The Misadventures of Basil and Beverly

three // hideouts, humiliation, and herbs

three // hideouts, humiliation, and herbs

Slinging my heavy backpack over my shoulder, I rush out of the classroom as soon as the bell rings and make sure to fix my eyes on the white tiled floor as I shove my way down the hall and to the restroom. School is out for the day, and I've managed to go a complete week without running into Skeleton Boy. Because Ms. Broadbent's classroom is the only place where he knows he can find me, I know that I have to sprint to the girl's bathroom before we can make more casual conversation about my most humiliating guilty pleasure. No, that is definitely not happening again. I push and shove as aggressively as I can through a swarming mass of hormonal delinquents, while still trying to obey my number one rule at school: no human contact whatsoever.

Besides accidentally stepping on a girl's ballet flat and rubbing shoulders with a hipster that was wearing a fanny pack instead of a backpack, I am able to make it to my makeshift refuge without breaking the Number One Rule.

Once I'm safe inside the girls' bathroom that reeks of cheap perfume and pee, I set my backpack on the floor and wash my hands. Whenever I hide in the bathroom for one reason or another, I always feel the need to wash my hands in case someone walks in and asks me why I'm just standing around for no reason. That, and the grotesque smell makes me feel like I've been contaminated by some sort of weird bacteria or virus.

After rinsing my hands for five minutes straight, I dry them off on a paper towel and head back out into the danger zone. The hallways are unbelievably empty for it only being ten minutes after the bell rang, but it's usually like this on Fridays. Everyone is eager to leave school so they can party all night or get high or go the aquarium; whatever it is that regular teens do on the weekends.

I, however, plan on playing Uno with Eli and maybe, if I'm feeling rebellious, walk to the creek down the street and have a late-night dip. With clothes on of course. Can't get too crazy or else I'll catch a cold.

I sigh, trying to ignore how pathetic my Friday night plans are and sulk down the hallway to the doors that lead out of the school. Once I'm out in the fresh air, I immediately feel better and take a seat on the bench where I usually meet Ren and Joni. On Fridays, Ren has piano practice right after school, and Joni usually has her mom pick her up in her tiny Mini Cooper, so I have to wait for Jazza to finish chatting with her friends in the cafeteria about who-knows-what before I can get home and start doing nothing in the comfort of my room.

After twenty minutes of staring at the cracks in the sidewalk and wondering how in the world they got there, Jazza pulls up to the curb in her perfect little vintage truck that Dad restored for her when she had turned sixteen. He says I'll get a car when I decide to get my license, which will probably be never, since driving scares the crap out of me and no one is brave enough to go out on the road with a nervous wreck behind the wheel.

"Hurry up, I'm going out with Tanner tonight."

"So? It's only three, you have plenty of time," I reply as I walk around the front of her car and hop into the passenger's seat.

"Just wanted to make sure you don't walk as sluggishly as you usually do, so I can have time to get ready."

"I do not walk sluggishly."

"Yes, you do." Jazza gives me a condescending look, then watches me as I click in my seat belt. "Where's your backpack?"

I unclick it and groan. "I left it in the bathroom."

"And I thought your legs were sluggish, when actually it's your brain that's the problem." Jazza sighs and flings her arm in the direction of the school.

"Oh, ha-ha." I get out of the truck and slam the door to emphasize how not-funny Jazza is being at the moment. Pretending that my legs are stuck in a pool of Jell-o, I meander forward as slowly as possible, just to irriate the Queen of the Goats.