by Blake Nelson
HEATHER LANGHORN
I don’t talk about Heather much but her locker is two down from mine and she likes good music and dresses cool. She’d probably want to hang out sometime if I asked her.
CASSANDRA BENSON
Cassandra is a friend of Renee’s, who once started talking to me while Gabe was talking to Renee. We had a nice conversation. That was like a month ago, though.
WHAT’S MY PROBLEM?
What is my problem with girls? I go to a huge public high school. How can I not find someone to at least hang out with? I’m seventeen years old!
OTHER SCHOOLS
Other schools is what some people resort to when they can’t get anywhere with our girls. They start talking about the mythical Lincoln girls. Or the hot babes at Wilson. “The hot babes at Wilson are not uptight like our girls,” they say. “They’re always ready to party and they’ll make out with anyone.” Sure they will.
THE GIRL AT THE BUS STOP
There’s a girl who is sometimes at my bus stop going home from school. She is older, probably nineteen or twenty. I think she works at the mall. She smiles at me sometimes. I bet she’d want to hang out. I’d need her to turn off her iPod, though, so I could ask her.
THE EVIL ONE SPEAKS
I’m upstairs staring at my math homework and my dad appears at my door.
DAD: So your mother said she talked to you about college?
ME:——
DAD: What are your plans in that department?
ME:——
DAD: Do you have any preferences? Any areas in particular you’re interested in?
ME:——
DAD: You know I’ve always thought law school might be a good option for you. Down the road.
ME: ???
DAD: You know, this is your future we’re talking about. This is not the time to play out some resentment you have against your mother and me.
ME: !!!
DAD: Contrary to what you think, we’re very open about this and we want you to go somewhere you would feel comfortable.
ME:——
DAD: Will you think about this?
ME:——
DAD: All right, then…
ME:——
April 8
Sadie is getting more involved in the Garbage Eater’s situation at our school. She and several members of the Activist Club had a meeting with the principal and made a big fuss about our rights as students to make political statements. Why can’t Jedediah take food off other people’s trays if it doesn’t affect anyone else? The principal claims it’s a health risk, that Jedediah might get sick from eating other people’s food. Sadie’s crew did not consider this an adequate response. Everyone is very worked up about it. People are discussing possible protests. Jedediah Strock remains the talk of the school.
April 9
Sadie and the Activist Club people have developed a plan to support the Garbage Eater. We’re all going to share food off each other’s plates one day in the cafeteria. As a protest. This was not Sadie’s idea, it was another girl’s. This Share Our Food Day is supposedly going to happen on Thursday.
Meanwhile, an editorial appeared by Sadie’s friend Jill Kantor.
BEWARE THE GARBAGE EATER!
A terrible new threat has appeared in our cafeteria. He is the so-called “Garbage Eater.” This sick individual has dared disrupt our normal lunchroom business with his outrageous claims that we are wasting food. Not only that, he actually takes the food we are wasting and doesn’t let us waste it! How dare he! It is our food. We can waste it if we want!
One freshman we spoke to was already deeply confused by his dangerous political message. “I thought we were supposed to throw our food away, but there was this guy and he was like, ‘Do you want that?’ And I was like, ‘No.’ And he took it off my tray. I think he’s going to eat it later. Can you do that?” The answer, frosh-person, is no, you cannot!
The Garbage Eater is poisoning the minds of our underclassmen. He is also getting extra milk and tater tots and corn bread! Why should he get a free lunch, just because the rest of us are throwing ours away?
I enjoyed this so much I tried to find Jill Kantor and tell her, but I couldn’t figure out where her locker was.
April 11
Gabe and I went to the cafeteria early today to make sure we didn’t miss the Share Our Food protest. We sat there while everyone waited for the word to share food. The teachers all knew about it anyway. They’d already said they weren’t going to do anything. Finally, the moment came and everyone “shared” food. Mostly they just touched each other’s food. Gabe and I switched our cookies back and forth. Overall it was not what I would call an effective protest. But it seemed to make people feel better.
SAVING THE WETLANDS
Finally, the stupid Save the Wetlands thing pays off. There’s a meeting at Alice Weitzman’s house for all the people participating. Sadie comes by and picks me up.
I shouldn’t say it’s stupid. Everyone loves the pond and the woods around Carl Haney’s house. One old guy wrote a thing on the STW website about how there used to be a half-dozen ponds in the area when he was a kid. He and his buddies would ride their bikes around with their fishing poles tied to the handlebars. They’d catch bass in the ponds. Now this is the only one left, and it’s getting so polluted there probably aren’t any bass in it anyway.
Sadie and I pull into the driveway at Alice’s house. It’s a big house and there’s fancy appetizers and wine and all that. I hear someone say Alice’s husband is a high-powered lawyer. She’s great, though, Alice, padding around in her slippers and her flowing clothes and a goofy hat. It’s mostly older people in attendance, but there are some younger people here and there. A couple of cats wander around.
We get down to business. The group of us sit in folding chairs in her living room. Alice stands in front and tells us what’s going on with the petitions. She tells us how many signatures we got and thanks the petitioners individually. She reads our names and asks us to identify ourselves. Most people wave a hand, but when she calls my name, I stand up and bow deeply. Everyone thinks that’s funny. Everyone except Sadie.
After the meeting, Sadie drives me home. I’m hoping we can hang out or talk a little. That doesn’t seem to be happening, but at the last minute she asks if I mind driving by the pond to check it out.
“No,” I say. “I don’t mind.”
We pull onto the little dirt road and run right into a new metal gate. These developer guys don’t waste any time. We get out for a closer look. The gate is a long metal bar with a padlock hanging off one end. It’s only to stop cars. We can still walk in. Sadie isn’t sure she wants to. We have school the next day and it’s already ten. It’s also really deserted, and there are big new NO TRESPASSING signs all over the place. I convince Sadie we’ll be okay. We both want to see what else they’ve done.
We crawl under the metal bar and walk down the road. The moon is out, so we can see pretty well. We follow the couple curves of the road and get to the pond. It’s about fifty yards across. It looks like it always did. Mushy. Swampy. Smelly. Sadie looks around at everything. I pick up a stick and throw it into the water.
“Doesn’t seem like they’ve done anything to it yet,” Sadie says.
“How do you even drain a pond?” I ask.
“You pump all the water out and fill it up with dirt. Weren’t you listening to Alice?”
I shrug.
I start walking slowly through the grass around the edge. Sadie follows. We go a little ways and something jumps into the water. A frog, probably. Sadie stops. Then something else scurries into the bushes behind us. Sadie looks at me.
“Probably just a raccoon,” I say. “Or a possum.”
Sadie hates possums. We keep going, but she stays close behind me. At one point I hold her hand and help her jump over some muck.
We pick our way along the trail that circles the pond. It’s more grown over than I remember. I guess nobody is coming here anymore.
About halfway around is the bonfire spot. There’s a clearing, with a log where people sit and an ashy burn pit surrounded by rocks. A half-melted plastic six-pack ring is sticking out of it, and there’s some beer cans around, quite a few beer cans.
“Why do people always get drunk in places like this?” Sadie asks me. “And light fires?”
“That’s what people do,” I say. “They start chemical reactions.”
Sadie stops and stares at the pond. It looks different from this side. It’s awfully small as bodies of water go. And it smells. I wonder if it’s even worth saving. I don’t say that, though.
“Do you remember when we came here?” Sadie says.
“We came here a couple times.”
“Yeah, we did.”
I step closer to her. I suddenly want to do something. I’m not sure what. Comfort her? Put my arm around her?
Before I can do either, she turns away. She walks to the edge of the pond and looks out.
I pick up another stick and throw it in the water.
We head back. I remember that if you go all the way around, you hit a patch of black muck that really smells. So we return the way we came. We reach the road and walk toward the car in silence. I help her under the metal gate. But at the moment when we split up, to go to the different car doors, she stops. I almost walk into her.
“Do you mind if we hang out for one second?” she says. “I want to look at everything.”
“Okay.”
She looks. I look, too. We’re standing in front of her dad’s car. We’re about two feet from each other.
“The moon is nice,” I say.
“Think how many people have come here over the years,” she says. “Think how many people had their first kiss here.”
“We didn’t,” I say.
“I’m not talking about us.”
“We had our first kiss in your driveway,” I say. “I was on my bike.”
“Why are you bringing that up?”
“No reason.”
“You’ve seemed kinda weird all night.”
“So?” I say. “I am weird.”
Sadie stares at a stand of tall evergreen trees to our right. “I just want to look around. I want to feel this place. I want to know what I’m fighting for.”
“Do you think it will make any difference?” I say. “If the people bought it, they can drain it. They’ve drained all the other ponds.”
“So you want to give up? Why did you bother getting all those signatures?”
“Why do you think?” I say.
She stares at me in the dark. Then turns away.
I pick up a rock and throw it at the gate. I hit the metal bar on the first try, a lucky shot. It makes a ringing metallic sound.
“I don’t even know what difference it’s gonna make,” I say. “We’re all gonna fry anyway.”
“You know, I’ve really missed your pessimistic worldview,” says Sadie. “I miss that wonderful sense of doom you bring to things.”
This statement sparks something in me. I watch her face in the dark. I want to kiss her. The sensation starts like an itch, like a tiny urge, and then blossoms into this incredible need that I can barely contain. I take a step toward her. I’m going to do it.
But then I decide not to, and I pick up another rock.
“Realists are never happy…,” I say, throwing it.
“Is that what you are, a realist?”
“I think so.”
“Then what am I?”
“You’re…,” I say. “You’re more of a…”
But I can’t finish the sentence. I face her. I don’t want to talk anymore. I want to be in that place again, that place of her.
“I’m more of a—?” she says, but her voice has dropped to a whisper. She doesn’t want to talk either. The talking is over. This is the crucial moment. It’s now or never.
I go for the kiss. I step toward her, grip her shoulder, aim my mouth at hers.
I press my lips against hers.
She lets me do this. She lets me kiss her, and I do. But when I try to coax her mouth open, she won’t. And she isn’t going to put her arms around me either. She isn’t going to do anything.
That’s not good.
I stop. I open my eyes.
She pulls herself away from me. “What, on earth, are you doing?” she says in the darkness.
“Nothing. I just—”
“You just kissed me!”
“I thought you—”
“What are you doing!?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Do you still like me?” she asks, point blank.
“I…I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I do, I guess. I must,” I hear myself say.
She stands there staring at me. Then she touches her lips with her fingertips, as if to check that they’re still there.
It’s dark enough that we can’t really see each other’s facial expressions, which is probably for the best.
James Hoff
Junior AP English
Mr. Cogweiller
ASSIGNMENT: describe a group or organization you have been a part of
MY LIFE AS A TEENAGER
Being a teen is an exciting time for a young person. It is the first stage of your life when you’re associated with a decade. You start off as a “baby.” Then you’re a “child.” Then you graduate onto the conveyor belt of decades. First it’s your “teens.” Then it’s your “twenties.” Then your “thirties,” your “forties,” your “fifties,” and so on until you die.
People who actually are teens think of the word as old-fashioned, a bit cheesy, but they are still attracted to things labeled “teen.” This is because they are curious about what other people think “teens” are supposed to be like and what they’re supposed to do. They are not quite sure what a “teen” is, even though they technically are one.
Despite the cheese factor, the word “teen” does help young people find each other. Certain channels on TV are for “teens.” At the bookstore, there is a “Teen” section. At one vacation spot I know, there is a place called “the TeenZone” where they have French fries and video games and booths to hang out in. Teens like to “hang out.” They also like hoodies and lip gloss and Skittles. Teen girls like shopping and TV shows about other teen girls having lavish sweet sixteen parties. Teen boys like blowing stuff up.
Teens, being younger, are envied by adults. Teens have longer to live. They can goof around more. They don’t have as many cares and worries. Also, they are cooler than adults. And better looking. They are better dancers.
But teens are also easily confused. They don’t understand the world. They have strong chemicals going through them that give them acne and make them sexually frustrated. Teen boys masturbate frequently. They can’t help it. You can pretty much grab any teen boy and accuse him of being a “masturbator” and you will be right.
Do teen girls masturbate? No one knows.
Teens are at the beginning of life. For this reason, one of their main characteristics is their inexperience. Teens spend most of their time learning to do things: how to study, how to hold a job, how to not get caught masturbating. But since the teen is so inexperienced, problems arise and the teen is not prepared.
Also, certain things that are inherently flawed appear to the teen to be perfect. For instance, drinking. The teen drinks multiple beers, plays air guitar, hangs his ass out the window of his friend’s car but then is shocked when he wakes up with a hangover and angry parents.
Or driving. The teen borrows Mom’s car, drives fast, plays European Race Car Driver, but then is shocked when the car ends up in the ditch.
Or love. The teen falls in love, wanders the streets in ecstasy, and then is shocked when that love falters for no apparent reason. When this happens, the teen thinks he can fix it. The teen does not know that some things cannot be fixed. This leads the teen to try impossible things.
For this
reason, let us have some sympathy for the teen. He wants to do good, but he doesn’t know how. He wants to love, but something always goes wrong. He wants to fix the relationship because he loves the girl. The girl loves him. And yet something is broken. The teen digs down into the relationship to find that broken thing, to find it and fix it. But that thing is unfindable. The teen must face the horrible truth: The world is not going to give him what he wants. Even things that appear right in front of him, that seem easily graspable, even these things are, in reality, just outside his reach.
The End
April 12
Slinking around school today. Hiding in the library. I don’t know what I’m afraid of exactly. Sadie’s not going to tell anyone what happened at the pond. It’s still so embarrassing, though. I’m afraid to show my face…
Gabe is being a good friend, walking with me in and out of the parking lot. He’s got his license, so that’s good. Not that I enjoy riding around in the Ford Expedition, which he now drives to school. I guess it’s easier to criticize a Ford Expedition when you don’t need it to avoid the ex-girlfriend you tried to kiss in a moment of reckless stupidity.
Gabe has refrained from saying “I told you so” about Sadie. But he did tell me so.
He’s also been getting on me about my dad’s car offer. Needless to say, he thinks I should take it.
“Dude, your parents are offering you a car, and college. That’s two awesome things for nothing!”
“But I hate cars.”
“Dude, get a hybrid,” said Gabe. “Get a Prius. Get a freakin’ electric go-cart if you have to. Take the deal!”
