Missy: A Short Story

I frowned at Missy. She mirrored my look. I said, “Huh?” Cathy touched my shoulder. Her smile was soft and kind. “I think he means you two got a little out of control.” She looked at Missy. “Do you two…” Her words trailed off. “What?” I asked. The director stepped up to us. “Vut is going on?” Cathy winked at Missy, then leaned in toward the director. “I think we have a case of puppy love.” Missy gasped. She mounted her hands on her hips and dropped her mouth open as if she’d been falsely accused of murder. “This isn’t puppy love.” She spoke with a pout to her voice. I said, “Yeah. I don’t own a puppy.” Cathy smiled and ruffled my hair. “Cute.” A vibrating buzz caught our attention. The director reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. …show more content…

Craig and Missy both nodded and repeated, “Yeah. Hace pipí. Hace pipí.” She asked, “Ustedes haces pipí en la cama?” Craig and Missy kept nodding as they repeated, “Ustedes haces pipí en la cama.” A bus squeaked to a stop and opened its door. The old lady grabbed her bag and sneered at all three of us. “Ustedes tres son un asco!” She spat out the last word as if she were really mad at us. We remained on the curb as she stepped onto the bus. The door closed and they pulled away. Craig asked, “What’d she say?” I shrugged. “I’m guessing hace pipí doesn’t mean hotel.” Missy mounted her hands on her hips. “So now what do we do?” I was about to give her another, “I have no idea,” when Craig stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out a loud whistle. Missy asked, “What was that for?” Craig whistled again and waved a hand high above his head. A second later, a taxi cab squeaked to a stop in front of us. Craig stepped forward and opened the door, sweeping a hand for Missy and me to get in. I jumped in with Craig and Missy jumping in a second later, our hips knocking against each other. Missy, the last to get in, closed the door, and we were hit with a strong scent of …show more content…

He looked frail and crusty, as if he had recently been brought back from the dead. “They just some kids.” He spoke with a long, drawn-out southern drawl, as if each word was a struggle. “How we know they from the movie?” Two little girls with stringy pigtails and dirty, white skirts looked up at us with huge, white eyes, staring like we were aliens. A chubby little boy stepped up wearing a Pankyland T-shirt. He picked his nose and rubbed it against the Panker’s smiling cartoon face. I cringed. Craig twisted his tongue in his mouth. Missy, on the other side of him, furled her brow but remained speechless. She sucked in the side of her lips. “They from the movie,” the taxi lady said. “You watch when it comes out. Then you’ll see.” Another lady, this one very pretty, about my mom’s age, marched up from behind. Her eyes widened at the sight of us. “Uh…” She placed a hand on her hip, pointed at us, but looked to the taxi lady. “Where’d you get these kids?” Taxi lady straightened and spoke proudly. “They actors from Pankyland the Movie.” “I didn’t ask who they were. I asked where’d you get them?” Taxi lady shrugged. “They…you know…got in my