Lucas And The Time-Traveling Fog Party Animals
Chapter 6 Rebel

After I said that, Liz’s mother replied, “Well, this is it, finish this school year strong, sweetheart. I love you to the moon and back,” as she kissed the top of my head and gave me a hug to go with it. When she was hugging me, I couldn’t help but get a little teary-eyed. I mean, I know a man shouldn’t cry, but she is so nice regardless of how much she embarrasses me. I then had to say, “ I love you too, Mom.” But before Liz’s mom got back in the car, I couldn’t help myself but tell her, “Wait….Mom, before you go.”

She turned around and replied, “Yes, sweetheart?”

I then said, “I’m gonna miss you…. like...a lot.”

“Aww, I’m going to miss you too. come here.” That’s when I took that opportunity to hug and cry on her shoulder for a little bit. Hey, what can I say? I was in the moment, alright.

Her mother calmed me down by saying, “Oh baby, don’t cry. You’re going to be just fine; you’ve got plenty of friends and a roommate to keep you company. Just remember, we are only a two and a ½ hour drive away from your school.”

“Yeah…I know.” I said still sniffling.

“Good, now do me a favor and take this; you’ll need it more than me,” as she handed me a tissue.

I replied, “Thanks.”

“Well, we gotta go talk to you soon, Lizzie, buh-bye.” Her mother got in the car, and I saw all of Liz’s family members wave to me from the car as they left. That’s when I put that tissue to good use.

Now, the moment that the family waved goodbye to me and drove into the sunset is when everything changed. It all started when I woke up the very next morning in our dorm room, and for whatever reason, I decided to grab some bathroom utilities, extra clothes, and towels because I know girls need two. I put them in a bag and headed to the public showers for girls. It’s not like the guys’ showers at all where everybody groups up. For girls, it’s private. But something very strange occurred when I got in, turned the water on, and started washing myself. It started when it was time for my hair. That’s when I grabbed the shampoo bottle that I subconsciously knew was hers without even looking at the bottles that I grabbed at random. I just knew which one to grab.

That’s not all. I somehow know how to do her hair and put on makeup too. Like, how does a guy without having any sisters and never watched a single makeup tutorial video on Youtube know how to do that kind of stuff? Oh, before I forget, today, I magically knew what specific outfit I should wear for what day, even though she had lots to choose from.

But that was the least of my worries apparently because I had no idea that my own mother would be the main problem. At first, the thought of me being in the same room as my mom would be great, kinda like being at home again, actually, and it honestly was like that, at least for the first week it was.

After that week, something in my mother changed. It was as if someone just flipped a switch. Once the sun goes down, she becomes the most rebellious and snarkiest person that I ever met. I thought I was the one causing her attitude, but oh boy was I wrong.

September 5th, 1985, it was a Thursday night, and I already knew all the lyrics to Cyndi Lauper’s Girls Just Want to Have Fun by heart now. I was in our dorm room and was in the zone writing an essay on my desk when I was interrupted by a strange drumming or loud tapping sound that caused me to draw a big line on my paper. As I was erasing the big line, I heard it again and this time decided to follow the noise to see where it was coming from. So, I turned around only to replace Margaret drumming her pencil on her desk. I was annoyed but brushed it aside, thinking she would stop soon, and continued writing. But she didn’t. The drumming didn’t stop. Instead, it only got louder and louder to the point where I could barely hear myself think. I had enough of this and kindly asked her, “Hey, can you please stop doing that? I’m trying to focus here.” She couldn’t hear me, or if she did, she didn’t stop.

So, I gave her a couple minutes and asked again, but this time, I knew she saw me and didn’t stop. Fuming with anger, I got up from my chair, marched over to her desk, and tapped her on the shoulder a few times. Margaret took off her headphones and asked, “What do you want?”

“What the heck are you listening to?” I asked.

She answered, “Motley Crue, do you want to listen?”

I replied, “No...I actually--”

She interrupted me and said, “Here, this is their latest album which is awesome!” She then put her headphones on my head and pressed play on her Walkman.

That’s when I heard the loudest screeching guitar sound of my life. I immediately took off the headphones and dropped them to the ground in shock. Margaret said, “Hey...you didn’t get to listen to the best part yet.”

I replied, “Oh, I heard enough. Since when did you listen to heavy metal?”

She answered, “Gosh...not you too. You know who you sound like just now?”

“Who?” I asked.

“You sound just like my mom,” she answered. “Always asking me those kinds of things. Well, mom, I started to listen to heavy metal when I was in high school. Is that ok?”

“Stop calling me mom. This is freaking me out,” I replied.