Debbie the Dumb Gold Digger

Many of the seniors had a last period free in the afternoon, and Amy was among them. Gretchen was driving her younger cousin to a dental appointment, while Seth and Kelly were preparing for an afternoon of holding hands while staring into each other's eyes, so Amy made her way home to an empty house, her parents at work and Josh at daycare.

While walking to the house, Amy noticed that the plant beds that grew close to the garage were getting dry due to the unusually warm spring weather of late. She retrieved her Walkman from inside along with a watering can, and while listening to music, set to work watering the plants.

So absorbed was Amy in her music as she watered the last of the plants closest to the garage that she failed to hear the noise of a car turn into their driveway at great speed while in the wrong gear. It was only when the teenager cast a casual glance towards the road as she walked in front of the garage door that she saw the automobile headed straight for her at speed. Her pretty brown eyes filled with horror, her heart racing and the shock sending waves of adrenaline through her body, Amy flung herself to one side, her dark blue pleated skirt flying up showing off her white bikini style panties with flowers of various different styles and colors as she went sprawling.

Amy braced herself for the sound of the car crashing into the garage door at speed, but instead the brakes squealed as it screeched to a halt just an inch from the door and sat over-revving. In a cold sweat and her heart still pounding in her chest, Amy got to her feet breathing heavily. On shaky legs, her mind starting to clear, Amy had no difficulty in recognizing her grandfather's car or her grandfather at the wheel. Smoothing down her skirt and removing her headphones, Amy was grateful that she had been to the bathroom just before leaving school otherwise she would have suffered a most embarrassing fate. She also wondered about how many years her narrow escape from being crushed to death against the garage had taken off her life, and thought that by about 2020 Seth and Josh would refer to her as their late sister or would tell people they met that they once had a sister called Amy, but she had died young.

Oblivious to the fact that he had nearly killed one of his granddaughters, Stan turned off the car's ignition and staggered out of the door. He looked at Amy and gave her a friendly wave. "Hi Fran."

"Amy," the girl reminded her grandfather.

Stan's face took on a confused expression. "No you're Fran, my son Warren's wife, the pretty Italian girl. Amy's your daughter, she's a little kid. It was her and her brother's fourth birthday the other day. Mary made her a new dress and we all took the two kids to that new Sears Tower building for the day."

Straight away, Amy knew her grandfather was on one of his trips back to the past. The day he described did indeed match her limited memories of her and Seth's fourth birthday, but this of course was more than 14 years ago. Given that Amy did look like her mother when she was younger, it no doubt added to the old man's confusion. "So, what are you doing here?" she asked.

"Have you seen Mary?" Stan asked. "She went to the store this morning, but she hasn't come back yet, and I'm starting to get worried. I thought she might have stopped by here. I went to see our friends Fred and Doris to see if Mary was there, but they must have moved without telling me because there was a Japanese family living there now."

Not for the first time, Amy felt a lump in her throat at the sadness of her grandfather looking around in vain for her late grandmother. And the friends Fred and Doris that Stan had spoken of had died a few months after Mary had. Swallowing hard to prevent tears welling in her eyes and running down her face, Amy's sadness turned to anger.

Her father had distinctly told Debbie not to let her grandfather drive, and just five days later he had turned up driving his car, completely confused. He had nearly consigned Amy to an early grave or life in a wheelchair, and the girl hated to think what havoc her grandfather had created on the roads over here. She half expected a police car to turn into the driveway, but fortunately one did not. The only thing Amy was grateful for was that at least her grandfather had turned up here and not at a dangerous high rise housing project like Cabrini Green or one of the ghetto neighborhoods in South Chicago. Not only was Debbie stupid, but she was irresponsible too.

"So Fran, Mary hasn't been by here at all?" Stan wanted to know.

Amy was never sure whether it was better to play along with her grandfather when he was like this or to correct him, but decided on the former option given how confused he was. "You know Dad, I think Mom might have already gotten back and be wondering where you are," said Amy. "Why don't I drive you home now?"

"Thanks Fran, but I'll be okay to drive," said Stan.

"Yes, but you drive so much that I thought you might like to be driven for a change," Amy suggested.

"Okay, thanks Fran," said Stan, handing Amy the keys and getting into the passenger side, his granddaughter into the driver's seat. Amy was not overly familiar with driving a car with a stick-shift, but managed to drive the manual car far more competently than her grandfather, not that this was any great achievement.

"What about your kids?" Stan asked. "They're not at home alone are they?"

"Oh, Seth and Amy are having a play date with their friend Gretchen," said Amy casually.

"That's good," said Stan. "Before I forget, there's two girls staying at our house at the moment, one a blonde and the other a redhead. Mary must have invited them to stay, I think they're her sister's daughters. Time flies, they've grown up so much."

Amy's annoyance at the irresponsible Debbie grew as her grandfather's house came into sight. No doubt Debbie and her friend Vanessa had been out spending even more of Stan's money, and left the elderly man with access to his keys and vehicle. The teenager hoped they were back, as she was in a mood to confront the two girls, and there was no way she was pulling her punches. Amy pulled her grandfather's car to a halt in the driveway and exited the vehicle, and slammed the door closed.

Stan got out of the passenger side and looked at the lawn, which was neat and had been mowed within the last week. However, Stan clearly did not see it that way. "Look at how overgrown the grass is!" he exclaimed. "I'd better take care of it, I've got work tomorrow and I won't have time."

"Its fine," Amy assured her grandfather, but the old man was not about to listen to his granddaughter and made for the garage and retrieved a very old manual push-style lawnmower that he had purchased in the 1940s.

It had no blades and was rusty and should have been disposed of years ago, but Stan had no concept of this. He pushed the mower onto the lawn and began to push it back and forth, all the while making lawnmower noises, "Broom, broom, broom, broom, broom!"

A lady across the street looked across at the commotion, and shook her head at the sight of the elderly man across the road acting crazy as usual and went back inside. Leaving her grandfather to his noisy pretend lawn mowing, Amy walked to the front door. She was about to ring the bell, but noticed the door had been left ajar. Amy shook her head. Typical Debbie, anyone could have walked in. Without ringing the bell or knocking, Amy decided to walk in to prove her point to Debbie about leaving the house unlocked.

It wasn't long until Debbie came into Amy's line of sight when she emerged from the living room, the tall blonde barefoot and wearing a black tee-shirt and ultra-short black mini-skirt. Debbie was in a world of her own and did not see the younger girl at all.

"Hello Debbie," Amy called out.

Not expecting anyone to be there scared Debbie, the girl screaming in shock and turning around to see the petite figure of Amy standing there, the teenager standing with her arms crossed.

"Amy, what are you doing there, you scared me," said Debbie, patting her chest.

"Good, because I got the fright of my life less than half an hour ago," said Amy.

Debbie as usual was confused. "So you came over here and scared me? You know, it's not very polite to let yourself into somebody else's house without knocking or ringing the bell, Amy."

"Except it isn't your house, is it Debbie? It's my grandpa's house. And I wouldn't have been able to get inside if you had locked the door like you should have done. You're lucky it was me, it could have been anyone. But most of all, I wouldn't be here at all if you would take some responsibility for once in your life."

Debbie stood perplexed by the angry teenager. She could only process one thing at a time very slowly, and Amy had thrown quite a lot of information at her that she could not process correctly. In the quiet of the house, the faint sound of somebody advancing the toilet roll inside the downstairs bathroom was audible. The toilet flushed and the taps ran and Vanessa emerged wearing a white tee-shirt and adjusting her acid wash denim jeans, her feet bare like Debbie's feet.

"Debbie, what's going on out here?" came her irritated voice. "Can't I even sit on the toilet and take a shit in peace and quiet ..."

Vanessa's voice trailed off as she saw the indignant Amy standing there. "What's Amy doing here?"

"I'm here because I nearly got killed when my grandfather drove his car into our driveway and nearly crushed me against the garage," spat Amy. "I practically wet myself."

"Ew!" exclaimed Debbie. "Amy, aren't you a little old to still be peeing yourself?"

Before Amy could say anything, Vanessa said impatiently, "Debbie, she didn't actually wet herself. She said 'practically', if she'd actually wet herself she would have said 'literally', wouldn't she?"

Debbie thought for a few seconds. "Dunno," she offered.

Vanessa looked Amy up and down. "You look like you're having a bad day. What's the matter kid, you got your period or something?"

Amy's slim body seethed with rage. "No I don't." She turned to Debbie. "I'm angry because you let Grandpa out on the road in his car. You were told the other night not to let him drive. Didn't you take his keys away?"

"Yeah," said Debbie.

"So what did you do with them?"

"I put them in Stan's bedside drawer."

Amy fumed. "And you didn't think that he might get them out and use them?"

Debbie shrugged. "So, he came back like he always did and there was no harm done."

"Apart from me nearly getting run over? And it's lucky that it was me there, it could have been my little brother. And one day, if he keeps driving he's going to cause a very serious accident and somebody will get killed."

"Gee, you've really got your panties in a bunch," said Vanessa, her laugh as though she thought all this a big joke getting on Amy's nerves even more. "That fiery European temper of yours is coming through."

Debbie spoke up. "Vanessa, Amy isn't European. Her Mom's family is Italian."

Amy gritted her teeth and Vanessa put her hand on her forehead, shaking her head. It was Vanessa who spoke up first. "It sounds like you have a real problem Amy, so why don't you just come out and say whatever you want to say?"

The younger girl saw no point in holding back. "Debbie, what are you doing here with my Grandpa? He's a very old and very sick man. When he arrived at my parents' house, he was looking for Grandma, and she's been gone over two years now. Now, he's outside pretending to mow the lawn. And Grandpa won't be with us very much longer."

Again, Debbie's pretty face showed confusion. "Where's he going?"

"I mean he's going to die!" spat Amy. "Debbie, don't you have any sense of shame? Would you be here if Grandpa had ten dollars to his name? All the stuff you get him to buy ..."

Amy stormed into the living room, the two older girls following. "Like the big TV over here." She pointed at the large, expensive television set.

"Why shouldn't we have nice things?" Debbie asked. "Stan likes the new TV."

"Grandpa doesn't even understand TV anymore," said Amy. Her pretty brown eyes spied something on the table – a traffic infringement issued to a Miss Vanessa Doyle, a check in the name of Stan Jenkins attached to it. Amy picked up both documents. "And I wouldn't call this a nice thing."

Amy saw her grandfather out the front windows, still in a world of his own pretending to mow the lawn. She turned back to Debbie. "Debbie, you're a very attractive young woman. If you want money without getting a job like normal people, why don't you find some yuppie and be his trophy girlfriend instead? What could you possibly have in common with my grandfather? Do you know when he was born?"

"Last Wednesday?" suggested Debbie. "You came here, remember?"

"Yes, to celebrate his birthday, not that there was much to celebrate," said Amy. "No, he was born on the tenth of April 1912. Do you know what else happened that day? The Titanic set sail on its maiden voyage."

Debbie thought for a few seconds. "But the Titanic wasn't real."

Amy was used to Debbie's dumb statements, but this was a new one even for her. "Yes, it was."

"No, it was in a movie I saw once. Movies aren't real, they're only make believe."

"It was a movie about the Titanic. There's been quite a lot of movies made about the Titanic, and they may even make even more movies about it. But the Titanic was a real ship and it sank on April 15 1912 – 79 years ago today actually. Grandpa was a five day old baby when it happened."

Amy could see that Debbie did not really believe her, and Amy looked at Vanessa for support. But Vanessa seemed too amused to interject. "Don't look at me, this is all news to me," she said smugly.

"I'm confused, so was Stan on the Titanic?" asked Debbie.

"Of course not," snapped Amy impatiently, wishing she was on the actual Titanic so icy water would put an end to this conversation. "Debbie, do you know who was President when Grandpa was born?"

Debbie thought about it. "Abraham Lincoln?"

"No, William Taft," said Amy, becoming even more irritated by the presence of the smirking Vanessa.

"I've never heard of him," said Debbie.

"So I gathered," said Amy. "And when Grandpa was born, George V was the King of England."

Debbie giggled. "You're not fooling me. I know that England has a Queen not a King."

"They have a Queen now, but back in 1912 they had a King," fumed Amy.

Debbie again looked bemused, thinking of her next question in real time before saying, "I'm confused again, so why are you talking about the Titanic and this real old King and President I've never heard of?"

"I was using them as examples to show how old Grandpa is and how you could have nothing in common, but obviously that didn't work," said Amy. "Let me put it another way, when Grandpa was born the Chicago Cubs' World Series drought was only four years old."

"Haven't the Cubs won the World Series since ..." Debbie tried to work out which year was four years before 1912, but was unable to do so.

"Since 1908," Amy said.

"Really, I thought they won it a few years ago?" asked Debbie.

"No, they haven't won it for 83 years."

"When will they next win it?" Debbie wanted to know.

"In 2016," said Amy sarcastically, picking that future year at random.

"Really?"

"How should I know?" Amy snapped, her bad humor not improved by Vanessa's smug sniggering.

"You get how life is like for me now, don't you?" Vanessa asked Amy. "Sometimes, it's like I have my own pet dodo bird."

"Aren't dodo birds extinct?" Debbie asked.

"Not all of them," said Vanessa.

Debbie as usual missed the sarcasm. "Oh, that's good. I'd love to see a dodo flying around."

"I'm writing a book you know," said Vanessa to Amy. "It's a book about all the dumb things Debbie says and does. So far, it's longer than War and Peace."

"Is War and Peace like an encyclopedia or something?" Debbie asked.

Amy could see the conversation had well and truly run off the tracks, and was keen to make her point to Debbie and Vanessa. "Can't you see that you being here doesn't help Grandpa at all? He doesn't know who is dead and who is alive most days. He thought I was my mother earlier. He needs to be in a safe place where people take care of him properly. The last thing he needs is to live with you Debbie."

"Wow, don't sugar-coat it Amy," said Vanessa.

"I am sugar-coating it," said Amy. "You two vultures need to go and find somebody else to use as your meal ticket. Just leave my Grandpa alone, okay."

"I might not have been in the smart classes in school, but I know one thing and that is that there is not a single thing you can do about it," said Debbie.

"Yes, but I can tell you how absolutely sick and fucked up I think all this is, Debbie," said Amy. "Poor Grandpa thinks Grandma is still alive, and then you get into bed with him for um, relations ..." She shuddered. "I don't even like to think about it." A magazine caught Amy's eye lying on the table – a magazine that one aged under 18 could not purchase. She opened the magazine to the pictorial of an attractive young African-American model explicitly demonstrating that black girls have bright pink vaginas and held it up for the two older girls to see. "And you buy pornography for him to read? Do you have any idea what this filth does to his mind?"

"You know what I see?" Vanessa asked.

"No, what do you see Vanessa?" Amy snapped back.

"I see a hypocritical little lesbian who is up on her high horse when she doesn't know all the facts," said Vanessa. "You say the magazine is filth, but if you looked through that your panties would be soaked through in less than a minute."

Amy stopped short, her skin turning hot. "What?" she stammered. "That's ridiculous, I'm not a – well one of those women."

"You can deny it all you like," said Vanessa. "But the evidence says otherwise."

"What evidence?" asked Amy.

"That you always look up my skirt and smell my panties when you get a chance," said Debbie. "And it's not just me, I know you do it to your brother's girlfriend Kelly too."

"That's ridiculous Debbie," said Amy. "I don't have to listen to these lies."

"I've seen you doing it," said Debbie. "When you came over for Easter, you snuck away and I saw you getting my panties out of the hamper and smelling the saddle. And yesterday, when I went upstairs to go to the bathroom I saw your reflection in a mirror when you were in Kelly's bedroom. I know that you got a pair of Kelly's panties – the white panties with violets on them – out of her laundry hamper and were smelling them."

"How did you know Kelly's panties were white with violets on them?" Amy asked.

"And how do you know what your brother's girlfriend's panties were like?" asked Vanessa.

Amy stopped short, knowing that she had talked herself into a corner. She knew she could outwit Debbie – this wasn't difficult as a sheep or a turkey could outwit Debbie – but the more streetwise Vanessa had come through and delivered checkmate. "I didn't, Debbie said they were ..." Amy stammered, before Vanessa put her finger over Amy's lips to stop her talking.

"I think you'd better come upstairs with us so you can see how things really work around here," said Vanessa.

Her heart racing, Amy followed Vanessa and Debbie upstairs and even though nervous and confused, the younger girl could not help but look at the attractive bottoms of the two older girls, Vanessa's through her acid wash jeans and Debbie's through her black mini-skirt.

"This is your Grandpa's bedroom," said Debbie, showing Amy into the room, which was still decorated the same as when Mary was alive. The three girls then went into an adjacent bedroom, which was more girly in design. "And this is my bedroom."