“Hello,” he says.
“Dad. It’s me.”
“You in trouble?” he says.
Wow. This guy can sniff out trouble. S’why he’s such a great soldier I bet. S’why he was such a great left tackle.
“Kinda… yeah... well not really, no. I don’t know.”
“What?”
“Dad, one of my teachers wants you to come to her class today. First thing this morning. She wanted Mom to come, but Mom has an appointment and so...”
“So you are in trouble…” he says.
“Kinda. I don’t know. Can you make it? It’s gotta be now.”
“Christ, Brody. I’m only home a few weeks and I’m already being called to your school.”
“Sorry, Dad,” I say.
“Who have I to meet with?”
“Miss Decker. She’s nice. Or, used to be nice anyway.”
“Lucy Decker?” he says.
“Huh? I dunno. Yeah. I think her name is Lucy. How d’you know?”
“I’ve just heard of her is all,” he says. Then he sighs. A really, really long sigh. So long, I have to hold the phone away from my ear. “’Kay, I’ll get there soon as I can. And Brody, you better not be in serious trouble.”
Then he hangs up.
After blowing out my lips, I sling my bag over my shoulder and push my way out the front door.
“You better not be in trouble,” Mom shouts after me.
I don’t answer her.
I munch on a cereal bar as I walk up the street and when I finish it I begin whistling. I don’t know why I’m whistling. I’m probably gonna have my ass handed to me by Dad later. If Decker tells him I’ve been saying all those sexy things to her, he might get real mad. Serious army soldier-type mad. He’ll probably roar all up in my face like Decker did last week. Only this time it’ll be a lot scarier. A hell of a lot scarier. Decker didn’t scare me. But Dad will. I know he will. I’ve heard him shouting before. It shakes the whole house. He better not cancel my trip to Europe. I’ll lose my shit if he cancels my trip to Europe.
I’m still whistling, probably ’cause I’m nervous, as I walk up the garden path, before holding my finger to the doorbell. Then I stand back and wait. And wait.
“Yo dude,” he says, finally answering the door, wrapped up like a burrito in his gray duvet.
“What the hell, dude? C’mon, get ready, it’s eight fifty.”
He turns around to cough.
“I’m not going in today, dude,” he finally says. “My Mom said I can stay home ’cause this cough ain’t gettin’ no better.”
“Ah, for fuck sake,” I say, realizing I have to face this day all on my own.
“Stop by after school, dude. I’ll prolly be feeling better by then, and we can play some Madden. Or Mario. Whatever you like.”
“My Dad is coming to school this morning to talk to Decker about the whole… y’know...”
“Oh fuck dude,” Stevie whispers. “I forgot ’bout that.”
I shake my head, then spin around and walk back down Stevie’s driveway, sulking. This is gonna be the worst day ever.
“Good luck, dude,” Stevie calls after me. Then he coughs again, before slamming his door closed.
KAI CHAYTON
Poppa had left for work before I walked down the stairs. Momma stared at me as soon as I entered the kitchen and tears came to her eyes, before she nodded once, and then spun back around to pretend to wash the breakfast dishes in the sink. She still hadn’t turned back around by the time I’d poured myself, and then finished, a large bowl of Cheerios. Then I just said, “Bye Mamma,” as I picked up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder, making sure the strap didn’t touch the ribbons on my dress.
“Bye, love,” she shouted after me.
And that was it. That was all she said to her son in a dress. My Momma sure is a woman of too few words. I’ve learned that over the past few weeks and feel a little silly for not learning it much sooner in my life. It’s Poppa who does all the talkin’ in our house. It’s Poppa who makes all the decisions. Well, he used to. Not anymore. ’Cause I make decisions ’bout me now. This is my life. Not his.
The only thing poor Momma said to me last night, after I told her I was gonna start dressing like a girl this morning — long after the Sarah-Jane interviews had finished — was that she was worried about what other people would think. She is certain I’m gonna be bullied at school; that everybody is gonna laugh at me ’cause they wouldn’t know how to identify with my change. I told her I didn’t give a damn what anybody else thought. The only people I’ve ever worried about were Momma and Poppa. All I’ve wanted since I realized I should have been born a girl is for Momma and Poppa to agree with me. But they’re taking their time coming to terms with all of this. I can’t blame them. Of course I can’t. It took two years for me to reach this point. I can’t expect them to take this all in the space of a few days.
The cool of the wind brushing against my knees makes me feel all tingly. I’ve worn dresses before. But always indoors; always inside my home, or in the changing room of a department store—like I did the first time I tried this dress on two weeks back.
When I turn on to the street our school is on — a moment I thought about a hundred times in my head last night — I hear the hum of the other students before I see them.
I’m not gonna react. I’m not gonna say a word if anybody tries to bully me. Or laugh at me. I’m just gonna keep my head staring down at my Converse sneakers, get myself inside the school front doors, and then up those stairs to Miss Decker’s room as quickly as I can.
Despite the craziness of my gender-change, I have actually been looking forward to this class this morning. I took lots of notes last night. Miss Decker is right. Sarah-Jane Zdanski was praising the senator as if she was in love with him. It was kinda gross, actually. There’s definitely a relationship between the government and the news. Miss Decker is awesome teaching us things we otherwise would never realize. She’s one of the main reasons I’m wearing this dress today. She told me that all I had to do was concentrate on being the person I was meant to be. So here I am. Me, being me.
I wonder if Decker knew Principal Klay was gonna show his face during the Sarah-Jane Zdanski interview last night. He appeared in the second-half of the show, thanking the senator for awarding Median High School the big prize. Europe. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I’m gonna visit London and Paris and Rome next week. I’m bringing as much money as I possibly can. Cause I’m gonna buy myself the best wardrobe anybody in Lebanon, Kansas has ever owned.
“The fuck?” one of the seniors says, staring at me and then tutting, as I walk as quickly as I can up the school pathway.
I don’t lift my gaze from my Converse. I just continue down the path, noticing a couple of heads turning as I go, before I finally run up to the double doors and push myself inside so I can breathe.
I feel relieved as soon as I hear the quiet of the reception area. Even if two girls’ jaws have just popped open as they stand staring at me. They don’t say anything, even when my eyes meet theirs. And so I walk up the stairs — to the sound of a bunch of ninth graders giggling as they come down in the other direction toward me. I ignore them, by continuing to climb, until I get to Miss Decker’s door. I pause, take a deep breath, and then push myself through.
“Wow!” Wendy calls out. That’s a nice response. Wendy is so cool. “You look awesome, dude.”
I wink, then, ignoring all of the turning heads, I slide in beside her.
“Thank you, Wendy,” I say.
“What the hell?” Brody calls out from behind me, and then, as Miss Decker looks up to snap at him, she glances at me and begins to stumble over her words.
Because of the awkwardness, I look down at my Converse sneakers again. Then Miss Decker claps her hands twice and, right on cue, the bell rings.
“I agree with Wendy,” Miss Decker shouts over the noise of the bell, clasping her two hands together and bowing toward me. �
��You look awesome, Kai.”
“Thank you, Miss Decker,” I say, lifting my head high again.
“Brody, I hope your mother is coming up to see me. She’s supposed to be here first thing this morning.”
“Miss Decker, my Mom couldn’t make it at short notice. She has an appointment so, ah… my Dad’s coming up instead. He should be here any minute.”
“Okay, well... wait… what? Your Dad?”
“Uh-huh.” Brody says. And then it goes all quiet, which makes things awkward between them for a second. It’s not awkward for me, though. It’s awesome. Already the attention has been taken away from the boy in the yellow dress. This is great. Nobody seems to give a damn that I’m now a girl. I love this. I love being the new me already.
“Okay, so today we are gonna discuss the Sarah-Jane Zdanski interviews from last night,” Miss Decker calls out. “Wait, hold on.” She looks around the room. “A couple of guys are missing. Where’s Stevie Jenkiss?”
“Oh, he’s sick,” Brody says. “Got a bad cough. He won’t be in today.”
“And Meric… anyone know where Meric Miller is?”
All students twist their necks at the same time, just to stare at the empty chair next to Caoimhe. Then we all seem to shake our heads, before turning back around to Miss Decker.
JOHNNY EDWARDS
It’s as if she doesn’t know I’m here; that I don’t exist. She has kept her head down the whole time, staring at a notepad in front of her while I either take the time to look at the top of her head or re-read the triangular sign on the front of her desk that displays her position as the: “Assistant Principal.”
I clear my throat. Loudly. And only then does she look up over her glasses at me, before pushing her lips to one side of her face.
“Yes?”
“I’m looking for Miss Decker’s classroom. I’m the father of Brody Edwards. She requested to meet with one of his parents this morning.”
She glances at the stars and stripes on my collar, then stands up and leans over her desk.
“Up those stairs,” she says, pointing, ‘and it’s the first classroom you’ll see straight ahead of you. Classroom 2C.”
I don’t thank her, because she left me waiting. So, I just shuffle off in the direction of the stairs and begin to climb them two at a time, pulling myself up by the rail. I see a door marked 2C straight ahead of me when I reach the top and when I walk toward it, I lean in, and listen.
“Wait, hold on,” I hear her say. “A couple of guys are missing. Where’s Stevie Jenkiss?”
“Oh, he’s sick, Miss Decker,” my Brody says. “Got a bad cough. He won’t be in today.”
“And Meric… anyone know where Meric Miller is?”
It goes silent. And in that silence I think about pushing through the door. But for some reason my nerves take over. I really don’t want to do this. This is gonna be awkward as hell. So, I rub my hands together and take a deep breath. It’s crazy that I can handle being in Iraq no problem, but entering the classroom of a woman I just might be a little in love with, who may or may not already be pregnant with another man’s baby, well, that’s a different challenge altogether.
“Okay,” I hear her saying before she claps her hands twice, “take out the notes you took on the Sarah-Jane Zdanksi interviews last night. We’re gonna have a big discussion about it today. I’ll ask you all for your opinions in a couple of minutes, but first…”
Damn it. I mighta missed my best opportunity to push through the door during that silence. Now I’ve got the added awkwardness of dropping into her right in the middle of her lesson.
I cough into my balled fist as I look around the empty hallway, then I just rattle my knuckles off her door, before pushing myself through.
All of the students immediately turn to face me, including Brody who I stare at before glancing up at Lucy and offering her a thin smile.
“Oh, hello Mr. Edwards,” she says. Then she waves me to the front of the class.
CAOIMHE LARKIN
There’s a light knock at the door before it’s pushed open and a man walks in wearing a white shirt with an American flag on the collar.
He nods at Miss Decker, then she waves him toward her.
Oh, I know... that must be Brody’s Dad. Actually looks a lot like him. Brody’s gonna get into a whole heap of trouble for telling Decker she was getting an AIDs test. I’d hate to be in his shoes right now.
As Decker and Mr. Edwards whisper to each other by her desk, I take the time to get out of my seat so I can go sit in the empty chair next to Brody, just so I can talk to Wendy in front of him.
“Hey babe,” I whisper to her.
She turns around and winks at me. And so does Kai.
“Yellow is so your color, Kai. Whatcha think Brody?” I say.
But Brody has tuned out of whatever I’m saying because he’s trying to lip-read what’s being said between his Dad and Miss Decker.
“You coming up to the hospice after school?” Wendy asks, quietly.
“Sure,” I say nodding.
“Wait. Who’s in a hospice?” Kai asks.
A loud shout from outside the classroom distracts us, and when the door opens I spin around in my seat as quickly as I can to see what the hell is going―
WENDY CAMPBELL
“Is that your Poppa?” I say, turning around to Brody.
He ignores me, by leaning onto his desk, resting his chin on his arms while he stares up at Miss Decker and the man in the white shirt as they begin to talk.
“I think it is,” Kai whispers back to me.
I grin at Kai and then twiddle the little yellow bows on his shoulder straps. He looks really cute. Really cute. It’s a surprise—a big surprise, but he looks happy; happier than anybody could possibly be after trying to kill themselves a little over a week ago. In fact, I ain’t ever seen Kai looking so happy before.
“Hey babe,” a voice whispers from behind. I turn to see my newest and bestest friend sliding in to the seat next to Brody. “Yellow is so your color, whatcha think Brody?” she says, pointing at Kai.
Brody doesn’t answer. He’s too busy staring at the hushed conversation Miss Decker is having with his Poppa.
“You coming up to the hospice after school?” I ask Caoimhe.
“Sure,” she says, nodding her head.
“Wait. Who’s in a hospice?” Kai asks.
“Oh, it’s―”
A loud shout from outside the classroom stops me from answering Kai, and we all swing our heads toward the noise. Then, I hear Nicole screaming and I stare at her to try to understand what the hell is going on. When suddenly, Caoimhe drops to the floor beside me, and when I look up all I can see―
MERIC MILLER
The printer hums. Then stops. Hums. Then stops again. Only three more runs and I should be all good.
I don’t feel nervous. I just feel ready. Ready to be listened to for once. It’s about time my voice was heard!
I pick up the pile of newspapers, with my face front and center and smiling from ear to ear, then I grab my bag before heading out the door of my little office.
The hallways are all quiet now. First class has already begun. The only sound around here is coming from the squeaking of my shoes as I shuffle up the stairs.
Though I do hear a gunshot inside my head. I’ve actually been hearing it every few minutes. I imagine myself pulling the trigger last night, splattering my brains all over the living room. I was actually staring at my reflection in the TV, about to squeeze the trigger when I thought why the hell would I wanna do that? Ain’t nobody in this world gonna give two goddamn fucks if I kill myself. They’d probably all just hear around the school that Meric Miller blew his brains out, then they’d go back to laughing and joking with each other down by the monument.
I drop a bundle of the newspapers on the large hallway floor when I get to the top of the stairs, before turning on to the open space near the front desk.
“You’re a bit later than normal
today,” the principal’s assistant says, staring over her glasses at me as I walk toward her.
I don’t say anything. Not at first. I just drop the pile of newspapers on to her desk, then glance down at her.
“Everyone’s gonna read this one,” I say.
I spin away from her and, as my shoes squeak their way up the stairs towards Decker’s classroom, I drop the backpack’s strap from my shoulder, and feel inside it for the cold metal. When I take it out, I flick open the cylinder—as if I somehow feel a need to count them again. Eight bullets. Means I got seven shots. Then one for myself.
“Y’all gonna read this one!” I shout, slapping the cylinder of the gun back into place. “Y’all gonna hear from Meric Miller now!”
Then I sweep back the hair from my eyes, kick open Decker’s classroom door—and aim.
Nine
By the time Walter Fellowes had shuffled his short legs toward them, gasping for breath, Sarah-Jane had glanced at her watch.
Seven minutes.
“Nervous?” he croaked.
“Excited,” she said.
He cleared his throat disgustingly again as soon as he reached them, then licked his lips before swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. The slurp made Sarah-Jane’s stomach tighten again. This was the last thing she needed; a pep talk from the network’s toad-like owner, certainly not when she had been enjoying the final minutes of her own anonymity in the presence of a man who didn’t speak unless something needed to be said.
“I hear you’ve been suffering with yer nerves,” Walter said. “Thought I’d come down and have a word with you before you go on.”
“I’m fine.”
“Well, I’d like to talk to you…” Walter glanced at Phil, before shifting his beady eyes back to his newest on-screen beauty. “Alone.”
“Uh-uh,” Sarah-Jane said, shaking her ponytail from side to side. “Any time you want to speak with me, you speak with us.” She flicked her finger between the chest of her little black dress and Phil’s double-breasted jacket. “We’re a team. You hired us as a team.”
In The Middle of Middle America Page 25
