Maria glowers at him. "Hello, I'm almost eighteen."
"Well, if you didn't act this way, I wouldn't have to treat you like this."
Maria sighs and rolls her eyes skyward at the same time. Her father's stern voice snaps her attention back in his direction.
"Start acting like an adult and I will treat you like one."
"Whatever," she says while she picks her plate off the table.
"Pardon me," Theresa says with raised eyebrows. "You do not talk to your father like that."
Maria narrows her eyes. "You know, if you would take some interest in me, maybe you would understand what I'm going through. But no, your careers are way more important, and you expect me to be just like you; a high achiever stuck in a high-paying job I hate doing."
"Don't you speak that way, Maria! Your Madre and I enjoy our jobs very much," Enriquez says.
Juan shifts his eyes away from his empty plate. "Madre, I'm done eating. Can I go upstairs?"
The look on Theresa's face instantly softens. "Of course you can, querido. Just put your glass and your plate in the sink before you leave."
"Thank you," Juan says. Within seconds he is gone. All they can hear is the faint thump of his footsteps on the staircase.
"Yes, you both enjoy your jobs," Maria continues, breaking the momentary silence, "but I don't want what you have. I don't want to go to school for ten more flippin’ years to get some job I know I will hate. I want to be a hair stylist; I don't care if I don't make a ton of money. That's what I want to do with my life."
"You still have to go to school for that, Maria," Teresa says.
"So, one year is way better than ten years."
"Well, I strongly believe that you should become a lawyer or a teacher, or some kind of therapist. I will not have my daughter waste away at some low-end job for the rest of her life, hanging out with trouble makers and dependent on us for everything. So Maria, you have a very short time to improve your grades. If you fail to achieve any kind of scholarship, your padre and I are not going to pay a cent for your post-secondary education. You are on your own and you are not living here."
Enriquez nods his head in agreement.
Maria bites down hard on her lower lip. God, I hate my parents. I don't even know why I came to this country with them when I had a good job, and friends and relatives who actually care about me. Maybe I should go back to Madrid, get back into waitressing at Castillo's Bistro and finish high school when I feel like it. "I hate high school! I hate it with a passion! The people are great, but the work sucks. And FYI, I don't want to live here anymore. Once I graduate, I'm getting a full time job and I'm moving out." She spins on her heels, then runs out of the kitchen, giving her parents no chance to snap back at her in their all-too-familiar condescending manner. It's my life and I can do whatever the hell I want! Tears sting her eyes, Maria forces them back. No way is she going to cry. She is much stronger than that.
Once she reaches her room upstairs, Maria flings the door open, causing it to bang against the wall. She steps inside, grabs the doorknob and shuts the door without slamming it. Her eyes dart from one end of the spacious room to the other. The moment her gaze connects with the large, half-unpacked duffel bag, she thinks about Madrid and of all of the good times she had with her friends and cousins. I'm gonna call Carly; I'll get her to pick me up and take me to the airport as soon as she can. It won't take me long to pack my bags and I have enough money left over to buy a one-way ticket…Oh shit! Maria looks around, forgetting that there is no phone in her room. It is downstairs in the living room, next to her parents' bedroom. "Damn!" She sinks to the floor, burying her head in her hands, allowing her long curls to fall in a disorganized fashion over her shoulders. I guess I'll have to get Carly to drive me there tomorrow afternoon.
Then, Maria remembers the conversation she had with Carly after English. Oh right. Anya. Maria groans. Darn it all! If Anya fails to step up to the plate, I’m gonna…I will never speak to her again. I will treat her like a complete loser, just like everyone else does. Anya will have a very lonely graduation, and that sure as heck won't give her a good start in her acting career.
Maria rubs her temples. "I need a smoke really bad." She gets herself up off the floor, then walks over to the oak dresser beside her bed. She jerks open the top drawer, then rummages through her pantyhose until she feels the cool surface of the small Players Light box against her warm finger tips. Good. Now, I'll have to make my way over to the park without being caught by my parents. Later, I will pack my things.
CHAPTER 9
Maria cradles her head in her hands and groans. She hears a sudden loud knock on the window of her silver Honda Civic, but it doesn't shock her because she knows that it's from Carly. Slowly, she rolls down the window.
Time to pop the question.
"Maria, what's wrong? You look sick…What is that?"
"I'm moving back to Madrid, and I need you to take me to the airport."
Maria expects Carly to say 'yes' and to show some sympathy, but instead, her face contorts into a scowl.
"Maria, what are you talking about?"
Shondra and Kirsten, though, show Maria much more empathy.
"Maria, don't do this to yourself. Please get out of the car and tell us everything," Shondra says.
Disappointed, Maria opens the door, then slides out of the car. It feels like a few people are banging their hammers against the wall of her temples. She reaches for her sunglasses in her black, ski jacket, but does not slip them on before the girls notice the dark bags under her eyes.
Kirsten's jaw drops. "Oh my God, Maria, you look terrible."
"Tell us what happened, from beginning to end," Shondra says, her face filled with concern.
"I got into a fight with my parents." Maria then opens herself up and relates word-by-word what they had said to her, describing their rigid expressions with as much vigor as her physically drained body will let her. "That's why I'm moving back to Madrid. I can't stand living with them anymore," she says, wrapping up her story. It is followed by a long moment of silence.
"Can I buy your car?" Kirsten says, ending the tense moment.
Carly shoots her a vicious look. "You already have a car, Kirsten."
"Sure, but it's a second hand car," Maria says. She secretly applauds Carly for denigrating Kirsten for making that self-centered comment.
"So, Carly, are you able to drive me to the airport?"
"No."
Maria groans.
"Maria, you are not going back to Spain. No Way! We need you here. I mean, you are the coolest girl in this school. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be giving losers, like Anya, the time of day. Not that I will ever be friends with her," Carly says, wrinkling her nose.
"If you really can't handle your parents, you can stay at my place," Kirsten says.
"Kirsten, your house is way too small to fit other people," Carly says.
Kirsten recoils at her offhanded remark. "That's not true, Carly."
"Girls," Shondra says, motioning for them to stop, "let's not fight over Maria. She is going to stay with me."
"Thanks, Shondra," Maria says, feeling slightly better.
Shondra grins at her. "Well, since you brought your entire wardrobe with you, you may as well come over to my place right after school."
"Sure."
"Well, I'm glad that's settled," Carly says, wiping a wisp of stray hair away from her eyes.
Just as Kirsten opens her mouth to speak, Matt appears and wraps his arm around Carly's shoulders. Startled, Carly jumps, turns abruptly and says, "Matt, don't scare me like that, you jerk."
Matt laughs out loud in response to the playful punch she lands on his upper left arm. But then, out of the corner of his right eye, he catches a glimpse of Patrick's black Ford passing by. A huge smirk appears on his face. "Hey, guess who's driving in our direction?"
"Who?" Carly, Shondra and Kirsten all say in unison.
Maria knows very well who it is judging
by the mocking tone in his voice.
"It's none other than Patrick and Anya," he shouts, making crude gestures at them.
Carly and her two side-kicks laugh uncontrollably, but Maria remains as grave as a poker player.
"Shut up, Matt," Maria says in a clipped voice.
Matt recoils. He looks at her as if to ask 'what the hell is your problem?'
"I'm sorry," she says, rubbing her aching temples. "I just had a bad night and I need a smoke really frickin’ bad. Where the heck is the smoke pit again?"
"We'll take you there," Carly says.
****
Anya sits close to Patrick on the mat inside of Mr. Hawthorne's studio. Today, Mr. Hawthorne will be organizing everyone into groups of four. Every group will write a two minute skit and then perform it in front of Mr. Hawthorne's camera and the entire class. The two friends are quite excited for this class, especially Anya.
The past three weeks have been taken up with rehearsals for the big production, 'Alice and James', which will be held in early June. 'Alice and James', written by Mr. Hawthorne himself, is set in Halifax in the year of 1915 during the First World War. James McConnell, who is engaged to Alice Cunningham, is enlisted to fight in the war overseas. James struggles to survive endless battles in the cold, muddy trenches of European battle fields; at home, Alice struggles to keep living, knowing that she may never see him again. The two lovers write letters back and forth to each other; James letting Alice know that he is alive and Alice, relieved to know that he is not dead.
Anya was ecstatic when she found out that Mr. Hawthorne had chosen her to play Alice. She was even more thrilled when Patrick told her that Mr. Hawthorne chose him to play James.
They have all been working so hard on their lines and blocking that it's nice to be able to do something different; at least for one day's lesson.
As usual, Mr. Hawthorne walks into the studio wearing blue jeans and a green, button-down shirt. He holds a mug filled with steaming coffee in one hand and a clipboard full of papers in the other. His long, grey hair is tied back in a ponytail just above the nape of his neck. When his gaze connects with Patrick and Anya, he gives them a warm smile. "How are Alice and James doing today?"
His cheerful voice instantly brightens Anya's mood. "I'm really well, thank you, Mr. Hawthorne. Eager to get to work and to kick ass."
"Me too," Patrick says.
"That's the spirit," Mr. Hawthorne says, displaying his appreciation with a firm nod of his head.
The bell rings, interrupting their brief conversation, and within seconds, students filter into the room. Anya keeps her eyes peeled on the door, her heart beating hard against her chest. Dear God, please don't let Matt and Carly show up. A sharp nudge in her forearm shakes her out of her thoughts. Anya jerks her head around to meet the befuddled look on Patrick's face.
"Anya, why are you staring at the door? People are giving you weird looks," he whispers.
"I…I…never mind," she says, shifting her gaze to the pale blue mat below.
She feels a sudden, sharp tap on her right shoulder. Anya jumps. Who the heck would want to talk to her other than Patrick or Mr. Hawthorne? The only other people who give me the time of day are Carly and Matt, and that's only when they've imagined new razor-sharp words to call me. And Mr. Hawthorne would never tap me on the shoulder. Whenever he wants my attention, he--
Carly's curt voice startles Anya. She jerks her head up, allowing her eyes to meet Carly's stone cold blue eyes for the second time this week.
"Anya, I said hi. Are you going to ignore me now," Carly says, her fierce gaze bearing down on Anya like a downpour of sleet.
Anya's heart gallops. "Yes…uh…hi, Carly."
"You and Patrick are going to be in our skit," she says as if Patrick can’t hear her. She strides over to where Matt is seated, then plops herself down on the mat close beside him.
This time, Anya allows her eyes to shift in their direction. The red-head, sitting on the left side of Carly, whispers something in her ear. Anya cannot make out what she is saying, but judging by the dark look on her face, she knows they're not kind words. Matt's stifled laugh proves to her all the more that Carly had not come to speak to her on friendly terms.
Anya and Patrick exchange mystified looks.
"What was that all about?" he says, his brow furrowed.
"I…I don't know," she whispers. Fear grips her stomach so tight, it makes her nauseous. She leans closer to him, so close that her lips almost touch his ear. "I don't have a good feeling about this."
"Neither do I," he whispers back.
Mr. Hawthorne's booming voice instantly draws their attention towards him, causing Anya to momentarily forget about Carly's unusual request.
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen: please give me five minutes to explain today's activities."
Anya tries her best to keep her attention focused on Mr. Hawthorne, but she can’t stop thinking about Carly and Matt. Whenever she looks in Carly's direction, she finds Carly staring back at her.
"You all know that I've planned for today a completely different activity, but not all of you know what this activity is going to entail," Mr. Hawthorne continues.
Once again, Anya's gaze connects with Carly's rigid blue eyes. Why is she staring at me like that? Is she gonna beat me up, or is she scheming to ruin my chances of winning Mr. Hawthorne's sponsorship to VFS?
"Today, we're going to have a little fun, but I still expect you to do your best."
Anya's heart races. Okay, Anya, calm down, Carly is not going to kill you. She just wants to work with you, that's all. It can't be that bad. Maybe she's sick of working with the same people. That does happen.
"You are going to form teams of four, then with the help of your teammates, you will write a short, two minute skit. I will give you only twenty minutes to write and rehearse your skit. You will then perform it before the camera."
Anya takes deep, long breaths, then exhales them slowly. But when she sees Matt and Carly approach, her fear grows stronger.
"Come on, students, there are only sixteen of you, so this should be no effort. The clock is ticking," Mr. Hawthorne says, gesturing to the round clock on the wall behind him.
"Hi, Anya, you look like a scared puppy," Carly says.
Matt snickers.
The patronizing smile on her face makes Anya feel worse.
"Yeah…uh…hi, Carly." Dang! Anya, why are you so scared of her?
"Matt and I decided to work with you because we feel so bad that no one else wants to work with you and Patrick."
Anya's fear turns into rage. Yeah right! Patrick and I have never needed anyone else to work with us. Your little plot to destroy us is not gonna work, so you can just go to hell. "Yes…sure." Crap! Why did you just give in to her? Why didn't you just speak your mind?
"Look, all you guys have ever done is put Anya and I down, so why do you, all of a sudden, want to work with us?" Patrick says.
Matt laughs out loud. "Because Mr. Hawthorne suggested we work in groups of four. Two people aren't going to work for this assignment, dweeb."
"Besides, Anya," Carly says, ignoring Patrick, "we have decided to put you through a test."
Anya crumples her brow. "What? What test?"
"Come with us to the cafeteria and we'll explain," Carly says, this time in a slightly friendlier tone of voice.
CHAPTER 10
Anya seats herself in a chair at the table nearest to the double doors, while Patrick takes a seat beside her.
"I didn't suggest you sit too, Patrick," Carly says.
"Well, you didn't tell me not to."
Anya flinches at his furious remark. Since they have come here, she hasn't given him any eye contact, but she can still tell that he's not as frightened as she is.
"Fine then, do what you want," Carly says. "Anya, I'm gonna get right to the point: there are other people in this class who are way more important, but because Maria, for some stupid reason, thinks you're cool, we’ve deci
ded to give you a chance to prove to us that you're not a loser."
Anya's jaw drops. Is this all? Is this real? Did Carly really say this, or is she dreaming? She has the sudden urge to pinch her cheeks to make sure this is in fact real. But she keeps her hands by her sides. "Really? How--"
"Look, Anya, we're not doing this because we want to give you the chance to prove yourself; we're doing this because Maria practically begged us to. If you fail to perform in this skit, you're done. You got that?"
Anya nods her head. She is unaware of the crestfallen look that Patrick gives her.
"Good. Now, we don't need to write the skit because we already know it by heart. Anya, you will be our friend--referring to Matt and myself--and Patrick will be the underprivileged geek."
Matt starts to laugh uncontrollably.
"Hey, Patrick, this is the one time you get to act as yourself," Carly says, smiling coyly at him.
Patrick slams his fist on the table, causing a startled Anya to jump out of her seat. "That's it! I've had enough," he shouts. He strides over to Carly.
Anya's heart starts to flutter. Oh no! "Patrick. Don't. Stop," she yells, running over to his side.
"You know, if I were a girl, I would punch your damn lights out, but because I'm a guy, I won't. I don't care if I lose a few points, you can count me out of your stupid skit. I quit!" He then storms out of the cafeteria.
"Patrick," Anya yells, chasing after him. But he keeps walking, his movements spelling anger. She feels her heart sink to the bottom of her toes. Oh God, what have I done? She wants to run after him and tell him that she had nothing to do with this. But instead, she finds herself doing the unthinkable: returning to Carly and Matt. Inside, she churns with anger, pain and frustration. What the hell kind of test is this? How could you expect me to turn against my best friend? How evil is that? Some test this is.
Carly and Matt grin at her.
"We thought you’d run after him, but you didn't, so maybe -- just maybe -- you aren't a loser," Carly says.
To be Maria Page 4
