Trash Can Days

by Teddy Steinkellner

  Oh—I can’t believe I forgot to mention this at nutrition break—HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEW DLS??? What is going on inside Hannah’s mind?! So one second she’s calling me “Ginger Spawn of Satan” in her blog, and now she’s all, “Help the world. Save the trees. Make signs. Read signs.” I mean, what is up with that? Who does she think she is, Oprah? Wtf is happening?

  Do u believe that Hannah’s really changed? I don’t. Not for, like, a second.

  First off, she’s back with Chad. That says a lot. The other day, Marco called Chad a “deek” (LMAO) and he was totes right. Chad Beck is a complete dick, and truly nice girls do not date dicks. It’s like how in Grease, Sandy was only allowed to hook up with Danny Zuko once she got that slutty leather jacket and that whorish perm. Because Danny Zuko was a dick.

  (Almost as much of a dick as Danny Uribe. Bom chicka wah wah…hahahahahahah…I don’t know why, but that’s still hilarious.…)

  And, I mean, Hannah just doesn’t seem like she’s changed. Like, I still see the way she looks at me during lunch, with those judgy eyes of hers. I still see how she whispers stuff to Chad and then the two of them laugh. This one time, I swear they were making fun of Marco. Eff them. Eff them and eff her so hard.

  I srsly doubt that Hannah has become a new person. A catty tiger can’t change its nasty stripes. U can write something online, yeah, whatever, but u have to back it up in real life.

  Wowww, I did not think this would turn into such a Hannah rant! Lo siento, girl! Next note I write, I owe u like a 5,000 word ode about how bangin’ your butt looks in your new jeans! Even Marco texted me to say u look hot. (See? He’s NOT. GAY.)

  I will always love u,

  Jamie Boo

  32 • Jake Schwartz

  Tuesday, April 27

  Hannah had her bat mitzvah two years ago. The theme of it was basically THE WORLD REVOLVES AROUND HANNAH SCHWARTZ. It was so big and expensive and out of control. MTV had a film crew there. My dad had a Ferris wheel and a go-kart racetrack installed in our backyard. Snoop Dogg serenaded Hannah, and Maya Angelou wrote her a special poem about womanhood. Dad commissioned this Lego artist to make a gigantic Lego sculpture of Hannah in her party dress, and when Hannah said it was ugly and that she hated the way her skin looked all yellow, we didn’t even display the sculpture at the party.

  Lego Hannah aside, my sister loved that night. She was as happy as I’ve ever seen anyone ever. She smiled and giggled and hugged people constantly, she rapped along with Snoop and cried at Maya’s poem, she had like, twenty girls following her around at all times, and even if her skin wasn’t Lego yellow, it sure was glowing.

  I’ve been thinking about Hannah’s bat mitzvah more and more as my big day approaches. Somehow, a little over a month from now, according to Jewish tradition, in order for me to become a man, a giant party just like Hannah’s must be thrown in my honor.

  But I don’t want what Hannah got. I don’t want my dad to invite any of the pro athletes or Victoria’s Secret models he keeps on suggesting. I don’t want him bringing his hundreds of large-headed and shiny-faced Hollywood friends who will undoubtedly have to come purely as favors to him. I don’t want anyone. I don’t even really want any kids my age to be there. They’ll just party in spite of me, not because of me. They’ll make fun of whatever I say in my “Today I am a man” speech. And when I chant Torah at the ceremony, they’ll make fun of my high voice. They’ll call it gay.

  Obviously Hannah will have to be there, and I guess she can bring Chad, but I feel kind of strange about other kids who might maybe come. I definitely feel that way about Danny. Man, I even feel that way about Dorothy.

  I wish I could just fast-forward to the day after June 5th. Or maybe, when the big day comes, I could just stay inside in my room, under the covers, where my stuffed animals can protect me. Or maybe I could go up to my parents and the rabbi right now and say, “You know what, guys? Thanks, but no thanks, I’m fine with never being a man.”

  I don’t want to do this. I’m not ready. I don’t want to be celebrated. I guess I’d like a Lego version of me, but that’s it.

  I’ve been thinking about all this a lot because of what happened today. The thing that really got me thinking about Hannah’s bat mitzvah was watching the way she interacted with her friends at lunch.

  Wait. That sounds weird. Let me explain.

  I didn’t want to go to Super Story Samurai. I just didn’t feel like it. In third period this morning, Dorothy told me about this hot new lesson plan she’d just designed—Write a story about yourself in which you are a mythical beast of the opposite sex—and I guess it sounded neat and everything, but after fourth, I decided not to meet her and the others at the Dumpsters.

  I’m happy for Dorothy. I really am. She has what she always wanted: people who like her. I don’t think she ever even had a friend before me, and now she’s got a whole crew of cool, interesting, nice people. I’m proud of her.

  I do think it’s curious that I wasn’t invited to laser tag with everyone else. I don’t think they excluded me or anything, it wasn’t like that. But they didn’t remember me, either.

  It’s just funny. Super Story Samurai was supposed to be mine and Dorothy’s. We designed the lesson plans together and everything, and I was there for her at the beginning, when it was just a tiny club with only three people, and I stuck by her, because that’s what a good friend does. And then it got popular, which, yeah, is cool, and then all of a sudden it became the D. Wu Show, and again, that’s fine. I just think it’s interesting. I was the first one to really notice D. Wu—I was the guy who saw how kooky and entertaining she is, and what a great friend she can be, all that stuff—and now I’m the only one out of the entire club who wasn’t invited to laser tag. It’s just funny.

  But seriously, I’m proud of Dorothy. For me, it’s the same situation as when Danny got cool friends. I didn’t stand in his way or demand he stay true to me or whatever. I just let him be cool. It’s the least I can do.

  So, no, I didn’t go to Super Story Samurai at lunch today, but it wasn’t a big deal.

  I don’t know why I did what I did instead, but I did it. I ate lunch on the blacktop.

  I just sort of wandered there. I left fourth period without any sort of plan—except for making sure that Dorothy didn’t see me—and I walked around the campus for a while. Before long, I ended up on the blacktop. I’ve never spent much time there before. A different kind of crowd tends to congregate on the blacktop. A cool and attractive crowd. A Facebook-obsessed, water polo–playing, Leadership sweatshirt–wearing, and sometimes, I think, alcohol-drinking crowd. My sister’s crowd. Not exactly my kind of people. I guess I was curious to see what they were like.

  My sister truly is the queen of her friends. It was fascinating, watching her. Watching everybody else watch her. None of her friends laughed at a joke until she laughed first, and if she rolled her eyes at a joke, then the laughter stopped immediately. All kinds of girls lined up before her, waiting to be complimented, or at least spoken to.

  I know the feeling, girls. Hannah hasn’t talked to me in over two months.

  She looked so happy. That’s what reminded me of her bat mitzvah day, just seeing that expression of sheer joy on her face as she made a sassy remark to put down one of her friends, or as she got a cheek kiss from Chad, or, better yet, a jealous look from another girl. She seemed totally in her element. I know Hannah’s been making a big thing lately of being all kind and empathetic, what with her new humanitarian blog and stuff, but part of me thinks she’ll always love being the queen most of all.

  It’s insane to me that the two of us are related, that we share the same genetic makeup. Watching her on the blacktop today, watching her be the absolute center of the coolest possible attention, I didn’t exactly see myself.

  She wasn’t the only person I watched, either.

  Sitting up against the fence, where Hannah’s friends couldn’t quite see me, I also had a view of the basketball courts. This gave
me a view of a different crowd.

  I didn’t enjoy this other view.

  Whoever that was, hanging out with the Raiders, wearing a humongous black T-shirt and with those horrible cuts still all over his face, it did not look like Danny to me. Danny wouldn’t stand the way that guy was standing. His hand gestures are different from that guy’s. And Danny wouldn’t shave his head. Danny has hair. Danny has cool hair that he likes to gel and spike. Danny loves his cool hair. That wasn’t Danny out there on the courts, and whoever it was, I wasn’t going to watch him thugging out with his criminal friends.

  I just have to bring myself to not care about Danny. I mean, he doesn’t care about me. So yeah, I got curious, and yeah, I looked across the fence, but I didn’t look at Danny and those guys for more than two seconds. Why the hell would I?

  By this point, I didn’t much feel like watching Hannah and her friends anymore, either. And I definitely didn’t want to think about my bar mitzvah. And I definitely definitely didn’t want to think about what the Super Story Samurai were up to. So I just focused on my food.

  My mom made me a really awesome PB & J today, and she packed my favorite flavor of Capri Sun—Surfer Cooler—to go along with it. Not to mention, a surprise bag of Peach Rings. And a note.

  To Jake,

  As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.

  XOXO

  Mom

  P.S. Share the candy with your friends!

  I’m glad no one was with me to see the note. That would have been embarrassing.

  The PB&J had the crusts cut off. Classic. The Capri Sun really hit the spot, too. And the Peach Rings tasted delicious. I haven’t gotten to enjoy a full bag in a while.

  It was a good lunch.

  33 • Dorothy Wu

  Monday, May 3

  I have the most frabjous news. It is not to be believed.

  I have finally—finally—FINALLY convinced Ruben Apollo Morales to assume the position that is rightfully his: Supreme Overlord of the Super Story Samurai!

  He is going to be our writing teacher again! WA- WA-WA-WAAAAAHOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!

  Each day he found a new way of saying nay. At first he said he was too busy. Then he started saying that the club’s time has passed, and that it is getting to be the end of the year anyway, so we should move on to other things. Then he went back to too busy. Then he said that he wanted to come back, but that he was worried about what that scoundrel Greene might do to him. (He did not say scoundrel, I said scoundrel. But he meant scoundrel.)

  But then today at nutrition break—wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles—Mr. Morales agreed to return! He said he had thought much of the matter over the weekend, and then he thanked me and he said that I was right. He said he should do what he wants to do. He said that starting tomorrow, we can have the club in his room at lunch every single day for the rest of the year. And he said that he has learned much from me, Dorothy Wu. Heart flutter!

  When I reported the news to the gang today at the Dumpsters, they were all much excited. I spent most of lunchtime’s forty-five minutes regaling them with stories of Morales’s greatest moments.

  Right in the middle of one of our biggest group laughs of the whole lunch period, I noticed that Jake was not there. Jake’s absence has actually been a usual occurrence over the last many lunches, but I decided that he needed to know the news about Morales right now, and so I left the group early. I ran off without saying anything. “Oh well,” I bet they all said. “That is just D. Wu being D. Wu.”

  Jake proved exceedingly difficult to locate. He is most definitely back in his Waldo phase. At first I thought he might be somewhere where he could be lonely and feel bad about himself, like the library. So I checked there as well as the portable buildings and Angel’s Tree. But, alas, he was nowhere to be found.

  On my walk back to the Dumpsters, a scant five minutes before the bell rang, I suddenly spotted Jake in the most unlikely of places: on the blacktop, where the populars eat. And I do not mean populars as in people who have a higher-than-average amount of friends like me. I mean popular like so popular that the whole entire school knows who you are. Popular like King Chad Beck. Popular like Queen Hannah Schwartz. Popular like the mascot.

  Jake was not sitting amongst a group of the social elite. He does not even like those people. He was sitting up against a fence, by himself, just sort of watching them all. I actually thought he looked quite weird, almost disturbing. This is coming from someone who loves watching people!

  It was the look on his face. He looked so downtrodden, as if he would never be happy again, like a cat who has just been bathed. In human terms, I would say he was “brooding,” like the male protagonist in a Jane Austen novel. Or Eeyore.

  Only I, the ever-loveable D. Wu, could cheer him up! I ran up to the fence, plopped down on the ground next to him, and started making a series of strange and cute sounds.

  “Ehh ehh! Ehh ehh oh ehh ehh! Ehh ahh ehh ehh ehh!”

  “Dorothy, what are you doing?” he said.

  I held up my palms in a playful manner and I shouted, “I am communicating with you via echolocation!” I thought that by invoking the memory of the dolphins, which is quite possibly mine and Jake’s happiest memory together, that I could make him feel better.

  “Why are you doing that? What are you saying?”

  “It is a really great message!” I told him. “But you have to translate it!”

  He looked at me like, “Are you for serious?”

  “Ehh ehh ehh! Oh oh ehh ehh ehh!” I cried.

  This is probably when some people started to look over at us. I do not know. I was very focused on Jake.

  “Just tell me.”

  “Ehh ehh ehh! Oh ehh ehh oh ehh!”

  “Dorothy, you look retarded.”

  I wanted to scold him for using such a word, but I knew that the best way to get him to stop being cross with me was to just tell him.

  “Ohhh, all right, Doctor Cornelius Moodypants! Fine, fine. Here is the news. Ready for it? Ready? Drumroll…drumroll…Mr. Morales…is…coming back to teach us!”

  “Cool,” Jake said.

  “Aaaaaaand…?” I replied.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Good for you.”

  “Aaaaaaand…?” I replied.

  “Well, I’m not gonna thank you,” he said. He half rolled his eyes as he said it.

  All right, that made me a little mad. If I were the Hulk, this is where my toes would have started turning green.

  “You know, Jake, it is not all about you all of the time.”

  “I could say the same for you.”

  Now my whole lower body was the shade of limeade.

  “You could at least try acting like a friend sometimes.”

  “You’ve got friends to spare.”

  Now my whole torso was green with green rage. This is also, if I were the Hulk, when my rippling muscles would have started to emerge, when my shirt would have ripped.

  “Jacobim,” I said. I did not mean to say it.

  “Who’s Jacobim?” he interrupted. “What does that even mean?”

  “Nothing. Jacobim means nothing.”

  “Is that supposed to be me?”

  “No, it is—”

  “Is that like, from one of your stupid stories?”

  No, he did not say, he did not just say, I could not believe he said—

  I had to unleash the beast.

  I grabbed his shoulders and I clenched them hard and I brought my face his into his personal space. But I was not going in for an aggressive kiss, as it may have appeared. I was going in for the kill.

  “JACOB EMANUEL SCHWARTZ!” I screamed so loud that the ladies in the office could hear me, even without their hearing aids. “YOU ARE PATHETIC AND EVERYONE IN THIS ENTIRE SCHOOL KNOWS IT. YOU ARE A LOSER, YOU ARE NOT CUTE, AND IN MY OPINION—YOU ARE A LITTLE GIRL! I HATE YOU!”

  I screamed with so much fury that I think some saliva flew out of my mouth and hit him in the face. But I did
not stop to check. I stood up, I turned around, and, with everyone still watching me, I took myself to fifth period.

  adm u heard right?

  lil bit. heard the worst stuff

  well like it couldve maybe been worse

  did n e of ours get caught?

  no but one of theirs

  ADM wut if G ever got caught?

  that cant happen

  none of ours got hurt or nothing, ya? danny n gordo n all them?

  theyre fine i think

  wut abt los bebes

  theyre not THAT little

  theyre SO little! they become bangers b4 theyre like 10

  well theyre all fine too i think

  k

  ya

  thats good

  ya

  ¿ay luz?

  ¿ya chicle?

  te amo

  te amo también

  34 • Danny Uribe

  Friday, May 7

  Six months ago it was my birthday. I can still remember Jake waking me up all early and me wanting to punch him in the face. I remember going to the set, seeing what it’s like to make a movie. That’s also like, the day I got real close to Hannah. Man, feels like so long ago. I’ve changed so much since then.

  It’s funny how I can remember all kinds of stuff from months ago, even though I’m so different now compared to how I was. But, like, I can’t remember any of the stuff I was supposed to learn at school today. They don’t teach the Mexicans nothing.

  I do remember what happened after school today, though. Can’t forget something like your first brawl.

  Me and Guillermo and the other guys had been planning it for a while, ever since spring break. It was meant to mostly be a recruiting trip, but we were doing it at Truman Elementary, right near where the Destroyers hang out. So we knew it was gonna turn into something else.

  We all left right when school got out. It was a serious crew. We ran like, twelve deep. The walk over to Truman was badass. I imagined we were all walking in slow-mo and like some dope heavy metal or sick rap was playing. It was so tight, all of us walking in a group, knowing what we were about to do. Everyone who saw us walking knew who we were.