by J. Bengtsson
Movement on the dork front caught my attention, and I sat up a little straighter. Both girls came out of their huddle and, as if perfectly choreographed, turned their heads at the exact same moment. Suddenly two sets of eyes were staring directly at me. I almost diverted my own just from the shock of being caught, but then it occurred to me they’d been talking about me, so really they should be the embarrassed party. And, oh lordy, were they ever. Both immediately shifted their gaze, my lab partner even going so far as to shield her face from view with a carefully placed, unmanicured hand.
Fuck the kitty cats and the pickle head, this was the conversation I wanted in on. Just exactly what were those nerdy girls saying about me? I had half a mind to break out of Utopia and stalk over there myself. And I would have, too, if it wouldn’t have been social suicide. So instead, I kept my eyes glued on the girls, waiting. I knew my lab partner would be back, too curious not to check if I was still watching her.
A full minute passed before she lifted her eyes just enough to see me staring. I waved. The girl’s eyes widened as she slowly swiveled her head around, checking the space behind her to determine if there was, perhaps, another intended recipient of my greeting. Finding no one there, the girl gestured toward herself, before mouthing Me?
A smile tugged at my lips and I nodded. “Yes, you.”
3
Samantha: Spooned
I nearly floated from my seat on a wave of euphoria. Keith. Keith McKallister was smiling at me. This just didn’t happen – not to me. And even though I’d done a sweep of the perimeter to confirm there hadn’t been someone else passing behind me at that exact moment, I was still having trouble processing the sudden turn of events. I mean, what were the chances that moments after I’d given Shannon the rundown of events in chemistry class that we’d look up to find him staring?
In a perfect world, I would have remained calm and composed – maybe even offered him an upper class wave or a sexy toss of my tangled mane. But, of course, I’d done the opposite, and now I had to deal with the burn spreading through my cheeks from the embarrassment of being me.
As quickly as the excitement surfaced, my questioning mind chased it away. Why single me out –the chubby chick from chemistry? What was his angle? The more I thought about it, the more I realized his actions made no sense. With him sitting over there in his posh zip code, there was absolutely no reason for him to acknowledge my existence.
Reality smacked me squarely in the face: Keith was mocking me. Of course he was. It was the only logical conclusion. He’d probably made some bet with his buddies – devised some plan to humiliate me in front of the entire student body. I could almost picture the pig’s blood dripping down my face. I should have known better. ‘Nice’ in my world was never just nice.
Heat burned up my spine and spread through the extremities. I was teetering dangerously close to an emotional collapse. I didn’t have a lot of reserves to pull from in the first place, but this had the makings of a full-scale disaster. Peace was all I asked for. Why couldn’t people just leave me alone?
Willing back the sobs threatening to burst unchecked, I grabbed my backpack and ran from the lunch tables. It never even occurred to me that I’d just abandoned my best friend until Shannon caught up with me at the end of the first set of lockers.
“Samantha! What happened?” she asked, panic gripping her as she checked me for injury. She wouldn’t find anything. The damage was buried too deep.
Tears brimmed on my lashes. “He waved and smiled at me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Keith. He waved and smiled at me.”
“Keith McKallister waved and smiled at you?” Shannon repeated, and I could see her trying to process the gravity of my words but finding nothing alarming in them whatsoever. And then came the stunned smile. “For real?”
“Yes, for real.”
“Then why are you crying? That’s the best thing that’s happened to either of us in high school, and I’m including the time that guy said I might be pretty if I could get rid of all my freckles.”
Exactly my point. That was the type of garbage she and I dealt with on a daily basis, and it was the reason I was now convinced of Keith’s deception. I dropped my gaze to the floor. “He was making fun of me, Shannon.”
“By waving and smiling? Apparently you’ve never had people fake-blow their noses when you walk by or ask you how many miles tall you are.”
It was a joke, but there was no mistaking the pain behind her admission. It wasn’t easy being misfits in a world of health and beauty, but Shannon and I did our best, minding our own business until someone felt the need to rub our noses in all our faults. I hated feeling unworthy, but maybe that was just me. Shannon apparently was made of sterner stuff.
“It’s not fair. You’re the nicest girl at this school. If people just took the time to get to know you, they’d love you as much as I do.”
The way I saw it, there was someone for everyone in this world, and at this point in my life, Shannon was my only someone. Already emotional, I failed to stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. Maybe I was just overly sentimental because this was the last ‘first day of school’ I would ever share with my friend. Shannon was a senior, so by this time next year, she’d be in college, off living the dream, and I’d be confined to the four walls of the library praying the librarian had done a heavy restock over the summer.
Shannon’s eyes softened as she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. “Don’t add me to your list of woes. And stop obsessing over what others think of you. Who cares? You are you. I am me. We can’t change that. But what we can do is surround ourselves with positive people.”
I cringed just thinking about the support system I had at home. Shannon picked up on it right away, holding me tighter. “It’s not as simple for you. I get that, but just know it will get easier. High school doesn’t last forever. And has it even occurred to you that maybe Keith’s smile and wave was just that – a friendly gesture? There are still good people in this world.”
I leaned back, considering my best friend’s words before grinning. “He’s a drug dealer, Shannon.”
“A drug dealer with a heart of gold, Samantha.” She winked. “With a heart of gold.”
I spent fifth period hashing over Shannon’s version of events. Was I so warped in my thinking that I’d misread what happened at the lunch tables? Was Keith really just being friendly? And if that were the case, what did it say about me? I had a sinking feeling if I continued down this skeptical path, I was going to live a lonely, distrustful life.
Maybe it wasn’t so far off to think Keith liked me – in the most platonic sense of the word. We’d had a fairly interesting conversation, and I had actually felt a connection to him. Not a romantic one, of course, because that would just be, well, pathetic wishful thinking. No, the connection I’d made with him was a human one. Keith had seen me – the invisible Samantha Anderson – and, for only the second time since moving to this town, I’d felt like I belonged. Like I was a part of something bigger than myself. I felt welcomed.
Not that it was going to last. If my disappearing act at the lunch tables hadn’t put a wrench in our unlikely pairing, Keith’s inevitable transfer back into the other chemistry class certainly would. I mean, what were the chances of Mr. Friend’s doctor’s note holding up in a court of law? Odds were, by tomorrow morning Keith would be returned to his rightful home, and, in true Samantha fashion, my good fortune would have only lasted a class period – even less if you counted Keith’s late start… and the nap.
As the school day drew to a close, all thoughts of Keith and chemistry were set aside for the real life drama that plagued me. Home. As in, I had to go there after school. I drew in a deep breath and tried to settle my nerves. Would it ever get easier walking through the front door?
After the bell rang, and all the other students flooded into the surrounding streets and headed back to their humble abodes, I would quietly make my way to the library and s
ettle in for the afternoon. It had become my after-school ritual since moving to town last year, and I wouldn’t leave until the lights were turned out in my sanctuary. Only then would I make the anxiety-inducing trip home. You’d think I was going to a funeral the way I went to that dark place in my mind during the five-minute drive.
Because I never knew what to expect when I walked through the front door, my stomach always churned as I stepped onto the front porch. Today was no exception. I silently turned the key in the lock before opening the door and poking my head in to check the situation. The coast was clear, and I sighed in relief. Slipping off my shoes, I tiptoed to my room. Almost there. This might be a good day after all.
“Samantha! Is that you?”
My mother’s shrill words rang in my ears, and I stopped dead in my tracks, contemplating my next move. I could ignore her and pretend I hadn’t heard, although nobody within a half a block radius could have been spared her piercing screech. Besides, evading her was only a quick fix. She’d still find me, and I’d be right back here where I started.
Shoring myself for the assault, I answered. “Yes. I’m home.”
“You care to explain this?”
She always did that, pointing to an issue in another part of the house where I couldn’t possibly know what she was referring to. Not that it mattered. Whatever was upsetting her was my fault. It always was. I felt a tingling of dread travel up my spine as my feet obediently moved toward the sound of her voice. I wondered how long she’d been stewing over the perceived slight. As I rounded the corner to the kitchen, I saw her standing with the dishwasher door open.
“I cleaned it out this morning,” I said, jumping in to defend myself. “Just like you asked.”
She slammed the dishwasher closed, and I jumped in place like the skittish colt she’d raised me to be. Mom yanked open the silverware drawer and the wood hit the stopper with a loud crack. I was surprised the flimsy rubber held. My mother presented me with Exhibit A: a spoon.
“What is this?” she asked, her eyes blazing.
I was too far away to see a problem, but I could guess the issue. I thought back to my brother, Sullivan, who’d taken the brunt of her fury for a similar spoon-related issue. Before he’d gone off to college, our failures split her disappointment in half. Now it was just me dealing with her. And her was a mentally unstable perfectionist who forced her unnamed disorder on the rest of us like a demented Martha Stewart.
My mother’s tyranny was the reason Sully moved halfway across the country the first chance he got. The reason he’d never once come home to visit that first year in college.
The reason he…
Tears immediately flooded my eyes, and I swallowed them back as quickly as they started. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Like a human wrecking ball, my mother had driven away everyone I loved. I was the only one left standing – but just barely. My thoughts turned toward my father. I can’t take it, he’d said. She’s dangerous. She’s crazy. And yet he’d had no trouble leaving Sully and me behind with Mommy Dearest to go marry the secretary he’d been banging at work.
He’d had no trouble washing his hands of his old kids when the new ones came along. And certainly, he had no trouble bitching about the child support payments he was court-ordered to pay. Never mind that it was the only day of the month mom was in a good mood. Sadly, today was not one of those days.
“Spots!” she screamed, the spoon shaking in her hand. “There are spots, Samantha.”
“Sorry,” I answered feebly, wishing the safety stone around my neck had the ability to erect a shelter large enough for me to crawl inside. “I didn’t see them.”
“Did you even bother to look? What about this one? Spots, too! Look!” Mom tossed the offending spoon at me before lifting another one from the drawer, examining it. “And this one? I take it you didn’t see this one either?”
“I… no…”
Mom let out an aggravated growl before flinging that one at me as well. There had been a time when Mom could nail a fly on an opposing wall with a butter knife, but luckily for me, her aim was all over the place nowadays.
“Get it together! What’s wrong with you? How hard is it to wipe down the silverware before you put it away? Do I have the only kid on the planet who can’t follow simple goddamn instructions?”
“I’ll fix it, Mom,” I answered, my lip quivering from the force of her fury. I hated living this way. I hated being weak and accommodating, but what choice did I have? Lashing back never accomplished anything except more yelling and more screaming and more punches landing on my body. Appeasing her was the only feasible option. “Go get your stuff done. When you get back, your silverware will be as shiny as a freshly cut diamond.”
“Are you mocking me, Samantha? Is that what you’re doing?”
“No…no,” I hesitated, my voice lowering to a bare whisper. “I’m going to fix this, but I can’t if you’re throwing silverware at me.”
Mom’s eyes narrowed as I stood in place like a shaky puppy waiting for the big dog to pounce. If she did, I knew it would hurt, but I’d gotten to a point where I’d become numb to her beatings. At least when they were over, I’d be safe for another day.
But today would prove to be a good day. Instead of engaging, my mother spun for a dramatic exit but dizzied herself in the process and had to get steadied with the support of the kitchen counter before stomping off in a huff. I slumped against the wall, letting out the breath I’d been holding, and those pesky tears returned. Her moods were becoming more erratic. Who was to say the next thing she threw at me wouldn’t be a butcher knife that would slice me clean in half?
Maybe I needed to rethink Auntie Kim’s offer of asylum. But I barely knew her. Who was to say I wouldn’t be trading one bad living situation for another? It was a matter of choosing the devil I knew; although, to be fair, the choice really wasn’t mine to make. My mother wouldn’t willingly give up daily maid service. And if I didn’t have the voice to stand up for myself when it came to smudged spoons, how could I stand up in front of a judge and speak of years of abuse and threats? No, I could make it another year and a half. It would be tough, but I’d survived so far. Once I graduated, I’d be off to a far away college, and I’d never have to lay eyes on that woman again.
Like Sullivan.
A vice tightened around my heart.
No. Not like Sullivan.
4
Keith: The ‘T’ Word
The trip to Universal Studios on Tuesday had seemed like such a good idea – at the time. And ditto to yesterday’s outing to Hollywood. Even today’s planned beach day hadn’t raised any red flags in my mind, and trust me, I’d had plenty of time to ponder the dangers while climbing out my bedroom window and pushing my car to the end of the street to avoid detection.
Certainly I could see how my adventures might not endear me to authority figures, like principals and parents… and cops. Case in point – my father, who was currently clutching the steering wheel with such force that his fingers were turning a sickly shade of white. A few minutes earlier I’d spotted him trudging his way through the sand, dressed in all shades of postman blue. The Terminator grimace he wore on his face told me all I needed to know. I was in big trouble.
It was currently eight-thirty in the morning. He was supposed to be at work. I was supposed to be in school. And now neither of us was where we were supposed to be because I couldn’t make a good decision to save my life.
Dad was an infinitely patient man, but even he had his limits. And judging by the demented swearing under his breath, I’d not only hit that limit but had busted through it. He was mad. I got it. Dealing with me couldn’t be easy. I was one of those people who never made the same mistake twice. Instead I made it like five or six times; you know, just to be sure.
The garbled mumbling coming from the driver’s seat motivated me to get my story straight. I’d screwed up and was going to have to dig deep, employing every last alibi in my depleted arsenal of excuses. W
hat had I been thinking? Skipping class one day, sure, but three? How could I have overlooked the obvious? By not being in my first period seat by the time the bell rang, I was marked as absent. Those absences would generate a report. And that report would produce a call. And that call would prompt my father to leave work and go in search of me. Truly, with all odds stacked against me, it was a miracle I’d made it to day three.
Even as I tried to avoid direct eye contact, I could feel his glare burrowing into me. Dad hated getting called by Principal King almost as much as I hated being sent to his office. It wasn’t the first time he’d been forced to take a detour from his postal route to drag my ass off the beach. And, in all honesty, it probably wouldn’t be his last.
I cleared my throat. Once. Twice. Eleven times.
“Do you have something to say?” His voice was high-pitched and jittery, like a jacked-up clown preparing to end my life.
“Yeah, I just want you to know how sorry I am, Dad.”
And I was. Truly. I never set out to make his life difficult; it just happened organically nearly every day.
His jaw clenched. Nothing in his distressed demeanor favored my survival. “Three days, Keith! You haven’t been to school in three days! What the hell have you been doing… for three days?”
Oh, man. The real question was what hadn’t we done? We’d been all over the Southland, and this morning’s surf break had just been the start of another epic adventure. Left unchecked, my buddies and I would have had a kick-ass day at the Santa Barbara Zoo followed by some highly illegal pier jumping. Of course, that seemed like information my father probably didn’t want to hear. He was simply too agitated for the truth.
“Just chillin’.”
“Just chillin’,” he repeated, nodding like one of those loony bobble-heads. “Well, how nice for you. I sure hope you’re feeling rested.”
