You Should Have Been Here Yesterday

Almost Clean I

In the days that followed, well... Let's just say... I've got a boyfriend.  Maybe.  Probably.  He said he'd call me.

        Mick and Joey made fun of me, naturally, and my mom wasn't unhappy, exactly.  She was rather pleased with the fact that he lives in Massachusetts and we live in Yonkers.

        Still, it seemed like summer wouldn't possibly come fast enough.

        On Monday, Mick, Joey, and I went back to school, still a bit hungover from all the drinks and drugs at Sunapee.

        Several people for sure knew we were stoned, including, probably, Mr. Hamm and Steve Tally.

        "Ms. Ramone!" exclaimed Mr. Hamm, delighted when I entered first period late.  "Thank you for gracing us with your presence this fine morning!"  I nodded, not quite awake or sobered up yet.  "Perhaps you saw Mr. Tallarico on your way in?"

        "Who?" I mumbled.

        "I'm here!" yelled a familiar voice, making quite the entrance behind me.

        "Mr. Tallarico," Mr. Hamm repeated, less than pleased this time.  "You are here, aren't you..."

        "Good morning to you too," Steve Tally said brightly, taking a seat next to me.  "Hey, Gin," he said happily.  Oh my god, he reeks of smoke.

        And then Mr. Hamm started his drone on quadratic functions and dividing polynomials, and I slouched down, thinking of every place I'd rather be.  I think Steve Tally was doing likewise.

        With about fifteen minutes of class left, Steve Tally sat up suddenly.  He looks at Mr. Hamm as he cautiously removed something from the inside of his jacket, sending forth a fresh wave of the smoke scent.

        He pulled out whatever it was–it kinda looked like a 45–and leaned over to me, whispering, "Gin, check this out."  He placed the thing on my desk.

        Sure enough, it was a 45.

        And on it, said The Chain Reaction.  As well as Date Records, and When I Needed You.  I stared at Steve Tally.  "This is you?" I whispered.  He nodded, grinning.  I flipped it over, as it was upside down.  What was on the A side made my heart rise to my throat and my stomach drop to the floor.

        The Sun.

        My song.

        I handed it back to him with shaking hands, but he wouldn't take it.  "It's for you," he whispered.

        "But I don't want it," I countered, not worrying if I hurt his feelings or not.  He stole my guitarist, he cheats off of me, he comes in late, and–oh yeah–he put my fucking song on his record with my fucking guitarist as his.

        And it pisses me off that he just gets away with it all.  Seriously!  It seems like he gets away with everything!

        Although it kinda made me feel a little bad when his smile faded a bit at the mention of not wanting it.

        But not too bad.

        At the end of class, Mr. Hamm proudly announced our homework, and just as the bell rang, he called out, "Not so fast Ms. Ramone, Mr. Tally."  Steve and I froze in our tracks, both muttering a curse word under our breath (Steve heard me and smirked).  "C'mere," he beckoned.  Warily, Steve and I approached his desk.  Steve didn't look at me; like I wasn't even there.