Air Freshener

I had to go to school today in my scout uniform. I see other boys there in theirs, but I never feel like I'm a part of them – in fact, I make fun of them in silence. I mean, why wear something to school, a place where you try to express maturity, dressed in an outfit that everyone associates with childhood?

I imagine it's how everyone looks at me, so I tend not to say anything to them – the others who look like me.

Always be prepared is the scout's motto that we are supposed to carry through life. Being a scout is all about being prepared for what life may throw at you, not just in the wild but in the city as well. Well, I had not been prepared for Gym class today at all. And because of it, I had had to do all of the required exercises in my scout uniform. And while not getting a demerit for not being in proper uniform, I had sweated so much that my underarms now feel like I've been hosed down by a runaway sprinkler. Lucky for me, Gym class is at the end of the day, so at least I don't have to walk around school all sweaty.

Unfortunately, today's a day when I have to work my newspaper sales job. It is a job that my brother has had for a while, and he talked to his boss about enlisting me for sales grew. I hadn’t really wanted to do it. And therefore, I took it on without thinking. I have only done it for a few days, and I am having no luck at it. When I get up to potential customer’s doors, I freeze. Seeing people asking me questions, or silently judging me because I don't know what to say to sell a newspaper, it locks me up. And I just end up standing there, or making a hasty exit – silently apologizing to whomever I was speaking my head.

Anyway, to get back to the matter at hand. While I hadn't had to walk around school today reeking of whatever odors my body might produce, I did have to work – be near people. So consciously, I give my underarms a whiff - no worse than normal. But even if they were, it wouldn't make a difference. My shift starts thirty minutes after school, and I have no time to go home, shower, and change to make myself more appealing.

Walking just past the first row of apartments that lead to where I live with my family, I find my boss waiting outside in his minivan, which has just enough room to fit him, his girlfriend - Denna, my brother, Shoney, her boyfriend, Destina, her older sister, and finally. . . me. And even though it can fit us all, it cannot do so without a fair amount of squeezing. And given my heavy frame, along with my personal saturation levels being at their peak, the possibility of anyone touching me makes me cringe, to say the least.

With no time left to drop my backpack off at home, I go ahead and take my place inside the van. Some small talk takes place between my boss, Tony, and his girlfriend, to which I pay no attention. Instead, I focus on my heart rate. It feels as though it increases for every second that I cannot pull myself out of the situation, and get back to the comforts of my home. I should never have agreed to take it. But I can't say no now. If I were to, it would just piss people off like it always does whenever I try to get out of doing what I'm supposed to do. But Goddammit! I just don't want to be here.

My brother enters the van with the multicolored shorts he has been wearing for weeks, yet refuses to wash. He says their name brand – whatever that means – and expensive. But one would figure that if the shorts were as expensive as he claimed them to be, that he would take care of them. Our mom taught us to wash our clothes a few years ago, as she had gotten tired of doing it herself. So, there was no excuse for him not washing them. The only conclusion I could draw from his lack of desire to keep his clothes clean lies in how he believes he's lucky.

Typically, lucky people do not think they're lucky themselves. They attribute their luck to some item. They keep that item in the possession, and therefore feel, they are lucky because of it. Maybe, my brother's shorts do this for him? I don't know. All I know is how he smells likes farts and worse.

He takes his place in the back left-hand corner of the van. Destina and her sister come in after him and fill in the rest of the back. Meanwhile, Shoney and her boyfriend fill up the rest of the second-aisle seat next to me.

Tony starts up the car, and we are on our way.

We drive a lot – we pass through a few cities. I don't know which. I am not really paying attention – I can't. When I am in a car, I can't watch the road moving – I can't even look at other objects – because of my motion sickness. Standing or sitting still makes my head spin so bad, after seeing objects whipping by, that if I give them any sort of attention, I will, without a doubt, barf.

The van stops on an empty street, where rows and rows and rows of houses, and their owners, lie in wait for our award-winning sales pitches. Except for a few spots here and there, every house sits pitch black dark.

As everyone else fans out in their normal directions, my boss takes me to the side to offer me up some advice. "Now, I've noticed that you have been having a lot of trouble making your sales. Your brother tells me this is because you have difficulty talking to people. But don't worry, I'm going to go with you. Seeing me do it should give you an idea of how to not be so nervous."

Before the advice, he had given everyone explicit instructions on how they shouldn't waste their time on blacked-out houses. For the rest of the crew, they seemed bummed out by said instructions. Meanwhile, with just a few lit-up houses here and there, I was elated. I mean, how badly could I screw up with so few doors to knock on? And divide those few lights, by how many people are in our crew, I might not have to knock on but a door or two. And given that my boss is with me, I might very well have to do only one of my own.

He walks me up to a house, knocks eagerly, and waits for the owner to answer—a woman in her early forties answers the door. And without a moment's pause, Tony starts in on her. They gabbed back and forth – he gets her laugh, he laughs, and within a handful of minutes, she's already writing him out a check for a new newspaper subscription. "See? There's nothing to it." He remarks, after we walk away.

Like with my brother, it looks like there's nothing to it – my brother can do the same thing that Tony just did without it phasing him in the least. The only real difference between them is how Tony is tall, has very well-kept short hair, green eyes, and an award-winning physique. The complete opposite of my brother. And yet, when my brother does it, it seems more impressive. Because he can't just lean on his good looks to get the attention he needs to make a sale. He can just talk to anyone.

Now, let’s look at me; I'm not dashing. I can't talk to people. I have very few friends, and I only hang out with them because we talk about video games and stuff. If it weren't for those reasons, I would hang out by myself. None of this bodes well for sales – especially since I didn’t have my brother’s gift for gab.

After doing what he considers showing me the ropes, Tony leaves me to my own devices. Devices I use to my advantage, by allowing everyone to head back to the van after doing their sales work, before I do. All to show everyone how I had worked just as hard as they had. All bullshit, of course. But I don't care. I don't want to be here. So, after everyone takes up their own space in the van, I make a quick walk back to it. But I do not find my old place in the second aisle seat. So, I am forced to climb into the back and sit between Destina and her older sister.

As it is too dark to work anymore, my boss decides to head back to Vista – something for which I am incredibly grateful.

Tony turns on his CD player, and stuffs his Sublime CD into its open mouth. As soon as the speakers start blaring, he sticks his head out the window and starts shouting into the night, "187 on a motherfuckin' cop!" As the air racing in through the windows creates a rushing sound, which only adds to his and everyone's excitement, it also just as quickly changes that excitement into disgust.

I hear someone shout, "What the hell is that smell?!"

And with that remark, instead of people trying to avoid the stench, they turn their noses to try and find it – or rather, its origin. But it doesn't take long, given our close proximity, to figure out it's me. Apparently, I had forgotten to put on deodorant this morning.

From that moment on, until we reach a gas station, I become the butt of insult and ridicule – and once we are at the gas station, everyone practically runs out of the car to escape me. Much to my chagrin, I climb out last and try not to look anyone in the eye. This is my go-to move in embarrassing moments, of which I have a lot.

A few crew members walk into the gas station and come out with something, that Destina's sister places around my neck. I look down, an air freshener. My humiliation complete, and with everyone staying as far away from me as possible, while giggling, I remain still until I'm told to get back into the van.

Where I say nothing to anyone, even after I get home, and refuse to ever work again.

The End