Paper Cuts

by Yvonne Collins

  ‘Put a sock in the whining,’ Dan says as I plow through my second slice of coconut cream pie. ‘I pay you to serve, not complain, and there’s a customer in your section.’

  Sighing, I head out front, only to discover there’s a mutiny afoot. While Dan distracted me in the kitchen, someone set up foot-high chocolate lettering on table four that reads ‘SORRY.’ There’s a white rose protruding from the O and dark eyes peering at me over the R’s.

  My first instinct is to return to the kitchen, but I realize it’s better to go over there and explain in no uncertain terms who gets sole custody of the diner. If it were up to me, Joey Carella would never taste another Rodeo Burger.

  ‘What do you want?’ I ask.

  ‘A large slice of humble pie?’

  ‘We don’t serve that here.’

  ‘Sure we do,’ Dan calls. ‘But you ate it all.’

  I glance over my shoulder at him. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Give the boy a chance,’ he says.

  ‘I don’t think so.’ I turn back to Joey. ‘All the discount chocolate in the world can’t fix what you did to my reputation.’

  ‘For the record, I paid full price for the S and the Y,’ he says. ‘But anyone with half a brain knows that column was pure entertainment. Have guys come around today looking for a good time?’

  ‘Right now, no one would touch me with the ten-foot pole Scoop mentioned. I’m not ready to saddle up the next mule anyway.’

  ‘You made me out to be a spineless—’

  ‘Eunuch. Your word, not mine, by the way. Maybe the guys thought so, but I guarantee you the girls didn’t. Do you really think making me look easy is the same thing as making you look sensitive?’

  He opens his mouth to reply and closes it again.

  ‘You knew it was bad. That’s why you avoided me the whole week before the gala, isn’t it?’

  ‘At least I tried to ask you to come with me. You can’t say that.’

  ‘Maybe not, but at least I portrayed you as a decent, caring guy. You, on the other hand, portrayed me as a slut.’

  Joey leans forward. ‘You’re exaggerating. If I hinted that things were a little hotter between us than they were, it was to get a rise out of Newshound. That’s the dynamic that made our column so popular.’ He slumps back into his chair. ‘And maybe I was overcompensating a little for feeling outclassed.’

  It’s a red herring designed to throw me off the trail. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You didn’t notice me for the first two months I came in here, because you assumed I was a dumb dropout. Meanwhile, all these guys you thought were so much better than me were welcome to hang around. Maybe I talked big in my column to make up for that.’

  ‘So you’re saying this is my fault because I’m a big fat snob.’

  ‘No, I’m just trying to explain.’ He pushes the chair out for me to sit down, but I ignore it. ‘In a weird way, I thought the column might even impress you – and make you laugh. I mean, once you got over the spin.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘You’ve got a lot to learn about girls.’

  ‘Haven’t we all?’ Dan calls, elbows propped on the ledge of the pass-through.

  ‘I was planning to ask Mr Sparling to run a retraction,’ Joey says.

  I perch on the edge of the seat for a moment. ‘This isn’t about my feelings anymore, Joey. It’s about Solana. I made her look bad in the press. She’s just starting out, and it could hurt her career.’

  ‘I know,’ he says. ‘But I’ve got a plan. Get your coat.’

  I highly doubt he has a good idea. It’s probably just an excuse so we can pick up where we left off. But I’m not forgiving him. Ever. ‘I can’t leave. My shift goes till eleven.’

  ‘You’re off in ten minutes. I already asked,’ he says. ‘Can you really afford not to trust me? What are you going to tell Buzzkill tomorrow?’

  Looks like I’m not the only one who got the summons today. ‘Fine. I’ll come with you, but don’t think it means anything.’

  ‘Should I return the chocolate?’

  I turn to Shirley. ‘Can you wrap this up? Big fat snobs like me need all the calories we can get.’

  Dan shakes his head. ‘You sure you want her back, Joe?’

  We hover in the alley until a guy in a white uniform beckons us into the back door of Mama Zeta’s Jazz Crib. The guy looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him.

  ‘You’re Paz’s sister-in-law, right?’ he asks. ‘I’m his cousin, Ricky. We met at the christening.’

  I nod. It was pretty clever of Joey to take advantage of this connection, but I only hate him about five percent less for it. If it works, that could drop another twenty, but still nowhere near reunion range.

  ‘I could get fired for this,’ Ricky says, leading us into the cavernous room and pointing out a table, where we grab a seat. ‘So don’t order any booze, and don’t cause any trouble.’

  ‘We won’t.’ I hop up to give Ricky a hug.

  He pushes me back into the chair. ‘And don’t draw attention to yourself.’

  ‘Quiet as mice,’ I say.

  Joey shushes me as Solana steps into the spotlight.

  Joey is already outside when the bouncer pushes me out of the club.

  ‘You’re lucky Solana wouldn’t let me call the cops,’ the bouncer says, giving me one last shove.

  ‘What happened?’ Joey asks as we walk to the train station. ‘You were gone so long I came to look for you, and then I got the boot.’

  I snuck backstage and into Solana’s tiny dressing room before intermission, just as Joey had planned. But Solana didn’t even let me apologize before laying into me about everything that’s happened. Mrs Alvarez told her that a reporter was trying to dig up some dirt about her years at Dunfield, and apparently there is dirt to find.

  ‘She cried,’ I tell Joey. ‘So then I cried. It was awful. She said she wished she’d never trusted me and her reputation is ruined.’

  ‘That’s a little harsh. Your running off the stage didn’t ruin her rep – her running off the stage did that.’

  ‘Yeah, but Grace and I talked her into sharing the story of her learning disability. She got rattled when I took off.’

  ‘We’ll think of something to fix this.’ Joey walks in silence for a while before adding, ‘I understand what you mean about your reputation, and I want to apologize again for what Scoop said.’

  I look up at him and he self-corrects. ‘I mean what I said as Scoop. I take full responsibility, and I’ll write that retraction tomorrow.’

  ‘Don’t bother,’ I say wearily. ‘It seems stupid to get so worked up about what people think of me, given Solana’s situation.’

  If a few Dunfield losers think I have a more exciting life than I do, it’s not the end of the world. Until recently I was so average I was practically invisible.

  ‘Does this mean we still have a chance to make things right between us?’ he asks.

  ‘I don’t even want to think about it until I’ve figured how to make things right for Solana.’

  It’s not an absolute no, so he wraps his arm around me tentatively. I don’t shrug it off. Someone who feels as horrible as I do right now deserves a little comfort.

  ‘So how do you want to do this?’ Joey asks. ‘Should we warm up first or just get straight to it?’

  I roll over on his bed and stare up at the ceiling. ‘I’m not sure. I haven’t done it before.’

  ‘Neither have I. But how hard can it be? We should just follow our instincts.’

  ‘If you want my opinion, you should talk less and write more,’ a third voice says. Joey’s father wheels up behind him and looks at the computer screen. ‘You haven’t even started yet. I put a roast in the oven when you asked if Luisa could stay for dinner, and I’d like to serve it today.’

  ‘It won’t take that long, Mr Carella,’ I say, sitting up. ‘We’ve got some good ideas. We just need to get them down.’

  ‘So get them down already,’ he
says, shaking his head. ‘You two had plenty to say when you were writing at each other instead of with each other.’

  ‘This has to be just right,’ Joey says. ‘We’re trying to grab the attention of the Tribune’s city editor.’

  ‘Trying too hard to get noticed is what got you into trouble before,’ his father says. ‘Tell the truth simply and well, and you’ll grab all the attention you need.’

  We have a good story to tell, thanks in part to Grace, who learned a few things about Solana when she worked on her schedule. The problem is figuring out how to tell it together.

  ‘I think it would work better if I typed,’ I say, getting off the bed.

  Mr Carella intervenes on my behalf. ‘Let the lady drive, son. It usually works better that way.’

  Once my fingers touch the keyboard, ideas really start to flow. Joey leans over me and makes suggestions.

  ‘Now that’s more like it,’ Mr Carella says, reversing his wheelchair toward the door. ‘Dinner’s at six, but don’t worry if you’re a few minutes late. Pot roast only gets better with age.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  CHICAGO TRIBUNE

  FULL OF SOUL

  By Joey Carella and Luisa Perez

  Recent articles about the Chicago High School Literary Challenge billed Solana G.’s untimely departure from the final gala as a cheap publicity stunt. This is absolutely untrue, and it’s time to set the record straight.

  At the request of Colonel Dunfield High student, Luisa Perez, Ms G. kindly agreed to perform a song from her first album, ‘Exiled,’ at the gala. The song describes her unhappiness at Dunfield, where Ms G. faced academic challenges. Yielding to pressure, she finally agreed to talk about her personal experience, in the hope of helping others.

  It should have been an amazing event, but it was virtually ruined by two genuine divas, neither of them Ms G. A battle of the sexes that began in a Dunfield column spilled onto the stage and turned the gala into a farce.

  When the tone changed, Ms G. felt uncomfortable putting herself on the line by sharing her story. No one should blame her for that. It takes a huge amount of courage, even in the best circumstances, to talk about personal challenges in public.

  As the columnists in question, we take full responsibility for what happened. We’re apologizing privately to many of the people we let down, but Ms G. deserves a public apology.

  Far from being a diva, at the age of only 22, Ms G. is already a role model for youth. Six months ago she established the Maria Gomez Drop-in Center (MGDC) in memory of her mother. The MGDC offers children of low-income families a chance to learn about music. Open after school and on weekends, the center has a full range of musical instruments and volunteer instructors to guide hands-on training.

  Launched with the proceeds of Ms G.’s first album, the center has already earned high praise from the community.

  ‘The MGDC is proving how quickly a child’s life can change when he finds something to care about,’ says Ms Betty Willis, a social worker with the city for thirty-five years.

  Eleven-year-old James Furlong agrees. His fascination with the guitar has kept him out of the gangs that some youths his age have already joined. ‘I’d rather practice,’ he says simply.

  Ms G. drops by as often as she can to teach piano or simply jam with the young visitors.

  ‘I love Solana,’ says Jasmine Jacks, a budding singer at age 10. ‘She sounds like an angel.’

  ‘She is an angel,’ her grandmother adds. ‘And no one had better say otherwise.’

  If you want to argue with Grandma Jacks, do it after you check out the MGDC. It will push the word ‘diva’ right out of your mind and make you reach for your wallet to donate.

  The Tribune article is mounted on the wall at Mama Zeta’s, where we’ve gathered for the all-ages benefit concert Solana and Grace scrambled to organize after our article came out four days ago. Solana and several other local acts will perform, with proceeds to be split between the drop-in center and the Literacy Challenge Fund in Colonel Dunfield’s name. Judging from the turnout, the event will be a huge success. It’s too late to win the contest, unfortunately, but I’m happy to be part of something so positive. The past week has taught me a thing or two about priorities.

  Joey and I are drinking virgin Cosmopolitans sent over by ‘the Dispatcher,’ the nickname of the bouncer who threw us out last week.

  ‘Half of Dunfield is here,’ Rachel says, joining us with Jason. I notice they are holding hands.

  ‘Turnbull and Warwick students are still lined up outside,’ Izzy says. ‘It’s nice to be on the VIP list.’

  Rachel looks over my shoulder. ‘Lu, your mother’s chatting with the mayor. Anything we should know?’

  I turn and see that Joey’s father is also involved in the conversation. ‘They’re probably apologizing for us in case we didn’t do it thoroughly enough. Grace caused a lot of trouble in her day, but she never caught the attention of the mayor.’

  ‘That’s a competition you didn’t need to win,’ Mr Sparling says, joining us. He introduces us to Mrs Sparling, a math teacher at Warwick. She’s surprisingly normal-looking, with a blond bob and cool jeans. ‘Could I talk to my columnists for a second?’

  Izzy and Rachel start quizzing Mrs Sparling, leaving us with Mr Sparling.

  ‘I’m not going to dwell on how disappointed I was over your behavior at the gala,’ he says, although that’s exactly what he’s done for the past week. ‘It certainly didn’t help that you skipped my final classes, Luisa.’

  ‘I only missed a couple,’ I protest. ‘I had a note.’ It was actually written by Grace. What good is having an expert forger in the family if you don’t take advantage of it? My hope is that by the time we come back from the holiday the worst of this will have blown over. ‘Hey,’ I say, turning to Joey. ‘Your remedial work for Mr Sparling … was that the column?’

  ‘Among other assignments,’ Mr Sparling answers for him. ‘But I’m glad Joey has turned his act around this year. Unlike some people.’ He squints in Mac Landis’s direction. ‘Anyway, I’ve been thinking about “The Word”, and while you two messed up, I don’t see why the students who enjoy it should have to pay. So I’ve decided to run it again in the new year.’

  ‘Really?’ Joey asks, sounding excited.

  ‘Really,’ I say, noticeably less excited.

  ‘Obviously it won’t be anonymous anymore, and if you say the wrong thing, well, it won’t be pretty,’ Mr Sparling says, smirking.

  ‘Keith,’ Mrs Sparling admonishes, ‘don’t pick on the kids.’

  ‘You should try picking on your students,’ he says. ‘Mine came in first place. For a while, anyway.’ He frowns at us and continues, ‘Now, I don’t have the time to study every column for the nuance that could get your butts kicked – either by each other or by your classmates. So I propose that you both officially join the Bulletin staff where you’ll review and edit each other’s columns pre-publication.’

  ‘How will it represent my point of view if he’s edited it?’ I ask.

  ‘Figure it out,’ he says. ‘You’ll both have to learn how to be more objective and to take criticism. It’s a good exercise for anyone thinking of becoming a columnist.’

  ‘Well, I’m not,’ I mutter.

  ‘You might change your mind when you finish sulking,’ Mr Sparling says.

  ‘Keith.’

  ‘Yes, dear, I’ll stop picking on the kids. Luisa and Joey, you talk about it. I think you could have fun and you obviously wouldn’t mind spending the extra time together.’

  Mrs Sparling takes her husband by the arm and drags him off to their seats.

  ‘What do you think?’ I ask Joey.

  ‘I think we should do it,’ he says. ‘What have we got to lose?’

  How about each other? We’re barely back together, and working as a team puts pressure on any relationship. Still, this will probably be a far better test of whether Joey and I are meant for each other than my first experiment.
‘Let’s give it a try.’

  ‘Whatever you two are trying, it had better be G-rated,’ Paz says, joining us with Grace, Dan and my mother.

  ‘Didn’t you promise not to interfere anymore, Paz?’ I ask.

  ‘That doesn’t sound like a promise I’d make,’ he says. ‘But I’ll give you a break tonight because we’re celebrating: Gracie got a new job.’ He kisses her cheek and she doesn’t object. ‘Tell them about it.’

  Grace waits a moment for the group to quiet down and announces: ‘I’m going to be Solana’s assistant. Just part-time, to start. I’ll be holding down the fort while she’s traveling.’

  ‘It’s because she did a great job helping to organize this gig,’ Paz adds.

  Mom is beaming from ear to ear. ‘I’m so proud, Grace. Now, tell your sister about your other plan.’

  This time, Grace is less exuberant. ‘I’m going back to school.’

  ‘Dunfield?’ I ask, trying to keep the horror out of my voice. That would mean we’d be doing junior year together, and as vast as the school is, it’s not big enough for both of us.

  ‘Yeah,’ Grace says. ‘I asked Buzzkill to put us in the same class.’

  I swallow hard. ‘That’s great.’

  Paz squeezes Grace’s shoulder. ‘I’m thinking of joining you. It sounds like fun.’

  They watch me squirm for another five seconds before cracking up. ‘Gotcha!’ Grace says. ‘I’ll never cross Dumpfield’s threshold until Keira’s parent-teacher night.’

  ‘Grace is going to work with Solana’s tutor and take correspondence courses,’ my mother explains.

  I reach out to hug Grace, and she holds up her hands. ‘No sibling PDA’s.’

  ‘Now, Gracie,’ Paz says. ‘Let’s try to get along with Lu. We’re all going to be living together soon.’

  This time I don’t get taken in as readily. ‘There is no way Mom would crowd another adult into that apartment.’ I turn to her anxiously. ‘Would you?’