Trash Can Days

by Teddy Steinkellner

  I kept hope alive, though. All throughout having to stand there with my Cro-Magnon ex-boyfriend, all throughout having to listen to Kristen and Alex’s endless boring lovers’ quarrels at dinner, and all throughout me not getting to be with Danny, I just kept my eyes on the prize: the crown.

  Finally we got to the dance and I was ready to cut loose, footloose. Speaking of that, I actually wish the DJ had played a little more ’80s and a little less bad hip-hop, but the girls and I had a fabulous time regardless. I was out there on the dance floor for I don’t remember how long—dropping it like it was hot, leaning back, getting low, to the window, to the wall, till the sweat dropped down my…well, hmm. Changing the subject now.

  It being a Valentine’s Day dance, there were also quite a few slow songs. I made sure I was off the dance floor for all of them, so I was able to avoid Chad, and that was fine. But it felt wrong, just wrong, just so wrong, to look out there and see Danny swaying back and forth with Luz or Chicle or any of the Eastside hermanas. At one point I even saw Chicle brush her hand against Danny’s butt. She better have just been looking for a place to stick her gum.

  During the last slow song before they announced the election results, I was looking at Danny and some other rando chica, and she was looking at him all adoringly through her way-too-eyelinered eyes, and I just could not take it anymore. I ran back to my group’s table to sit down, avoid eye contact, reapply makeup (tastefully), and mentally prepare myself for the prospect of maybe, just maybe being named queen. But when I got to the table, who did I find waiting for me but…my little brother? I didn’t even know he was planning on coming to the dance. Jake looked tragically dorky in a gray blazer and a red bow tie, of all things.

  “Hannah,” he said. He was out of breath. He looked upset. “Can we talk?”

  “Not now,” I said.

  “Hannah, really quick, come on, please,” he insisted in that whiny voice he has. “I have a question about you and Danny.”

  What was he playing at? I was not going to take this, not right before they announced the results.

  “Go away,” I told him.

  “Are you guys together?”

  I didn’t say anything. It’s hard to come up with a good lie when all you can see are strobe lights and all you can hear is hip-hop with the curse words cut out.

  “Are you with Danny?”

  I felt cornered. So it was Jake who had walked in on us at the party. So he had known about us this whole time, and not only that, but he had chosen to reveal it to me at the exact wrong moment. What a little jerk.

  “Okay, smart one,” I said. “If you’ve known about us this whole time, then why didn’t you just bust us when we were on the bed in your room?”

  Jake drew his head back. His little wiener eyes widened.

  “Wait, you guys are together? Together together?”

  Dammit, me! So he had been naive enough to not know about us, but I had to ruin it with my big mouth anyway. Whatever, whatever. Jake was bound to learn eventually—he’s stupid, but not that stupid. So he was in on the secret now. The three of us would have to work it out. But I could deal with all this later. Not at Sweethearts. Not at my coronation.

  “GO. AWAY.” I said it in my most pissed-off, momlike voice possible. He went away.

  Before I had any time to dwell on that unexpected unpleasantness, the DJ suddenly turned the sound down and handed the mic to the principal, Mr. Greene.

  “San Paulo…the moment you’ve all been waiting for. The announcement of the royal court.”

  Applause, applause, blah, blah. I ran to find my friends. They were standing in the middle of the floor, already linking arms like the last few girls on Miss America. The announcement for queen was so so close.

  “Let’s start with grade seven. Your Princess of Hearts is…MS. TAYLOR DORAN!”

  That girl who hooked up with Chase…interesting. She looked pretty skanky and incredibly cliché in a hot pink strapless bubble dress. But I didn’t care that much about her. After all, the seventh grade winners don’t matter.

  “Your Prince of Hearts…MR. DANNY URIBE!”

  Uh…whoa. Well, that made me care. God, I mean, I remember that Danny had been nominated. In fact, I had something to do with it…but for him to actually win? I thought there was no way. I guess it makes sense, since he knows all the Mexicans and he knows all the Seabrook kids and he’s extremely likable and really cute to boot, but…wow.

  Well, so what, though? This didn’t matter either. This didn’t like, out us or whatever.

  “Your Queen of Hearts…MS. HANNAH SCHWARTZ!”

  Oh, it was a perfect movie moment. The DJ played “Isn’t She Lovely,” by Stevie Wonder, or maybe it was just blaring full blast in my head. Either way, I cranked up the lovely. I put my hands over my mouth as my girlfriends mobbed me, and I made my way to the presentation area wearing a perfectly practiced look of disbelief. Danny gave me a huge smile when I got up there, not too revealing but so proud. Mr. Greene placed the crown over my head as I half real-cried, half faked a couple of tears. Cameras flashed and everyone applauded me and cheered my name over and over. What a moment: from supposed slut to shining superstar. I knew I had just become a part of SP history in the most magical way possible.

  “And your King of Hearts…MR. CHAD BECK!”

  This was fate’s little way of trying to ruin the moment for me, but I wasn’t going to let it happen. When Chad finally got up to the presentation area after like, five minutes of flexing his muscles and showboating, I pretended to be super-happy that I was about to slow dance with him in front of everyone. And really, despite Chad’s presence, I was feeling fully fantastic right then. I had the perfect plan: just close my eyes and pretend like I was dancing with Danny.

  “And now San Paulo, a very special surprise.”

  What?

  “In the interest of promoting school-wide unity, your royal court will lead you in not one, but two dances. Now, for the first time ever, seventh and eighth graders will dance together. So for this first dance, King, find your Princess. Queen, find your Prince.”

  Soooooo wait. What?! I was in total disbelief. So Danny and I had to dance with each other? In front of everybody? To promote school-wide unity?

  As much of a curveball as this was, I wasn’t about to let it get in the way of my amazing night. The music started playing, the crowd of people on the dance floor parted, and Danny took my hand. Together we walked into the center of the floor where Chad and Taylor already were. He put his hands around my waist, I put mine around his neck.

  It was wonderful. We didn’t get too close, for fear of looking like what we actually were, but he gave my hip a little extra squeeze, and I gently ran my hand over his spiky hair. It sounds so typical to say, but even though there were literally hundreds of people staring at us, I felt like it was just Danny and me. We were Tony and Maria. Just the two of us together, now and forever. I ached so badly to stand up on my tip-toes and give him a kiss. I almost did. I was feeling the moment that much. But I couldn’t, not in front of everyone.

  And then…well, then…

  I don’t want to talk about what happened next.

  ay, chicle

  ¿ya luz?

  that was the best thing to eva happen @ SP

  wut abt the time gabi n hector got caught in the band room

  o n wut about when guillermo tagged greene’s car?

  n we cant forget the lunch wen the east n westsiders fought over me

  they were fighting over me!

  ¡no mames! theyd never fight over ur ugly face

  wut abt ur big ass

  better my ass then ur ass face

  te amo

  ¡¡te amo!!

  srsly that thing at the dance. that was the funniest thing.

  wat a little coqueta

  ya, hannah deserved that stuff

  ya she’s nice to us n stuff

  but she cant get away wit that

  ya we did wat we had 2 do


  ya

  te amo

  te amo

  22 • Jake Schwartz

  Saturday, February 13

  It’s the rare person who can get his best friend and his sister to hate him forever in one night. I guess I’m just one of a kind.

  Really, though, this all starts with Dorothy.

  I thought she was going to show up at the dance. I did. That’s the only reason I even went in the first place. She told me that her dad was pissed about her bad grade, yeah, but she also told me that she could get him to let her come, that she’d find a way to the dance no matter what. She even told me to wear gray and red. She said it’d go with what she was wearing.

  So I decided to go. I was still nervous about the whole dancing part, and now I know I’ll never go to another dance again, but tonight I figured that if I went with Dorothy, it’d be fun. She made studying for math fun.

  As soon as all my sister’s friends finished taking pictures on the back lawn and left the house, I went to my mom and asked her for a ride. She asked if I was sure I wanted to wear the bow tie. I said yes.

  The immediate thing I noticed when I got to school was that everyone walking into the gym was paired off. You know how cartoon characters like Mickey and Donald always have a girlfriend who’s basically just a girl version of them? That’s what everyone looked like. The indie guys with straight black hair and eye makeup had indie dates with straight black hair and eye makeup. The tall, tan water-polo dudes had tall, tan water-polo dates. Only I, the loser in gray and red, had no fellow loser in gray and red to call my own.

  I called Dorothy’s house. No response. I tried her house again.

  “Hello, friend, you have reached the Wu residence…”

  After that, my communication options were limited, because believe it or not, D. Wu does not own a cell phone. Why? Who knows? Maybe because her dad won’t let her have one. Maybe because she’s secretly from the nineteenth century. But, hmm…then how would I explain her love of virtual pets? The girl’s a mystery.

  I waited outside for a long time. I don’t know how long exactly. For sure over an hour. Long enough for me to develop some significant facial sweat from all my pacing back and forth, and I’m not usually a very sweaty guy. I thought Dorothy might be waiting for me in one of our usual spots. I checked the library, where we usually eat lunch. I checked behind this one portable classroom, where we sometimes eat lunch. Eventually I realized that, for whatever reason, she probably wasn’t gonna show up. So then I thought, well, I might as well check out the dance.

  As soon as I went inside, I regretted my decision. All the decorations were disgustingly cutesy and girly, like a Barbie Dream House covered in pink vomit. The music was just as bad, but in the complete opposite way. It was loud and angry and sexual. The dancing was even worse than the music. Jeez, from what I’ve learned this past week in health, I’d say some girls definitely got impregnated on the dance floor.

  There was absolutely nobody around for me to dance with, not that I have groove anyway. I decided I’d do what all losers do at dances: get some punch and drink it while standing against the wall. As I was walking to the refreshments table, I saw Danny dancing up real close on a girl I didn’t know. It was weird to see my lifelong best friend doing that, but at the same time it wasn’t that weird because that’s the kind of thing Danny does more and more of these days. Well, I thought, at least he’s having fun. Get some, Danny.

  Then I noticed something weird. Standing a few feet away from Danny was Hannah, and although I couldn’t see very well with all the flashing lights, she was staring at Danny, and she had this look on her face. It’s the same look she gives me when I call shotgun before her, only it was way more intense. Something was definitely up.

  Then it dawned on me.

  I realized that they must have gone to the dance together. After all, I hadn’t seen who was in her group—I hid from them the whole time. It made sense for them to be dates, too. Danny and Hannah have become really good friends lately—I’ve seen her go to his room tons of times to hang out—and it’s not like Hannah had a boyfriend to come with tonight. And it made sense that Danny wouldn’t tell me, because mostly these days we just talk about basketball. So all the pieces fit together in my head. Danny and Hannah must have gone to the dance together, but then Hannah saw Danny freak dancing all nasty with some other girl. Of course she got really pissed about it, because hey, what kind of girl wants to see their date doing that, even if he is just a friend?

  I saw Hannah turn and walk away, so I thought I’d find her and ask how her night’s been so far, ask her about Danny. I had nothing better to do. Dorothy Wu wasn’t walking through the door. I saw the table that Hannah was heading toward, and I actually ran there so I could get to it first. I wanted to make it so that she would have to talk to me.

  This is when things got bizarre. I asked if I could speak with her real quick. She said no—understandable, since she is Hannah Schwartz and I am Jake and we were in public. I knew I’d only get time for one question, so I had to make it count. I asked if she and Danny were at the dance together.

  Her eyes practically busted out of her sockets. I figured she must have misheard me. So I asked her again.

  And then she said one of those things you never expect to hear, so you don’t even believe it when you hear it. Something about her and Danny, and my room, and a bed.

  So they were—no, it didn’t seem possible—where did this come from?—did she just say that they were…boyfriend and girlfriend?

  Before I could say anything else—before I could even react emotionally—Hannah basically pushed me away and ran off, and next thing I knew, everyone’s attention was directed toward Mr. Greene at the front of the gym.

  I didn’t want to think about Danny and Hannah together, so I didn’t. This was all a huge misunderstanding, I told myself. This whole night was weird and confusing and not real. I blocked that image of them—on my bed—out of my mind. I kept completely focused on the royal court presentation.

  Taylor Doran won Princess. Good for her I guess, but yeesh. She’s no princess. She’s in my social studies class, and we were in the same group for a project on Greek philosophers and she didn’t do anything. I think that says a lot about you, how much effort you put in when you’re part of a group project.

  When Danny was named the Prince, I felt genuinely happy for him. Yeah, I’m probably the person who’s suffered most by him becoming popular, but he deserves to be popular. He’s such a great guy. I was just holding him back in elementary school.

  Then, when Hannah got crowned Queen, I was even happier for her. I knew how much she had wanted to win, and now she had something to feel good about after all the bad stuff that’s happened to her. At this point, I still refused to put Danny and Hannah together in my mind. I couldn’t.

  Then Hannah’s ex-boyfriend won King, and then Mr. Greene said something weird about new traditions, and then Hannah and Danny started dancing together.

  And then, for the first time, it really hit me.

  I saw the way he looked at her, the way he rubbed his hand on her hips to the rhythm of the music. I saw the way she touched his hair all gently. As his lifelong best friend, and as her lifelong brother, I saw something that no one else could see: they were in love.

  And wait—they hooked up?! On my bed?!?!

  This was too much. How long had they been outright lying to me? How long had they been nice to my face while secretly talking bad about me behind my back? How long had they been sneaking into my room to do dirty things?

  I had to do something. They couldn’t just dance like this, in front of everyone, in front of me, and expect to get away with it. I had to tell someone the truth about the Queen and Prince of Hearts. I saw Hannah’s friends standing in a clump, the gossipy ones, but I knew they wouldn’t believe anything I told them. Plus, they all think she’s hot for Chad.

  Then I saw Danny’s friends, Chicle and Luz. “Las Chismosas,” he calls them.
Danny once told me that those two could start a rumor at the beginning of passing period, and that by the bell for class, the office would already be calling someone’s parents about it. They were just the girls for this job. I ran up to them and blurted it all at once:

  “Hi-I’m-Jake-Hannah’s-brother-Danny’s-best-friend-maybe-ex-best-friend-I-don’t-know-yet-LOOK-Danny-and-Hannah-are-together-I-mean-together-together-for- real-I-swear-it’s-true-they-hooked-up-on-my-bed!”

  I expected to have to repeat myself, but both of them just smiled at me. It was as if they’d known about Danny and Hannah all along, but they just needed a source to confirm it. Then Luz whispered something to Chicle and Chicle whispered something back to Luz, and they both giggled, and before I knew it they started to chant something, quietly at first, then louder.

  “buchkwawa! buchkwawa! buchkwawa!”

  Some other kids joined in. I couldn’t tell what they were saying, but everyone who was chanting it was laughing and whispering and pointing at Danny and Hannah.

  “BUMCHICKWAWA! BUMCHICKWAWA! BUMCHICKWAWA!”

  What were they saying? It was catching on like crazy, this phrase in an Eskimo language or whatever it was. I couldn’t figure out how everyone knew to say this same thing. Before I knew it, what seemed like the entire gymnasium was chanting.

  “BOM CHICKA WAH WAH! BOM CHICKA WAH WAH! BOM CHICKA WAH WAH!”

  The chanting grew louder, much louder than the music. Hannah stopped swaying with Danny. She stepped away from him. Both of them looked at each other, then around the room. They didn’t realize the chants were about them, not at first. They couldn’t tell what was going on. I couldn’t figure out what everyone was saying.

  “BOM CHICKA WAH WAH! BOM CHICKA WAH WAH! BOM CHICKA WAH WAH!”

  Then it hit me. Bom chicka wah wah…it’s the sound that Hannah always makes when she talks about her friends Kristen and Alex, the ones who do intense boy-girl stuff. Bom chicka wah wah…the entire student body was making the sound of a guitar riff from a 1970s porn movie. Not that any of us have seen those movies, or, well, I guess I haven’t seen those movies, but we all know what the sound means.… Essentially, it means, you know, “HANNAH SCHWARTZ IS A SLUT.”