Waiting For Buses
The moment the bus arrived, Debbie told herself, that very moment. That was when she'd be able to tell Billy how she felt about him. Again. She could tell him that she was passionately in love with him and he could ignore her. Again. She just had to be brave enough.
"You're doing it again." Michael said. He pulled a lollipop from his pocket and handed it to her. "You're thinking about him."
Debbie unwrapped the lollipop, shoving the wrapper into the pocket of her too short school dress. "Do you think he knows?"
Michael shrugged. "Of course he knows. You tell him every year. So do I. He just prefers to ignore us, you know. He's probably fucking some stick thin ballet dancer in London. Maybe more than one."
"Why do we keep on telling him?"
"I don't know." Michael stared at the sky. "Maybe we're just stupid or something. Anyway, this is our last chance, isn't it."
Debbie looked at him. "What do you mean?"
"Didn't he tell you? He thinks he's found a job. He won't be able to come back for holidays anymore, will he."
"So we won't see him anymore?"
Michael grinned. "Not unless we go to London."
"I think I'd like London." Debbie leaned her head to the side, contemplating.
"They'd eat you alive."
She bit on her lip. "Maybe I should just ask him to fuck me."
Michael grabbed her arm and laughed. "A brilliant idea, Debbie. Maybe I should do it too."
"We can do it when he gets off the bus."
"No, I think we'd better get him drunk first."
Michael wrapped his arms around Debbie and squeezed her. She kicked at the ground in front of her. The bus was late, she thought.
"Why haven't we fucked, Debbie?"
"You're a poof, remember."
"Right. But you know I'd make an exception for you, right."
"Fuck off, Michael."
He lay a head on her shoulder as they watched Billy's bus roll in.