Blaze

by Laurie Boyle Crompton

  • • •

  “What the heck do you have against Mark?” I ask Josh as soon as I get him alone in the living room. Mema’s dachshunds wiggle around our feet, hoping we’ll create laps for them to snuggle into.

  “Don’t you mean Saint Mark?” Josh holds his palms together and raises his chin in mock reverence.

  “Josh, seriously, I—”

  “Hey, do we know them?” His eye catches the row of frames standing along a shelf above Mema’s boxy television. A few hold photos of me and Josh when we were younger, but the majority show the happy, handsome people who came included with the frames.

  “Don’t change the subject,” I warn. “I want to know what the deal is with your coach. What did you say to him about me?”

  Josh says, “Do you think Mema forgets and thinks these people are related to her?” He waves a frame toward me that holds a black-and-white photo showing a mob of children surrounding a woman in a bridal gown. “Clearly they’re mini-cannibals, just look how happy they are.”

  Scooping up an elated dachshund, I tell Josh, “I want to know what’s up with Mark.”

  “I’m not sure that you do, sis.” Josh puts the frame back and crosses his arms at me.

  I sigh, slump back on the couch, and look up at Mema’s yellowed ceiling. “Fine,” I say as the dachshund on my lap promptly falls asleep. “How about if in exchange for full disclosure I’ll give you a ride to wherever you want on a day when I really don’t want to.”

  Josh looks at me skeptically. “Based on the boulder-holder incident in the van, anything I have to say will just be hurtful at this point.”

  “I can take it,” I say with certainty, but as Josh drops his head and takes a deep breath I realize I’m not so sure. My heart does flips and I absentmindedly stroke the warm wiener dog sleeping on my lap as Josh lays out Mark’s character details.

  Apparently, Mark already has a super power after all. But it’s not healing.

  Mark has the power to pick up girls, and he is extra-especially super at picking up blondes. Accepting the stream of human Barbie dolls my brother describes is beyond my mental and emotional capacity. Apparently Mark has a girl at nearly every school the varsity soccer team plays, which is why he didn’t invite me to an away game for our date. He’s like some mutant strain of hook-up guy. I think of the girls at school who are “known past affiliates.” With a shudder I realize that they are, without exception, blondes.

  But surely I don’t fit into their category of blonde blondes. I’m an accidental blonde, and my hair’s usually up in a messy ponytail anyway. The girls Mark has hung out with are bottle blondes who wear their hair in actual styles. Still, as things stand, unless Mark has a major character makeover, becoming his main sidekick is starting to seem outside the realm of possibility. According to Josh, Mark’s profile looks something like this:

  His profile doesn’t exactly draw a promising picture.

  I’m having a hard time breathing and my vision is going all wonky and that’s when Josh squints at me and makes his final confession. His fight with Mark during the soccer game the other day was about dating me.

  “I just couldn’t help myself after seeing your bra in the van,” he says. “I warned Coach to stay the hell away from you.”

  “Oh my God! Josh!” I stand up and the surprised wiener dog summersaults awkwardly onto the couch.

  “I’m really so sorry, Blaze.” Josh clearly means it, but of course I’m still obligated to reach over and give him a knuckle punch in the thigh as hard as I can.

  POW!

  Josh drops to the carpet with a Thump! “Unnnngh.”

  As he writhes back and forth, holding his dead leg, he concedes, “I did have that one coming.”

  “Damn straight you had that coming,” I hiss, low enough so Mema won’t come charging in with a bucket of Holy Water.

  Through my blind fury at my brother I recognize a lightning bolt of shining hope. This must be the reason Mark hasn’t been in touch. He still really likes me. He’s just minding my brainless little brother.

  Once Josh is able to sit up he says, “I’m sorry, sis. Mark is just such a dirtbag. I was trying to protect you.”

  Before I can give him a second dead leg, Mema and Mom come into the room complaining to each other that they ate too much. Josh and I quickly move to sit side by side on the couch and the dachshunds happily accept the gift of our laps.

  At Josh’s look of misery I take pity and whisper for him to stop worrying. “I’ll get over Mark.”

  But all I can focus on is the fact that I need to break through that anti-girlfriend force field. When Mark sees how fully committed I am he’ll forget all about Josh’s outburst and see that we can still be together.

  After all, even Tony Stark made a great boyfriend when he was with the right girl.

  • • •

  After everyone has gone to sleep, I find myself peering into the crazy-intense magnifying mirror my grandmother keeps on her bathroom counter. Apparently Mema is half-blind, because I’m looking at my skin at a level of detail nobody should see. I find the beginnings of a small pimple under my chin and alternate a hot water compress with squeezing until a pearl of yellowish cream finally finds its way through my pore. “I knew you had it in you,” I say. Which, I know, is not normal, but I don’t get all that many zits, so it’s totally okay that I talk to them.

  I splash my face with cold water to close my pores and am invigorated by the icy slap. Now that I know about Josh’s interference I’m feeling pretty hopeful about becoming Mark’s girlfriend. I mean, Tony Stark had his Meredith McCall, right? Well, and then he had Pepper Potts, Natasha Romanova, and Madame Masque. But there’s also Bethany Cabe, right? Bethany helped Tony overcome his alcoholism. Just like I’m going to help Mark overcome his addiction to blondes. I just need to do a bit of strategizing.

  I do have the advantage of spending all that time driving him around in Superturd playing Cows, which means we’re already sort of friends. I smile at the image of us laughing together as we competitively searched for farm animals. Cabe and Tony Stark were friends first when she was acting as his bodyguard. I mean, sure, she hated Iron Man, which is technically the same thing as hating Tony, but that’s before she realized—I have to stop myself.

  Focusing on the fictional romantic lives of comic book characters will in no way help me win Mark. I just have to convince him what I already know in my heart; we’re destined to be together. Now I just need a plan of evil genius proportions.

  I spend the whole next day floating around Mema’s house, smiling at my family members and facilitating dachshund naps while silently constructing my Ultimate Scheme for Total Mark Domination.

  The first step of my plan includes a rigorous study regimen that will make me an expert on all things soccer. If Mark loves soccer, and does he ever, I will learn to love soccer. Seeing how my brother is a great player, not to mention a gigantic soccer fan, it shouldn’t be all that tough. Once Mark realizes all the interests the two of us have in common, it will be smooth sailing in the seduction department.

  I also figure that one of the greatest advantages I have in my arsenal is sitting right on top of my head. That being: the Power of Blonde. This is not a power I have ever tapped into, despite having been a blonde all my life. But if there was ever a time to call upon my hair’s unique hue supremacy, that time is now.

  A new schedule of waking up early to blow-dry, style, and fluff my hair to release its inner Mark-drawing energy will be replacing my current daily routine of sleeping in until the last minute and pulling everything up in an elastic band on my way to school.

  Beyond that, there will be no point in literally losing sleep over my hairstyle if Mark isn’t going to see it. Mark’s school schedule doesn’t naturally overlap mine, but if I can figure out his daily routine I can make it a point to see him more often. Our senior class is small, but our school building is made up of sprawling, interconnected hallways. Six basic corridors are joined to
gether by Habitrail-like glass enclosures that we all scurry through at the bell’s command. Seeing Mark between classes is just a matter of figuring out which Habitrail to run through and when. This is the portion of my plan that might require a bit of assistance. I think of Amanda and Terri.

  Based on former pissy-fits, I’m fairly certain Amanda will be finished ignoring me by Monday. It’ll be mortifying if the two of them help me with my plan and Mark blows me off anyway, but if I can get him to be my boyfriend it will be worth the risk of utter humiliation. Besides, becoming Mark’s girlfriend will officially de-slut-ify me in my friends’ eyes once and for all.

  I finally make my way to bed, where one of Mema’s dachshunds pleads to join me until I lean over and scoop her up. She burrows happily underneath the covers, and I envy her ability to drop immediately off to sleep.

  My mind continues racing. It’s focused on the way my boring soccer mom life completely changed the moment Mark stepped into Superturd that first time. He needs to know how much he means to me. We belong together. It’s the strongest I’ve ever felt about anything.

  It’s over an hour later before I finally join the dachshund in dreamland.

  • • •

  Blazefire22: Hello?

  Blazefire22:…

  Blazefire22: You in or what?

  I’ve laid out my plan for Terri in an IM, and I chew on my lip while waiting for her to write back. It’s perhaps not my smartest move, what with the way people can just ruin lives by cutting and pasting things into FriendsPlace, not to mention forwarding to the entire school’s email address book. That happened to Wiggles once. But, hey, it’s not like I’m soliciting sexual favors the way she does. I’m just asking for a little help, and I need to start trusting somebody sometime. Also, Terri is currently my only friend not blocking my email.

  TerriAngel445: You sure you want do this? Maybe Mark’s not the monogomous type.

  Blazefire22: It’s ‘monogamous,’ and you don’t understand. We have a true connection.

  There is a long pause. Finally, I type:

  Blazefire22: Pleasepleaseplease?

  Pause.

  Blazefire22: If we hack into his school account, we can get his schedule and coordinate this the right way.

  TerriAngel445: well… since you’re so truly connected do you have a guess what his password is?

  And that’s when I know I have her. With Terri’s competitive drive engaged, we are doing this. Operation Total Mark Domination begins right away. It takes a while, but by trying all the soccer terms I find via Google, we guess Mark’s password: nutmeg. It’s what they call it when a player puts the ball right between an opponent’s legs.

  I ignore Terri’s “nutmeg = ew,” response to his password and tell her to, “call me!!” because Mark’s class schedule pops right open.

  By cross-referencing both of our schedules with a map of the school, Terri and I figure out a way I can flip my blonde hair in Mark’s face at least once between each and every class except second period study hall on Thursdays. Terri will have to meet me with my science book before fourth period since I won’t make it to my locker and back in time to see Mark enter room 206. Plus, I’ll either be late to gym class or very late to gym class, depending on whether or not I can draw Mark into a conversation. Or maybe even a mini-make-out session in the hallway. Which would be the ultimate victory and make all this totally worth it.

  Before we hang up the phone Terri says, “You know this is crazy, right?”

  “But crazy-romantic, isn’t it?”

  Terri pauses, “I’m pretty sure it’s just plain crazy-crazy, but you never know, Mark may like psychotic stalker girls.”

  “That’s right!” I jump on her tiny bit of positivity. “You never know.”

  Monday morning I get up at dawn so I can blow-dry my hair to within an inch of its life. I tell Josh I’m heading to school extra-super-early, and he opts to sleep in and take the bus.

  “Impressive hair,” Terri says when I pick her up. “You’re sure about this?”

  I nod, and my hair moves independently, making me feel like a bobble-head. “Super-sure,” I say.

  “Well, I admire your determination. And seriously, if running into Mark every forty minutes doesn’t get his attention, that hair certainly will.”

  “Thanks!” I grin, but I’m getting the sense that as my sidekick, Terri doesn’t fully believe in our mission. Mapping out a detailed obstacle course in order to literally chase a boy down probably goes against her feminist roots. I mean, her mother made everyone at her tenth birthday party wear buttons that said, “Barbie is a tool of the man.” But she doesn’t comment, and I’m grateful for her help.

  Terri’s not half the flirt Amanda is, but she does have all those sisters, so we have a ceremony wherein she bestows all the wisdom passed on to her in a quick flirting tutorial in the bathroom before school. Her main points are (1) I shouldn’t go with my instincts to give Mark my huge, geeky smile and wave each time we pass each other and (2) Honestly, she really means it, no on the huge, geeky smile.

  With Terri’s coaching, I practice looking flirty in the mirror until the first bell rings.

  “Let’s go, lioness,” says Terri patting at my huge blonde mane. “You’ll be fine.”

  For my first Mark encounter, I pretend to be completely unaware of his presence, even though I know exactly when and from what direction he’s approaching. At the last possible moment before he passes I dip my chin toward him and look up through my eyelashes the way Terri coached me. I give my head the slightest shake and feel my puffy mane sway back and forth. Mark’s eyebrows shoot up, and I’m rewarded with his classic smile-bop combination. He even turns back for a second look.

  I geeky-grin to myself as I walk/run back down the hallway toward class, thinking, this is going to be easy.

  Of course, I’m totally wrong.

  I’m late to three classes, since Terri and I severely overestimated how fast I could walk/run through the school’s crowded glass Habitrails. A few times, I need to break into all-out sprints, my shoes clacking as my giant puff of blondeness hangs onto my head for dear life. By the end of the day I’ve gotten two official teacher warnings and numerous dirty looks, plus I’ve nearly lost an eye colliding with Catherine Wiggan’s airbag chest. Mark’s casual greetings and one actual warm “Hey, Blaze,” (between periods three and four) slowly morph into slight puzzlement at my suddenly appearing everywhere. Make that, suddenly appearing everywhere and disheveled and out-of-breath.

  When the final bell sounds, I’m thrown entirely off course when Ryan breaks the unspoken protocol between us and approaches me at my locker instead of waiting to see me in the student lot. My Mark-stalking-mission has no time for Ryan and his annoying random trivia.

  “Hey, Blaze, you sure seemed busy today.” He is mesmerized by my hair.

  “Um, yeah.” I need to get out to the lot in zero-point-eight minutes if I want to give Mark a final casual nod before leaving for the day.

  “So, have you gotten a chance to look at that Daredevil yet?” Ryan is unbelievably present.

  “Oh, that!” Point four minutes. “I’ll get that back to you just as soon as I finish.”

  “Oh, no need to rush. It’s not like I need to read it again right away.” Ryan is trying so hard to lure me into a conversation it’s painful. “Oh yeah, Blaze? I’ve been meaning to ask… did you know most dust particles are made up of dead skin?”

  He’s hopeless. “Sorry, Ryan, I’ve really got to bolt.” I place a hand on his arm, which seems to distract him. “I’ll be sure to catch you later, though.”

  I fling my body into my jacket as I run out the doors of the school, toward the student lot. My feet cycle at top speed until I spot Mark and Stu walking together toward Mark’s pickup. I brake hard. They’ve already passed my minivan. My window for a Mark encounter is closed for the day.

  I feel deflated. Although, thanks to all the hair products I used this morning, my hair is still nice a
nd fluffy. I watch Mark and Stu say good-bye, but just before he climbs into his pickup Mark’s eyes dart over toward Superturd. My heart starts ba-bumping faster. Is he looking for me? That glance sparks unthinkable boldness in me. I stand up straight and fast-walk directly to the driver’s side door of Mark’s pickup. He’s putting on his glasses when I tap on the window, startling him.

  “Hi, Mark,” I shout through the glass, at which point I realize I have no idea what the heck I’m going to say to him. Terri and I should’ve made plans beyond ‘flirty eyes.’ He smiles and rolls down his window, too fast for me to get any interesting ideas. No wonder Ryan always approaches me prepared, I think as I smile dumbly.

  “Hey there, how’s it going?” I shake my big hair, hoping to distract him.

  “’Kay,” Mark shrugs and looks at me through his glasses pleasantly, but expectantly.

  Think, Blaze, think. I’m about to repeat Ryan’s disgusting trivia about skin-dust when I finally think of something. “Oh yeah!” I nearly shout, resting my hand on the door of Mark’s truck. “I just wanted to see what you thought of the World Cup this year?” I Googled enough about soccer to know that the big finals were called the World Cup, but then I’d gotten distracted by pictures of well-muscled players in action, so I don’t know a single World Cup detail.

  Mark raises one brow. “Um, it’s not happening for another two years, so…”

  I just laugh and pretend I don’t feel like a complete dumbass. “Oh, I just remembered,” I say, my mind whirring. “I need to give you back your soccer movie!” At least it’s better than skin-dust. The big geeky grin Terri warned me against breaks through for a second.

  “No worries.” Mark smiles. “You can get it back to me whenever. Like I said, I trust you, Blaze.” And there it was. That spark of a connection we’d shared in my minivan. For a moment I can almost see little comic love arrows shooting back and forth between us.

  “So I talked to my brother,” I say, leaning my arm in his open window. “He’s sorry for what he said at the soccer game. He was being a jackass, but everything’s cool now.” Mark’s eyelids blink rapidly behind his glasses, and I add seductively, “So, what’re you doing now?”