I wrote this today out of sheer boredom. School starts next week, and when I'm at Hill I'm sure I won't be able to write pieces, so I'm just trying to get as many done as possible. Oh, and don't try to deconstruct this. It's just more of a something to get me back into the swing of writing.

Brian's Dad

Well, admiring Brian's Dad was not something that I would ever admit to. It was not something that I would flaunt about. I'd probably seen him around town at the grocery store or whatever only once or twice when I met him picking Brian up from band practice. I was there picking up my little sister, Megan.

The practice was running over, so I hopped out of my air condition-less car and sat with my back against the brick band hall. I could feel the vibrations though the wall. They were practicing. The sun was setting. I was watching it and didn't notice that Brian's Dad was approaching me until he was right there. He smiled.

"They're not out yet?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay."

And he just stood there, looking at the pink-orange sunset himself, facing away from me and biting his lip. He had a nice jaw, I noticed. It protruded.

"You go to school here?" he turned to me suddenly, and I was caught off guard. I feared he'd suspected I'd been staring at him.

"No, no." I shook my head. "I go to the high school."

"Oh. That's cool."

"Yeah."

And that was the end of our conversation. Junior highers came filing out of the hall, and he went over to the boy I'd made Megan point our to me when I'd asked her who that dashing, tall, muscular man had been (I didn't say those words, obviously). She'd laughed and pointed at a freckly, small boy. "That's Brian's Dad."

I got no last name. I didn't hear the man's first name or his age. My younger sister just followed that statement with, "he's in seventh grade."

Being a junior myself, I knew that I wasn't anywhere near old enough to lust after Brian's Dad.

"Come on, kiddo," I took my 6th grade sister's hand and we walked over to my car. Brian's Dad acknowledged me with a head nod as I walked past him. I returned it.

When we got in my car, Megan smiled at me. "How's Jenny? Did you drop her off? I like her."

"Yes," I smiled, talking about my girlfriend. I'd been going with her for four months, and we'd just gone to prom together. "I dropped Jenny off before driving over here to get you."

That statement satisfied my sister into silence, a silence I relished in while driving home, deciding that when I got home, I'd take a cold shower and then call my girlfriend. I tried to ignore the small voice in my head that told me that picking my sister up from band practice every day could be something I could get used to.