Chapter 2

I’ll never forget the day I met my lifelong friend, Millie. In fact, I doubt Collier County’s school system will forget the day I met Millie. It was a day for the history books. Never before had such mayhem clashed with mischief. Never before had two personalities collided so perfectly. Never before had a class body been so purple!

First day of school is not fun for anyone. First day of school for a previously home-schooled child? Terrifying. With my uncle moving out, and my grandpa moving in, my mother couldn't handle Jason and I while simultaneously managing him. So, it was off to the public-school system for eight-year-old me and thirteen-year-old Jason.

I hated it. The very idea had me stomping around the house as I prepared for the day. The drive from our house to the front doors of Collier's Elementary school was deadly silent. I spent the whole ride glaring at my mother in the rear view mirror. She opted for ignoring me. Jason, on the other hand, talked amicably to our mother. Ever the peace maker. I swear, that boy was going to be a poop-scooper for the unicorns. He lived on pure happy energy. He was my exact opposite. When he would be cleaning his room, I would be destroying mine. When he would be learning how to cook from our mother, I would be learning how to hot wire a car from my uncle. Jason was sunshine and roses, while I was thunderstorms and fireworks.

As my mother finally dropped us off that morning, she’d looked me square in the eye. Her voice went quiet and deep. She meant business. “You’re not going to get in trouble today.” I nodded, though whether I was agreeing with her or saying that, yes, I WOULD get in trouble remains a mystery, even to me. “The principal will not be calling me today.” I shook my head. Even if I got into trouble, I didn’t want the principal calling my mother. Jason snorted. He must’ve heard my thoughts, and known that there was no way my mother would be prepared enough for the mayhem I could cause. “Because it’s your first day of school, and we want to start the year off right.” I flashed her my biggest and most sarcastic cheesy grin. She nodded once, firm in expression. I doubt she believed me any more than I did.

I got into school without causing problems. I’m as shocked as the next person. At the age of 8, breathing seemed to create some sort of chaos around me without my knowledge or permission. Jason walked with me as far as the front doors, and then left me in favor of a few boys in his grade. He gave me a hug, and a kiss to the top of my head before leaving. That would only last a few more weeks. After he made friends, I knew our relationship would change, and it did. While we weren’t enemies, we did often find ourselves on opposite sides of a school dilemma, with me being the perpetrator and Jason being the innocent bystander, or even sometimes the “sheriff” corralling his rowdy sister.

I got as far as class without stirring up anything, but the moment my bag was in its cubby, and I’d turned to face the class, everything changed. I brought my hands together, giving them a slight rub. A grin curled my lips into a “what kind of trouble can I uncover” smirk. Any parent/teacher/authority figure would’ve known then and there that they should run for the fire emergency latch before I could start something. Any like-minded person would’ve recognized the look, and would’ve gravitated to me. That’s exactly what happened.

Millie sat a table away from me. Her table lost their scissor privileges before mine did. Apparently, cutting your neighbor’s hair is not considered “playing fair”: rule number two on our room’s posted rules. Sitting above it was a generic “have fun!!” with loads of smilies and glitter. I had plans for that poster. Plans that coincided with a pack of matches, and the straw hat Ms. Hitch, my homeroom teacher, wore while towering over us while clucking her tongue in disapproval. “No, Amelia- “

“Amy.”

“That’s not how we use scissors in this class.”

Apparently, cutting your neighbor’s shirt was wrong too.

I locked eyes with Millie in that moment. Her lips twitched into a grin that mirrored mine. First contact had been made.

Our first conversation didn’t happen until last recess. First recess we’d been forced into separate corporate games that Ms. Hitch oversaw, and at lunch, our last names kept us from sitting near each other. She sat between Lily Johnson and Dolly Parton Schneider, while I had the immense misfortune of being placed between Elvis Presley Schneidder and Frank West. One couldn’t spit in Collier county without hitting a Schneider. They owned everything, everyone was related to a Schneider, and if you weren’t, you were either A: not originally from here or B: related to a Schneidder. Someone a long way back didn’t like the Schneider family anymore, but wanted to keep the last name. They were petty enough to change their name by adding a single consonant and calling it good. Scorned humans and their egos. And, if you hadn’t noticed, half of the family preferred country music, the other preferred rock and roll. This just added to their feud. I’m telling you, egos, man. Egos.

Either way, Schneider or Schneidder, there were enough of them to place Millie and I at separate tables, but there weren’t enough feuding families in the world to keep me from my mischief making. I caught Millie’s attention with a well-aimed carrot landing in Dolly’s tomato soup, splashing the orange-red substance all over her bright pink tee shirt. The smirk oh so like mine was ever present, and I winked. Hitch’s watchful eye missed a beer pong worthy shot, but Garth’s tattle tale mouth landed me in time out: a chair facing backwards next to Ms. Hitch.

“Now Amelia- “

“Amy.”

“Big girls don’t play with their food.”

“Big girls also don’t talk like babies, but here we are.”

Either the woman didn’t hear me, or was ignoring me, because she didn’t say anything. Five minutes later I was back in my seat with a warning to not do it again, or I’d “be in real big trouble.” I didn’t fear the woman’s fake threats, but I wanted to finish my lunch, so I left my classmates in peace. Besides, my mother’s face reappeared in my mind, reminding me of my “promise” to be good. I managed to keep my word until final recess.

On our way out the door, a small hand caught mine and dragged me into an empty hallway. Following the arm, I found Millie’s smirking face. “Amelia, right?”

“Amy. Mildred?”

A nose crinkle told me she appreciated her full name as much as I did. “Millie. Want to help me prank my mom?”

I shrugged. “How much detention are we talking about?”

She shrugged. “A week?”

“That’s it?” I’m not sure if I was disappointed or appalled that she thought it was enough to tempt me. I was looking for at least a two weeks worthy prank, if we were caught that is.

If Millie had been a Looney Tunes cartoon, her mouth would’ve curled like a pirate’s mustache as devil’s horns appeared over her head. “I’m good at getting out of punishments.”

Twenty minutes later, Millie’s plan had been executed to perfection, and we were running inside, aiming for the fire emergency latch Ms. Hitch should’ve pulled the moment she saw me. I stepped away from the latch, gesturing at Millie. “Your plan. The honor’s yours.”

She grabbed my hand. “Together.”

The loud ringing filling our school had students flying into the hallways with teachers shouting at them to remain calm. A few first graders cried, and Millie and I watched them file outside from a window in Ms. Hitch’s classroom. I glanced at the clock as it ticked. 2:29. “60.”

Millie grinned at me. “59.”

We returned to watching as the teachers and students alike milled around, waiting for fire trucked to extinguish none existent flames. “58...”

While teachers began counting their students, Ms. Hitch finally recognized that two of her students were missing, but by then it was too late.

“3. 2. 1.”

Ms. Hitch spotted us in her classroom window, and began stomping her way over to the school... as the school’s sprinkler system switched on. Ms. Hitch got a good spray in the chest, despite her raising her hands to shield herself. A line of purple glitter water crossed her front, and landed on some fifth grader standing at her flank. Millie and I rolled over laughing as every student and teacher got blasted with the purple/glitter concoction we’d rigged in the sprinkler system.

It had been surprisingly easy, rigging the sprinkler system. The hardest part had been getting a hold of the purple dye and glitter. Ms. Hitch’s room had glitter galore, but dye? No way. Millie had stood watch as I raided a fifth grade room. We both agreed that purple was cooler than pink, as many of our classmates already wore pink. *cough* Dolly *cough* And purple is a gender neutral color. My brother’s favorite color is purple. So purple it was, and that left distributing the glittery dye, and changing the timer in the sprinkler system. Millie knew how to change the timer; her dad taught her apparently. So as she fixed the timer, I rigged each and every sprinkler head with our concoction.

Of course, our fun, though worth every second, was short lived. A sopping wet Ms. Hitch found us laughing on her floor. Purple water dropped from her hat as she fumed above us. While I hadn’t feared her at the lunchroom table, her heavy breathing through wide nostrils made her resemble a horse ready to charge, and rage-filled horses frightened me.

As she took a step closer though, her mouth opening, the first syllables of my name on the tip of her tongue, another person entered the room.

I knew who she was the moment she walked into our mess. Her cool demeanor reeked of authority. Her dark pant suit was stereotypical, and made her stand out in the brightly colored classroom. This was my principal, and judging by the harsh glare mirrored on my newfound friends face: this was Millie’s mom.

“Thank you, Ms. Hitch. I’ll take it from here.”

I found myself wishing for Ms. Hitch’s rant over my principal’s lecture. Ms. Hitch had the type of anger that was loud, and short. She’d shout until she was hoarse, and had a headache. Then she’d fizzle out in exasperation without ever really punishing us. Millie’s mom, on the other hand? She had the quiet anger, and it’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for. They played dirty. They pulled out words like “disappointed” and “ashamed”, then stuck them near sentences like, “you could do better,” or “I know you’re smarter than this”. The quiet ones were not to be trusted. With one extended finger, Millie’s mother beckoned us.

After waiting on painfully wooden benches outside our principal’s office for what must’ve been hours, I heard a door open at the end of the hallway. We'd already received our lecture from Millie's mom. She didn't raise her voice, like I'd predicted. She had called my mother though. That's what I'd been waiting for while Millie got her personal lecture from her mother. I sent my eyes heavenwards, half praying it wasn't MY mother. As boring as the previous few hours had been, my mother wasn’t a viable option for escape. After a few seconds, I chanced a glance down the hall, and jumped from my seat, a grin forming on my face. My mother hadn’t come; my Uncle Todd had. “You come to bust me out of here?”

I got lifted eyebrows in response; his way of telling me I was in deep, and no amount of wheedling would wear him down. My grin vanished. He wasn’t there to help me escape. “Your mother called me.” My mother ganging up with my uncle was not good. She hated him most days. “Let’s go, Little Thief.” Little Thief. His nickname for me chafed. I glared in his direction, not really angry with him, but not wanting to admit that. He shouldn’t have been allowed to treat me like his partner in crime if he wasn’t going to let me out of the mess I’d caused, parole free.

He checked out with my principal, and I bid Millie a sullen goodbye while Uncle Todd led me away with a hand to my back. Slamming the door on his truck, I yanked his pick set from the console, and began picking one of the padlocks he kept in his car. He’d kept those in there for years, giving me the practice my mother wouldn’t approve of, and handing down his talents. He got in, and closed the door more gently than I. “This truck is held together with rust and duct tape. Don’t take your anger out on her.”

I gave him the cold shoulder, focusing on the lock in my hands. I had the first two tumblers down already.

“Purple glitter in sprinkler systems? That’s a new one.”

A smirk tugged at my mouth, but I hid it as best I could. He did not need to know how we pulled it off.

“If you ignore me, I'll let your mother take care of this. She said I could talk to you, but if you aren't going to talk back, then you're all hers when we get to your house. You've got fifteen minutes to convince me this won't happen again."

I couldn't help myself. I snorted. The man knew better than that, and one look at the side of his face told me even he knew he knew better than that. "What do you want me to say?"

He sighed. "Not that." I got a side long look I couldn't read. "Why'd you do it, Amy?"

I shrugged my shoulders, and gave my attention back to the lock. Three tumblers down. "Fun."

I could feel his eyes roll. "You going to do it again?"

"Of course not." The school would take precautions against future purple glitter showers.

"Do you think you can make it through the week without being your mother being called again?" I made a non-committal grunt. "Amy." I heard the warning in my stretched out name.

"I'll try."

I knew before he opened his mouth where he was going with my sullen half-promise. "Do or do not. There is no try." Complete with his impressionist Yoda voice, Uncle Todd had given me his award winning grin that had me melting into a fit of laughter, showing my eight-year-old ability to forget tension.

"Ok, ok. I'll do." I gave him a sneaky look after my peals of laughter faded. "Want make it a dare?"

He eyed me suspiciously, but I saw the smile in the look. "I'm listening."

"I make it the rest of the school year without getting Mom called, and you teach me how to drive Ruby." The truck was only his everyday vehicle. He kept an automatic 1968 GTO in pristine condition for special occasions.

He kept his cool. Only the slight widening of his eyes gave away any trepidation. He nodded slowly. "And if you don't," he smirked long ways at me. "You tell your mother who really broke her window, and how."

I gasped, only half-jokingly. My mother had screamed at Uncle Todd last month for "Playing ball too aggressively" in the backyard with me, when in reality I had slipped while climbing up the trellis next to the window, and sent my foot careening in. I left a conveniently baseball sized hole in the window, and Uncle Todd had taken the blame so I wouldn't have to explain that I'd been trying to see if I could break into my own room.

Giving Uncle Todd my best affronted look I shook my head. "You, sir, drive a hard bargain." I gave a dramatic sigh for effect. "But I accept." We shook hands, matching grins on our faces.

10 months later, Ruby and I got to know each other a lot better, and Uncle Todd got to watch as his life flew in front of his eyes when I screeched the brakes, stopping three inches in front of a tree trunk.