The Bucket List [ON HOLD]

The Bucket List - Part 5

“Bright-eyes,” Chance greeted Carmenas we stood outside, waiting for the rest of us to come. School was out, and we were all tagging along Ian and Carmen to witness their first completion of something on the Bucket List. Even in my mind, those two words were always capitalized.

“Hottie,” Carmen acknowledged nonchalantly, leaning lazily against a stone wall. 

“Hey,” Chance greeted me as well, his eyes briefly meeting mine and then he looked away, towards a group of girls walking past.

The one thing good about uniforms-you sure get creative. Fridays were the only casual-clothes days. Carmen, over the past years, showed up steadily wearing less and less.

I scowled at those girls, as at first they giggled, aware of Chance’s attention, but then caught my glare and hurriedly pushed past to get away quicker. Watching their retreating backs, I remembered too late about Amber saying people were beginning to hate us. Oh, well. 

I ignored Chance to the best of my abilities, but ever since his touch this morning, it was getting harder. It gave me a queer ache, and I felt inexplicably disappointed by his flat greeting. “Stunner” had been an annoying nickname, but I only realized that I’d treasured it now... when I lost it.

Lacy and Greg came up to us at the same time, and looked at one another in bewilderment, clearly having just noticed each other. 

“We weren't walking together,” Greg clarified, pointing at Lacy, just in case someone dared assume such a thing. 

Lacy scowled, rolling her eyes. “Fantastic. Now the solar system is all aligned again.”

Greg didn’t get it. 

The only one we were waiting for now was Ian, who was kind of crucial since he was Carmen’s partner. I still didn’t know which one they’d chosen to do out of their list, but I supposed I’d find out soon enough. 

“So...” Greg began, looking uncharacteristically thoughtful about something. “I’ve been thinking.” 

Chance gave a dramatic gasp, which Greg ignored. “Don’t you watch some kids for pay?” he asked Lacy, not using her name, and not quite looking her in the face either. 

“Yeah,” Lacy said slowly. “It’s called babysitting.”

“Right. What’s the youngest kid you babysit?” 

“He’s nine months old. Why?” Lacy asked suspiciously.

 Greg turned to me. “That’s a baby age, right, Allie?” he asked me, beaming. 

“Yeah...” I said, narrowing my eyes. None of us quite knew where this was going. 

“Perfect,” Greg said in satisfaction. “What’s their address? We’re gonna steal him,” he announced to Lacy in an authoritative voice reserved only for bimbos. 

Lacy gaped at him. “Have you finally lost your mind? One too many footballs to the noggin? We can’t just steal a baby!” she shrieked. 

Greg looked down at her calmly, being much taller than the petite girl. “Well, we’ve got to do it; it’s number twelve on our list. May as well be a kid you know.” 

Lacy looked outraged. “Absolutely not! Find your own baby to steal!” 

“Where am I supposed to get a baby?” Greg demanded impatiently. “You’re the motherly type anyway!” 

Lacy flushed, humiliated by the comment which hit home. “So motherly types don't kidnap nine-month olds!” she shouted. 

“Well I can’t do it, so clearly you’re going to have to!” Greg bellowed in exasperation while the rest of us watched silently at the insanity unfolding before us. “I want to make babies, not steal them!” he finished, breathing heavily and obviously feeling sorry for himself.