The Final Deal
By: Bay, 6th grade
I can’t tell you my real name, or where I live. They’re everywhere… they could find out my secret. In the following document, people’s names have been changed, and the places I talk about aren’t the places that I say they are. Everything has been tweaked slightly. This is all to maintain that I’m not found by them, because if I am, my life will be turned upside down. Well, more than it already has. This story takes place on April 16th, 2008, at James Madison Middle School. I was in 13 years old and in 7th grade at the time…
I just didn’t understand why gum wasn’t allowed at school. What did it hurt? Maybe the chewing noises could get annoying, but that problem could be solved with a simple chastising. For some people, gum was a necessity. It was necessary for school survival. I would see them in class, desperately trying to un-wrap their Spearmint flavored Orbit and pop it into their mouth before the teacher saw them. They would hide the evidence (the wrappers) by stuffing them into their pockets, backpacks, or purses. Some of the purses I saw were filled nearly to the brim with wrappers that were yet to be thrown away.
Sadly, I was one of the gum junkies. All during the day, I was slyly and slowly chewing on a stick of Juicy Fruit or Stride, desperately trying to make it last for as many periods as possible without having to risk getting caught by taking out another piece of gum.
I knew a few people in my grade that actually bought gum in bulk from the store and sold it to people, for a slightly lower price. One of them in particular, Freddy, was the richest of them all. Since his father owned a local grocery store, sometimes after school he had to hang out there until he was able to go home. He would scan the candy aisles, eyeing the prices of the gum and making notes in a small pocket notebook that he carried around everywhere with him. There were all kinds of brands, from 5 to Wrigley’s to Orbit. And he would get them all, every flavor, every brand.
He would get the gum for free because of his dad, and he would bring it to school, stuffing it in the various pockets of his pants and carrying all the extras in a trench coat that he wore. The teachers’ only suspicions of him were because of the trench coat. But they didn’t want to take it away for fear of a rant on ‘stunting creativity’. Those had happened before at our school, and all the teachers and staff were afraid of a rebellion. Personally, I thought they were wusses.
One reason why Freddy was so unique was the fact that he had every flavor, even the retired ones. And he would have them in bulk. There were other dealers of course, but Freddy was always the best. That was simply the way it had always been. He would make his trades in the bathrooms, not caring if it was the girl’s or the boy’s room. Some of the luckier kids who had their own gum, which was more expensive, would trade gum for gum. The others, like me, would trade money for gum. And Freddy was strict. He had one policy, and one policy only- ‘If you don’t have the cash, you don’t get the goods’. What he meant was that if you don’t have your money on hand at the time, you don’t get your gum. If you weren’t able to pay him once, you couldn’t buy from him ever again. That was a problem for some people. Freddy had a schedule for his trades, between locker visits and during lunch. Even some of the 6th and 8th graders bought from him. And most of them walked away satisfied, their favorite flavor mashed between their teeth.
Gum for me is like crack for drug addicts. I can’t go through any day without at least one piece. Without it, my brain starts to fizzle like a computer that’s been tossed in a lake. My reflexes are slow, and I’m out of it. Even my personal hygiene skills become lacking. My hair gets frizzy, and I feel sluggish. It’s a small step into a spiraling descent into insanity. It’s not something you want to see.
I have a favorite type of gum that was discontinued, much to my chagrin. It’s Strawberry Kiwi Trident Splash, and luckily, Freddy had lots of it. I had saved some money to buy a lot of it, so that it would last me at least a couple weeks. Freddy and I were planning to meet in the girl’s bathroom at 11:32 on Monday morning, right as lunch was starting. I had my purse with me, in it my wallet. I held it close to my side as I headed towards the bathroom, which was in the opposite direction of the cafeteria. I went against the flow of traffic, eager to pay Freddy and get my gum. The time was 11:30. I leaned against the wall, waiting in earnest for Freddy to arrive, and with him the gum.
At 11:32 on the dot, I heard the familiar sound of old sneakers on tile. Freddy approached me, his brown hair falling onto the lenses of the black sunglasses that blocked his eyes. He had his hands stuffed into his black trench coat, which was draped around a red and white polo and some jeans. He was busily chomping on what smelled like a piece of Juicy Fruit, which was his favorite. He blew a small bubble and it popped, the sound ringing off the tiled walls of the bathroom.
“You got the cash, Stacey?” He asked nonchalantly, his expression blank; unreadable due to the eye-hiding glasses. I nodded my head in assurance.
“You got the gum?” I asked. He reached into one of his trench pockets and pulled out a packet of the coveted gum.
“You got the rest?” I asked. With a flick of his wrist, several other packs revealed themselves from behind the first.
“Nice.” I said, and grinned. He smiled back, and held out his palm. I opened my purse and began shuffling through various gum wrappers, searching for my wallet. After a few moments of silence, except for the crinkling of gum wrappers, my face contorted into what I imagined being an expression of pure horror. Where was my wallet?
“I… I don’t have it.” I said sadly, looking up. Freddy glared at me through his glasses, the overhead lights illuminating them for a split second, the streak of light briefly showing his eyes; which were a piercing green.
“Fine.” He said, starting
to put the gum away. I almost felt like reaching out for it as it disappeared
into the dark recesses of his trench coat.
“You don’t have the cash, you don’t get the gum. You know the policy,
Stacey.” He said simply, turning to leave. Suddenly, it hit me like an atom
bomb.
“My money’s at home, sitting on my dresser! I could run over there and get it!” I blurted, not conscious of what I was saying. Freddy turned back around, a smirk playing on his lips like kids playing kickball in a field.
“Really? Within the remaining…26 minutes of lunchtime?” He challenged, glancing at his watch as he did so.
“Y-yeah, I could do it! It’ll be easy!” I said, trying to assure myself of victory; a weak, panicky smile beginning to form on my face.
“Remember, if you don’t get the money here within 26 minutes, you don’t get your gum.” He reminded me, his smirk now apparent.
“Yeah, I know…” I said.
“Alright, you’re on. You now have 25 minutes. I’ll be waiting here at noon, right before the bell. You better get running, Stacey.” Freddy said, popping his collar up to hide his face.
I calmly walked out of the bathroom and down the hallway, my feet guiding me. And I suddenly found myself at the front door of the school. I pushed at the door, and it opened. I stepped outside into the morning sunshine.
I lived about 2 miles away, almost downtown. If I went down Main Street and weaved through the shopping center on 3rd, I could eventually get to my house on Sycamore Lane and run inside and get my money off my dresser. My parents were at work and I had a key in my purse. If I hurried, I would be able to get back to school without getting busted by the principal, vice-principal, or any adults who would want to get me in trouble for skipping.
I began to walk across the parking lot, glancing left and right for any signs of faculty or staff as I began my dangerous mission. I knew that at this time, the streets would be crawling with people eager to get a bite to eat for lunch, and that this would lessen my chances of being able to successfully get to my house. The thought made me shiver. I wouldn’t be able to live another day without my beloved gum. I was grateful for Freddy’s existence, though this did not signify any possible feelings for him, meaning anything other than the simple bond shared by a dealer and their customer.
I scampered across the street like a squirrel chased by a dog, which in a spiritual sense, I was. I was being chased by the haunting thought of suspension, and I knew that if I were to be suspended now, my parents would never trust me again; meaning only tightening the noose that was my already short leash of freedom. My parents haven’t trusted me that much ever since ‘The Incident’ (as it’s been called), which involved a stick, a tube sock, and a busted snow-globe… and a very angry old lady with a particularly nasty taser. How she got the taser, I don’t know. But I have the scars to prove it.
I ran down the street as fast as I could in flip-flops, while trying to cushion the sound made by rubber against concrete. There was a small shopping center nearby, with a few shops along the stretch of the block. There was also an outdoor café with people who were sitting at the many tables. They would be a challenge to sneak by.
I frantically searched my surroundings for something to hide in. I saw a trashcan in an alleyway, along with a milk crate and a cardboard box. The milk crate was too tiny, that was obvious. The trashcan was too noisy, so the cardboard box it was. But the thought crossed my mind that there was no person who was stupid enough to not think anything of a cardboard box that was slowly scooting its’ way across the sidewalk and in between cars, with turquoise flip-flops on, none the less. Maybe I could create a distraction?
I looked at the trashcan, and instantly got an idea. I picked it up and dragged it over to where I was. I peeked around the corner of the brick building that was shielding me from sight, and clattered the lid a few times on the wall, so it made a lot of noise.
“No, no! Get away from me!” I kicked the milk crate, and said, “No, don’t put me in the trashca-“ I smacked the lid on to the trashcan, and tossed it into the street. Every time it hit the ground, I shouted something like, “OW! OOH! ACK!” I could hear the clatter of chairs as people rushed over to examine the ‘victim’. Quick as a flash, I ran past the restaurant and down the street. I could hear the worried murmurs of the crowd as they opened the lid. I couldn’t believe it. Were they really that stupid? Oh well… society is going downhill these days, even ironically to the point of buying gum from illegal dealers. This thought made me uncomfortable.
I ran as fast as I could down the street, my lungs burning as I tried to hide from view in a parking lot, weaving through cars in a desperate attempt to prevent getting in trouble. Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks. The street was roped off with some bright yellow tape, and there were some construction workers repaving the road. There were about 10 of them, some eating and some working. I didn’t know how I could sneak by them without making a long, annoying detour that would undoubtedly make me late for class. Maybe I could fool them, too? I may have a bigger chance than with the restaurant-goers, because aren’t construction workers supposed to be… err… ‘less intelligent’ than the average American?
I felt sort of bad about it, but I felt good at the same time. I was fooling people for my own benefit, but at least I was good at thinking things up on the spot. I had something going for me.
I hid behind a fairly large SUV, and shouted at the top of my lungs, “FREE DONUTS!!!” I nearly laughed at the amazing speed in which the workers stopped what they were doing and tried to find the source of the sound that enticed them so much. I darted around a few more cars before jumping over the tape that blocked off the road, and speeding past the work site. Suddenly, I was stopped in my tracks.
I had stepped on a bottle of mustard, which was apparently being used to adorn a turkey sandwich that was being consumed by one of the workers. The yellow gunk was stuck all over my shoe, and had gotten on my leg as well. I had hated mustard since childhood, and this experience has caused me to hate mustard even more since then. I can barely look at the stuff. I hated the taste, the look, the smell. And now that it was on my feet and legs, I hated its even existence. I gave a scream, and frantically shook my leg to dislodge my shoe. I finally succumbed to yanking it off with my bare hand, covering it in the horrible yellow substance. I tossed it to the ground, and took off at a sprint down the street, the mustard squishing under my foot. I wanted to die.
I have to look on the bright side… I thought, gritting my teeth. I was almost home. Just around the corner, and I would be the third house on the left. I could practically taste victory, along with my Strawberry Kiwi Splash gum. I smiled, and felt a surge of power as I sped around the corner. I had made it past all the obstacles, and all I had to do was get past them again. It seemed so simple. I fumbled through my purse for my key as I ran, slowing down to a stop at the front door. I found it, and with a triumphant smile, unlocked the door. I went inside quickly, closing the door quietly behind me. I jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I ran into my room, and snatched my wallet up off my dresser. I stuck it in my purse, and returned to the stairs. It was then that it hit me.
I had left yellow, mustardy footprints all throughout the house and the street. Someone from the construction site could easily trace the trouble back to my house, and then would I be in trouble. Along with the fact that I didn’t have enough time to clean up the footprints in the house, I would be in double trouble with my parents and the workers. They would know I came home early, and they would undoubtedly ask why, and then… it was impossible to even imagine what would happen. I wouldn’t just get suspended, I would be expelled. And I would lose my gum. My plan had backfired. Why did I have to have such a big mouth?
Maybe if I ran home from school, I could clean up the evidence before my parents got home. Just maybe. But as I glanced at the clock on my frantic dash out, I realized I only had 5 minutes until lunch was over. I couldn’t think about the future, the present was smacking me upside the head.
I ran out the door and down the street, my wallet safe inside my purse. I darted through the construction site, blind and deaf to the cries of the workers. I sped past the restaurant, ignoring the surprised cries of the people sitting at the tables. I ran all the way back to school, the mustard on my feet that had left the footprints now dried, making horrible flakes peeling off onto the floor. I ran into the bathroom, and stopped dead in my tracks.
I was face-to-face with the principal.
To make a long story short, Freddy and I were expelled, and for many reasons. First, illegal selling and trading of gum, along with the stealing of said gum. Second, for running away from school. And third for the incident at the restaurant and construction site. My parents have never trusted me since then, and I was grounded for 3 months. No TV, no phone, no anything. It was like prison. And to add insult to injury, I never got my gum. Though it may sound lame and cliché, I learned my lesson, and I’ve stayed away from gum for good reason. And guess what? Turns out they did bring back the Strawberry Kiwi Splash due to popular demand. Lady Irony seems to have fun mocking me. But I’m over gum now. I’ve moved onto something even better… chocolate.