Mean

by Justin Sayre

  Once Hannah is in bed, I ask Rosalinda if I can play video games until Dad gets home and she agrees, though she hates all the blood. Rosalinda smiles and lets me have some time. I think some of it comes from me helping her with getting Hannah to bed, but also I think she’s just shocked that it’s after seven and she’s still here. Either way, I’ll take it. I text my friend Charlie and see if he can get online with me. It’s always nice to have a buddy when you’re defeating an alien horde.

  I met Charlie at soccer camp two years ago. He was the worst soccer player I had ever seen, but he knew it, and that sort of made me love him. He just didn’t care how bad he was, and he was super bad. Crazy bad. He once went to kick a ball, missed it, but caught it as his leg swung back, and scored a goal for the other team. If it wasn’t so awful, it would’ve been magic. Everybody got so mad at him, but he just laughed and so did I. I don’t play soccer with him, but he’s great at video games, so I always give him a call.

  “You on?” I ask into my headset as I start up the game.

  “Yeah. Let’s get a-shootin’!” Charlie replies. I mean, come on, “get a-shootin’”? Who says that?

  We clear a level mostly just yelling at each other and not really getting into much of a conversation, but by the time we’re in the abandoned mental hospital, I start to tell Charlie about what happened with Allegra today.

  “Well, why didn’t you just tell her no?” Charlie asks as he shoots open an air vent while looking for ammo.

  “I don’t know, I just froze,” I say as a demon hound charges at me. I use a flamethrower to burn him to a crisp, wishing I had one today with Allegra. Charlie laughs at me, I guess because he’s surprised to hear that I didn’t know what to say. I always know what to say.

  “Don’t laugh. You’re just as bad as Ducks.” I spit into the headset, trying not to laugh along with him.

  “You told Ducks?” Charlie asks.

  “Yeah. He was there. I see him every day.”

  “Oh,” says Charlie. A big Oh, that always tells you to ask more, but before I can say anything else, Charlie pipes in, “He didn’t say anything to you about me, did he?”

  “No.” I smile out of the corner of my mouth. Charlie has a huge crush on Ducks and it makes me laugh when he thinks I don’t know. But I also know he’s not sure what to do about it, so I don’t laugh at him. At least not out loud. We finish the game without mentioning Ducks again.

  By 9:30 p.m., Rosalinda tells me to get ready for bed, and both of us are surprised she’s still here. I text my dad and don’t hear anything back, so I walk up the stairs to brush my teeth and head to bed. It isn’t until I’m in my room with my retainer in that I hear the front door and my dad apologizing to Rosalinda for having a late night.

  I’m already in bed when my dad comes to my door and looks in at me.

  “Hey, sorry I was late.” Dad sighs at the door. He’s exhausted, even in the dark I can tell that. “Thanks for helping with Hannah tonight.”

  “No problem,” I answer back.

  “How’s the Hebrew coming?” he asks.

  “Pretty good. I go after school on Wednesday.”

  “Good. Memorize. It’s always easier and that way you can show off to Bubbe and Zayde when they get here this week.”

  “They’re coming this week? Why so early?” I ask.

  “Well, they want to have a big visit while they’re here. It’s hard for Zayde to fly. This might be his last trip up here,” Dad says with something else in his voice besides tired.

  “Okay,” I answer back, not knowing what else to say.

  Dad comes in and kisses me good night. It’s strange. He doesn’t always do this. But tonight I think he needs it. And so do I.

  Chapter 3

  “Honestly, she won’t be that bad,” Sophie says when we get to our gym lockers. “You’ll be in class anyway, won’t you?”

  “Yeah. Maybe you’re right,” I say as I try to pull out my clothes all at once. I hate having to change for gym, even though I like gym. I just wish we didn’t have to have a separate outfit.

  “I can walk with you guys if you want,” Sophie says, more like a question than I think even she hears. Things between her and Allegra are just starting to get Okay again. They had a big fight after Halloween. Sophie was sort of going out with this guy Ryan, and I guess Allegra didn’t think Sophie was doing it right. Allegra’s into all that girl stuff, another one of her things, and so is Sophie. But anybody could see she just wasn’t that into Ryan. I don’t know why that was such a big deal for Allegra, or why she cared.

  “It’s okay,” I tell Sophie. I don’t want to put her out just because I couldn’t tell Allegra no about Hebrew school. And maybe it won’t be that bad.

  It will. It’s going to be awful.

  I look over at Sophie, who is staring at me like I farted. “What?”

  “Elle, what’s going on with your boobs?” Sophie asks, still with the fart look on her face.

  “What?” I look down, trying to see what she sees is so wrong with them.

  “They’re so big,” Sophie whispers.

  “They are?” I whisper back, acting like I’m shocked, but I’m not.

  I mean, I know, but it’s weird to hear it from somebody else. Last year, I started to notice that my boobs were coming in and coming in big, so I started wearing sports bras all the time. They’re easier to get because they sell them at sporting goods stores instead of going through all that frilly weirdo stuff you have to do to get a regular girlie bra. The bigger they got, the more sports bras I would wear, but after it got to three, I could barely breathe sometimes, so I started wearing big sweatshirts. For a lot of girls I think big boobs would be a dream come true, and to all of them I would gladly say, you can have them. For me, they’re just something else in the world not to be into. I don’t know why Sophie hasn’t noticed them before.

  “You need a better bra,” Sophie says. “Don’t you feel squished?”

  I want to feel squished. It’s better than being out there. “These are fine. I have a whole bunch of them.”

  “You can’t wear a sports bra every day,” Sophie argues. At least she’s keeping it all to a whisper, even though Kim Spencer is starting to look over at us.

  “Why not? They’re comfortable.”

  “How? They’re riding up your neck,” Sophie says, trying not to laugh, but none of this seems funny to me. I throw on my sweatshirt and grab my bag to get out of here before Kim or anyone else starts to hear what we’re really talking about. Sophie follows me out of the locker room and into the hallway, determined to talk about my boobs.

  They’re my boobs. Lay off.

  “Listen, I didn’t, like, mean to make you feel self-conscious.” Sophie says, catching up to me. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to hide them.”

  I do feel like I have to hide them, that’s the whole point. I’ve seen what happens when girls start to get boobs and I don’t really want any of it. Boys ogle them all the time, and girls who you wouldn’t think about before all of sudden end up being so fricking popular, it’s bizarre. I just don’t want to be liked for that. I just don’t want to be examined and drooled over like that, and if that means a couple of sports bras and baggy sweatshirts even when it’s too hot for that, I’ll take it. I know Sophie means to be nice, but I wish she’d think about the rest.

  “I’m taking you shopping.” Sophie smiles at me.

  “This isn’t a makeover. Leave me alone,” I snarl back at her, a lot harsher than I want to. Maybe I am the Mean one.

  The rest of the day, I feel nervous about my boobs for the first time in a long time. Did they grow since I last checked? Why did Sophie only notice them today? They’ve been there for a while now. I get so nervous that everyone is looking at them during math that I ask to go to the bathroom in the middle of class just to have a moment by myself to ca
lm down.

  The girls’ bathroom on the second floor is always pretty quiet by fourth period, so I think I should have the place to myself. For a while, I think I do. I pull up my sweatshirt, trying to see what’s going on. I look in the mirror to figure out what’s different about me today. I keep looking for any hint of why this was the day that Sophie noticed my huge jugs. I don’t see anything different, but then I hear a sound from one of the stalls and pull my sweatshirt down so fast I almost rip it. I don’t turn around to look but head for the door to make a run for it. I’m almost out the door when I hear a whimper coming from the stall. Somebody’s crying.

  I close the door gently and go back over to the sinks to listen better. There’s a pair of really small shoes under the third stall door. It’s a little girl, probably a sixth grader. I don’t know what I should do. It’s weird to talk to strangers in the bathroom, but I figure I can at least ask if everything’s okay.

  So I do, and a small, scared little voice answers, “No.”

  I don’t know what to say. I mean, we’re in the bathroom, a “no” in here could mean a lot of things. So I just ask what’s wrong.

  “I’m bleeding,” the little voice says.

  “Okay,” I say, trying to sound calm. “Where?”

  The little voice gets annoyed at the question and I don’t blame her. It’s a stupid question, but I do think that it’s good to know where.

  “Has this ever happened to you before?” I ask.

  “No,” the little voice answers. I hear how scared and embarrassed she sounds, and I know exactly what she’s feeling. It’s a tough thing being a girl. We’re all trying to figure it out. When I first got my period, I was home, but I was alone. My mom was in London, I think, and Rosalinda had taken Hannah to a doctor’s appointment. I had just gotten to stay home by myself and my period was the first thing I had to deal with. I wasn’t afraid. I just didn’t know what to do. So I called Sophie, and she got me through it. She’s always around when I need help, maybe that’s even what she was doing about the bra thing. I figure the least I can do is be Sophie for this girl.

  I talk her through it. Tell her how to roll a little toilet paper and handle it, until she can get to the nurse. The nurse is a really sweet old lady who is super chill about this stuff, so getting her at least calm and to the nurse’s office is about the best I can do for the moment. The little voice gets calmer and calmer as I talk to her, and finally, she says she’s okay.

  “Do you want me to walk you down to the nurse’s?” I ask.

  “No, I can make it,” the little voice says. “Thank you.”

  I know this is a thank-you-and-leave sort of thank you, and I’m not mad about it. I’ve helped her, and that’s the important thing. I leave the bathroom and head back to math without even thinking how long I’ve been gone.

  After school, there’s a message from my mom. I always wonder why she does this. She knows I can’t have my phone during school and I really can’t call her back. I guess she just calls the minute she thinks of it, or maybe it’s just easier for her to leave a message than actually talk to me. I call her back when I get home.

  “Hey, I got your message,” I say into the phone.

  “Oh good. I’m sorry I haven’t called before. It’s been a little hectic here.” After this, she goes into a whole list of things that went right and wrong with the pig heart, but I don’t really want to hear any of it. I just want to know why she called.

  “I wanted to talk to you about a dress. Do you have any ideas?” Mom says in the phone, but I know she’s looking at something else.

  “No,” I answer, trying to sound just as distracted or disappointed.

  “Well, why not?” she says, trying to make me laugh. “You can’t just wear sweatpants to your bat mitzvah. You can’t become a Woman in gym clothes. People are coming.”

  “Why not?” I say, laughing a little.

  “Well, Aunt Debbie said she can take you shopping this week.”

  No. No. No! My aunt Debbie is like Allegra times ten when it comes to girlie stuff. I will never make it out alive.

  “Why can’t you take me?”

  “I need to stay here for a few more days until my patient is out of the woods, possibly until Monday. I just don’t want to wait any longer to get you a dress.”

  Then come home, I want to say, but I don’t. I know it won’t make a difference. I ask her if I can have Sophie take me. She’s a great dresser and knows all about this stuff. Mom agrees because she needs to get off the phone. I guess I’ll have to get a new bra after all.

  Chapter 4

  Wednesday flies by, mostly out of panic. During the first two periods, I don’t even see Allegra, so I think maybe by some amazing piece of luck, she’s not here. Maybe she’s sick or she’s getting Botox or something. I have no idea what she does and I really don’t want to know. I make it almost halfway through third period before I catch a glimpse of her in the hallway. She’s here. And now my only hope is that maybe she’s forgotten about it. I mean, she has other things going on, like being a snob and worrying about eyeliner. That’s got to take up a lot of your brain space, right?

  The one bright moment in this day of panic is lunch, because there’s tater tots. I wish I was more embarrassed to admit this, but I fricking love tater tots. Almost more than a normal person should. When I know there are tater tots in the lunch line, I start to sweat a little, because I worry that they will run out of tater tots, even though this has never happened in the history of my going to this school. The minute I see it written on the whiteboard at the door, I’m already plotting ways I can get more.

  Ducks is behind me, talking a mile a minute about something, but I’m really not paying that much attention. I’m sure it’s something important. But probably not. I start peeking around people, almost climbing over them to see those golden little nuggets of glory, but stupid people are just standing around talking about stupid school stuff and kid stuff, when they all should be focused on getting other stuff for their lunches so I can have more of the potatoey goodness before us. Ducks catches me not looking at him and totally calls me out on it.

  “Ellen, are you even listening to me?” he asks, so annoyed.

  “No. I’m sorry, what?” I answer. It’s not worth trying to hide it from him.

  “Oh, tater tots. I should have figured.” Ducks laughs a little. “How ’bout if I give you all of mine, then can you listen to me?”

  I agree as I lean over three people to get us trays. Ducks keeps talking about something with some girl and I hear bits of it, but I just keep nodding and yessing him until we get up to the front and the tots.

  “So, what should I do? I mean, he’s your friend.” Ducks asks me right in front of the tots.

  Who is? Who is “he”? I really should have been paying attention, it sounds like, but I’m distracted. Why would he talk to me about something important with tots in the air? That’s half his fault, really, but I’ll get back to it.

  I ask the lunch lady for extra tots, and she’s not happy about it, but she hands some over. I look at Ducks to signal he should do the same thing, but I think he won’t. He won’t want the lunch lady to think he’s some fat kid waiting to pig out on tots, but first off, she doesn’t care, and second, his tots are my tots, so step up and bring ’em to mama. Luckily, he does ask for extra tots and the lunch lady doesn’t say a word. This, depending on how Ducks’s day is going so far, could be perfect, or the worst thing that’s ever happened to any person, ever.

  Everything’s going pretty smoothly, and over by the milk case, I start to ask him about what he’s asking me about “my friend” when I feel a tap at my shoulder, and then I hear, “So where should I, like, meet you after school?”

  It’s Allegra. I’d recognize that terrible vocal fry thing she does anywhere. I seriously think about dropping my tray and running out without turning around altogethe
r. But I can’t. It’s not just the tots; I need to at least face up to her. Don’t I?

  I turn around and look at her. “Oh, hey,” I say, trying to convince her that I’m not really thinking about getting as far away from her as possible, that I’m just chill about her coming to Hebrew school with me and maybe ruining my life. Super chill. So chill. Yeah.

  It may seem weird that I am so tough on Allegra, I mean, I don’t even really know her well enough to have such a terrible opinion of her, but to me she’s almost everything that’s wrong with the world. She’s silly and she cares about silly things and she’s never serious or nice when that would actually help her and the people around her a lot more than whatever shade of lip gloss she’s trying on or who she thinks is the hottest boy in our class. She’s just everything I don’t want to be a part of, and even though I know she can’t make me do anything I don’t want to do, the thought of her being around me and pretending we’re friends or whatever with a whole different group of kids makes me feel trapped in a life and world I don’t want any part of.

  “So, we’re still on for Jew school, right?” Allegra asks, barely looking at me. She’s probably scoping around trying to make sure nobody’s seeing her talk to someone as uncool as me. And I’m sorry, but “Jew school,” what the heck is that? It’s Hebrew school, and you should know better. Why does she constantly have to be so stupid about everything?

  “Yeah, sure. You can come to Hebrew school with me,” I say loudly, really pressing on the “Hebrew” just to clock her a bit. “Though you should have had your mom call ahead or something, because I don’t know if you can just show up.”

  Why hadn’t I thought of it before? She can’t just stroll into Hebrew school like she owns the place. She’d have to register to work with the rabbi and everything. I bet she didn’t think of that; she probably thinks it will be super easy to just waltz in and—