Chapter Seven

Homecoming

Now it was October. The trees had begun to turn an orange-y tan, and I had been managing to skip out of quite a few of the therapy sessions for “academic reasons”. Hopefully, sooner or later they would get off my ass, at least I hoped.

The school began to bubble over with Homecoming fervor. We were set to play Jerusalem High, our arch-rival, and so everyone was extraordinarily excited about the possibility of actually BEATING them this year.

There was also a huge rush over who was going to win Homecoming King and Queen. I really could not care less, but Hannah was obsessed. This was why I woke up on October 10th with her about an inch from my face.

“JUDAS! Who do you think will win?”

“GOD!” I screamed, “Hannah, why are you IN MY ROOM!” I immediately jumped up and hurled the nearest object – a pillow – in her direction.

“Well, SORRY, JUDAS, but I was just asking a question. I was TRYING to be NICE.”

“Yeah, well, next time save the questions until after I wake up, okay, Hannah?” I shot back, “And for your information, I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

She tsk-tsked me, as if I was a six-year-old asking a stupid question.

“Judas, you know what I mean. Homecoming King and Queen. Do you think I’ll win?”

“Well,” I groaned, “since you’re a sophomore, you won’t have to out-evil the Blairs. I think you’re a shoo-in.”

“REALLY?” she squealed.

“Yes. Now PLEASE GET OUT OF MY ROOM.” I looked over at the clock and noted that it was 5AM. I screamed.

When I finally got Hannah away from my bed (it was all very traumatizing indeed, I’m telling you), I rushed downstairs, ate lunch, and went to go meet the guys at the corner. Since we didn’t live terribly far from JHS, we’d developed a system of meeting each other on Parker Blvd., around the corner from King’s Cross. Jesus, Simon, and John were already there, and Simon and John were apparently playing some kind of card game.

“Yeah, yay, we can finally get going,” said Simon impatiently.

“Since when are YOU eager to get to school?” asked John, “Especially with all of this stupid Homecoming insanity.”

“You do indeed have a point, but I’m bored. I’m looking to get into a fight with this one really annoying Roman in my third block class.”

“That’s nice,” I replied, raising an eyebrow, “My sister woke me up at 5AM to ask me if I think she’s going to win Homecoming Queen.”

“Who’s nominated for our grade?” asked Simon.

“Eh, the usual,” I groaned, “Julia Blair, Pilar Chesley, Antonia Claudia whatever, and Mary Magdalene.”

“Mary’s nice,” Jesus said.

“Yeah, ‘cause you went on a date with her,” I replied, rolling my eyes. Simon cat-called. Jesus shrugged.

“She’s a nice girl,” he said again.

“I’m sure she is,” said John with a wink, “Let’s get going.” We started walking towards JHS.

“You guys, please don’t talk about her that way,” Jesus said sternly. I rolled my eyes, but we all shut up.

When we arrived at JHS, many people were running around, and the Student Council (headed by Pilate and Claudia) was decorating for Homecoming in the JHS colors of blue and gold. Hannah was already at school, handed out leaflets to most of the sophomores and giggling, “Vote Hannah!” eagerly.

This was going to be a long day.

Later that night, I signed on to AIM. I decided to make a chat.

Iscariot88 has entered the room.

BaptistPlaya has entered the room.

DwnwithRme has entered the room.

MessiahPower has entered the room.

Iscariot88: Hey what’s up?

BaptistPlaya: Judas you need a more inventive screen name.

Iscariot88: yeh well… maybe you should come up w/ one for me…

MessiahPower: …..he came up with MINE, Judas.

Iscariot88: Eh, good point.

DwnwithRme: Did you hear! LANTA might be going on strike!

MessiahPower: Seriously?

BaptistPlaya: OH SHIT!

MessiahPower: …language?

BaptistPlaya: Sorry.

Iscariot88: LANTA CAN’T go on strike! I’ll be stuck with HANNAH this weekend!

MessiahPower: You can come over my house.

Iscariot88: That works.

DwnwithRme: Hey, you guys. If Ben Franklin were alive today, what would he say?

BaptistPlaya: What?

MessiahPower: I don’t know…

Iscariot88: What?

DwnwithRme: LEMME OUT! LEMME OUT!

BaptistPlaya: LMAO

Iscariot88: Bah, g2g

MessiahPower: Bye!

DwnwithRme: See ya.

BaptistPlaya: See ya.

Iscariot88 has left the room.

Although I appreciated Jesus’ offer, I couldn’t just camp out over his house. Or maybe I could. I hoped I wasn’t wearing out my welcome, but a weekend with Hannah was the most terrifying possibly I had ever considered. What was LANTA THINKING, going on strike at the one time I really needed them? I turned on the TV.

“LANTA has announced its intentions to strike in response to company refusal to pay for all of LANTA worker’s health-care premiums. The companies have offered that LANTA pay five percent of their health-care premiums, but the workers do not want to pay any. Back to you, John.”

“UGH!” I exclaimed aloud, “What assholes!” Unfortunately, my mother had apparently heard my outburst, and made her way into the computer room.

“Judas, what’s wrong?” she inquired.

“Just these stupid LANTA,” I grumbled, “They’re on strike again.”

“Well,” said my mother, winking, “We could all drive out to Dorney Park.”

“In October?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s still fairly hot out,” she replied.

“Eh,” I shrugged, “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll go over Jesus’ and see if he’s got anything planned.”

“Well, you know, Judas, I’m always glad to see that you ended up with such a good friend.” With that, she walked out. I blinked.

I guess maybe I’d never really thought of it that way before. I thought over her comments with a touch of annoyance, but also maybe a touch of realization. I mean, how long had Jesus and I been friends, anyway? Since we both moved to Nazareth, at least. That was a long time indeed. I knew I always had somebody I could come to about the stupidest crap, someone I could call up at 4AM in the morning if I had to – not that I would even ever be UP at 4AM in the morning, you’d have to be nuts.

Maybe, just maybe, I’d survive freshman year after all.

The actual Homecoming game was set for that Friday. Everyone was still busy raising money and doing weird things in order to celebrate. There would be a pep rally on Friday as well, which I was completely dreading.

“There is no way I want to see Hannah in action,” I groaned, “Not to mention, seeing Amy again after that disaster of a crush.”

“Well, you could skip the pep rally,” suggested Simon.

“Skip a pep rally?” Peter said, rolling his eyes, “You’d get caught, and that would be stupid.”

“Would they actually CHECK?” asked Simon incredulously, “I mean, it’s all these idiots running around, right? Like they’re going to find time to go, ‘Hey, where’s Judas Iscariot’?”

“Ugh, I guess I might as well go,” I submitted, “Yay. Yay. Judea. Not.”

“Well, who knows, we could win this year,” Jesus said.

“Yeah. Right,” chimed Simon, John, and I.

“Pessimism…” Jesus chided. I rolled my eyes.

“Well, tomorrow is Crazy Hat Day,” said John.

“I see,” said Jesus, raising an eyebrow, “What are you planning? I know you’re planning something, so out with it.”

“Well, actually I have something planned for Thursday – ‘role reversal day’,” John replied.

“Never mind!” Jesus interceded, “Forget I asked.” I grinned.

“Anyway, so what is everyone doing this weekend? LANTA’s on strike, so what are we to do?” I asked.

“We could go to the Dollar Store,” Jesus suggested. I rolled my eyes. He had this thing about the Dollar Store. He was fascinated by it.

“All right,” I acquiesced, “Then, want to rent a movie and go back to your house to play the Genesis?”

“That works,” he replied, “Simon, Peter, John, you guys interested?”

“Yeah,” Simon said.

“Me too,” chimed John.

“Nah, I’ve got a wedding to go to,” Peter said, “My cousin I’ve never met is marrying someone else I’ve never met.”

“That’s always exciting,” I said.

The week went down to Friday without too much hassle. Whatever John had been planning for “role reversal” day, apparently either Jesus, his parents, or both talked him out of it. Now, it was the day of the big game. We were sitting in the “freshman” section, with a poster that stated, “Almost Heaven, Class of ‘07”. (Yeah, it was kind of stupid. I think Caiaphas came up with it.) After a few moments, John had wandered over from the sophomore section (“Class of ’06 is in the mix”) and was sitting amongst us.

The cheerleaders were doing a routine as the announcers named each of the teams. The tennis team (to my surprise, Claudia was a member – who knew SHE had any athletic ability?), the soccer team, the volleyball team, the field hockey team (of which many of the cheerleaders were also members – gag), and of course the three football teams – freshman, JV, and varsity.

“And our new star on the freshman football team – number thirty-two – JOSEPH CAIAPHAS!” yelled the announcer. There were cheers from the cheerleaders and many members of the audience, and polite clapping from Jesus. I turned to my friend.

“You notice he has the same number as O.J. Simpson?” I said. Jesus looked at me. “What? He does!”

“And our 2006 Lady Centurion Cheerleaders, led by HANNAH ISCARIOT!”

“Who in the world named them the Centurions?” asked Peter.

“Romans,” said Simon, rolling his eyes.

“So, we’re set for Sunday, right?” I inquired.

“Definitely,” Jesus said, “Just come over and ring the bell.”

“That works,” said Simon, “About noon or so?”

“That works,” Jesus replied.

“Hey, they’re dismissing people,” John pointed out.

“FINALLY!” Simon exclaimed. When the teachers dismissed the freshman, we walked out and quickly went to our lockers. People were running up and down the hallways screaming the number of their graduating class, which was really so incredibly mature indeed.

Saturday was dreadfully boring, but since Jesus was stuck down at the temple I was pretty much screwed for companionship. I could have called up Simon or John, but John was probably with Jesus and I felt weird contacting Simon on my own.

And so I did the following: slept, ate, played Tetris, checked LiveJournal, did a survey, and twiddled my thumbs. I also laid on the couch and watched Murder in Greenwich, in which the guy who was supposed to be Mark Fuhrman looked absolutely nothing like him.

Then, it was Sunday. I woke up, ate, played a game of Final Fantasy against Jadie, and then headed down to Jesus’ house. It was weird, I had a PlayStation, but I always ended up going over Jesus’ and playing the Sega Genesis. I guess I had a taste for the retro or something.

I walked up and rang the doorbell. Kristina came to the door.

“Judas?” she inquired.

“Hey, Kristina. Is Jesus home?”

“Yeah,” Kristina said, opening the door and motioning for me to come inside, “He’s upstairs.” I made my way up to Jesus’ room and knocked on the door.

“Hey, Judas,” he said, quickly standing up and walking over to me. “Simon and John should be over soon. Do you want a Coke or anything?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” I replied, “Can we play a game of Columns?”

“Sure!” He plugged in the Genesis and handed me a controller. He, as usual, won each time. Soon after our third game, the door rang and Simon and John made their way in.

“The FUUUUN has arrived,” sang John.

“Oh, thank you for quoting Tarzan,” dead-panned Simon.

“So, we’re going to the Dollar Store, right?” I asked, shrugging. I would rather get outside after a day of sitting around doing nothing.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Jesus replied, “Let me just get my jacket.”

And so we walked down to the Dollar Store and began examining all the weird things that it sells that, on the whole, no one would want even if they were paid to buy them. Simon and John, upon walking inside, immediately began an imitation Nerf-football fight. After about five minutes, this got all of us kicked out of the store, but it was fairly amusing while it lasted. Jesus was left to apologize for them while the rest of us were swatted out the door by cashiers carrying feather-dusters and window-blinds.

And then we went home. I think that was the most successful day in October, possibly in the entire school year.