Trash Can Days

by Teddy Steinkellner

  And that’s when it hit Hannah. It was a horrible, almost scary moment. In two seconds she turned redder than I’ve ever seen her before. Her forehead, her cheeks, her eyes. She put her hands to her head. She did a full 360-degree turn, looking around the entire room, everyone still screaming, the whole school mocking her in unison. Danny put a hand to her shoulder, but she slapped it away. Then she just took off.

  I watched as Hannah raced out of the gym, trying her best not to cry, none of her friends running after her, no one going after her. I knew it was all my fault.

  I ran outside as fast as I could, leaving the chanting behind me. I saw her crown on the ground near the exit door. I ran past it and out into the night. I saw Hannah sitting on the curb of the parking lot, already waiting for Mom, her head buried in her hands.

  “Hannah!” I called as I ran madly up to her. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

  She didn’t respond. She was still looking down.

  I made it to the curb. I just stood there above her. I was out of breath.

  “I’m a jerk. I’m such a jerk, Hannah. I’m an asshole.”

  She didn’t move for a few seconds. Then she rubbed her eyes with her hands. Then she nudged her head up to look at me. Her eyes met mine. They were wet and bloodshot and terrifying.

  “I’m sorry! I’m an asshole. I didn’t mean to. Well, I guess I, what I did was, it was so stupid, I—”

  She didn’t say anything. She just stared at me. Her face was covered in blue and black makeup. Some of it dripped onto her dress. It’s the kind of thing she normally would have cared about. But not now.

  “It’s just, you didn’t tell me about you and Danny, so like, I don’t know, I guess I felt like, I don’t know…”

  She didn’t say anything to that either. She just sniffled. Then her eyes went sort of soft and dead. She wasn’t looking at me anymore. She put her head in her hands again.

  “I’m sorry, Hannah. That wasn’t fair what happened. I didn’t mean to—well, I mean, I did what I did for a reason maybe, but the whole thing was such an accident, you know? Hey, I can go back and get your crown if you want. You want me to do that? I can go do that. I’m sorry, okay?”

  I’m not really good at knowing when to shut up.

  Danny came out, but he didn’t say anything to either of us. We didn’t say anything to him. The three of us sat there in silence until my mom came to pick us up. In the car, we stayed silent.

  Hannah will never talk to me again. Neither will Danny. And I still can’t get through to Dorothy.

  lilbeachbabe777: hey

  lilbeachbabe777: i have to talk to you

  getsome_danny24: ya ok

  getsome_danny24: meet up at the spot in 5?

  lilbeachbabe777: no i think we should talk here

  lilbeachbabe777: online

  getsome_danny24: o

  getsome_danny24: ok

  getsome_danny24: wats up

  lilbeachbabe777: so…the dance

  getsome_danny24: i kno

  getsome_danny24: jakes fault

  getsome_danny24: luz told me

  getsome_danny24: im so pissed at him

  getsome_danny24: cant even put it in words

  lilbeachbabe777: yeah well

  lilbeachbabe777: idk

  lilbeachbabe777: i was thinkin about it

  lilbeachbabe777: and like

  lilbeachbabe777: idk maybe its better off this way

  getsome_danny24: ?

  getsome_danny24: wat do u mean

  lilbeachbabe777: well this relationship

  lilbeachbabe777: well

  lilbeachbabe777: i dont think we can pull it off

  lilbeachbabe777: what w/ our families

  lilbeachbabe777: my friends

  lilbeachbabe777: ur friends

  lilbeachbabe777: jake

  lilbeachbabe777: its better for both of us this way

  getsome_danny24: u

  getsome_danny24: ur breakin up wit me?

  lilbeachbabe777: no

  lilbeachbabe777: dont think of it like that

  lilbeachbabe777: but i mean

  lilbeachbabe777: yeah

  getsome_danny24: ok so like

  getsome-danny24: ya i guess people kno bout us now

  getsome_danny24: why does that mean we have 2 break up?

  lilbeachbabe777: well

  lilbeachbabe777: if we break up now

  lilbeachbabe777: i think we can pretend that there never was an us

  getsome_danny24: wat?

  lilbeachbabe777: we’ll just pretend like the thing at the dance was a mean lie

  lilbeachbabe777: pretend that luz was jealous i beat her for queen so she started the chant

  lilbeachbabe777: the only one who knows the truth is jake

  lilbeachbabe777: and if we end things now, he wont do anything

  lilbeachbabe777: he feels so bad

  lilbeachbabe777: we have to use that

  lilbeachbabe777: its our only chance

  getsome_danny24: but like

  getsome_danny24: dont u like bein wit me?

  lilbeachbabe777: of course i do

  lilbeachbabe777: its not about that

  lilbeachbabe777: its about how people see us

  getsome_danny24: wat does that even mean?

  lilbeachbabe777: you cant be the guy who hooked up with his best friends sister

  lilbeachbabe777: and i cant be the slut

  getsome_danny24: jakes not my best friend

  lilbeachbabe777: trust me, danny

  lilbeachbabe777: it hurts so much to do this

  lilbeachbabe777: but i thought about it a lot

  lilbeachbabe777: and its for the best

  getsome_danny24: but hannah

  getsome_danny24: i love you

  getsome_danny24: <3

  lilbeachbabe777 has signed off at 2:24 a.m.

  getsome_danny24 has signed off at 2:38 a.m.

  23 • Dorothy Wu

  Thursday, February 18

  I wake up far earlier than usual this morning, at 5:42 a.m. I ponder going back to sleep for a moment, but, bah, there is no point. I have not been able to sleep effectively for the last month or so. Methinks it is the growing pains.

  One of the advantages of suddenly waking at random hours is that you can remember your dreams. In my dream this morning, I was Bruce Wayne, a.k.a. the Dark Knight. I snuck around the halls of San Paulo posting covert messages on the walls. The messages were secret logos, similar to hobo signs. I do not remember their significance. At the end of the dream, I was holding a secret meeting with other people from San Paulo who were also superheroes. Jake was Spider-Man. Coach Wade was the Incredible Hulk. Tyler Bell was Professor X. Mr. Morales was a made-up superhero who wears glasses, even though nerds are not generally heroic. I do not remember the subject of our meeting.

  And, yes, I realize that my dream mixed Marvel and DC characters inappropriately. I have already given myself plenty of grief about it.

  I spend the rest of my before-school morning watching assorted YouTube clips of Rurouni Kenshin and Yu-Gi-Oh! It is, as they say, “legit.” However, in my enjoyment, I lose track of the time. My father walks into my room fourteen minutes before school to discover me still in pajamas, watching clips on my bed, giggling girlishly. He curses up a storm and threatens to take away my computer. It would not be surprising if he followed through on this threat. He has already taken away most of my civil liberties.

  I arrive at math class seven minutes late. Luckily, however, Mr. Peterson does not assign me a detention. Ever since Mr. Peterson spoke to my father on the phone, I think he has realized that I already receive enough punishments at home. To assign me a detention as well would be unusual and cruel.

  In health, we continue our unit on SEX. (Sometimes I like to say that word loudly to get people’s attention. Hehe.) In today’s class, we do an activity in which everyone walks around shaking each other’s hands. When Jeremy Farnsworth shakes my hand, he gives my wr
ist a little scratch. After thirty seconds, Ms. Windler asks whoever got scratched by Jeremy to raise their hands. I do, along with five others. Then Ms. Windler asks anyone who shook the hand of anyone who got scratched by Jeremy to raise their hands. The entire class does. Ms. Windler says that if Jeremy had an STD, and if shaking hands was sex, and if we had not used protection, then right now we would all have STDs. Whoa.

  English class is frustrating. We are reading The Giver by Lois Lowry, one of my all-time most-beloved books. Yet the lessons Mr. Morales assigns are so mundane! Today, all he tells us to do for the entire class period is to go through chapters 8–12, find twenty vocabulary words, and define them. Shouldn’t we be having fulfilling class discussions based on such prompts as “Imagine you live in Jonas’s society. What would your role in the community be and why?” Or, “What is your opinion of the book’s ambiguous ending? Use examples from the text to support your argument.” But nay, Mr. Morales does not teach like I know he can. He is too focused on the basketball team, methinks. The man is in a funk. I wish he would get funky.

  Spanish is also problematic, but this time it is all my fault. I absolutely cannot stand my Spanish class, so recently I checked the first-year Latin textbook out of the library and have been reading that during fourth period instead. Today’s story in the Cambridge Latin Course is particularly exciting. Grumio the chef is carrying on a scandalous affair with the slave girl Melissa! However, just as I am nearing the tale’s climax, Señor Cruz discovers that I am reading the wrong book, and he asks me what I am doing. I think about standing up to him. I think about saying right to his face that I would much rather study the nominative case than the preterite tense. I think about crying out to the world, “LATIN’S COOL! SPANISH DROOLS!” But instead I apologize quietly and put my book away. I wish I possessed cajones.

  The last few lunches, Jake has been doing this annoying thing where instead of meeting me at one of our usual spots, he goes to some random, hard-to-find place without telling me, and so it takes me several minutes just to find him. I call it his “Waldo Phase.” Yesterday I could not locate Jake at all. I wish he would just forgive my apology about the dance. My father caught me sneaking out. What was I supposed to do?

  Today it takes me ten minutes to find Jake. After looking around the library, the portable buildings, and the Dumpsters, I discover him sitting outside the main office next to the tree that was dedicated to that boy who died. Jake does not want to talk much at lunch. The child has been so moody lately. Ah, perhaps he has finally started puberty?

  Science is my third-least-favorite class behind math and P.E. I never pay attention unless we are talking about animals (preferably cats). Today we are not talking about animals. We are learning about plant reproduction, so I do not pay attention. Instead I think about my dream some more. I know I had that dream for a reason. Why?

  In Social Studies we are continuing our unit on Asian history. This is good because Asia rules. It is bad because, as an Asian, I am expected to know everything about Asia. How can one know everything about Asia? Asia is bigger than everything.

  In today’s class we learn about a particularly rad concept: the samurai. We learn about how the samurai were a special class of Japanese military folk who had wicked swords and their own special code of ethics known as Bushido. They engaged in activities such as tea ceremonies, monochrome ink painting, and Zen rock-garden assembling. I, too, will master these three arts one day, mehopes. I wish I could be a samurai. I think everyone wishes that.

  In P.E. it is that most dreaded of days: mile day. About halfway through my mile, I become very sleepy and almost collapse in the middle of the track. At first I fear that I am turning narcoleptic! Then I realize that I am tired because I have been sleeping so little lately. I determine that first thing after school, I must go home and rest.

  Of course, I do not want to. I want to stay and hang out with Jake. But alas, he has hoops practice, and I doubt he wants to kick “it” with me anyway after the way I stood him up last Saturday night. Plus, bollocks, I’m still grounded for four more days. No bueno.

  On my way home, I try to think of ways to get back in Jake’s good graces. Also, I think that it would be nice to make Mr. Morales happy again. And it would be wonderful to have the writing club back, too.

  Then—idea of all ideas!—I can combine those three things into one! Here is the plan: Together, Jake and I will secretly rebuild the writing club, better and stronger than before. We will generate anticipation by posting secret logos across the campus, just like in my dream. By doing this, we will recruit all kinds of cool new people. Then, when the club is popular enough, we kids will reveal ourselves to Mr. Morales, and together we can all bask in the kind of glow that only a creative community can provide.

  What will we call ourselves? Hmm. Good question…

  “Writing Club” is too boring. “Justice League” has already been taken. So has “The United Nations.”

  I know! I know! We shall be known as…

  The Super Story Samurai.

  *cue epic music*

  *Dorothy takes a bow*

  *Jake kisses Dorothy on the lips*

  THE END.

  I am sleepy.

  24 • Danny Uribe

  Friday, February 26

  We’d been struggling all game. La Mesa’s press was forcing Edgar into making a bunch of turnovers that he doesn’t usually make. Guillermo was getting all kinds of fouls called on him and he even picked up a technical for arguing with the ref. Antonio turned an ankle early and couldn’t play much after that. Jake airballed his one shot.

  But still, we were in it. We had a chance to win at the end because, well, I was playing pretty good. And I wasn’t just playing good because I knew Hannah was in the stands. I play good every game.

  I looked up at the scoreboard. There was a minute left and we had the ball down three. Edgar passed me the ball at the top of the key. The guy on me was real slow, so I shook him easy with a crossover, drove hard to my left, went up like I was going for the shot, then threw a quick pass in to Rudy who laid it in. One-point game. The crowd went crazy. And okay, like, there weren’t that many people there, but the ones who were there were mad into it. La Mesa’s mostly Westsiders so everyone wanted us to dominate them.

  Their point guard was nervous bringing the ball up. He kept looking over at their coach, trying to figure out what to do. I knew we could make him do something dumb. Edgar and I ran up and trapped him hard on the sideline. The scared fool picked up his dribble and looked up at the ref like he was begging for a foul. I slapped the ball away clean and took off with it, running hard with no one between me and the basket, no one between us and the win—

  Then right before I was gonna score, stupid Mr. Morales had to go and call a time-out. I don’t know why he’s our coach. Dude needs to stick to writing or whatever he does.

  In the huddle, Morales tried to draw up a play, but it didn’t make any sense. The guys on the team were starting to argue about it with him, with each other—

  “Give it to Guillermo, Coach. He’s the biggest.”

  “No way, man. I got this!”

  “Naw fool, you’re worse than the Jew.”

  “Guys, if you could just be quiet for a second, I’m trying to focus.”

  “Why’d you call time-out, Coach?”

  “Coach, this play sucks.”

  “You’re gonna make us lose, Coach.”

  “What the hell, Coach?”

  I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “¡BASTA!” I shouted at the guys. “¡BASTA!”

  They looked at me. They shut up right away. I looked at Morales.

  “Just give me the ball,” I said. “I’ll make it.”

  “Okay,” Morales said. “Let’s do that.”

  Javy inbounded the ball to me. There were fifteen seconds left, fourteen.… I was being guarded by the same guy I had just burned before. He looked like he was about to crap his pants. Ten seconds, nine…I took one
hard dribble to my right like I was gonna drive in, and the guy went for it, but then I switched quick to my left between my legs, and when the fool tried to go after me, Guillermo clocked him hard with a screen.… Six seconds, five…I took one more dribble going to my left, picked the ball up, rose for the shot.… Three seconds, two… The ball had perfect rotation, I had perfect follow-through.… One second…no seconds…

  Swish. Pirates win.

  It was the coolest non-making-out moment of my life. I threw a big fist pump like Jordan and right away the whole team surrounded me, even Mr. Morales. They all hugged me and patted me on the back and jumped on me. When we went into the locker room, all the guys punched Jake on the arm. It’s something everyone does before each of our games for luck and also after the game if we win. Sometimes if we lose, too. I’d never done it before since I don’t really think Jake likes it that much, but after today’s game I just had to. Went as hard as I could. Felt good.

  Jake told me he was gonna shower at home, and he asked if I wanted to catch a ride back with him and Hannah and his mom. He’s been trying to be all nice to me since the dance. I don’t think he gets it. I told him I was gonna stay out and celebrate with the guys. He asked if I thought I was still gonna make it back in time for the screening of his dad’s movie. I told him, “Easy man, it’s only five thirty. Let me chill for a little, I’ll be there.” Not that it was him I wanted to see.

  I watched the Schwartzes walk off and get into their Lexus. Hannah didn’t turn around to look at me.

  I was livin’ large, though. “Señor Clutch,” that’s what everyone was calling me. After we showered and changed, Morales said he would take the team out for pizza. We all said we were busy, though, so he left. Then we went to Taco Bell.

  At Taco Bell, it was really nice, everyone chipped in to pay for my Cheesy Gordita Crunch. And when Javy ordered it for me, he said to the guy, “And I want it with extra hot sauce because my man is on fire! ” So tight.