I didn't care. Two hours later, I returned home, ready to celebrate my birthday. The only thing that bugged me was, mother didn't seem to notice the difference between one of my modern oven wonders and this trite effigy to a woman's place in the home. She had two helpings. I carved a narrow slice but couldn't swallow more than a few bites of it's sawdust like consistency. I begged baker's snacking as an excuse for being full. I did notice mom's extra helpings of whipped cream and ice cream with each slice. Perhaps she was just being polite.That's when she pulled out the condom. Shit, I exclaimed to myself as I entered my room. I poisoned my own mother with fossilized cake mix! All those chemical stabilizers and texturizers and artificial flavors and colors must have combined into a hella-psychoactive drug! I'd better call the doctor!Right, and tell her what? Mommy's acting like a sourpuss? She's delirious, under the influence of bad cake? I'd hate the see the doctor's bill for that. ”An hour’s detention meant I wouldn’t be able to take the minibus so I’d miss the race. “But...” I started to protest.“If you object, I’ll double it,” threatened Mrs Crocker.I looked at Eugenie. Why wasn’t she saying anything on my behalf? After all, she had instigated the kiss. She refused to meet my eyes, looking down at the floor.I set off towards Mrs Crocker’s office. When I was out of sight, I doubled back round the outside of the building and returned to the minibus. Coach Budd had arrived and the team were milling around him as he checked off their names.“Randell, I’m so glad you could make it,” he said somewhat sarcastically, since it was now just after the meet-up time.“Coach, I’ve got a problem,” I said.“Not another injured runner,” he groaned.“No, but Mrs Crocker has just given me a one-hour detention and it’s in progress now.”“What did you do, Randell?” he sighed.“Public display of affection with Eugenie Butler-Walker.”“That’s ridiculous. Everyone knows you’re gay. Come.
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