Community Service

Community Service | Part Eight

Community Service | Part Eight

            The next Saturday, I make sure I get up early enough so that I won’t be late for community service again. Slowly dressing into a pair of track shorts and an old Arctic Monkeys t-shirt, I check to make sure that there are no new Hitler mustaches on my face and that I have my keys and phone in my bag.

            My mother just got home from the hospital, after a long night shift, so I walk as quietly as possible down the stairs and into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of snacks and a yogurt for lunch and breakfast. The offending stain on the floor is currently covered by a throw over rug, and she has yet to mention any flowers again.

            As I lace up my dirty running shoes, my phone begins to vibrate in my bag, and I stop to fumble open the latch and pull it out. It’s an unknown number on the screen, and I frown, hesitating a second and then picking up the call.

            “Hello?” I whisper, simultaneously getting up and closing the closet door.

            “Hey, is this Jenn?” A loud voice responds, followed by heavy breathing, and it takes me a second to register that it is Ross on the other end. “This is Ross.”

            “Um, hi?” I respond, checking my watch and entering the downstairs bathroom.

            “I hope it’s okay I have your number. Eliza gave it to me yesterday. I kind of have a problem.”

            I frown and shake my head at the fact that yes, Eliza would most willingly give my phone number to any attractive boy who wanted it, and then flip on the bathroom light, making sure that I get all of the sunscreen on my face. “What’s up?”

            “Well, my car still isn’t fixed and I kinda need a ride to the park. Do you think you could take me there?”

            “What, my driving isn’t that bad?”

            “Please, I just need a ride. If there was somebody else who could take me, I would have asked them.”

           I sigh, shutting off the light and swinging my bag over my shoulder. “Sure, why not.”

            “Great!” Ross’ voice is overly chipper.

            “I’ll be at your house in like five minutes?

            “Oh no need,” Ross replies, his breathing slowing down, “I’m outside of your house.”

            Well, creeper alert.

            I don’t respond, instead turning off my phone, shoving it into my bag, and opening up the front door, jumping back a couple feet when I see Ross’ face literally pressed against the glass door.

            “You’re creepy.” I finally say when I regain my bearing, heart still pounding wildly as I open up the glass door.

            "Thanks you." Ross replies, stepping aside so I can close up the front door. "For both the compliment and the ride."

            I roll my eyes and lead him down the driveway to where my car is parked, unlocking the door and gesturing for him to get in. "Don't worry about it. Community service just wouldn't be the same without you there."

            He is smiling at me on the other side of the car as I slide into the driver's seat, starting up the car and waiting for him to put on his seatbelt. With the radio on some mainstream station, I back down the driveway, turning the steering wheel and pressing the gas. The sudden acceleration takes Ross by surprise, his head hitting the back of his seat. It is quite entertaining to see he take a big gulp, his skin turning a shade of green.