“Ew.”
He took a bite of his cheeseburger. I tossed my thickly sliced salami in the trash and tried to swallow the mustard-covered rye. “If I get perfect on my Algebra quiz today, I’ll get twenty-five bucks. Twenty after my charitable deduction.”
“Maybe Mike can hook you up with his employee discount. You could get some jeans. Or maybe we should start with a shirt. Or shoes. Or a haircut.” He looked at my drawstring pants and sighed. “You’re the charity case. You should pocket the full twenty-five.”
I whipped my mustard rye at his cheek even though Blake was right. I am a mess. So I spent the rest of the period cramming for my $25 Algebra quiz. I’ll ace it. That class is so seventh grade.
Like my clothes.
September 17th
Forgive me, Journal, for I have sinned. It has been less than a day since my last entry so that’s obviously not it. It’s something else. And it’s worse than not journaling.27
As you know, I had an Algebra quiz today. You also know I studied during lunch so I was prepared. What you don’t know is that the “Before” picture sat beside me in Algebra and completely disrupted my chi.
“You’re too funny,” she said.
“I am?”
“I love how you signed up for every spot on the Phoenix Five. Hilarious.”
“Why?”
“Why? Those blank spaces were rhetorical.”
Foe no you dizn’t! This was her trying to rile me up before the quiz. It was a total power move. But she’ll have to fight smarter than that if she wants to beat me to the Academic Excellence award, the Honors Society, and the Principal’s Award. As for the Phoenix Five, she can have one spot if she really wants. I’ll take four.
“I really like those bracelets you’re selling.”
“SWAPs.”
“Sorry.”
“I’m sure you’ll be very happy with yours,” I snipped.
“Mine? I didn’t get one.”
“You will.”
“Huh?”
“Your boyfriend bought two.”
“Boyfriend?” She looked confused and then kind of laughed. “You mean Blake?”
I stared at her again.
“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s—we’ve been best friends for years.”
“I think he likes you.”
“There is nothing between us. Trust me.”
“Really?”
“Cross my heart.” She made an X over her ill-fitting shirt. “Never has been. Never will be.”
“Does he have a girlfriend?”
“Nope.”
“Oh,” I said, like I didn’t really care. But on the inside my cells were popping like kernels in a microwave. Blake was single. He didn’t like Lily!28
I wanted more intel but Mr. Baskin started handing out the quiz. We had twenty minutes to answer ten questions.
I tried to focus but Blake’s dark eyes waxed in my mind and eclipsed my math knowledge.29
Still, I finished first. Eighteen minutes and twenty-three seconds. Instead of taking our quizzes home and grading them like a responsible teacher, Mr. Baskin had us switch papers with the person sitting next to us. Lily got mine and I got hers. He called out the correct answers while we, the students, graded them. It was a total sweatshop move.
Lily got ten out of ten.
I got eight.30
When you make a choice, you change the future.
—Deepak Chopra
9.19.12
INT. STARLIGHT AUDITORIUM—BACK ROW.
SHERIDAN as KRISTIN CHENOWETH, Tony and Emmy award winner, exits the stage after her first high school audition. She performed like a hammer and nailed it.
As planned, I sang “Popular” from Wicked in 32 bars. I began with the first verse after the intro (“Popular, you’re gonna be popular” thru “everything that really counts to be…”), then cut to the last (“very very popular like me”) and finished strong with “La la la la, you’ll be popular, just not quite as popular as me!”
Coherent sense? Check.
Actable? Check, check.
Set me up for the last big belt note? Don’t make me say it again.… Okay, fine… CHECK!
There, the facts have been documented. My memoirs will be accurate. In a perfect world I’d put quill to paper and record the other stuff that happened during the audition. But I’m way too emotional. And my world is light-years away from perfect.
To Be Continued…
END SCENE.
Friday
Bubbie Libby always says: Andrew, life is like a giant hemroyd (sp?); sometimes it’s up, sometimes it’s down.
ME: I hear ya.
I only said that because it’s funny when she talks about hemroyds and I don’t want her to stop. But I never actually got it until now.
It’s night. I’m in a tent. Dad is snoring. I can’t sleep. Not after what he told me. I’m watching the campfire, thinking about the hemroydian week I just had. Up one minute, down the next. Right now it’s crazy-down.
Feeling = Good news if you’re a hemroyd. Bad news if you’re me.
It started with me, Hud, and Coops making Varsity. Coach Bammer said it’s the first time ever that three freshmen made his team. Then he pulled me aside and said he’d be watching me. He thinks I have a very bright future in this sport if I want it.
ME: Of course I want it.
HIM: Then I’m going to push you.
ME: Cool.
That was up. The down happened when we were leaving the locker room. I was wondering what that girl Sheridan eats for breakfast when, out of nowhere, this arm grabs Hud’s shirt and pulls him back in.
LOGO: How much did you pay?
HUD: For what?
LOGO: For your pedicure, what do you mean for what? For your spot on the team?
I yanked Hud away.
LOGO: Wrong answer.
He drew back his fist and aimed it at my face. Just as he was about to strike, Coops sideswiped Logo’s fist with some brown-belt karate action.
COOPS: Keee-ai!
He landed like he was straddling a toilet.
COOPS: Prepare for epic battle.
Logo pushed Coops into a locker and grabbed Hud’s uniform for the second time. He flicked the sponsor’s name and said: explain that.
HUD: First Rate Real Estate?
LOGO: Isn’t that your daddy’s business?
HUD: So?
LOGO: So? You sweat freshman piss in basketball but for some straaaaange reason you’re on the Flames and I got cut.
COOPS: He’s better than you.
LOGO: Come here and say that.
Coops stepped right up to Logo but instead of saying: he’s better than you, he shouted Keee-ai! and round-housed Logo in the shin. No one saw it coming. Not even me and I’ve known the guy since first grade. It was sick! Until Coops tried to run and wiped on the wet tiles.
He has to wear one of those black Darth Vader boots for seven weeks, maybe more. So he’s out for the season. Logo got his spot.
That
was
a
down
day.
The rest of the week was about drills and schedules. Bammer said we’d be closer than brothers by the end of the year. I said cool because I’m sick of sisters. Everyone laughed. Logo cracked his knuckles.
Feeling = Over that guy.
Other than Logo, everyone seems cool. They know Hud and I have skills and keep saying how the Noble Flames are going to dominate this year. Greg, one of the seniors, even offered to drive me to practice and stuff so I don’t have to deal with my parents. The way he said it made me think he has annoying parents. I like mine and normally I’m cool if they want to take me to games but Mom has been stressed lately so I said okay.
Like Wednesday after practice. I was in the kitchen swigging chocolate milk from the carton when she showed up. Carrying a laundry basket! Normally she freaks when I drink fro
m the carton but she didn’t even notice. All she cared about was my uniform which I guess she had just washed.
MOM: Hudson’s parents are sponsoring the Flames?
ME: Yeah.
MOM: Since when?
ME: Dunno.
MOM: Does your father know?
ME: Dunno.
MOM: Well, what do you know?
ME: I dunno. What’s the big deal?
MOM: The big deal is it costs money to sponsor a team.
ME: So.
MOM: So, I guess they’re having a good year.
ME: Maybe you should get Rosie back.
MOM: Rosie? What does Rosie have to do with anything?
ME: You seem kinda… I dunno. Maybe you need help or something.
MOM: You’re right.
So you know what she did? She handed me the basket and told me to put the clothes away. Then, after tripping over our nameless dogs and shouting the s-word, she went upstairs to take a bath.
I put the basket in Mandy’s room with a note that said, Mom wants you to put these away. Then I played DS.
Feeling = If she wants to wear slick designer clothes she should put them away herself.
Today Coach Bammer sent us home with the parents’ packet. We have to bring it back Monday with everything signed and paid for or we’re off the team. Varsity is that serious. I gave it to Dad right when he got home. He was in my room ten minutes later.
ME: That was fast. Thanks.
He dropped it on my bed and asked if I wanted to go fly-fishing.
ME: When?
DAD: Now.
ME: It’s Sabbath.
DAD: We’re not Jewish.
ME: Oh yeah.
Feeling = Either my parents are dying or they’re getting divorced.
Dad and I have been going on these awesome guys-only fly-fishing trips since I was six. With Varsity we probably won’t have time for them so I brought my journal. I thought it would be good to take notes so I could remember the good times, just in case my last feeling comes true.
Feeling = It better not.
We listened to the Yankees game for most of the drive. They were down by three in the last inning. Dad turned it off.
ME: Why’d ya do that?
DAD: I’m tired of losing.
ME: I hear ya.
I had no clue what he was talking about.
We pulled off the highway and onto the dirt road that led to our campsite. Twigs snapped under the weight of our 4Runner. Rocks and roots were pressed into the mud. Tree branches scraped along our windows like witch nails. These were the only sounds we heard for the last few miles. I liked it that way.
We pulled into the campground and parked. Dad gripped the steering wheel and lowered his head. He seemed nervous. He wanted to tell me something but was afraid.
Feeling = He’s dying.
I started naming Knicks to stay calm. Carmelo Anthony, Earl Barron, Tyson Chandler…
I got all the way to J.R. Smith before he looked at me.
DAD: Twenty-five hundred dollars?
ME: Huh?
DAD: Are you playing on a team or buying one?
ME: What are you talking about?
DAD: The fees. They’re outrageous.
ME: I hear ya. It’s the travel and motels and stuff. We’re playing fifteen away games. Coach Bammer said it would be double that if First Rate wasn’t sponsoring us.
DAD: Yeah, I heard about that.
He said it like it was bad news.
ME: Hey, maybe if Duffy Commercial Realty sponsored us too it would be cheaper.
Dad said “ha” but didn’t laugh.
I started to freak.
ME: Do you have a disease?
DAD: No.
ME: Does Mom? Bubbie?
DAD: Why would you think that?
ME: You guys have been acting all weird lately.
He lowered his head on the wheel again. I was freaking so hard I grabbed his biceps. It used to feel stronger.
ME: You’re scaring me, Dad. What is it?
DAD: Can I trust you?
ME: Yeah.
DAD: No, really.
ME: ’Course.
DAD: Son—
ME: What?
DAD: Your mother and I filed Chapter Eleven.
ME: Oh.
DAD: I know what you’re thinking.
ME: You do?
DAD: You’re wondering how we let it come to this. Believe me, I ask myself the same thing.
ME: No I’m not.
DAD: You’re not?
ME: No. I’m thinking, what-in-the-H is Chapter Eleven?
For some reason this made him want to hug me.
DAD: Let’s set up camp.
So we set up camp, started a fire, and cooked hot dogs. Then he explained.
DAD: Chapter Eleven means bankrupt. I can’t pay the bills.
ME: What bills?
DAD: Mortgage, payroll, company cars, gas—
For some reason that orphan Jagger popped into my brain. Would people be leaving clothes by my locker soon, too?
ME: What about food?
DAD: No one is going to starve. Don’t worry. But we did close Duffy Commercial. It was the only way to get out of the red.
ME: The red?
DAD: It’s an expression. It means out of debt. We have to start a whole new business. We’ve laid the groundwork but it will take time.
He threw his hot dog into the fire. We watched it burn. I wondered if he should be wasting food.
He told me it was crucial that I not tell anyone about this. Especially Hudson. First Rate is their top competitor and he doesn’t want them poaching Duffy’s clients. The only way they will be able to make a quick recovery is if this stays a family secret. He made me promise to keep it. I did.
We got in the tent and zipped up our sleeping bags. Then he said one last thing.
DAD: Our family will have to make sacrifices, you know. A lot of them.
ME: Like eating Mom’s cooking?
He laughed.
ME: Is that why we got rid of Rosie?
DAD: Yes.
He rolled over so his back was to me.
Coyotes yelped all around us.
DAD: That’s why I can’t pay your basketball expenses.
ME: What?
DAD: I’m sorry, son.
My legs went numb. My lungs turned to stone. I wasn’t yawning but it was hard to hear.
ME: Can you lend me the money? I’ll get a job and pay you back right away. A bit each week. I promise.
DAD: My funds have been frozen.
ME: But—
DAD: I’m sorry.
We didn’t say anything after that. We just lay there, hands folded across our chests, staring up at the canvas roof.
Eventually Dad fell asleep. I am back outside. How am I going to get $2,500 by Monday?
I am throwing dry leaves into the fire.
Feeling = Jealous of dry leaves.
They get a chance to play with the Flames.
I never will.
September 22nd
Forgive me, Journal, for I have sinned. I should be asking for forgiveness, only Dad says when a person is forgiven they must never do that wrong thing again.31 And I can’t promise that. Because the wrong thing I did led to good great amazing things. So I’m not unequivocally sorry.
Cheating is for desperate losers and my brother. So, naturally I had second thoughts about passing “Before” Picture’s A+ off as my own. Besides, I didn’t get a B+ because I’m stupid. I got a B+ because BP told me that Blake was not, in any way, her boyfriend. Thusly, it triggered a serotonin surge in my frontal lobe.32 Considering I was under the spell of powerful monoamine neurotransmitters,33 I think I did well. Besides, it was only a quiz.
When I got home Mom was in the kitchen flipping through a cookbook. Dad crunched a credit card bill in his fist.
“
Who spends four hundred and fifty dollars on shoes?”
“Boots,” she said. “And I need them for work.”
“Odette, you sit behind the concierge desk. No one is looking at your feet.”
“Is that what you think I do? Sit behind a desk all day?”
I started to itch.
“Well, don’t you?”
Mom shut the cookbook. “No, that’s what you do. Only you’re not interacting with humans. Just computers. Which explains your people skills.”
“At least I have people skills.”
“I was being facetious.”
“Really? I thought you were being a b—”
“Hey,” I called, paper-cutting the tension with Lily’s A+. “Guess what I got?” I pressed my thumb over her name and flashed the olive branch. Then I stuffed it in my bag and welcomed their hugs. “Beni’s tonight?”
Mom said, “I wasn’t in the mood to cook anyway.”
“Are you ever?” Dad hissed.
And that was that. We spent the rest of the night stealing shrimp off each other’s plates and sharing the details of our day.
After Oskar brought out our Bindi orange sorbets and pineapple boat A.J. said, “This was so much fun. Let’s do it again tomorrow.”
I kicked him under the table because who gets A’s on a Sunday? I resented the added pressure.
“Relax, Nessa. I’ve got it.”
I rolled my eyes.34
He scooped up an entire ball of sorbet and jammed it in his mouth. Orange dribbled down his chin. I almost punched him for hogging but we were at Beni’s.35
Dad whipped a napkin at him. “A.J.!”
“It’s okay, we’ll be back tomorrow. You can order more.”
My parents looked at me like I had a big announcement to make.
“Did my bracelets arrive?”
“Nope,” A.J. said, like he even knew what they were.
I wondered if I had been nominated for the Phoenix Five but that was impossible since the ballots don’t go out until April. “Did I get early acceptance to college?”
“Did you apply to college?” Mom asked.
“No.”
A.J. lifted his Sprite.
“I got a job. A real one.”
Mom and Dad exchanged a worried glance. They had been down this dead-end road before.
“Where?”
“Spencer BMW.”
“The dealership?” Dad asked, shocked.
A.J. nodded, his green eyes extra bright. As if the internal electric bill had been paid and the power was back on.
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