Teenagers | FI

Three

Kimberly

As the dusty, dirty gravel crunches under the wheels of the car, and radio buzzing lowly with a song, Heidi turns to me.

"Wendy and Dave want to know if you want to come to dinner at our place tonight." She tells me. Wendy and Dave were Heidi's parents, otherwise known as Mr. and Mrs. Lane.

My own parents had stayed in Chicago for the rest of the summer, so a nice home cooked meal, made by someone other than me, would defiantly beat whatever instant food if inevitably end up eating tonight.

"Sounds great." I tell her, turning to face her, with a smile. Jarring the wheel of the car to the right to make a turn into her street.

She lives in a big house in the country side of New Jersey, about 15 minutes out of where I lived if you took the right streets. Her parents were cool as heck; I'd told them most of the things I hadn't told my parents. They'd fed me countless meals in high school, and always put a roof over my head when I needed it.

I lock the car doors, while we walk to the front of the house, after having grabbed my bag of overnight stuff from the trunk of the car. Being best friends with Heidi taught me to always pack an overnight bag, I never knew what the night had in store with her. I never minded though, party was always on my mind.

"Wendy! David! Kimberly is here!" I'd wondered sometimes why Heidi referred to her parents on a first name basis. However, I figured it was for my benefit.

I'd stopped calling them Mr. and Mrs. Lane long ago, it was just too strange for all of us. The reason of this, was mainly because I'd spent most evenings at Heidi's place during my ninth/tenth/eleventh and twelfth year at school. She was closer too the school then I was, so I'd chill sometime at her place before my parents got home from work. Half the time is end up crashing at their place for the night, too lazy to drive myself home.

"Hello!" Wendy says happily. "Dinner is already on the counter if you wanna get eating."

I look at Heidi excitedly, her parents always made great food. I'd eaten it for 4+ years and still hadn't grown sick of it, and I highly doubt I ever would.

Like always, Heidi handed me my plate, allowing me to grab my food first, even though I, no longer, was considered a guest in their house. Despite getting my plate first I'd always wait for her to grab some food, before starting to fill my own plate.

Once we'd finally gotten everything on our plates and grabbed a seat on their island, once again, our spot for the last quarter of a decade, her parents began talking.

"So how was your little shoot?" Wendy, Heidi's mom, asks us from the kitchen, spooning some of her own food into her plate.

Of course I'd just jammed a ridiculous amount of food into my mouth, leaving Heidi the only one eligible to answer the question. "FRANK IERO KISSED KIMBERLY ON THE MOUTH INAPPROPRIATELY, DURING THE SHOOT." Her fork aggressively is slammed against her plate, the loud noise echoes around the room and I flinch.

"Kimberly!" Wendy says shocked. It would almost seem scolding, if I hadn't known Wendy as well as I did.

I gulp down my mouthful, before answering. "He kissed me!" I defend, forking a new mouthful in and starting to chew.

"Did you kiss anyone?" Wendy asks turning to her daughter, her voice sounds like it would hold a smirk if she wasn't her mom.

"No." She says, shovelling her own food into her mouth.

I swallow hard and speak, while spooking a new bunch of food. "She just stole someone belt." I say stuffing my face again with the beautiful food.

"Heidi!" Wendy says in the same tone she's previously addressed me in. I laugh.