by Marie, Tessa
“Really?” Vicky’s eyes widen in shock and she sits up in her chair.
“You did!” I hold my hand up and we high five. “I told you, you would.”
Her lips move but no words come out. She starts laughing. “I can’t believe I finally figured it out.” She laughs some more than throws her arms around me and hugs me tight.
Just knowing I helped her, and she appreciates my efforts, means more to me than any check mark on my list. In the forty-five minutes I’ve been here I’ve read another one of Susie’s essays—which of course was flawless—helped a boy named Mark with his Geometry homework, and tried to help a girl, Maria, with her science lab questions. Overall I consider today’s session a success.
“Bye, Anna. Thanks again for your help,” Vicky says as she makes her way to the door her long brown hair trailing behind her.
“Anytime. I’m happy to help.”
“Another good session,” Ms. Kittles says as I gather my stuff together.
“Yes, it was.”
The morning moves slowly as my mind shifts from my schoolwork to Dean. It’s so easy to lose myself in my thoughts when all I picture is the way his lip curves up on the left side when I talk about my day, or how his unruly curl falls on his forehead. I wonder if he thinks about me as much as I think about him.
A hand slaps a piece of white paper on my desk and I startle. I follow the arm up to Mr. Wilson, hovering above me with a look of dissatisfaction.
My eyes shift from Mr. Wilson and his brown argyle sweater vest down to the paper he placed on my desk. A bright red C stares back at me.
This is a mistake. I stare at Mr. Wilson, waiting for him to say “April Fools.” Only it’s November, not April, and he’s not about to start laughing.
When he steps away, passing the next test in his pile to Kyle, any hope of it being a joke evaporates.
I studied my ass off. Even when Dean tried to remove the book from my hands by showering kisses up my neck, I playfully pushed him away.
I expect to find red marks all down the page, but I find nothing. All of my answers are correct. Of course they are. I know the material inside and out. I even finished the test twenty minutes before anybody else even looked up. I trace my finger over the heart I doodled because I finished early and was completely confident in every single one of my answers.
I flip the test over too embarrassed to look at that wretched C, and my eyes widen. I skipped over the entire back page. How did I miss an entire page?
Mr. Wilson thinks he has it figured out. In the same red pen and his sloppy handwriting he wrote:
Anna,
Maybe you should have spent a little more time looking over your test and a little less time doodling hearts.
Thanks Captain Obvious. I can’t believe this. My entire GPA will be destroyed over one careless mistake. He knows I knew the answers. So there’s no reason why we can’t figure out a solution to this. The bell rings and the crowd thins. Mr. Wilson sits behind his desk, looking less friendly than usual.
With a deep breath, I approach, but before I can utter a single word he stops me.
“If this in regards to your test I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do for you.”
“I didn’t flip the test over though. I didn’t know. Mr. Wilson, you know I know the material better than anybody in this class. There has to be something I can do to make up for my carelessness.”
“I’m sorry. I really am, but I have to treat all my students equally, and I wouldn’t allow the opportunity for any of the other students to make up for their carelessness.”
Is he mocking me?
“But…”
“I’m sorry.”
“But, there has to be a way to fix this.”
“Like I said before, there’s nothing I can do. Be a little more attentive next time. A C is not the end of the world.”
“According to who?”
“One day you’ll realize that while your education is extremely important, one mistake will not be the end. It’s actually good to make mistakes. It gives you a chance to learn from them and grow so you don’t do it again. Now, get going to your next class before the final bell.”
“But—”
“Anna, go.”
He obviously doesn’t want to hear a single thing I have to say. So much for there being a solution for everything.
Disappointment settles in. I’ve never in my life gotten anything lower than an A except once when I got an A- in tech class, but after speaking to Mr. Tooney and explaining it wasn’t my fault the tic-tac-toe board I made wasn’t perfectly centered, and it was the outdated equipment we had to use, he adjusted my grade to an A, mumbling something about it was no wonder I was on the debate team.
And if this newest grade was an A- I suppose I could get passed that, but this is a C. A freaking C! What the hell am I going to do?
“Hey bitch, I was calling you.” Katie skips in front of me, her long tan sweater floats behind her like a cape. “Whoa, what’s wrong?”
She can read my expressions and mannerisms like she works for the FBI as a body language expert. My mouth opens but no words come out.
“What’s going on?” I reach for my test and hand it to her. Her eyes widen. Words aren’t necessary. She knows this is the worst possible thing that could happen to me.
Her eyes go back to normal size and she laughs.
“Why are you laughing? This…” I rip the test out of her hand and point to the disgraceful red letter. “Is not funny!”
“No,” she tries to talk around her laugh but can’t manage. “It’s a C Anna. I get them all the time, and I know you don’t, but this proves you’re human.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Come on. Nobody can be as perfect as you. It’s completely impossible. So, it’s nice to finally know that you too make mistakes.”
“Don’t you understand this can completely ruin my chances at getting into a good school?”
“If that’s the case they don’t deserve you. I don’t know anyone as smart as you, and I definitely don’t know anyone who volunteers their time as much as you do. Any school should be honored to have you. So you got one not so perfect grade, life goes on Anna. You of all people should know that.”
My lip trembles. She’s right. It’s the same thing she told me when I finally confided in her about my father and seeing a shrink.
Life does go on, but for so long I’ve tried to stop it. I’ve never had the strength to change my bedroom after Dad died. After all, he was the one who convinced mom to let me have it the way I wanted. He hung the ballerina slippers on the wall. Changing it would be letting him slip away from me even more than he already has.
He wanted me to have the best and by letting myself get this C, I feel like I’m letting him down. And yes, life does go on, but allowing myself to accept that, is the hardest part of all.
“I guess you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. Come on. What do you say we go to the cafeteria and get you a brownie?”
“Sounds perfect.”
***
The brownie helps. So does Katie’s spot on impersonation of Mr. Wilson. She has me laughing when I didn’t think anything could take away the disappointment. Now I’m on my way to the library to see Dean.
I wipe the frown off my face and replace it with a smile. How could I go to Dean whining over a grade when he can’t even go to school?
Perched up against the wall of the library, Dean’s in his usual hoodie and jeans, but on closer inspection the hoodie isn’t his usual. It’s navy blue.
“New hoodie?” I ask.
“Got paid today. Figured I’d treat myself.”
“Very nice,” I say. He takes me in his arms, and presses his lips to my forehead then my lips.
“Hi,” he breathes, resting his head against mine.
“Hi.”
“So what are we studying today?” His hand slides into mine, and we walk towards the door.
“Actually, I thought we could spend some time on the computer looking for your sister.” My arm pulls back as I realize he’s stopped walking. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s pointless. I’ve exhausted all angles. I’ve searched every combination possible and always come up empty-handed.”
“I don’t think you have.”
“I don’t want to get my hopes up. Every time I search I feel even more like a failure.”
“Dean,” I place my hands on either side of his face and look in his eyes. “You are not a failure. I promised I would help you find your sister, and that is exactly what I am going to do.” I kiss his lips then slowly pull away. “Come on, we’re wasting time.”
I settle into a rolling chair as Dean sits in the chair beside me. Once the internet search page pops up, I type in Facebook.
“How is Facebook going to help find my sister?”
“Other than you, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have a Facebook page. Your sister’s, what, twelve? So if she has access to a computer, I can’t imagine her not having one. And considering she may no longer have your last name, and she most likely doesn’t look like the girl you remember, it’s going to be hard. Really hard, but it’s worth a shot.”
He moves in closer and rubs his hands together. “How do we look for her?”
“I’m going to create a page for you, and after we do that we can go into search, type in Josie and see how many results we get.”
“Let’s do this.”
I create Dean’s page, putting the least amount of information in as I can. “And finished.” I click the enter key, and Dean’s profile pops up. “Let’s switch computers. You can change your password if you want. Right now it’s Josie. You also needed an email address, so I used one of mine.
“Password’s perfect and what’s your email address?”
I cringe because it’s embarrassing.
I write it on a piece of paper and slide it over to him. He picks the paper up and raises his eyebrow. “Ballerina25.” He laughs.
“Shut up. It’s the first email address I had. It’s not like I use it anymore. So you go on this computer under your profile, and I’ll go on this one under mine.” We switch seats, and I pull up my account.
“Nice picture,” Dean says. I didn’t realize he was looking. My favorite picture with Katie.
“It was taken this summer. One of the rare times I went to a party.”
“You look good with a tan.”
“Thanks.” Heat shoots into my cheeks, and I divert my attention to the screen. “We spent the whole day on the beach and then we went to the party. It was the most fun I’ve ever had.” It was one of those summer memories you hear people talk about and wished you were a part of. And for once in my life I was. “Anyway, you see where it says search?” I lean over Dean and point to the screen. “Type Josie in the box and let’s see what happens.”
I figured him for a two finger typer, but instead his fingers splay out on the keyboard in the proper position and he types like a pro.
“Zero results for Josie Lando,” he says.
“That doesn’t mean anything. She might’ve been adopted and took their name. We just have to work with Josie.”
He types her name into the search bar. “7,886? Are you kidding me?”
“I didn’t say it would be easy, and in the end we might wind up back at square one, but you never know. I’ll take the last page and work my way to the top and you take the first page and work your way through. We’ll see what happens.”
He nods, and we start clicking our way through the list. I couldn’t imagine not knowing where my brother is and if he’s okay. Even though he kind of abandoned me, he’s still my big brother. I don’t know how Dean can be so strong. He talks about his sister, and while at times I’ve thought I’ve seen his eyes gloss up, he’s never shed a single tear. He has a sister whom he hasn’t seen in seven years, and who might not even remember him. He will never be complete or fully capable of moving forward without her.
I glance over at him. Determination is evident in the way he squints his eyes. Strength with every page he clicks through. That unruly black curl falls onto his forehead and I resist the urge to push it back into place.
He peers over at me and smiles, melting my insides along with any doubt that I haven’t fallen completely in love with him.
An hour into the search, I’m twenty-five pages in with only one or two leads that turned out to be duds. Dean’s thirty pages in with no luck.
“What if she doesn’t even go by Josie anymore?” Dean asks.
“I don’t know. But what other options do we have?”
“I think I’ve had enough for one day,” Dean says, and clicks out of his page. I’m about to say something when the expression on his face changes from hopeless to heartbroken. The glassiness I’ve seen cover his eyes before has made its return, but this time it looks like it may shatter.
“What’s the matter?” I ask, pushing my chair closer to him. His eyes are fixated on the screen. I look at his screen. He’s on the local news page. “Body Found in Woods Identified.” My eyes drift to the fine print.
The body found two days ago in the woods behind the local YMCA has been identified as Wanda Suarez. According to her parents, Miguel and Francis Suarez, Wanda was a runaway and had been living on the streets for the past year. Due to the brutal cause of her death she was only able to be recognized by a butterfly tattoo on her neck.
The poor girl, I can’t read anymore. My eyes fall away from the screen and back on Dean. He’s just staring. His chest rises and falls beneath his hoodie and his breathing deepens.
“You knew her?”
He nods, a tear falling down his cheek. Before I can comfort him, he stands. His knuckles whiten on the back of the chair. The chair slams into the desk. Noise echoes throughout the library. Dean screams, “Damn it” and storms towards the door.
A few heads turn, but once he disappears from their view, they turn back to what they’re doing. I grab my bag and run after him.
“Dean!” I yell when I get outside. My eyes scan back and forth looking for the brown haired boy I’ve fallen in love with.
But he’s gone.
Why? Why? Why?
What did she fucking do to deserve that? I want to punch something, divert the pain ripping through my heart. My lip trembles and anger overpowers any and all emotion.
Damn it! Why wasn’t I there for her? Did this happen the night she didn’t get into the Y and I did? I pace back and forth, unsure of what else to do.
“Dean?”
Anna. I don’t want her to see me like this. Not when I’m filled with such hatred and regret. She doesn’t need to be part of this.
My feet move away from her, but when her hand rests on my shoulder I freeze. A calm trickles its way through my body and my fists unclench. I have to be strong. I have to show Anna I’m okay. Slowly, I turn around. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t so much as try to utter a single sorry, she just throws her arms around my neck and pulls me into her.
The smell of cherry blossoms and the feel of her hair against my cheek comfort me in a way I didn’t think possible. It reminds me of what Wanda said, it’s nice to know someone cares, and Anna does really care about me. I don’t know what I did to deserve her.
I should let her go. Let her go back to her life and unburden her with my problems, but I need her right now. Selfishly, I pull her closer and bury my head into the crook of her neck, allowing her scent to calm me.
Her hand runs through my hair then caresses my cheek. She pulls away, gorgeous hazel eyes looking back at me. “You want to get some pizza?”
My heart swells at her invitation. There might be things she doesn’t know about me, but she knows enough to not lecture me on loss and life’s misfortunes.
I shift away from her, but don’t let go. “You have to get over to the soup kitchen. It’s almost four.”
“Barney won’t mind. You seem like you might need
some company.” Just when I didn’t think I’d ever smile again, the corner of my lip tugs.
“I do, but you have an obligation. So I’ll walk you there, and if Barney lets me, I’ll help.”
“That sounds good.” She rises on her toes and presses her lips to mine, soft and gentle. Perfect. Just what I need.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder and head towards the soup kitchen. The line has already formed and is beginning to wrap around the church. I recognize most of the faces. They aren’t young like at the Y, but they all have that same lack of hope in their eyes.
Anna takes my hand, and guides me to the front and down the stairs. A few of the regulars stare me down as I pass. If I was them, I’d do the same thing.
“Stay right here,” Anna says, and I watch her walk to Barney, who’s setting up the food on the long table. Next to Barney is a girl with brownish red hair who I can only assume is Susie. By the way she’s waving to Anna like she’s some kind of celebrity, I can guarantee I’m right.
Barney looks over his shoulder at Stan, who nods. After a few seconds Anna waves me over. Barney pats me on the back and says, “You can take Anna’s job of handing out the plates. Welcome aboard.”
“Thanks, Barney. I appreciate it.” He nods and walks over to the door.
I take my spot beside Anna. It seems so weird. Just the other day I was on the receiving end and now I’m the one handing over a hot meal.
Barney opens the door and the people stream in. At first I’m nervous, afraid they’re going to look right through me and curse the ground I walk on. What gives me the right to be on this side of the table as if I’m not on the same playing field anymore?
Nobody acknowledges me, too focused on getting food on their plate. However, a few smile at Anna and make small-talk before moving down the line. She keeps a smile on her face and has the assembly line down to a science. First she offers bread, then moves on to the vegetables always giving a little extra to each person.
I wonder if Wanda had a hot meal before she died.
Anna’s eyes catch mine, and when her smile is directed at me, I feel a sense of relief. It’s as if as long as she’s in my life, everything is going to be okay. God I hope so.
