When I got home and told my parents that I absolutely don’t want to go on this trip, they said I have to, especially since they told the school that they would pay for a student who couldn’t afford to go. I told them to save the money and just pay for the other person and not me. No dice, they say. They want me to socialize, not have my head in a book the entire time. No one is going to want to room with me, Mom. Nonsense, she says in her everything-is-always-glorious way. She’s so clueless sometimes. During dinner, I wore my blue ski mask over my face in protest. Dad insisted I take it off because I was disrespecting my mother. I didn’t. I had to eat dinner in my room. Fine.
*CLASS ASSIGNMENT* 10/7
Essay #4: The Class Trip
(How I really felt but did not turn in for fear that I would have to read it in front of the class. I did not make an appointment to tell Ms. Harrison my thoughts. These are my thoughts, just for me.)
Danielle Levine
English 12
Ms. Harrison
Period 4
I have been to England before, and I have zero interest in going again with my school because I have no friends and spending a week away from home where no one but tour guides and teachers will talk to me (occasionally) is not my idea of fun. Even though I know my father will give me Xanax to deal with the twelve-hour flight, “better living through chemistry,” he always jokes, there aren’t enough of those pills to stop my mind from obsessively repeating magical chants, hoping I hit on just the right combination of words to render me totally invisible while Sara and Heather sit huddled in the back of the tour bus whispering about how glad they are that they don’t have my fat ass and red hair. Yeah, well they should be glad. My body is Rubenesque while the current fashion is Toothpick-esque, and centuries of scientific research have met their match with my hair. The Hubble telescope floats around in space, but not one product on the market is able to straighten and/or soften my hair. Go flippin’ figure.
I would love to see Stonehenge and Bath and Stratford-upon-Avon. Those are places where a love of literature is acceptable because so many great authors wrote there that you still feel all their words floating in the air. I’ve only been to one place in the United States where I could feel words in the air and that was Gettysburg, and the words I felt were heavier and pricklier than the ones blanketing Stratford-upon-Avon. So that’s really why I would want to go back to England. Maybe the invisible language would be enough to make me forget the thirty people in my senior class who I would be traveling with.
But not enough to forget about Jacob. He would be there, of course. He and Keira would both be there. I wish he were mean or something. But he isn’t. I love him. Writing those words makes me hot. Admitting it makes me hot, makes me hotter. Am boiling as I type. May spontaneously combust. And even though I somehow wrote those three sizzling words seemingly against my will, I would deny it even if I were being held in Guantanamo Bay and admitting my love for him were the only thing that would release me. I’d rather stay imprisoned than have anyone know how much I love Jacob. I am just not going on the school trip.
*SECRET ME-MOIR ENTRY* 10/8
Secret #2 (#1 is that I love Jacob Kingston)
Assignment given by me for my eyes only
I think about all the girls in my class and honestly, I’d love to have any one of them write my name down on that slip of paper. Even the really mean ones. I wish I could hate them and say I would never want to be seen with any of them or that I would never, not in a million years, ever want to share a room with them on the school trip. But it’s not true. I’d love for just one of them (even the ice queen, Heather) to be willing to share a hotel room with me for just one week. But they don’t. In a movie I would get to have psycho powers, and after they spilled a bucket of blood on me at the prom, I would have my revenge through Satan’s hellish magic. But in real life I don’t even hate them. I just hate me.
*CLASS ASSIGNMENT* 10/9
Essay #4: The Class Trip
(What I did turn in along with a note begging Ms. Harrison not to make me read it aloud. I got a C+. I still had to read it aloud because she thought other students might want to hear about my England experiences. She was wrong. They used the time to yawn, roll their eyes, and doodle. Jacob paid attention. When I read the part about the horrible weather, Heather blurted out that global warming wasn’t real and if I had the courage, I would have laughed in her face.)
Danielle Levine
English 12
Ms. Harrison
Period 4
It is very exciting that the class trip is to England this year; although, we aren’t going until the beginning of March so I’m not sure why we are discussing this right now. However, thank God we aren’t going in November, the most wildly unpredictable weather month in England since the new millennium, probably due to global warming. March should be lovely.
London is a wonderful city with more history and rich ambience than the strip-malled, strip-clubbed, fenced in dog-parked, crisscrossing freewayed city of Los Angeles could ever hope for. I have been to England five times. My whole family goes when my father has to give lectures about new medical procedures. While my dad works, my mom and I go to museums (I love the Tate Modern), and we take the train out of the city and into Bath and Stratford-upon-Avon. In Bath, I always think about Jane Austen and how great a character Elizabeth Bennet is. I own a bonnet that my aunt bought me in a vintage shop in England that is exactly what I think Elizabeth would have worn at one of the parties where she found herself face-to-face with Mr. Darcy. You can tell she loves Mr. Darcy right away, but she is so independent and fiery that there is no way she is going to let him know. But unlike life, which is why it’s great to read books, everything works out for the two of them in the end.
Before the trip, we find out what Shakespeare play is being performed in Stratford, and then my mom and I read it on the flight over. I never have any idea what Shakespeare is talking about at first. But, I read the passages slowly, multiple times, and break them down into small bits (a helpful strategy for managing many of life’s hard tasks, btw) and then wait for the meaning to rise in me, kind of like a burp. That technique is worth a try for anyone interested in really getting all the cool stuff that Shakespeare has to say. Now I can finish any quote my mom tries to throw at me. I can do this with the Brontë sisters, too. I am sure this information is about as thrilling and cool as having a snow globe obsession.
We go shopping at Harrods, and my mom buys me new shoes because London gets the newer styles before Los Angeles does. She buys stilettos because they are for people who have good legs. I don’t get those. Chuck Taylors are much better for a person like me. I have a closet full, a pair for every occasion. London is a very beautiful city and our class is lucky that this is where we are going. I’m sure my parents will make me go on this trip.
Teacher comments: How exciting you’ve been to England five times. Please avoid tangential comments. I’m glad you will go on the trip.
*CLASS ASSIGNMENT* 11/2
Technically Essay #3 but turned in after #4 Free Write
(What I did finally turn in, but really late, though, because I forgot about it. I got a D. I would hardly call this assignment “free.”)
Danielle Levine
English 12
Ms. Harrison
Period 4
On Halloween, while most of my classmates dressed as monsters, vampires, and ghouls (a bunch of bloody messes), I am sure you are the only person who got that I came as Elizabeth Barrett Browning. My hair falls naturally into tendrils, so that didn’t require much effort, and my aunt designed the corseted dress I wore. She gave it kind of a modern flair by having the skirt lay flatter than the 1800s called for, but that was so I didn’t look too freakish at school. (But why should I have cared? James just splashed himself with fake blood and called that a costume. So gross. I have no idea what he was going for.) Also, my father runs around our house forever saying to my mom and me, “How do I love thee? Let me cou
nt the ways.” You see, my costume had layers of personal meaning. So, when James mauled me and said, “Whoa, that dress is incredible and so weird at the same time,” he got fake blood all over my aunt’s hard work. Also, after that, people thought I was the bride of Frankenstein. Not an image I want following me throughout the year. It was horrible. I’d like to end this essay with a plea. PLEA-se, let’s not have any more dress-up days at school. Thank you.
Disappointing teacher comments: This is not an academic essay. It is a rant.
*CLASS ASSIGNMENT* 11/11
Essay #5: My Worst Day
(What I don’t turn in, but what is, indeed my second worst day ever.)
Danielle Levine
English 12
Ms. Harrison
Period 4
First off, Ms. Harrison, I don’t know how you came up with this essay topic, but I fear it is from the parent meeting you had on Friday that turned into the absolute worst day of my life. So maybe this essay title is a tribute to me and, in which case, you are a total bitch for using my pathetic life for your purposes so you don’t have to think of a really good essay subject like “Your Ideal Lover” or “Your Life After Plastic Surgery” or something really juicy like that.
My nearly worst day ever, not to be repeated, was the family night at school where Ms. Harrison and the principal gave a talk about the school trip to London. Everyone was there. Everyone. Even Jacob Kingston and that is why this day was really, really nearly the worst day of my life. The meeting started off fine with Ms. Harrison talking about all the things we would be doing on the trip (Big Ben, the Tate Modern, Westminster Abbey, etc.). And then Heather Hane’s mom, who is a hateful cow, asked Ms. Harrison how the roommates for London would be determined. (I roomed with Heather on last year’s trip to Canada.) Ms. Harrison explained that process to Heather’s mom about how the kids wrote down who they wanted to room with and she would take that under advisement, but then, ultimately, she would make the final decision about who would room with whom since she’s been coordinating the junior and senior trips for years now. This conversation followed, which I have since emblazoned in my memory, but not in any glorious way as the definition implies.
Heather’s mom: Well, last year my daughter did not get to room with who she wanted to, and it was quite uncomfortable and really ruined the trip for her.
Ms. Harrison: I’m sorry to hear that, but we don’t spend that much time in the rooms, and I think everyone is capable of getting along with his or her roommates, whoever they will be, for one short week.
Heather’s mom: I’m just saying that last year, Heather was pulled aside and asked if she would room with someone who she really didn’t want to room with and she did it, even though she didn’t want to, because she is a good person, and I just think that she served her time, and this year she should be able to room with someone who she wants to room with.
Ms. Harrison: You know, Mrs. Hane, I think we are going to have to talk about this at a different time.
Heather’s mom: We pay a lot of money for these trips, and I just don’t want my daughter to be miserable again this year.
My dad: Well, Mrs. Hane, last year I think my family paid for your daughter to go on the trip because you claimed financial hardship! So . . .
Principal: Dr. Levine, I think that is uncalled for . . .
Yeah, the principal stepped in to yell at my dad, but didn’t once step in to stop Mrs. Hane from ruining my life right then and there. I melted inside every time Mrs. Hane opened her mouth because the crowd was listening to her so intently. Even Sara, who had been crouched in the corner with a migraine, stood up to get every word of Ms. Hane’s complaint. I felt sorry for Ms. Harrison because I knew she was just trying to do her best, but most of all I felt sorry for me because I just wanted to die.
I didn’t know that Ms. Harrison had to beg Heather to room with me last year, and I didn’t know I had ruined her trip. I brought books and stayed quiet on purpose and didn’t talk to her unless she talked to me. I didn’t undress in front of her, so she didn’t see my fat, ugly body and get embarrassed. I did everything I could, but obviously, that didn’t do anything. I sat in the auditorium and mustered all the strength I had not to cry. But it wasn’t enough. When the meeting ended my father went to talk to Ms. Harrison, and I ran to the car and almost tripped right over Jacob who had to be able to see that I was crying. My furry black hat fell off my head, and I forced my dad to go back for it while I obsessively patted my head in the car because at that moment I just felt like my hat needed to be there, and I was freaking out. Jacob walked passed my car as I was smacking my head, and he looked at me like I was nutcase. Which, of course, is right on.
I am going to pretend like I hate Jacob Kingston instead of loving him (which will be a monumental task because he is built like the statue of David) so that every time I see him from now on I am not so humiliated. I wish he could melt and go away.
*CLASS ASSIGNMENT* 11/12
Essay #5: My Worst Day
(What I do hand in, and thank God Ms. Harrison does not make me read this aloud, but she does want me to meet with the school psychologist. C+)
Danielle Levine
English 12
Ms. Harrison
Period 4
My worst day was the day I was born. My parents are not what made it the worst day. My parents are wonderful. Anyway, as you know, I wasn’t even born to my parents, which is really easy for anyone to see because I look nothing like them. My parents are very good looking. My parents adopted me from someone who I am sure looks just like me and was having a horrible life and just couldn’t bear the thought of making it worse by having to raise a child while having a horrible life.
That day of my birth was my worst day because I was born on the wrong planet, in the wrong body, for no real good purpose that I can ascertain. (Thank you for teaching me that word. One thing I like about life on this planet is all the great words I get to learn in your class.) I’m sure on other planets life is not as ridiculous as it is here. In fact, I imagine that on other planets, people aren’t actually in bodies so it saves a lot of hassles. That day I was born marked the stressful beginning of a very stressful life.
Teacher comments: Sometimes we all wish we were never born; your whole life won’t be like high school.
*CLASS ASSIGNMENT* 11/16
Essay #6: Reflecting on My College Applications
(For this very honest assessment: C. What does this lady want from me?)
Danielle Levine
English 12
Ms. Harrison
Period 4
Reflecting on the college application process is like trying to navigate your way through a hurricane. (I hope you like my simile.) I applied to three University of California schools and three state of California schools. I really only had to complete two applications online, one for the UCs and one for the states. This was not as simple as you might think.
My mom sat with me as I did the applications because, like she said, it felt like you needed a master’s degree in form-filling-out to do it. It was an OCD person’s nightmare. I needed my mom because I kept checking every question and answer four times. If I didn’t check each question four times and say the question and my answer out loud twice, then I couldn’t move on. My mom yelled at me to stop doing that. I couldn’t. Then, I repeatedly asked her how I was going to pack up all the things in my room and fit them in a dorm room. I told her I have to have my own room because I can’t possibly share decorating space with someone. I started worrying that my postcards would get bent in the move. I also needed to know, right then, the exact dimensions of a dorm room, so I started measuring my furniture. She really lost it at that point.
I yelled at my mom for not hiring someone to do the applications for me like a lot of other kids in my class did. I put on my blue conductor hat and my black combat Chucks to gain some control.
My mom made me take a double dose of Adderall when all the yelling started, and I thin
k that was a terrible thing for her to make me do. You shouldn’t mess with your meds like that, and we didn’t even check with my dad first before doing that because he was giving a lecture out of state, and I told my mom that she was giving me Munchausen syndrome by proxy because of these stupid applications. Then she told me I was being ridiculous because my Adderall dosage isn’t that high, and she was trying to help me not hurt me. Then she got upset that my father tells me all about the weird conditions that people can get because I remember the things he says but apply the knowledge at the wrong time. I hope you are coming to understand what a pain this process was.
Because my mom will not listen to me complain about how lucky the other kids in my class are, I’m going to tell you. The kids who get college counselors to do their applications are soooooooo lucky. Sara is the luckiest because her mom and a counselor applied to all her schools, and she doesn’t even know where she applied, and she said it’s going to be like Christmas for her when she finds out. I wish it were going to be like Christmas for me, too, but it won’t be because I’m just so anxious about whether or not I even did the applications correctly that I don’t care where I get accepted. Also, I’m taking the SATs again soon and the thought of that gives me hives. (Now I have ADD, OCD, Munchausen syndrome by proxy, and eventually, hives.)
OCD, The Dude, and Me Page 2
