Finding Joy

by Laurie Woodward

  Lisa grabbed a random encyclopedia off the shelf and made a beeline for the farthest table. There, she propped up a makeshift screen and dropped her head behind it. Once in a while she’d peer around it, but as soon as someone new entered the library she’d twitch and duck back to safety.

  I could totally relate.

  I watched her for a while, thinking, debating, ruminating, cogitating, weighing the pros and cons. Like all those synonyms? My English teacher, who says we should build vocabulary, turned me on to Roget’s Thesaurus and I’ve been finding all kinds of new words.

  Anyhow, if I talked to her, she might just tell me to fuck off. Or call me freak. She did hang out with them last year.

  Lisa sunk so low into the chair, it seemed like she was molding to it. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see her body soften and melt before disappearing into the black plastic. This girl was no threat.

  Sucking on that sore part of cheek I seem to bite every other day, I slung my purse over my shoulder and scooped up my books. Then I shuffled toward her and grasped the chair opposite. Being totally obvious, I pressed down while sliding it out. The metal feet scraped loudly over the tile floor.

  Lisa didn’t look up.

  Sliding it out a little more, I cleared my throat. Lifted my eyebrows. No response. She stayed hidden behind World Book Encyclopedia W X Y Z. What was so interesting in Z? Was she doing a report on zebras?

  I almost bolted, but something made me plop down in that seat. Desperation? Loneliness? I started thumbing through the pages of a paperback, waiting for her to look my way. No dice. Set that one down and flipped through a hardcover. She kept her head down. Man, those kids last year really did a number on her.

  Maybe I wasn’t going to make any friends in high school after all. I’d wander the halls day after day as unnoticed as a shadow. Unseen, disregarded. An outline of a girl. Gathering my books, I started to rise, but then another part of me said, try, dammit, so, pretending to be clumsy, I slid my book into hers.

  She peered over the top of her World Book shield, gave me a wary look.

  “Sorry,” I whispered, mustering what I thought was a reassuring smile.

  Keeping her chin attached to her chest she whispered, “It’s okay,”

  I pointed at her encyclopedia, some old, dusty thing from, like, 1943, and raised an eyebrow.

  She shrugged an apology.

  Holding up my own ridiculously boring book, I nodded in understanding. I got it. We both needed something to pretend we were into, so no one would bother us.

  I jerked my thumb toward the door, and she nodded. When we reached the hall, I stumbled on words for a few seconds, but she saved me before I fell flat. Soon, we started to chatter about the meaningless shit, both nodding in understanding. Until the bell rang and lunch was over.

  On feet lighter than they’d been for weeks, I glided through the halls toward fifth period. Then I looked over my shoulder at the reflected figure in one of the brown-tinted windows. Not recognizing her at first, I halted dead in my tracks. Long hair hid half a face, while vacant eyes stared out through dull sockets. Was this a shade, a specter?

  A ghost?

  When I realized who it was, I shook my head. She’s a skinny wraith. An ugly phantasm.

  Dog. Freak.

  Who would want to befriend that?

  Sixteen

  Joy

  Sept. 30. Lisa and I decided we would try a new group. They have a different flavor of ‘gum’. We like it. Pretty colors.

  I’ve given up. I was never going to pass that boundary and fit in. The best I could hope for was somewhere on the edge. A place where the lines blurred between popular and not. A place where you didn’t have to think of snappy things to say, or strut when you walked.

  I heard of a couple of kids on that stood on that border, one foot dangling over Socials, the other planted in a country of their own. They hung on vines suspended over no-man’s-land, a bunch of Tarzan-teens swinging from one group to the next. Swaying toward an abyss I’d always been told was full-on scary.

  It wasn’t easy finding any of them at first. I mean if I’d had lots of friends that would have been another story. But I didn’t know anyone that had connections. And while you could be open with everyone about cigarettes, pot was a different story. Some kids might freak out and narc on you. Others might think you were cracked.

  Everyone knew there was this one group that liked to smoke bowls sometimes. Kind of a rough crowd. One of the guys used to live in the Northwest, where gang fights and all kinds of shit happened. His old neighborhood was in the newspaper all the time. Prostitution Ring Broke Up On Fifth Street. Police Raid Home Near Oaktree Plaza and Find Cache of Guns. Things like that.

  My parents stayed away from that part of town.

  Anyhow, Chuck had an older brother who was a Stoner; you know, someone that smokes pot? And he could hook me up with a few joints. Only problem was they cost a couple of bucks and, as usual, I was broke. I don’t know where my allowance goes. I mean, I try to save it and even put it in my ballerina music box before hiding that in the back of my closet under some dirty clothes, and walk away, thinking I’ll forget about it.

  I guess I have too good a friggin’ memory. Damn.

  It’s not like joints were all that expensive, only fifty cents apiece, but when all you have is a quarter… well, you get it.

  “Hey Mom, need any chores done?” I asked.

  She looked at me as if viewing a stranger. I wasn’t exactly known for being neat and tidy, unlike Kyle, the midget vacuum cleaner and mop in one. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Yeah, just was wanting to help out and maybe make a little money, saving for a… ahh, new poster. My wall looks boring, don’t you think?”

  Mom narrowed her eyes and stared. “I suppose you could clean the bathroom.”

  “Cool. What’s that worth?”

  Shaking her head, she put her hands on her hips and heaved a sigh.

  Uh-oh, Joy. Say something, fast. “I’m going. You can let me know later.” To show that I meant business, I rushed down the hall and opened cabinet doors under the sink where the cleaning stuff was. I pulled out the toilet scrubber and waved it like a flag before banging the Ajax down loudly on the gold-flecked counter.

  “Be careful, Joy! You’ll scratch the Formica.”

  “Sorry,” I called, before getting to work.

  The next day, I had seventy-five cents jingling in the bottom of my purse and was ready to buy my first joint. Meeting Chuck made me feel kind of like one of those drug dealers in the cop shows Ronny likes so much. First, you find a shadowy place hidden by the school garbage dumpster and then look both ways five times before ducking behind it. Next, you dig in your purse for the quarters, fisting the money until the guy you’re meeting nods that the coast is clear. At the last possible second you open your hand, letting the coins drop into his. Finally, Chuck passes you a lumpy envelope containing this weird-shaped cigarette with twisted paper on both ends and you tuck it inside your training bra. I’m not growing yet, so, yes, I still wear them if you must know.

  After my super-villain triumph, I dashed back to the girl’s bathroom where Lisa waited, her brown eyes wide and expectant. “You got it?”

  “Shh!” I hissed, putting a finger to my lips. Leading her toward the last stall with a beckoning hand, the two of us then went inside. I closed and double-checked the lock before slowly retrieving the envelope from my bra. With foreheads touching, we peered at the strange-looking thing inside as if it were some sort of magical talisman.

  “So, tomorrow?” Lisa asked, referring to our plan to go out in the field by my house on Saturday.

  “Yeah, come over around one.” I shoved the envelope back down my shirt, hoping no one would say anything like, “Stuffing your bra now, Joy?”

  No, I don’t! Really. You don’t believe me? Okay, there was that one time in eighth grade when Vickie and I were going to walk past some high school boys in the park, but that’s
all, I swear.

  Even though the next day was Saturday, I got up early and only watched two cartoons before making my bed, shoving the dirty clothes into the closet, stacking my books up in the corner, and doing the dishes. With Ronny off golfing and the house clean, there was no reason for Mom to keep me at home.

  I finished up a little before one and was about to start reading The Stand when Lisa showed up. Right on time for once. Surprise.

  When I opened the front door, my mouth dropped to the floor. “What are you wearing?”

  “My in-case outfit,” she replied.

  “In case what?”

  “We are followed. I don’t want to be recognized.”

  “No chance of that.” Shaking my head, I gaped at her ridiculous outfit.

  Lisa’s long brown hair was pulled up and tucked inside a… what do you call those French hats? Oh yeah, a beret. Her hair was hidden inside a beret while the rest of her was buried under a long black raincoat that was five sizes too big. It must have been her dad’s, because the sleeves hung way past her fingers, and it dragged on the floor. You could just barely make out her hiking boots under all that dark material.

  “We aren’t spies passing secrets to the commies.”

  “I know, but if someone smells the…” she glanced around and lowered her voice, “… pot, and calls the police, they won’t be able to describe me.”

  She made me wonder, should I change my clothes? I was wearing my usual jeans and a top so bright, I looked like a Christmas tree compared to her. I started to turn toward my room but stopped. Mom was already suspicious about my cleaning kick and if I added dressing differently to the mix, shit, she might grill me. And I was so nervous, I don’t think I could come up with a good lie.

  “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

  We walked down the street with a nervous Lisa looking over her shoulder every friggin’ three seconds. You’d think she was expecting the CIA, FBI, or a swat team to surround us at any moment. We barely got to the corner when she halted, put a hand on my shoulder, and cocked an ear.

  “You hear that?”

  “Yeah, it’s a car. Driving, even.”

  Her face turned white and her eyes widened.

  “It’s coming closer. Be cool,” I warned, before pushing her ahead on the sidewalk.

  Walking so stiffly she looked like she had a stick up her butt, Lisa stared straight ahead as the silver Cadillac drove by. “Is it gone?” she asked, eyes still facing front.

  “Didn’t even look our way.”

  With a shaky nod, Lisa let me lead her past three streets, toward the wooden fence with the Road Ends sign that signaled the barrier between the Country Club and the empty fields.

  “Okay, go,” I said. Now I was the one glancing over my shoulder. Stupid, since I was constantly heading for this empty field. When Ronny got… you know, I’d run and wouldn’t stop until I hit the fort some girls and I had built the summer before.

  Lisa shot me one more backwards glance. “You sure it’s okay?”

  “I told you. I know a place. Deep inside. And we never got caught before, did we?”

  “Well, no. I guess you have a point.” She started to sling a leg over the short fence like a cowgirl mounting a horse, but jerked to a stop halfway over. Horrified, she looked down. Her trench coat had caught on a nail. “Oh no! If I tear this and Dad notices…”

  “Just chill. I’ll free it.”

  I bent down and pushed the fabric to the side. I tried to be as gentle as possible, but the hyperventilating Lisa kept breathing down my neck. It made my skin all sticky and was grossing me out so much that my hand slipped and I tore the coat’s lining.

  “Hey!”

  “Hold still!” Using both hands, I lifted the fabric from around the nail. The tear was only about an inch long. “There. Your dad will never notice.”

  She nodded and the two of us began trekking into the field where the California poppies and purple lupines that smell like grape Kool-Aid were beginning to bloom. My jeans brushed against lots of sticker weeds and shrubs with little grey leaves I didn’t know the name of, so I warned Lisa she should take off her coat.

  “You don’t want it dragging in the dirt.”

  “Yeah, that’d be a bust.” She plucked out a few stickers before slinging it over her shoulder.

  After about a quarter mile, we reached a stand of eucalyptus trees where the remains of the girl fort still stood. Man, I was proud of that thing. We’d taken old limbs and propped them up against two trees to support the walls before leaning leafy branches against them. Next, we threaded kite string in and out of the boughs for strength. Finally, we dragged a few palm fronds from Cindy’s backyard all the way out there for the roof. Full-on Gilligan’s Island tiki hut. Made completely by and for girls. No boys allowed. Any came around, we threw dirt clods at them.

  “Pretty cool, huh?” I asked.

  “Yeah. You made this?”

  “With Cindy and a few other girls that live around here. Look, you can still come inside. Check it out.” I ducked through the leafy doorway.

  It wasn’t as nice as we’d had it last summer. Some of the branches had fallen over and the floor was littered with leaves. But the old chair and wooden crate were still there, along with the chalked sign of Girls Only. I brushed away some of the spider webs with the corner of my top and asked Lisa to sit down.

  She hesitated. “What if I go crazy or something? I’ve heard people can end up in the mental hospital.”

  “That’s just grown-ups trying to scare us.”

  Lisa looked at the ground and began chewing on her right ring finger. She always did that when she was nervous, biting her ring and pinkie nail down to the quick but leaving the others intact. “I don’t know.”

  “Remember what those Socials did last week? Calling you freak and narc? Do you want more of that? ‘Cause I sure as shit don’t.”

  Lisa hadn’t been teased as much as me, since she didn’t bring a Scooby Doo lunchbox to school on the first day of junior high, but ever since the shoplifting incident, she’d heard her fair share of ‘Freak’. She spat out part of a nail and said, “No.”

  “Then be cool.”

  “Okay. I’ll try.”

  After sitting down on a wooden crate next to her, I pulled the envelope and matches from my bra. Then I held up the rolled joint for her to see. “Doesn’t look like much, huh?”

  Lisa shrugged.

  Thankful I’d practiced so much with cigarettes, I handed her the matches and set the joint between two fingers. When I brought it up to my lips, Lisa struck a match and brought it closer to my face.

  The paper end burst into flames. “What?” I leaped to my feet up, dropping the joint in the process.

  Lisa placed a hand on my shoulder, and we stood over the strange little cigarette as if it were a dead animal we thought we could resuscitate.

  “What now?”

  “Maybe the paper on the end just had to burn. Try again,” Lisa suggested.

  With a long sigh I told her to go ahead, this time taking a tentative puff when she lit the match. The end glowed crimson as campfire!

  “Yes!” Lisa said, before reaching out a hand. The joint barely touched her lips when she took the smallest drag I’d ever seen. I mean, a leprechaun would have taken in more.

  She quickly handed it back to me and I drew in a longer breath and exhaled. Smoke plumed from my mouth, filling the hut. My eyes followed the grey mist, sure that some kind of magic was about to begin. Thought I saw something shimmer, but it was just the wind in the leaves.

  “Here.” I tried to give it back, but Lisa shook her head.

  “I don’t want to get too high the first time.”

  “Come on, just a little more,” I coaxed.

  We continued to argue back and forth for several moments until I happened to glance down to notice that half of it had burned away on its own. With a groan, I shoved it back at Lisa. “Hurry, before it’s all gone.”

  She filled her c
heeks with three tiny puffs that probably never reached her lungs. A few seconds later, the rest of the joint had burned down to nothing. There goes my allowance, I thought.

  Lisa stared at me intently, like she was expecting a rainbow of psychedelic colors to shoot out of my head. “I think I see something,” she said.

  “Really? Where?” I glanced around.

  “Now I feel something.” She started to giggle and pointed at her feet. “Hiking boots?”

  “With a Pepe le Peu hat. Stylin’,” I guffawed.

  “My boots. My boots. My booty, booty boots,” she chanted.

  “Your hat, your hat, your silly little hat.”

  “Your bra, you bra, your tiny titty bra.”

  “Hey!” I threw a few leaves at her before coming back with a ridiculous rhyme about her dad’s coat that made no sense. We recited one after another, giggling until we were both in hysterics. Lisa removed the trench coat belt and started waving it in circles like a lasso while I darted under and around it in a cowgirl jig.

  When our laughter finally died down, we smiled at each other, deciding it was time to go. Didn’t want to get caught. We ducked back outside and buried what was left of the joint under a nearby tree before chasing each other home.

  Looking back on it, we weren’t high at all. I didn’t see colors or feel any different. But man, we sure thought we were.

  And in the end, it was enough.

  Seventeen

  Joy

  October 4

  I’m going to flip you out and trip you out,

  Lock you in a misty haze,

  As you see the world through my eyes

  Cannabis’s mind maze

  That’s my life right now. Ever since Chuck turned me on to his supplier, I’ve been smoking a couple of times a day. As soon as I get off the bus, Lisa and I meet in the field across from school, at the bottom of the hill where no one can see you, and strike up a joint.

  It only takes a moment or two and everything changes. Like the colors. They’re so bright. The grass turns this Wizard of Oz green, with everything as sharp as the best TV they sell at Sears.