ˢᵖᵒʳᵃᵈⁱᶜ

✧˚.🎀༘⋆

[ dinner with the horowitz ]

𝐈𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬?

The columns date all the way back to 1972. 

You entered the house as you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Pulling out your exam paper, you smiled at the large A- on the upper right-hand corner. "Hi daddy!" you called, seeing him walking down the stairs in his button up and dress pants. 

"Y/N, get ready. We're going to the Horowitz in half an hour," he said, and you scoffed. 

"Geez, you could've given me a warning."

"This is my warning."

You sighed, "It takes me half an hour to pick out a lipstick color."

Venturing upstairs, you shrugged off your school clothes as you soon decided on a satin cream top, plaid yellow, pink and blue skirt, single strapped heels and some golden accessories.

Lucy opened the door, and you politely waved at her. You and your father walked through the house, soon coming across the kitchen. The second you came into view, Cher jumped up from her seat. The two of you squealed, rushing into each other's arms, hugging one another. "How long has it been since they've seen each other?" Josh asked Dean, the pair watching the sight before them. 

"Since school ended," he answered. 

"And that was how long ago?"

"One hour."

"Hi, Mr. Horowitz," you greeted, and the man smiled, nodding his head in greeting before the two men of the house clapped hands and embraced. You turned your gaze over to the brunette, eyes lighting up. "Oh, my gosh, Josh!"

"Hey, Y/N," he smiled, standing up. You wrapped your arm arms around his shoulders as he did the same to your waist.

You let go of him, still grinning. "So, how's college going?"

"Pretty good. I've been thinking about studying environmental law-."

"When did you get so boring? Oh, wait, you've always been a buzzkill," Cher interrupted, practically ripping you away from Josh who sneered. She sat you down beside her and you chuckled at her childish behavior. 

For a while, idle chatter rang around the table, before the topic of future came into play. "So, Dean, have you given any thought to our discussion about neurosurgery?" your father wondered. 

"Well, uh, yeah, but I really think I'd like to check out paramedicine," he admitted.

"What for? You want to have a miserable, frustrating life?"

"Oh, Dean will have that no matter what he does," you nodded, and a loud snort escaped Cher, causing you to look at her with wide eyes and a suppressed giggle.

"At least he knows what he wants to do." You rolled your eyes at your father's usual retort. "And he's already getting early offer guarantees from numerous good colleges."

"He's also a Senior. I don't really have to be thinking about that right at this very second," you muttered.

"Either way, I'd like to see you have a little bit of direction," he finished. 

"I have direction," you grumbled, chomping into another asparagus. 

"Yeah. Towards the mall," Dean countered, and you squinted at him with a glare, kicking his shin with your heeled foot, causing him to clench his jaw and take a breath, holding his hands up. Mel and your father gave him an odd look but brushed it off.

"Which reminds me, Y/N, Cher, where's your report cards?" Mel questioned. 

"It's not ready yet," the blonde girl stated.

"What do you mean it's not ready yet?"

"Well, some teachers were trying to lowball us," you said with a sad tone. 

"And we know how you say never accept a first offer, so we figure these grades are a jumping-off point to start negotiations," Cher continued, and the two of you smiled sweetly. 

"Very good," Mel praised with a slow nod of his head. The phones suddenly started ringing, and everyone at the table picked theirs's up. 

"Yeah?"

"D?"

"Yeah, Jake. What? NO! NOT THE AFTENOON!"

"Jane, what's going on? I SAID IN-BRAIN TUMOR, NOT SKULLIAR REGION!"

And just like that, Mel and your father were gone, their screams filling the halls.  "You are such a brown-noser," you scoffed, glaring at Dean. 

"And you are such a superficial space cadet."

"What makes you think your teachers will change your grades?" Josh asked. 

"Only the fact that we've done it every other semester," you smirked.

I told my P.E. teacher an evil male had broken my heart. So, she raised my C to a B.

"They're horrible! Don't feel bad!" she soothed. 

"I feel so miserable. I can't eat, I can't sleep. I can't study," you cried.

Then we promised Miss Geist we'd start a letter-writing campaign to my congressman about violations of the clean air act.

But Mr. Hall was totally rigid. He said Cher's debates were unresearched, unstructured and unconvincing. As if!

"But, sir, just read them again," you pleaded, pointing at the papers in Cher's hands.

"I'm sorry, girls, but I will not change my mind." He shut the door on you, and you both leaned your heads against the door, sighing.

I felt impotent and out of control which I really hate. Cher and I needed to find sanctuary in a place where I could gather my thoughts and regain my strength.

After school, you found yourself at the mall, alongside Cher and Dionne. The blonde had just purchased a pair of earrings, and you and Dionne followed her with concerned looks. "Dude, what's wrong? Are you suffering from buyer's remorse or something?" the girl asked.

"God, no. Nothing like that," Cher sighed. "It's just that, we've been shopping all day, and I still don't know what to do about Mr. Hall. I've tried everything to convince him of my scholastic aptitude, but I was brutally rebuffed."

"Oh, get over it. He's a miserable little man who wants to make everyone else miserable too."

"That's it!" you exclaimed. "We've gotta figure out a way to make Mr. Hall sublimely happy!" You walked off with a smile as Dionne lifted the hat off of your head that you hadn't bought, Cher coming up beside you as she badgered you with questions. 

Here's the 411 on Mr. Hall: He's single, he's 47, and he earns minor ducats at a thankless job.  What that man needs is a good, healthy boink fest. Unfortunately, there was a major babe drought in my school. The evil trolls from the math department were actually married.

Ooh, snickers. 

And in the grand tradition of P.E. teachers, Miss Stoeger seemed to be same-sex oriented. Of course, there was always Miss Geist. Something told me not to discount Miss Geist. Well sure, she had runs in her stockings, and her slip is always showing, and she had more lipstick on her teeth than on her mouth.

"Popular uprisings from estates to the general assembly!" Geist proclaims as you watched her with a calculating gaze.

God, this woman is screaming for a makeover. I'm her only hope.

"'Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, but thy eternal summer shall not fade'," Dionne read over your shoulder as you finished the note.

"Did you write that?" Cher grinned. 

"Duh! It's like a famous quote," you shrugged. 

"From where?"

"Cliffs notes."

Your heads snapped up at the sound of the door opening and Miss Geist's voice ringing out from her office. You shoved the letter in, Dionne quickly throwing the single red rose inside too. You dashed out of the office, and the girls pressed their shoulders against yours as you pushed your faces against the glass.

Giest went to her cubby, taking out the papers. She lifted the rose to her nose, sniffing the nice scent, placing it down and picking up the letter. The woman opened the paper, eyes tracing over each poetic line, and you watched as her face grew into one of awe. 

"Oh, my God! She actually looked happy!" Dionne beamed as the three of you squealed.

"Oh, classic!" you grinned.

"Paradoasm Banofshon - 16 tardies to work off," Mr. Hall read aloud. The boy cursed something in another language, and his friends around him began cackling. "Janet Hong - No tardies."
She smiled, sarcasm at her lips, keeping her phone pressed to her ear. "Travis Birkenstock - 38 tardies. By far the most tardies in the class. Congratulations."

The class clapped and cheered for him, and you shook your head with a sigh, watching as he stood from his seat. "This is so unexpected," he said at the teacher's podium. "I, uh, didn't even have a speech prepared. Uh, but I would like to say this. Tardiness is not something you can do all on your own. Many, many people contributed to my tardiness. Uh, I'd like to thank my parents for never giving me a ride to school. The L.A. city bus driver for taking a chance on an unknown kid, and last but not least, the wonderful crew at McDonalds for spending hours making those egg McMuffins, without which, I might never be tardy."

Mr. Hall watched the boy leave with an incredulous look. "Well, if Mr. Birkenstock has no political messages to include in his speech, I'll go on. Cher Horowitz - two tardies."

"I object! Do you recall the dates of these alleged tardies?" she questioned. 

"One was last Monday."

"Mr. Hall, I was surfing the crimson wave. I had to haul ass to the ladies." You let out a gasped laugh, amused at her bluntness, though, Hall was not impressed, but mildly horrified. 

"I assume you are referring to women's troubles, and so, I'll let that one slide."

"Thank you, Mr. Hall." She then began to smile. "Miss Geist was right about you."

He looked up from his notebook, asking in a low voice, "What do you mean?"

"Well, she said that you were the only one in this school with any intelligence. Right, Y/N?"

"Those exact words," you confirmed. You grinned at the sight of his confused, yet very happy smile.

At lunch, you were holding up my compact mirror, touching up your lips with some lip gloss. Amber sat down beside you and began gushing over the shade as you, of course, gatekept of the color. "Would you call me selfish?" Cher asked Dionne, seeing as you were occupied. 

"No. Not to your face," Dionne said, then looked at her. 

"Really?"

"What's wrong? Is Josh giving you shit because he's going through his post-adolescent idealistic phase?"

"Look, there's Mr. Hall!" you suddenly said, standing up. The girls followed after you as you dashed to your teacher. "Mr. Hall!"

"Mr. Hall! Um, do you drink coffee?"

"Oh, not from this cafeteria. But, uh, yes, under normal circumstances."

"Well, I am such a r*tard. When I was packing daddy's lunch this morning, I gave him my lemon snapple and I took his sucky Italian roast. Do you want it?" She opened the lid, lifting it to his nose so that he could inhale the rich sent. 

"Are you sure you don't want it? Or you, Y/N? I've seen you with five coffee cups at your desk sometimes."

"No! It might stunt my growth. I wanna be 5'10" like Cindy Crawford," you said. "But we thought that maybe you or Miss Geist might like it."

"Maybe you could share it," Dionne added. 

"Well...thanks."

"Sure." She handed him the cup. As he walked off, the three of you shared a knowing smirk and a shrug.