be sweating.
“What is your name, Mr. principal?” my mother asked, slowly.
“Mr. Sagresta,” he said.
“No, your real name, enough with all this professional stuff.”
“Um, that is personal information, I don’t think I can reveal that.”
“Oh come on,” My mother whispered in his ear, “live a little.”
“T-t-tom,” Mr. Sagresta stuttered.
I was ready to kill my mother; did she even remember why she came to my school? She was acting like a hooker, like a real live hooker and if I didn’t do anything about it, I was sure she was going to start having sex with my principal right there on the floor.
“Mom!?” I called, “can we leave?”
“Oh, honey,” my mother turned towards me “I totally forgot about you, whoopsies.”
“Yeah well, can we?”
“I don’t know, Tom, can we?” she tilted her head and looked at Mr. Sagresta.
“Yes, um you can leave, it’s um fine.” He was nervous.
“Well I’ll see you later Tommy Boy.” My mother let go of his tie and winked.
As my mother marched out the door, jingling her keys, Mr. Sagresta took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead with it. All the time, his golden wedding ring was shining in the light.
“So how was school?” Mom asked on the way home
“Bad,” I answered, coldly.
“Well let’s see, you’re driving me home because I puked there.”
“Ha,” Pam laughed loudly, “totally slipped my mind.”
“Yeah, not surprised.” I crossed my arms.
“Hey!” My mother turned to me, “what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I’m just saying it’s hard to remember stuff when you’re drunk and seducing my principal all at the same time.”
“I’m sick of this Lily,” she raised her voice.
“Sick of what, mother?”
“YOU!” She yelled.
“Why? Because I don’t just stay quiet about what kind of mother you’ve become?”
“I am a damn good mother and don’t you forget it!”
“Just keep telling yourself that, mom.” I looked out the window; her vodka breath was making me sick.
“You’re beat!” she spat out.
Yeah. Nice vocabulary.
When I arrived to my mother’s house I walked into my room. Smokey was lying on my bed with his legs spread apart in the air. Ewe. I could only imagine what kind of diseases he has just wiped on my sheets. I lifted up my sneaker and pushed him with it. I absolutely refused to touch that dog with my bare flesh. Smokey groaned. Yuck. I nudged him again, making sure to avoid his ever-growing tumor. He awoke and slowly pulled himself off my bed. Great. Now his balls probably touched my bed too.
Praise to Smokey’s Tumor.