Two days later, Donnie returned to school. He avoided walking with Megan by taking his bike. She didn’t even know that he was there until she saw him in their third period Chemistry class. She could hardly wait until class was over to speak with him.
After the bell rang, she rushed over to Donnie. They always walked to study hall together.
When Donnie turned right out of the classroom instead of left, Megan said, “Miss a few days and forget where you’re going? Study hall is this way.”
He barely looked at her. “I have a test to make up from Monday.”
Megan didn’t see him again until lunch. He still sat at the same table as Dale. No one there minded having him at the table, but it was obvious that Donnie was in no mood to speak. They didn’t try to include him in their conversation.
Megan had to talk with him. Leaving her uneaten lunch, she walked over to Donnie’s table.
Standing above him, she asked, “Can I talk to you over there?” She pointed to some lockers near the student store.
Donnie paid her little attention, “I’m eating lunch right now.”
“Donnie!”
Reluctantly, he stood and followed her.
She knew that there were a lot of eyes on them and didn’t want to make a scene. She tugged lightly and indiscreetly at the bottom of his long-sleeved, yellow T-shirt.
“I’m sorry, Donnie. I don’t want to move. Do you understand that? I don’t want to leave Haviland. I don’t want to leave you.”
“But, you are.” The pain in his voice was evident to Megan. She hated hearing it.
“I’ll email you. I’ll call.”
“It’s not the same. Plus, you won’t call. You won’t write.”
“Yes, I will, Donnie.”
“Just like you kept in touch with your friends from the school before this one?” Donnie remembered the photo she kept in her bedroom. The one in which she wore the jean jacket and her hair was a bland brown with a boring cut. When he asked about the girls in the picture, Megan had told him that they were from her old school and she didn’t stay in contact with them after she moved.
“You’re different,” she said.
“It’s not like you’re moving to a different school and I’ll still see you at football games. You’re moving to a state that’s a thousand miles away.”
She couldn’t look at his face. It was too hard. No one else in the school might notice the pain smeared across it, but she saw it. Looking toward their feet, she said, “I can’t help it that we’re moving. I wanna make the most of our time left together.”
“Why? Just to make it harder on me? So I can remember all the fun we had when I’m left here alone? I don’t think so. Memories aren’t worth anything.” He would know.
“Please Donnie. At least meet me at Unit #143. We got the mattress on Monday. I was there when it was delivered.”
“I can’t. I have to work. I haven’t been in in days. Dirt’s gotta be furious.”
“He is.”
“How do you know?”
“I was there yesterday. Looking for you.”
“Stop looking for me!” When anger rose up in Donnie, he became a scary individual. “It’s over. You’re leaving.”
“Not ‘til Sunday.”
“Sunday? I thought you said a month?”
“My mom already found a house.” Megan hated breaking even more bad news to him. “This is my last week at Haviland High. Everything is going so fast.”
Donnie stared at the girl who made it possible for him to love again. His life was hardly worth living before she came along. Television was boring. The radio was dull. Going to school was a chore. Talking was overrated. Megan turned all of that around for him. He learned that he was able to get out of life as much as he put in. But, this was unfair.
“Please, Donnie,” Megan said. “Please. I don’t want it to end like this. Meet me at the storage unit.”
“Megan, I’m going back to my table now.”
“No, please.”
“I’m going back to my table. I’m sorry that I can’t give you full credit for ruining my life, but it was pretty much already destroyed when you got here.”
“Don’t go.”
“Don’t go? That’s what I should be saying to you.”
“Donnie…”
“I’m going back to my table. All right? Leave me alone.” He pulled her hand from his shirt and rejoined his lunch table. He knew that it was somewhat irrational to be angry with her because it wasn’t her fault they were moving, but he couldn’t help the way he felt.
Donnie used work as an excuse not to meet with Megan later that day, but it wasn’t a lie. He went straight to the driving range after school.
“Well, look who decided to come back to work,” Dirt said when Donnie pulled around the corner on his bike. “You’ve got to give me your number kid. You disappear and I can’t get hold of you? Them golf balls started piling up. You know I had to go out there and pick them up myself?”
Donnie felt bad about that. He got along well with Dirt and didn’t mean to leave him without help for a few days. “Sorry, Dirt.”
“Sorry my butt. Where’ve you been?”
“Trying to get right.”
It was easy to tell that Donnie was more somber than usual. Dirt usually hated this trait in teenagers, but recognized that he was a good kid who caught a few lousy breaks. He picked up on it because he had been one himself. This made Dirt uncharacteristically sympathetic to Donnie’s situation.
Since he had an image to maintain, Dirt disguised his concern by asking, “Whatever is bothering you, you better get it out. I’m not paying you to mope around out there in slow motion. So, what is it?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Like Hell.” Dirt thought of his girlfriend with the pretty hair who came by the day before. “Oh Donnie, don’t tell me it’s the girl. Tell me it’s anything but something with that girl.” Dirt wasn’t equipped with the knowledge to help with girl problems, but then again, few guys were.
Donnie didn’t reply. He put on his batting helmet and got ready to pick up golf balls.
“Oh man, it’s the girl, ain’t it?” Dirt scratched one of his hairy arms with one of his hairy hands. “C’mon, sit down. I’ll buy you a soda.”
Donnie heard the side door of the shack with the saltbox roof bang shut. Following that was the sound of two soda cans rattling to the bottom of the vending machine.
They sat down together on the bench. Dirt ripped open his can of cola, took a giant gulp, and let a huge belch rip. A number of golfers looked his way. “You ain’t on the PGA Tour and there ain’t no guys holding up ‘Quiet’ signs,” Dirt yelled at them. “Back to what you’re doing!” They resumed hitting golf balls. He looked at his can and frowned. “I should probably be drinking diet.” He took another swig and leaned back. “OK Donnie, lay it on me.”
Donnie was unsure if he wanted to discuss it with anyone, but if he had to, there were worse options than Dirt. “Her dad got a promotion, so they’re moving.”
“Where?”
“To Pennsylvania.”
“Unless you got a ton of frequent flyer miles saved up, that’s a problem.”
“I don’t.”
“I figured.”
They both paused to take a drink.
“This will be her third school since she started high school,” Donnie said. “It’s a pattern. Why would she get involved with me when she knows that she’s just gonna move out of my life? Why would she do that to me? It makes me mad.”
“It ain’t her fault she’s moving. Sounds like her dad is the one with problems. Seems like he’s trying to find happiness through his work instead of his family. I’m the same way.”
“Really?”
“Hell no. I work in a shack, for crying out loud. What I’m saying is, there’s no point being mad at the girl.”
“But she’s ditching me.”
“She ain’t ditchin’ you, Donnie. People’s p
aths come together and go apart. That’s the way it is.”
“It stinks.”
“You gonna be working here when you’re thirty?”
“I hope not.”
“That’s like you’re ditchin’ me, then. See? You should be happy for what time you guys had.”
“I thought we’d have more of it.”
“What do you do when things don’t work out the way you plan? I’m askin’ you. What do you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“C’mon now. I know everything hasn’t gone perfect for you. What do you do when something unplanned comes up?”
A new customer walked in from the parking lot. He looked inside the shack to see if anyone was there. When he realized it was empty, he said to Dirt, “Excuse me...”
“Yeah?” Dirt asked, somewhat rude to his patron.
“Where’s the manager?”
“You’re looking at him!”
“Oh,” the man was taken aback. He didn’t expect the owner to be a street urchin. “I would like a large bucket of golf balls, please.”
“All right. Here,” Dirt extended his hand, “gimme five bucks and grab a bucket. Sheesh!” The man handed Dirt five singles from his wallet. Dirt closed his hand around the bills and shoved them in his pocket.
“It makes me feel miserable,” Donnie said. “Like I got nothing else.”
“No one person should be your whole life, kid. You’ve got to be yourself and let others be a part of your life, not make them your life. What do you do when you’re not with her?”
“I don’t know. Nothing.”
“C’mon, you do something.”
“I read. Um, play guitar. Ride my bike. Drink Polar Slurps. Play arcade games. Pick up golf balls.” He left out telling Dirt that he wrote down his thoughts in a notebook. He thought that a tough fellow like Dirt might find that wimpy.
“There you go. You still got all that.”
“None of it matters if I don’t have Megan.”
Dirt blew out a long breath. “Donnie, you make me happy I never had kids.”
Donnie finished off his can of soda. “Believe me. They’re just as lucky.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Donnie disliked riding his bike to and from school, but he did it for the remainder of the week to avoid Megan.
The rest of her friends, especially Sada and the girls at her lunch table, tried to make her final week at Haviland High special and memorable. During Friday’s lunch, they held a mini-going away party for her. It came complete with cone hats, noisemakers (which were confiscated by the teachers on cafeteria duty), and several disposable cameras. She appreciated all of it. It was nice to know that she would be missed, but all she really wanted was some alone time with Donnie.
After her last day at Haviland High, Megan waited for Donnie by his bike. He saw her through the windows and paused to see if she would give up and leave after a minute or two. She smiled and waved to her friends as they got on their busses and walked to their cars. It was clear that the cutie in the afternoon sun had no intentions of leaving her post.
He didn’t want to talk to her. Donnie couldn’t start forgetting about her soon enough. She might say a few things to him, but before she had a chance to say too much or hurt him even more, he’d be gone. The wheels of his bike would whip him away in a hurry. He pushed the door open and went outside.
“Hi, Donnie!” Megan sounded unusually chipper compared to the past few times they spoke.
“Hey, Megan.” Donnie didn’t let her enthusiasm suck him into a conversation. He just had to make it through the weekend and this episode of his life would be behind him.
“How was your day?” Still cheerful.
“Sucked.” He got on his bike. When he did, he immediately figured out why Megan was so merry. He gave her a sidelong glance.
Megan’s eyebrows bounced up and down twice.
She had deflated his tires.
Donnie dismounted and began pushing his bike. Megan followed alongside him.
Donnie said, “You’re not going to ask if it’s OK to walk with me?”
“Nope.”
Together, they traveled the same path that they had walked several times over. Each silently took in the sights, sounds, and feel of this final walk together. It would be the last time the Richies’ dog barked at them from the other side of its fence. They wouldn’t get another chance to poke fun at New Hope Church’s silly weekly sayings on its marquee. It was the last time they would pass Swifts together.
Megan thought about how she would never see these sights again. Donnie dwelled on viewing them every day but without Megan. Both knew they would miss being together.
Megan halted in front of Swifts. She said, “Can we stop here?” She spoke like it was her dying wish. “Please, Donnie.”
“Sure, I need to get air in my tires.”
She smiled at him. “Yeah, funny how you lost all the air out of both tires.”
“Yeah, real funny.”
Megan jumped in front of his bike. “K. Wait.”
“What?”
“Promise me that you won’t ride off as soon as you get air.”
Megan Priddy was wearing a navy blue skirt with knee-high stockings. Her top was a warm and cozy gray sweater. Her magnificent trademark hair was styled in pig tails, something only she could get away with. Megan looked so hot that Donnie forgot that she was moving and that he was mad at her. He agreed to wait.
“Boffo!” Megan was excited. She ran inside the store without a worry that Donnie might ride off. Their relationship may have been under a strain lately, but she knew that Donnie would never break a promise.
He filled his tires with air and went inside to find Megan. She was standing in front of the soda fountain. Her arms were filled with packages of candies and cakes. “I want all this!” she exclaimed.
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Eat it!”
“All of it?”
“With your help.” She saw that he wasn’t sharing her excitement. She got closer to him. “See, Donnie. Wasn’t our walk down Memory Lane nice? It was just a nice, pleasant walk without any bullshit. We can still have fun together. We’re still Donnie and Megan. Nothing changes until Sunday morning.”
“What happens then?... With us?”
She stood on her tiptoes and, slightly crushing the food between their bodies, kissed him on the lips. “Sunday is so far away.”
The kiss made time stand still and Donnie responded, “Yeah, I guess it is.”
Her lips curled back in a smile. “Here,” she said, shoving the goodies into his arms, “hold this.” She reached into her satchel and yanked out Donnie’s discarded Pirates hat. “It’s still too warm out for your ski mask,” she said and fitted the baseball hat over his shaggy black hair. “You’ll need this a while longer.”
“Thanks.”
“No sweat.” She turned and went to work filling two large, sixty-four ounce cups with Sour Apple Polar Slurps.
“Those cups are for soda. They’re too big for – ”
Megan threw her head back and laughed, “I don’t care.”
If Donnie’s hands weren’t full, he would have scratched his head.
They dumped their booty of snacks and drinks from Swifts on the card table in Unit #143.
“That’s a lot of crap,” Donnie said, contemplating if he’d vomit from eating his half of it.
“Ohhhh yeah!” Megan ripped open a package of cupcakes. “I wish your guitar was here. I want to hear you play.”
“I’ll bring it tomorrow. I’ve sort of been working on something special.”
“Really? Like what?”
“Like you’ll see tomorrow.”
She washed down her first bite of cupcake and said, “Well, I’ve got a surprise, too!”
“Oh, do you now?”
“That’s right.” That’s wrong. She didn’t. She was just playing and having fun. Still, she could come up with a surprise for Donnie
by the next day. “Come on,” she said, taking his hand. “Stand over here.” She guided him to the wall with her chalk outline. She began to manipulate his limbs. His body was very stiff. Standing on her toes, she got close to his ear and whispered, “Relax, Donnie.” A warm tremor rippled through his body when she kissed his neck. His body loosened. “That’s better,” she told him.
She had fun positioning his arms, legs, and head. She moved him into some very strange and awkward positions for her own amusement before settling on a simple one. Megan had Donnie stand next to her outline. She placed his hand directly over the outline of her waist-high hand.
“Hold still,” Megan told him.
She tried going slow. She tried to take her time and revel in the joy of tracing Donnie’s body, but she couldn’t help herself. She loved it too much. Up and down his long legs. Around his lanky arms. She had to stand on a chair to do his head. With the chair’s assistance, she was almost too tall and had to reach down to trace him.
Donnie commented, “You’ve gotten bigger.”
“Yeah, I should try out for the basketball team.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Megan glanced down and saw that her chest was level with his gray eyes. She jumped down off the chair. With one hand on a hip and her other arm extended, she wagged her finger and admonished him, “Donnie Betts, shame on you.”
She moved the chair and finished the chalk outline of her boyfriend. “There!”
Donnie stepped back and admired her work. “Very nice,” he commented.
“See,” Megan said, pointing to their outlines. “I made it so we’re holding hands.”
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah!” She bounded onto their new bed. “Have you tried out the bed yet?”
“No.”
She positioned herself closer to the wall and made room for him. “Now would be a good time.”
Donnie rolled onto the bed and they stared at the ceiling.
“We should put that Ramones poster up there,” Megan commented.
Donnie was distracted. “This thing is more comfortable than my bed at home.”
“It’s the sheets.” Megan was proud of her high thread count sheets.
“How could it be the sheets? I’m fully dressed.”
Writing on the Wall Page 14
