by Bryan, JL
She splashed more cold water on her swollen nose and went to fourth period.
She sweated and worried through the rest of her classes. She knew her intentions, had known them from the moment she’d picked the note from the trash. Now the audacity of it frightened her. She could get in a lot of trouble. She also knew that if she didn’t do it today, if she slept on it, she would definitely change her mind.
When the bell rang to end sixth period, and the kids headed for the front doors and parking lot, Jenny walked to the school office. Mrs. Langford looked at Jenny like she was a slimy slug discovered on the shower wall. When it came to popularity, the teachers and staff had a funny way of taking on the kids’ opinions. Especially Ashleigh’s opinions.
“Yes?” Mrs. Langford asked.
“Uh, hi, ma’am,” Jenny said. “Uh, can I get, I need to, how do I get some transcripts? My transcripts? For college?”
Mrs. Langford sighed and rolled her eyes. She swiveled to the big gray filing cabinet behind her and opened a drawer. Jenny’s gaze darted to the desk, and she spotted the 5” x 8” notepad with the Porcupines logo.
“We send them to the schools directly,” Mrs. Langford said as she rummaged through file folders. “If we give them to you, they’re no good.”
Jenny reached for the pad, and the cuff of her glove caught on the ear of a porcelain kitten. The kitten spilled over and clanked into the kitten-shaped glass candy dish.
Mrs. Langford looked back over her shoulder and hissed. Jenny pulled her hand back.
“I don’t remember offering you candy!” she barked.
“Sorry, Mrs. Langford.”
“That’s impolite. Candy’s for my glycemics.”
“I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
“Little thief.” She turned back to the file drawer. “How many forms do you need?”
“Just one,” Jenny said.
“Feeling confident, are we?” Mrs. Langford reached into a folder.
Jenny leaned over the desk. A pen lay across the pad, and it would roll off if Jenny didn’t move it. She picked up the pen. Mrs. Langford was shaking one form out of a shrink-wrapped pack. Jenny took the pen in her index finger and thumb, then scooped up the notepad in her three remaining fingers, holding it awkwardly against her palm. She panicked immediately. The pad was too big for her jeans pocket, and if she unzipped her bookbag, the sound would draw Mrs. Langford’s attention.
As Mrs. Langford began to swivel back to face her, Jenny put her hand with the notepad and pen behind her. She needed more time, so she used her other hand to flick the little porcelain cat that had fallen over. It skittered across Mrs. Langford’s desk, and Mrs. Langford watched it with a scowl. It was enough time for Jenny to cram the notepad as far as it would go down the back of her pants. She didn’t know what to do with the pen, so she shoved it down next to the notepad, and grimaced as she poked herself in the ass.
When Mrs. Langford looked up, Jenny was still adjusting her shirt. Mrs. Langford gave her a scowl as she stood up the little porcelain cat, which was posed in a paw-licking gesture.
“Let my things alone!” Mrs. Langford said.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Jenny said. “I knocked it over, and I was trying to fix—”
“Just keep your paws to yourself!” Mrs. Langford held out the transcript form. “Where are you applying?”
“Uh… Harvard,” Jenny said. She felt herself sweating all over, and worried that Mrs. Langford would see the look on her face, or her wobbling legs, and know that something was up. The notepad felt huge against her back.
“Harvard?” Mrs. Langford looked Jenny up and down as Jenny leaned very carefully forward to accept the form. A little sneer crept into her upper lip. “Good luck on that, sugar.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Jenny stepped backwards from the desk, scared to turn around. Mrs. Langford turned her attention to her computer.
Jenny pivoted quickly around. Her backpack hid the notepad from behind, she hoped, but the fatal side view would make Jenny’s theft apparent. She quick-marched to the door, reached to open it—but then it swung in toward her.
Principal Harris nearly collided with Jenny. He stepped back, smiling down at her. “Oh! Excuse me, uh…” His eyes fell on her gloved hands, and his smile faded. “Oh. Jenny.” He stepped back, turned aside and gestured for her to exit.
Jenny emerged carefully from the door into the hall. If she walked straight out, he would get a clear view of the notepad jutting up from the back of her pants. So Jenny turned sideways as she walked, keeping her front to him. Then she made a kind of silly grand gesture of a wave for the principal to go on by her, as if she were somehow holding the door for him, which she wasn’t. There was no rational reason for Jenny to not just step away and walk on down the hall. This was awkward and weird even for her.
Principal Harris just sighed, shook his head, and walked into the office.
Jenny hurried down the hall, toward the exit, the notepad slapping her back with every step. It rode up as she ran, threatening to fall out and smack the linoleum floor.
***
She waited until sixth period the next day, a Thursday, to put it into action. She knew Seth had English as his last class, because she was in Social Studies on the same hall. So Jenny cut class, something she’d heard other kids talk about, but had never dared to attempt herself. The teachers took attendance, didn’t they?
Jenny waited in a bathroom stall until all the doors closed and the hallways fell silent. Then she took a breath and stepped out. She paused to look at herself in the mirror. She’d woken up early and spent almost an hour trying to figure out how to braid her hair, which left her feeling exposed and vulnerable all day, and she wasn’t entirely convinced it made her look better. She wore an old Swiss-dot black that had probably been made sometime around 1960, and a very thin sweater over that to cover her arms. She also wore her good black gloves and shoes.
She’d purchased concealer and inexpertly dabbed it on her swollen, discolored nose, where Ashleigh had slammed the volleyball into it. She wasn’t too impressed with those results, either. The only thing she was really happy with was her dark purple lip gloss.
She looked both ways as she stepped out of the bathroom. Nobody. Her heeled shoes clomped and echoed very loudly as she walked past the office, turned down the English/Social Studies hall, and approached the door to Mrs. Peckering’s room. Jenny looked in through the narrow, prison-style window at the AP English class. Seth was there, but so were Ashleigh, Cassie and Neesha. This would be tough.
Jenny took a deep breath, willed her heart to stop beating so hard, and opened the door.
Mrs. Peckering was busy scribbling on the chalkboard and talking about Beowulf and Grendel. She sighed when she saw Jenny Mittens, and her shoulders slumped, annoyed at the interruption.
“Yes?” Mrs. Peckering said.
Jenny couldn’t summon the courage to say a word. She trudged into the room, eyes on the carpet, not daring to look toward the students. She stopped when she reached Mrs. Peckering, and she held out the note.
Jenny had gone through eleven sheets of Mrs. Langford’s notepad paper before the one that Mrs. Peckering now took from her. It read, in all caps, SETH BARRETT TO PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE ASAP, in what purported to be Mrs. Langford’s blocky handwriting.
Mrs. Peckering pointed at Seth and curled her finger for him to come.
Seth stood up. “Should I bring my books?” he asked.
Jenny waited for Mrs. Peckering to answer, but then realized Mrs. Peckering was staring impatiently at Jenny.
“Uh…yeah. I think so. Yeah. Yes.” Jenny nodded her head a couple dozen times before stopping. Her legs and her guts felt like quivering goo. She could not believe she was doing anything like this.
“Aw, too bad.” Seth grabbed his backpack and made his way up through the rows. Jenny slumped a little, her eyes on the floor.
“Get going, both of you,” Mrs. Peckering said. “The rest of us are busy l
earning.”
Seth gestured for Jenny to go first out the door. Jenny smiled as she passed him. Behind Seth, Ashleigh saw Jenny’s smile.
“Hey, Seth,” Ashleigh said. “Don’t catch Jenny pox.”
Normally, any joke from Ashleigh, no matter how poor, would get laughs from at least some quarter. This time, there was silence, except for a nervous attempt at laughter by Cassie. When she realized nobody else was going to join, Cassie started clearing her throat, as if she’d really meant to do that instead.
Something vague stirred in their memories, something deep and dark from long ago. Jenny could see it in their faces, and she felt it in herself. The words had not been spoken anywhere outside of Jenny’s mind in ten years. Only Seth, who’d been at Grayson, looked genuinely puzzled by Ashleigh’s comment.
“Close the door behind you,” Mrs. Peckering said. Then she turned back and resumed writing and talking, and the students picked up their pens, and the moment was gone.
Seth closed the door behind him.
In the empty hall, he smiled at Jenny.
“So Mrs. Langford grabbed you this time,” he said.
“Huh?” Jenny said. She’d had all kinds of plans about what she would say at this moment, but now every single one of them vanished from her brain. She was all jittery nerves and raw, conflicted, dangerous feelings. “Oh. Yeah, yep.”
Seth turned and started walking. Jenny walked alongside him, smiling, then hiding it, then trying nervously to smile again.
He glanced around the hall, then leaned toward her.
“How’s Rocky?” he whispered.
“He’s really good!” The words rushed from Jenny’s mouth, and she felt relieved to have something to talk about. “Yeah. He’s so fast now. And hates any kind of road.”
“Good for Rocky.” They walked quietly for a little bit. “How are you? Any little aches I can take care of?”
“Oh.” Jenny didn’t dare try to stumble through an answer to that.
They were approaching the office door. Seth reached for the door handle. At the last second, Jenny realized what was happening and seized his hand in her black glove.
“Wait!” Jenny whispered. “The principal didn’t really send for you. I made the note. It’s fake.”
Seth’s eyes did one complete orbit while he processed this.
“Why?” he asked.
“Oh. I thought you might want to, you know, skip out of school early?”
“With you?” Seth asked.
Jenny hesitated before answering: “Yeah. With me.”
“Oh, wow.” He looked at the principal’s door. “But I have football practice after school.”
“Oh.” Jenny said. “Okay.” Her eyes went to her shoes. She felt stupid (so said Cupid). Of course Seth had practice.
“But that doesn’t really start until 3:30,” Seth said. “So that’s like two hours. Where are we going?”
Jenny considered his words carefully, not sure he’d heard him correctly. He sounded like he was saying yes.
“Uh,” Jenny said. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Seth said. “This is your prison break.”
“There is this,” Jenny said. “This big rock in my woods. It’s bigger than a house. Sometimes there’s a stream, if it’s been raining. I could show you. If you want to see that. It’s just a rock, but really big. You can climb up and sit on it and everything.”
“You want to go to your house and show me your big rock?”
“And Rocky,” Jenny said, feeling stupid again. “So you can look at Rocky and see how he’s doing. That’s what I meant to say.”
“I’d like to see Rocky,” Seth said.
“And we can smoke, if you want. I have some homegrown.”
“Sold!” Seth grinned. He looked at the office door again, and his eyes widened. “We have to go! This is worst place for us to be right now.”
They slipped out the back door of the school and went around the long, less traveled way to the parking lot. Seth tossed both their backpacks into his trunk and opened her door before hopping in on the driver’s side.
He cranked the engine and retracted the roof. Jenny ran her fingers along the smooth gray interior.
“Won’t Ashleigh be waiting for you?” Jenny asked, then wanted to kick herself.
“She drives herself,” Seth backed out, then drove for the exit. She looked back nervously at the school’s rows of dark, narrow windows, and felt very exposed in the convertible. She hoped nobody saw them.
Jenny had spent too much time thinking about taking him out of class, and not enough planning for what would happen after that. What was she going to do with Seth? What did she expect from him? What did he expect from her? What was she thinking?
When they arrived at Jenny’s, she didn’t want to take him in to see her cluttered house. Her yard was bad enough. He stood in her red dirt driveway, looking around at the house, the shed with all the old advertising signs tacked to it, the completely mismatched, random lengths of fencing in the yard, the scattered pieces of automobiles, dishwashers, refrigerators.
“Is your dad an artist or something?” Seth asked.
“Totally,” Jenny answered. Rocky bounded out of the shed, ducked back when he saw Seth, then crept back out shyly, tail wagging. He must have recognized Seth, because he didn’t bark, but he didn’t get close enough to let Seth pet him.
“He looks good,” Seth said. He pointed at the hairless band of scar tissue. “I guess that won’t grow back.”
“It’s okay, I don’t think that bothers him. Anyway, I’ve been looking into this stuff—Rogaine? Heard of it?”
Seth laughed and shook his head. “I can’t do cosmetic healing, sorry. Injuries only.”
“Wait here.” Jenny hurried inside. She removed the cigar box from under her bed and quickly rolled a thick spliff for them to share. The weed was from the patch her dad grew for a little extra side income, since side income was all he had. It wasn’t grown on their land, of course, but a couple miles away, on unused, overgrown land owned by the bank. She realized that, technically, it was grown on land owned by Seth’s family. This struck her as funny, but she couldn’t tell Seth. She wasn’t about to narc out her own dad.
She held up the joint when she returned outside.
“The trail’s this way,” she said. Jenny led him into the shadowy woods. The woods were still green and alive in September, but here and there you could see something gone brown and dry, the early flickers of fall. It was still hot enough that the cicadas filled the trees with their buzzing songs.
She took him along the path full of honeysuckle and wild blackberries. It was the long way, going around the first two hills instead of over them, but it was the prettiest.
“So,” she asked, “Are you going to be like a doctor or something?”
“Not you, too,” Seth said.
“What?”
“The doctor thing. I tell people I want to do maybe physical therapy. So, you know, I can put my hands on injured people and heal them and get away with it. But then everybody hears physical therapy and says I should be a doctor. My parents, my family…Ashleigh, Ashleigh’s parents…”
“That’s a lot of opinions,” Jenny said.
“Yeah!” Seth said. “And I want to say, look, I’m really not all that good with the science and math, you know? Or school in general. I don’t even think I’d make it into medical school. And why should I spend twelve years on that when I’m not really using medicine to heal people? Just seems like a waste.”
“You should do what you want to do,” Jenny said.
Seth laughed, then stopped walking and looked at her.
“What is it?” Jenny said.
“Nobody ever says that,” Seth said. “Here, let me give you something.” He reached his hand toward her face, which was horribly, dangerously bare, with all her hair pulled up and pinned in place. The rest of her was still covered. She’d thrown off the high heels but still wore the s
tockings, even though they would get destroyed by this walk.
She realized he intended to touch her and heal the volleyball bruises around her nose, and she gasped. She stumbled back, off the trail, over a log and into the underbrush.
“Whoa!” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Sorry.”
Jenny looked at his bare hand, and her fingers twitched in her gloves. She reached out and took it. He helped her up, taking her under one arm, and she quickly slipped away from him.
“You can’t touch me,” she said, and she felt her heart splinter as she said it aloud. “That’s the only thing. I can’t explain why, right now. Okay?”
Seth looked at her a minute, then frowned and nodded.
“Okay. I understand why.”
“You do?” Jenny felt a little panicked.
“It freaks you out, doesn’t it?” he said. “Knowing that healing energy comes out of me. It’s scary. Scary to me, sometimes.”
“Yeah, okay,” Jenny said. It actually wasn’t a bad excuse, for now. “Just for now, okay? Maybe I’ll get used to it.”
“Right,” Seth said. “Actually, that’s kind of a relief.”
“Really?” Jenny felt more than a little disappointed.
“Yeah.” They started walking again. “Because I can’t turn it off. It’s always flowing out of me whether I want it to or not. Not just my hands. Everywhere.”
They made brief eye contact, then both laughed nervously and looked away.
“So people always want to touch me,” Seth said. He grinned, and looked relieved that he could actually talk about it. “Think about it. Headache, stubbed toe…bruises…anything. If you shake my hand, it goes away. Hug me and you’ll feel totally recharged. Kiss me—” Seth broke off and laughed nervously again. “So, nobody really knows why, they just know they feel better when they touch me. And that drains you, all day long. I have to eat tons of sugar to keep up.”
