Sean Griswold's Head

by Lindsey Leavitt

  “What’s with the outfit? You revolting against Valentine’s Day or something?”

  I stare at him, the remark not registering. Valentine’s Day. I’d completely spaced it. Which meant I’d also spaced on making my trash card.

  Trash cards have been a family tradition since Mom and Dad met. The legend goes that they were so poor when they first got married that Dad made Mom’s card from things in the trash. The tradition has grown, and now every year we each choose a name, make a card, and vote on whose is the most disgusting. I would, of course, lose this year because I forgot to make Dad’s and now had nothing.

  “Not revolting.” I turn back to the mirror. “I just … forgot it was Valentine’s Day.”

  Trent whistles. “Bad news. I’m guessing you didn’t do a card, either.”

  “I … just haven’t finished it.” Which isn’t a total lie. My room was littered with trash, so I’ve already prepared the materials. “But I will. Promise.”

  “You better. Dad would be crushed if you screwed this up too.”

  I let out a slow breath. Dad wasn’t the only one I had to consider. Jac takes valentines to the craziest degree, especially with me because she’s not really feeling the love with anyone at home. I consider doing nothing as payback for the weird flirting the other night, but I doubt she even knew she did something wrong. I haven’t technically told her I like Sean—if I do indeed like Sean. And since the only other valentine she’ll get is flowers from her dad’s girlfriend, today I needed to come through for her. And my dad. And prove my sanity.

  I hate this holiday.

  I sigh. “I’m not going to screw this up. Look, I didn’t get anything for Jac either and we always do something. Take me to Rite Aid before school and I’ll make a great card for Dad.”

  “Fine. I’ll take you. For Dad’s sake.” Trent smirks. “Did you want to get something for your boyfriend from the mall too?”

  “Sean? Why would I do that?”

  “ ’Cuz you snuck out to see him the other night.”

  My jaw drops. “I … I don’t know … How did you—”

  “Please. The whole ‘I’m having girl problems’ tipped me off. And our rooms are next to each other. But, hey, relax, secret’s safe for now. I’ll just hold on to it for later.”

  The weird thing is, the truth kind of liberates me. I’ve proven I’m more grown-up than he thought and grown-ups discuss their relationships openly. “Sean’s a great guy; maybe I’ll get him something. Maybe I’ll get something for another guy. And maybe I’ll just let them get me something.”

  Trent laughs. “Man, I miss high school. Okay, let’s go buy some teddy bears and plastic roses.”

  After I stock up on valentine goodies, Trent drops me off and I walk into Greystone High. As predicted, heart-shaped balloons fill the halls. Some, no doubt, are self-bought due to the universal teenage belief that without a valentine, you are a loser.

  Jac’s waiting next to my locker, which is decorated in crepe paper, balloons, and taped-on candy. Is having your best friend be your valentine every year the same as having no valentine at all? She squeals when she sees me and gives me a hug.

  “Happy V-Day, sugar-pop! Do you like the deco?”

  I grin despite myself and hug her back. She may be a boy-crazy maniac, but she’s my boy-crazy maniac. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

  “Just wait until you open it.”

  I rush through my combination and when the locker opens, candy, roses, and a hideous stuffed purple cat spill out onto the floor. Jac grabs some candy and throws it up in air, dancing around and laughing. The hall monitor gives her a weary look and I scramble to clean up the mess.

  “Okay, my turn,” Jac says, closing her eyes and holding out her hands. “Whatcha get me? Whatcha get me?”

  I unzip my backpack and hand her a paper Rite Aid bag. “It isn’t much.”

  Jac looks inside and then at me in bewilderment. “No, it’s great. Candy. I like … candy.”

  “It’s not just candy.” I rummage through the bag’s contents. “It’s a joke. Think about it. A lollipop, Sugar Babies, honey chews, a box of gumdrops. The can of pumpkin is a stretch but they didn’t have an actual pumpkin this time of year.”

  Her face is still blank. “Oh, um … help me out.”

  “Jac, it’s all your pet names in a bag. Lollipop, honey, pumpkin. I couldn’t find one for darling, though.”

  She thinks about this for a moment, then smiles. “Oh, I get it. So it’s one of those it’s-the-thought-that-counts gifts, right?”

  “Never mind. It was a stupid idea. I was just trying to be creative. I should have gotten the teddy bear holding a heart.”

  “No! I love it.” She pops a gumdrop in her mouth. “Gumdrop. Too punny. Get it, PUNny instead of fun—”

  “I get it.” Her present is better. Mine sucks. Yeah, I get it.

  She shrugs. “Well, this is just the start. Wait until you see what I do in biology.”

  “Nothing embarrassing?”

  The bell rings. “I gotta go. See you in bio.” Jac skips down the hallway.

  “Nothing embarrassing, right?” I call after her.

  She doesn’t answer.

  SIXTEEN

  The promise of biology hangs over me all morning. What is Jac going to do? And what’ll it be like when I see Sean?

  I didn’t get him a valentine. I mean, we still hardly even know each other. A love for Seinfeld and two little bike rides doesn’t make us lovers; it doesn’t even make us friends. But then I think about how close we were that night, about the way he looked at me, and figure that even if I can’t label what’s going on, there is at least something going on.

  I take a breath before walking into biology and pray Jac isn’t dressed up as Cupid. But it isn’t that bad. My desk is decorated similar to my locker, with crepe paper and balloons. The bell hasn’t rung yet and only a few students, including a smiling Jac, watch as I hurry to clean up her endless valentine. I’m on my hands and knees picking up the Dove chocolates Jac has sprinkled on the floor when I hear Sean’s voice.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” I answer without looking up. “Just cleaning this mess.”

  “I know, but why? I don’t want it cleaned up.”

  “Why does it matter?” I finally shoot a glance at Sean’s puzzled face.

  “Because it’s my desk.”

  I count the seats back to see it is, in fact, the third seat in the second row. Mine is the fourth. I shift my gaze to the first seat in the fifth row and find Jac with her arms folded tightly across her chest. “What are you doing?” she mouths.

  I stand up but keep my focus on the ground. “Sor … sor … sorry. I thought it was my seat.”

  Sean reads the large pink card. “From your Secret Admirer.” He looks around the room and lowers his voice. “Any idea who it can be?”

  I look him square in the eye and realize he thinks it’s me. He thinks I’m his Secret Admirer. And I can’t tell what he thinks about that. He lips are in a tight line and his ears have gone pink. Like he’s embarrassed.

  His cheeks grow redder and I understand. Sean’s too nice. He doesn’t like me and now he thinks he has to let me down easy. He’s embarrassed, not for himself, but for me.

  I can’t help it. Tears fill my eyes. I bolt out of the room before Sean, or Jac, can hurt me anymore.

  PFE

  February 14 third period, from inside the girls’ bathroom

  Topic: Confessions from the Valentine Killer

  JAC. IS. SO. DEAD.

  PFE

  Time: Fifteen minutes later

  Topic: Further Confessions

  Seriously. Dead.

  I never go back to third period, making this the first time I have ever ditched a class. Instead, I spend the next two periods writing nasty things about Jac on the bathroom door. I write it in pencil so I can erase it when I’m done. I may be angry, but I’m not criminal enough to permanently defile school
property.

  The school intercom buzzes. “Payton Gritas. Please report to the counselor’s office. Payton Gritas.”

  I finish erasing my handiwork but slam the bathroom door hard behind me as a final act of defiance. Of course the counselor is paging me. Word of my meltdown must have reached every corner of the school. No way can I convince her I’m fine now. I can’t even convince myself.

  Ms. Callahan is wearing her same lipstick-stained smile when I walk into her office. The smile stays on her face as she asks me to sit down in front of her desk. Maybe it’s to cover up her deep sorrow. I am a lost cause. Incurable.

  “Is everything all right, Payton?”

  “Why, did someone tell you it wasn’t?”

  “No.” Her smile fades into a thoughtful frown. “I was just concerned because you missed our session. I sent a note to your class, but you weren’t there. The office said you’d been reported as present. Were you cutting class?”

  I realize how tightly I am gripping the arms of my seat, like men in white coats are going to bust into the room at any moment to take me away. My fingers, my whole body relaxes as I realize that this is just like any old session, that she has no idea about Sean or Jac or the valentines.

  I can still convince her I am cured.

  I lean in. “Stomach problems. You know how it is. But the Imodium I took finally kicked in, so I’ll be all right. I should have gone to the nurse, I know, but I was embarrassed. Sorry. I brought my Focus Exercises, though.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” She waves her hand in front of her face and stands. “We’re doing something different today.”

  “But, Ms. Callahan, you should read them.”

  “I don’t read your journal,” Ms. Callahan says.

  “Well, just the last one. Here, I’ll read it to you. In fact, I think it’ll prove I’m pretty much cured.”

  “Cured? Payton, this isn’t about ‘curing’ you. And I told you we were trying something new.” Ms. Callahan pushes a button on her phone and says, “Georgia, can you send in the next student, please?”

  Oh, crap. I bet it’s Sean. I curse the day I ever looked at his stupid head. “Ms. Callahan, please tell me you’re not bringing Sean in here. The whole focus thing is done. Let’s talk about my dad now. Please?”

  “Sean? Who’s Sean?” There’s a knock at the door and Ms. Callahan strides across the room to open it. “You didn’t request Sean for your Conversation with Dad.”

  “You wanted to see me, Ms. Callahan?”

  And, of course, standing in the doorway, with a pass in her hand, is my former best friend.

  Ms. Callahan’s smile stretches to display all her teeth, not just the lipsticked ones but the fillings in back too. Surely she believes her ingenious idea to bring Jac in for a session will land her on the cover of School Counselor’s Weekly. Saved! Young Teen in Denial Helped by Her Best Friend. Special Feature: Counselor of the Year.

  “I don’t want her here.” I squint my eyes to the point I can hardly see the two of them hovering by the door.

  “We talked about this. It’s good to have someone close to you here so we can start exploring some deeper issues.”

  “Whatever.” I fix my gaze on the picture of Ms. Callahan’s fat cat. Poor thing. We’re both her prisoners.

  Jac eases into the seat next to me. I don’t look over.

  “Payton, is everything all right?” Ms. Callahan asks again with a tone of such worry you’d have thought I’d just killed her stupid feline.

  I jut my thumb in Jac’s direction. “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “Ask me what? Hey, what was with you in biology?”

  “Like you don’t know, backstabber.”

  “Payton!” Jac’s voice is shocked. “What’s your deal?”

  “My deal?” I’m a science-fair volcano, filled with baking soda, and Jac’s just doused me with a whole lot of vinegar. “Are you kidding? What is your deal?”

  “Is this about Sean? Okay, so I should have told you, but then you would have talked me out of it.”

  “Because you are insane! Why are you giving him a valentine? Why can’t you just leave him alone?”

  “It wasn’t from me. It’s from you.”

  “And that makes it less crazy? Plus, you were totally flirting with him at the park.”

  “No, I was flirting for you. And see!” Jac’s eyes are triumphant. “See! You were jealous. I knew it. It’s so obvious you like him, and just needed a push—”

  “A push? All you do is push. You might as well have shoved me off a cliff.”

  “I can’t believe you’re acting like this. You should be thanking me—”

  “Thanking you?”

  Ms. Callahan shakes her head. “Now girls, this isn’t—”

  Jac cuts her off with a bitter laugh. “So I’m supposed to sit and listen to your denial even more? It’s bad enough that you won’t even discuss stuff about your dad. Now this crap with Sean. ‘Jac—he’s my Focus Object. Jac—his head is big. Jac—I’m too scared to say what I’m actually thinking.’ Give me a freaking break.”

  “Wait,” says Ms. Callahan. “You have a boy as a Focus Object?”

  I ignore her. “If I said I liked him, you would tell him.”

  “What is so wrong with that? Why can’t you say what you actually feel?”

  “Maybe I don’t need everyone in my business like you do.”

  Ms. Callahan stands up and starts pacing. “I don’t know what you girls are talking about, but let’s steer the conversation to the core here. Payton’s father.”

  “Right. Payton’s father. Who is, like, the best dad ever and Payton is so selfish all she thinks about is herself.”

  I gasp. “You’re the one who’s selfish! It’s like you’re trying to take over my life. Sean, counseling, my Focus Exercises, my brother. Seriously, who’s the stalker now?”

  “So I gave Sean a valentine for you.” Jac flips her hair violently behind her shoulders. “So what. I was being NICE thinking about someone else. You should try it sometime.”

  I stand up and point my finger at Jac. “Nice? You’re trying to force me to talk to a guy when I’m not ready. Gah, like I don’t have enough going on at home—”

  Jac stands and gets into my face. “Don’t even talk to me about family crises.”

  “Are you serious? My dad has a disease—”

  “Oh, boo freaking hoo. At least he’s still around!” Jac cries, her cheeks wet with tears. “You want some professional advice? You have the most perfect life and you can’t even see it. A friend who goes out of her way to help. Parents who love you and worry about you and book counseling sessions for you. You have it so good, you have to create drama. Walking around wearing your dad’s T-shirt like he’s dead. He’s not going to die, Payton. He’s right there. He’s right there and you’re acting like he’s already gone.”

  “I’m not going to take this. I’m leaving.”

  “You don’t get to make an exit, I do!” Jac yelps as we both lunge for the door. We’re there at the same time, clawing at the doorknob. And somehow, we stop clawing at the door and go at it with each other. Jac’s hair smacks my face as I try to scratch her neck. She grabs my arm and twists it. I howl. Ms. Callahan somehow gets into the mix, and I think I mistake her shin for Jac’s.

  “YOUNG LADIES!”

  We stop midfight and look at our school counselor, whose normally passable hairdo has poofed to a frightening height. “You will stop this childish behavior at once!”

  We release each other and look down at the floor, breathing heavily.

  “Apologize.”

  “Sorry, Ms. Callahan,” we say in unison.

  Ms. Callahan pulls out a compact mirror and begins the hopeless attempt at fixing her hair. “Now to each other.”

  I cast a sideways glance at Jac. “Sorry,” I say. Then, low enough that Ms. Callahan, who is now smearing her lips with lipstick, doesn’t hear, “Sorry you’re crazy.”

  Jac smiles
sweetly. “Sorry,” then adds in an equally low voice, “Sorry you’re a crazy selfish—”

  Ms. Callahan snaps her mirror shut. “I think that’s enough for today. I’ll be contacting your parents about your actions and scheduling … separate sessions. We’re done.”

  Jac and I slip out of the office. We give each other a hard look before going our separate ways in the hallway. Ms. Callahan is right about one thing.

  We’re done.

  SEVENTEEN

  There’s no point in going to class now. The teacher would see the state I’m in and send me right back in for counseling. Instead, I continue walking in the opposite direction of Jac. It doesn’t matter which direction, as long as it’s not hers.

  I can hardly even see where I’m going, my eyes are so blinded by rage. I finally stop in a random hallway and slide down a wall. Jac is so out of line. She has not only ruined our friendship, but ruined things with Sean. She’s just a big fat … ruiner. And a liar. Me? Selfish? Come on. I’m the one always living in her wake. I’m the one with parents who neglected to tell me about my dad’s disease. Yeah, okay, so her family situation is less than ideal, but how was I supposed to know it still bugs her? She’s always bragging about her mother’s leniency and her sister’s partying. I thought she was over it.

  When Jac’s dad left, I was right there giving her exactly what she needed. A little kick in the pants. Some consistency. I made her hang up the phone when she tried pranking his girlfriend. I threw out the Heineken she stole from the nearby Wawa. I told Josh Henderson she had mono so he would stop jamming his tongue down her throat every time they saw each other. Me. Wholesome. Kind. Thoughtful.

  There’s a little voice in my head telling me I’m being unfair. Jac never said anything when I quit basketball. She listened to me rant and rave about my parents. She never made fun of the whole therapy thing and “researched” with me. She was there for me in a different way. I was her drill sergeant. She was my cheerleader. I shudder at the thought that maybe there was truth to Jac’s words. Maybe I am just being a selfish brat. But I silence it by pressing my hands firmly over my ears. This is my pity party, and the voice of reason is not invited.