Miss Taken

by Sue Seabury

  Sifting through the junk on my dresser, I located two hairbrushes. The round one I generously presented to Diana.

  I didn’t even get annoyed when she had the nerve to recoil at the sight of a few hairs that were attached. For gosh sakes, it’s a hairbrush. With a perfectly pleasant expression on my face, I cleaned as much hair off it as I could and reoffered it.

  Once she finally accepted the blasted thing, I went to put the needle back at the beginning of the record and we sang it again, belting it out into our hairbrushes. The third time we listened to it, Diana let me have the round brush and I took the lead part. The fourth time, she was Bonnie and I was the guy who sounds like a woman who sings the “turn around” part. To be honest, Diana has a better voice. So the fifth time we sang, Diana was Bonnie again and we shared the round brush. She tilted it in my direction for the “turn around” parts.

  After five rounds, I didn’t put it on again. I think we both felt healed of our broken hearts, or at least catharted of our Valentine’s Day misery. In an unspoken pact, Diana and I decided not to discuss the sources of our unhappiness.

  Instead we listened to more sappy songs, yelling them into our hairbrushes. For more dramatic effect, we got up, played air guitar and danced around the room. From the possibility of what my Valentine’s Day was supposed to have been, it wasn’t the worst ending.

  Strange but true scientific fact about tears: They flow for three reasons: basal tears clean and lubricate; reflex tears form in response to an irritant like an onion; and emotional tears...well, we all know why they happen.

  My eyes have become more sensitive since getting contacts. And I wish my mom would stop cutting up so many onions.

  The next morning I awoke with puffy eyes and dread in my heart. I was supposed to meet Hannah for math tutoring. Although I was feeling a little better after singing out my sorrows, I didn’t think I was up to discussing what had happened with Ned yet. And she would ask because I had indiscriminately blabbed to her about my big Valentine’s Day date plans.

  So I called and tried to reel out a story about how I wasn’t feeling well. Hannah cut me off with, “Ooh, is it because you were out doing X-rated things last night?”

  Since she wasn’t going to let me off the hook, I opted to confess in person. This had the added benefit of putting me out of earshot of the rest of my family. It wasn’t ideal, of course, because it would be taking place in a public forum. If the waterworks started up again it would be extra-humiliating to be in view of dozens of people even if they were strangers. I prayed the presence of others would have a drying effect on my lachrymal ducts.

  I had a moment of weakness before leaving for the library and called Ned’s house. Okay, two moments of weakness. No answer either time.

  We met at our usual table. Hannah didn’t even sit down before demanding, “So?”

  I was determined to have the refuge of quadratic equations available to me. I opened a book and flipped through the pages slowly. “Hmm?” I replied, raising my eyebrows as if I hadn’t the foggiest notion in the world what she was referring to.

  “So how’d it go?”

  “Oh,” I said, waving off my first and possibly my last Valentine’s Day date ever as utterly trivial. “You know.”

  “No. I don’t actually. That’s why I’m asking. So out with it.”

  I took one last glance at my math book for strength and told her. “We kind of got into a fight.”

  “Oh, no!” Hannah seemed genuinely concerned, which should have been a big red flag. She is not exactly Ned’s biggest fan. “Where’d he take you?”

  “Oh, um, we had the fight before it even started, so we didn’t actually go anywhere.”

  “Ohmigosh! What did you fight about that was so bad he didn’t even want to go out anymore?”

  “Well, I guess you could say the fight was about Kyle.”

  “Oh.” She had been leaning in. Now she settled back in her chair and nodded knowingly. “He found out about Kyle leaving you those presents, huh?”

  How did she know?

  “I saw him put the one on your locker.”

  I am getting a strong impression that my detecting skills are not up to snuff lately.

  “And then he told me what he was planning on doing for the rest of the week. He’s, like, totally into you Jane.”

  It was entirely Kyle’s fault that my life was so screwed up. So I refused to care about what Hannah just told me, but some fickle body parts of mine shifted a little. My ears wanted to know more and my tongue almost asked. I bit it.

  “So was that what he was pissed about?” Hannah prodded.

  “Actually, I don’t think he knows about them, so please don’t mention anything to him if the subject ever happens to come up.”

  “Really? Hmmm. So, what happened? Will you tell me already?” Hannah was leaning in again.

  Before I even said the first word, I knew it was a bad idea to blab. But Hannah is a such an expert at guys, I thought she might be able to help. “Kyle kissed me after school at my locker. Ned saw us.”

  “Ohmigosh!” Hannah said, way too loud. We got some dirty looks. She giggled and then covered her mouth with her hand in mock amazement. “Told ya. He’s totally into you.”

  I slumped down in my seat. “Yeah, you told me. But now Ned isn’t speaking to me, so can you tell me something useful I can do about that?” Since I was asking for help, it probably would have been better to tone down the sarcasm. But so far, she had only been adding to my stress.

  “Ohmigosh,” she said for the third time.

  I was starting to think that while Hannah may be a dating expert, she was not necessarily any good at articulating her knowledge.

  “Let him be pissed. It is very cool to have two guys vying for you Jane.” She nodded and smiled in the way I used to consider evil. Also implicit in her response was the idea that she never would have thought it possible for someone like me to have this type of scenario happen to her.

  I shook my head. “But I don’t want to have guys vying for me.” In spite of all my duelling fantasies of the day before. “I just want Ned back.”

  Hannah flipped her perfect hair with contempt. “Oh, please. Two in the bush is way more exciting than one in the hand.”

  “What?” I felt the blood rush to my face. Had she seen Ned and me making out in the bushes? My mind started racing through all the other people who might have seen us with the lack of leaf cover in winter.

  “You know the saying, ‘A bird in the hand?’ Well, I’m telling you, when it comes to men, stringing along two is way better than one who feels sure of himself.” Hannah nodded again in her worldly, man-eating way.

  “Oh, I thought...” I trailed off. It was better not to explain that one. “So really, you think I shouldn’t worry about Ned?”

  Hannah snorted to show that she would never have worried about Ned under any circumstances. “Trust me, you are, like, ten times more interesting to him now that another boy is after you.”

  “Really? Then why isn’t he returning my phone calls?”

  Hannah’s jaw almost hit the table. I thought it actually had hit it, but it was just her hands slamming down at the same time. More dirty looks from the nearby readers who had come to the library for some peace and quiet.

  “You did not call him.”

  I nodded hesitantly.

  “To apologize?” she said incredulously.

  I nodded again.

  Hannah slapped her forehead dramatically to show me what an unbelievably stupid country rube I was.

  “Nononono.” Her disgust not at all concealed. “Rule number one, never apologize, and especially not over the phone.” She kept shaking her head. “Other most important rule? Ignore him. Treat him like crap. A few more days and he will be crawling on the ground, begging to lick the soles of your shoes. Trust me.”

  I don’t know if that image really made me feel better, but I was ready to move on to another topic. So I asked her if she wanted to study
at all today since I couldn’t stay long. It was a lie, but I needed to think things over for myself. As we were leaving, Hannah made me promise her that I would not call Ned again.

  I promised.

  But I kept my fingers crossed inside the sleeve of my coat.

  I hid in the ladies’ room until Mom came to collect me. Fortunately she didn’t force me to go on any errands with her as she usually does. The second we got home, I dropped my books on the counter, grabbed a snack and headed right back out the door. I walked quickly toward the rez, trying not to allow my fantasies that Ned might be there waiting for me to get too real inside my head.

  I failed.

  I imagined he had spent the night there. He might be suffering from hypothermia.

  Jane Nightingale nurses her love back to health.

  It was a good thing I brought enough cookies for two.

  I ran almost the whole way there which warmed me up uncomfortably. The sweat pooling inside my winter coat damped down the fantasy. Now I only half-hoped Ned would be there since I wanted to look the part when we had our makeup reunion and not be a smelly mess.

  I went straight to ‘our spot’ overlooking the dam but no one was there, not even a cardinal or seedpods or anything. I stayed and tried to enjoy the view for a few minutes, but I was starting to get misty-eyed so I decided to keep moving. And now the drying sweat was making me feel cold again.

  Wandering around aimlessly for quite some time, I got lost in my thoughts that grew more confused the longer I brooded about them. I even managed to scare myself by making the realization that I was now in a part of the woods I didn’t recognize at all. Picking up the pace, I emerged from the trees just a few minutes later. On the far side of the rez from my house. I regarded my patent leather mary janes ruefully and sighed at the long road home.

  No one stopped to offer me a lift, not Ned, not Kyle, not even a creepy axe-murder type, which is just my luck. I had to eat the whole sleeve of cookies to give myself enough energy to get back.

  Once safely home again, I thought I showed incredible restraint by waiting a full twenty minutes before calling Ned’s house. I called three times that night.

  No answer x 3.

  Three strange but true scientific facts about chickens: 1. There are more chickens on Earth than humans. 2. Chickens can move fast if they want to: 9 miles per hour. 3. Chickens can cross-breed with turkeys. The result is called a “Turkin.”

  Sunday I held myself off until noon before calling, but there was still no answer. I was feeling a little baffled by the whole thing and so I decided I was strong enough to follow Hannah’s advice for the rest of the day. It’s funny how as the chances increased that someone might pick up the phone, I found the nerve to not call.

  Okay, so maybe I was just being a chicken. Or a turkin.

  At any rate, first period Monday morning would reveal all. And it did, although Ned kept me in suspense for an extra few minutes when he walked in after the bell.

  I was glad Hannah was not in my math class to witness the pleading look I gave Ned as he blew by me and swung himself into his seat, pretending I didn’t even exist. I knew it was pathetic but I couldn’t stop myself. Ned opened his notebook and studied the blackboard with an intensity I had never seen him show before in math class. The only thing that made me stop with the visual groveling was catching Sofagirl’s eye, two rows down, taking it all in.

  After class, Ned shot out the door like his pants were on fire.

  It was official: he had not developed a sudden interest in quadratic equations. He was avoiding me.

  My heart dropped somewhere into the vicinity of my lower digestive tract.

  Right before flicking his sunglasses into position, Kyle had the gall to look at me with concern. He started making his way toward my desk. Before he could offer me a shoulder to cry on, I hightailed it out of there. I was feeling so sorry for myself, I might have been weak enough to take him up on it.

  I was so distraught about Ned that I temporarily forgot about my run-in with Mrs. Rochel on Friday. When I passed the principal on my way to bio, however, my stomach did relocation of its own and my small intestines felt like they were practicing advanced knotting techniques. Mr. Hirsch just smiled, but it seemed an ill omen since he normally walks by me without acknowledging my existence.

  Things were not going my way in biology either. We had to do some lab work with microscopes and Raj was still out sick with mono. Of all the selfish, long-term diseases to get.

  So Kyle and I were on our own. I made my intentions clear by getting very busy with the slide preparation.

  Kyle cooperated and set up the chart in silence. We whizzed through the slides since we’re both brilliant at recognizing different cells.

  Today, however, it would have been better if we hadn’t been quite so efficient. We ended up with way too much free time while the other teams were still working.

  Kyle sat across from me, drumming his fingers on the table and trying to catch my eye. Fat chance. I reviewed my chart although I knew it was perfect.

  He got up and plunked himself down next to me. Again, unnecessarily close. Wherever he comes from, they must have different rules about personal space.

  I pretended he was just another blob of protoplasm.

  “Hey,” he nudged me, causing me to smudge my paper. “Oh, sorry.”

  The mark on my page wasn’t a big deal, but it was just so symbolic of everything he had done to me since his arrival. Supposedly none of it had been intentional, but all of it had royally screwed things up for me.

  It made me so furious, it was all I could do to not pin him down to a dissecting board and start in with the scalpel.

  Making eye contact was too risky. I shrugged - hard, like I was trying to remove a particularly annoying monkey off my back - hoping he would get the hint that if he valued his life he would go back to his side of the workstation.

  If he wanted to move all the way back to Madagascar or wherever, I would be okay with that too.

  “Really,” he insisted. Pretending to get a slide, he leaned into me even more. He managed to catch my eye. “I’m really sorry.”

  It was awful. He looked so sincere. My stupid contacts were bothering me. I blinked a lot to make them sit comfortably again. My eyes always tear up when that happens. Using one knuckle, I wiped them quickly.

  If only Kyle would move farther away so I didn’t have to smell that intoxicating cologne of his.

  “It’s okay,” I muttered, just so he would drop the subject.

  Kyle stayed put.

  I took matters into my own hands. Huffing to make it clear that he was once again imposing on me, I moved to the far side of the table.

  He followed. Hannah does know a thing or two about boys.

  “But, Jane, look at this...” he said loudly as an excuse, putting our completed chart in front of the two of us. Softly, he said, “Is there anything I can do? Can I talk to him and tell him it was all my fault?”

  I was getting the sole-licking, yes, but it was coming from the wrong tongue. I slammed my hands down on the chart, and whispered, “Dammit Kyle! You’ve done enough already, don’t you think?”

  Mr. Garrone called out, “I hope you’re discussing science over there, you two.”

  Kyle answered with a smile, “Yes, Mr. Garrone. We’re just having a slight disagreement as to how Golgi apparatus relate to endoplasmic reticulum.”

  Even I, who was in no mood to be in charity with Kyle, had to admit how impressive that sounded.

  He turned back to me with that same annoying smile. “I want to make it right. Can’t I...”

  I was sick of the constant apologies, as if they fixed anything.

  “No, Kyle,” I snapped. “There is nothing you can do.” I pierced him with an eye dart out of my magical Caribbean blue eyes that only he had been kind enough to compliment me on.

  Kyle drummed out a sad little tattoo on the table.

  It made me think of something. “Yes, actual
ly, there is.”

  He leaned in eagerly.

  “Tell me your name.”

  He looked nonplussed.

  “Your full name.”

  “Oh. It’s Kyle Pendleton McKay.”

  “Kyle Pendleton Mackie,” I muttered.

  “It’s spelled M-c-K-a-y but pronounced ‘Mackie,’” he added helpfully. “Why do you ask?”

  “So I can give my hit man complete information on how to find you.”

  Kyle didn’t even crack a smile.

  I huffed. “I just thought I should know the name of the person who ruined my happiness. I’m funny that way.”

  Kyle looked crushed, which I thought would make me feel better, but it didn’t.

  It did work, however, on getting him to leave me alone for the rest of the morning. Although at lunch I caught him throwing a couple of hopeful glances in my direction as he was sussing out a place to sit. One hostile laser eye dart told him that this table was closed to him.

  Diana bounced up. If you ask me, she, like Mirabelle, could use a bra with better support.

  She said, “Um, I guess you’re having a bad day?”

  I rolled my eyes in response.

  So she went and sat with Kyle.

  Which left me, in case anyone is keeping track, sitting alone. I did my best to make it look like I was enjoying my regal isolation, but someone with a sharp eye might have noticed a certain dejection in my jaw as I chewed my tofu imitation roast beef on whole grain bun with lite oleo spread and no cheese (but extra sprouts).

  Three strange but true scientific facts about olfaction: 1.The nose can detect more than 10,000 different smells. 2. It is not your nose that smells but rather your brain. 3. Taste is primarily smell, the tongue only being able to detect five primary flavors: sweet, salty, bitter, sour and umami. Spicy foods stimulate pain receptors, not taste buds.

  Apparently boot-licking has a very short shelf-life. The taste receptors in the tongue must act quickly to tell a body that things like anger and hatred are not comestible substances.