Trinkets

by Kirsten Smith

  “Raise Your Glass”—Pink

  “Born This Way”—Lady Gaga

  “Crazy in Love”—Beyoncé & Jay-Z

  “Crazy for You”—Madonna

  “Girlfriend”—Avril Lavigne

  “I Gotta Feeling”—The Black Eyed Peas

  “Toxic”—Britney Spears

  “Can’t Get You Outta My Head”—Kylie Minogue

  “Since U Been Gone”—Kelly Clarkson

  “Teenage Dream”—Katy Perry

  “Human Nature”—Michael Jackson

  “When I Grow Up”—The Pussycat Dolls

  “I Love Rock ’n’ Roll”—Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

  “Hollaback Girl”—Gwen Stefani

  “Empire State of Mind”—Jay-Z & Alicia Keys

  “Glory of Love”—Peter Cetera

  Rhododendrons

  As I walk down Moe’s driveway

  past the untended rhododendrons

  and the geraniums that are

  looking like they’re on their last legs,

  there’s Moe’s brother,

  sitting on his bike

  like he’s waiting for something.

  Hey, he says.

  Oh, hey. I’m leaving, I offer lamely. I’m late.

  For what? He smiles. Got a hot date?

  I want to say something sassy,

  but I know it will just come out dumb

  so I say, Maybe.

  I was right. It did come out dumb.

  Lucky guy, he says, which means he is definitely mocking me.

  But then he looks right into my eye,

  into my ocular nerve,

  into the center of my cerebral cortex,

  and I feel as dizzy as if I’d just pocketed a Hello Kitty alarm clock

  or a clutch from Coach.

  I panic. Bye!

  I abruptly turn and walk away,

  passing the rhododendrons

  that now look like pink gemstones,

  and the geraniums

  that suddenly seem hopeful

  and pearly and recently watered,

  alive with grand ideas of things to come.

  APRIL 20

  When I told Aunt B I had people over, she made a big show of saying how happy she was I had new friends. She looked at Marc and said, “What do you think? Did you get to meet them?” He didn’t really respond and mumbled something, which is odd, since he usually has an opinion about everything. Usually a stupid opinion, but still an opinion. Then she asked me if I know Tabitha and Elodie from class and I said yeah and she asked which class and Marc looked curious too. I lied and said Social Studies because I couldn’t tell them the real truth. They don’t know about the shoplifting because when I got caught I told the security people at the store I was an orphan and they took pity on me. Even though it’s true, I felt like a scumbag lying about that. But I know if Aunt B got called about it, she would worry, and she and Marc already worry enough about me as it is. So the store agreed to sign me up for the class as my punishment and forget about the phone call.

  Marc goes, “I thought you weren’t taking Social Studies this semester,” and I said I was and he looked at me weird. Then Aunt B suggested we all go out to eat at Zeppo, which we haven’t in weeks, so all’s well that ends well, as Ms. Hoberman likes to say.

  DOWN THE HALLWAY

  As I leave Ms. Hoberman’s Creative Writing class, I fall in step with the mill of students drifting between classes, all chattering about the Spring Fling. It’s a week away and it already feels like the perfect spring day, sunny and crisp, and the Portland rains have made everything green. It’s one of those good high school moments, where everyone seems sort of in sync and for once, people aren’t annoying you.

  As I round the corner, I catch sight of a familiar cherry-red mop of hair, and eyes adorned with black eyeliner. Moe. She’s walking in the opposite direction. We catch eyes, but the flow of traffic pushes us along, until Moe raises her hand. For a second I think she’s going to wave at me, but instead she flips me the bird and keeps right on walking.

  I can’t help but laugh because I know she’s joking, and Sarah Crowder, an eager sophomore who’s standing nearby getting a drink at the fountain, smiles at me, thinking I was laughing or smiling in her direction. I could correct her sorely mistaken assumption, but I just nod. Give the poor girl a thrill. However, she takes it as an invitation to bound up to me.

  “Hey, Tabitha! How’s it going?” she chirps.

  “Good. How are you?”

  “I’m good.” Then she suddenly blurts, “I heard you and Brady broke up.”

  I look at her and almost want to tell her she’s a dumb bitch and doesn’t know jack shit about my life, because Brady and I haven’t broken up. I want to say this loudly and angrily, but then I remember what a perfect spring day it is and decide, Why should I ruin that for someone else?

  “I haven’t talked to him in a few days,” I say, surprising myself by simply stating the truth. “Which is fine.”

  “Really?” she says, looking even more surprised than I feel. “What happened?”

  “Oh, you know… it kind of fizzled out.” I shrug, realizing that if everyone is gossiping about me, they might as well know the real story.

  “Well,” she says, “I don’t know if it’s okay to say this, but I think you can do better.” She blushes.

  I think about it for a second, then say, “Thanks, Sarah. I appreciate that.” Her friends are watching her, waiting to ask about every detail of our conversation. “See you around.” I smile at her and her friends as I walk past, because there’s nothing wrong with spreading a little joy now and then, especially if you’ve got it to spare.

  APRIL 21

  In European History today, Noah leaned over during Mr. Sussman’s lecture about World War Whatever and asked me what I was doing later. I said, “It’s anonymous,” and turned back to Mr. Sussman as if learning about battles was the most important thing in my life. Noah doesn’t have any friends in this class, so I guess he felt like it was okay to tap me on the shoulder and ask me that. But only one time, and then he ignored me. There’s something about his only wanting to talk to me when nobody else is around that’s getting more and more irritating. Although it’s probably not fair to be mad at Noah, because I’m not mad at Tabitha and Elodie for not broadcasting our friendship to everybody. But I don’t make out with Tabitha or Elodie, so I guess that’s the difference.

  Photo Op

  All you guys look great, Rachelle says

  to the lacrosse team,

  assembled for the yearbook photo.

  Rachelle is “overseeing” the photo,

  but really she just wants face time with Dustin Diaz.

  I fire off five quick shots, and the players scatter.

  Did you get a good one? Rachelle says, and I nod

  so she bolts over to Dustin.

  Hey, Brady Finch yells over to me.

  He’s got Jason Baines in a headlock.

  Take a picture of me kicking Jason’s ass.

  Rachelle shoots me a look like Great photo op!

  so I have no choice.

  I put my eye to the lens,

  but when the shutter snaps,

  what I see isn’t a perfect specimen of human anatomy;

  it’s merely the portrait of a douche bag.

  So I turn and do something

  I never thought I’d do.

  I turn and walk away

  from Brady Finch.

  CAFETERIA

  “These fish sticks are gross,” Kayla says, frowning as she bites into one of them. We sit at our table with Samantha Bartle and a few of our other acquaintances.

  “Then don’t eat them,” I say.

  “I can’t even tell what kind of fish this is.” She pokes at it.

  “You don’t want to know,” I say.

  Just then, Taryn sits down and gives me a fake smile.

  “Hey, T, whassup?” she coos.

  If there is
one question I truly hate, it’s “What’s up?” It’s a total non-question. At least “How are you?” provides a topic to which you can easily offer an answer: “I’m fine,” “I’m pissed off,” “I’m great,” “Not good,” etc. “What’s up?” requires people to do tons of work racking their brains, trying to summon up a laundry list of all the things that are “up.” It’s too much effort for one lazy two-syllable question.

  I choose to ignore the query altogether.

  “Mackerel,” I say to Kayla.

  “What?”

  “I bet there’s mackerel in those fish sticks.”

  Kayla studies them, confused. “I don’t even know what that is.”

  “This is my point,” I say.

  Kayla shakes her head and slumps over. “When is it going to be pizza day? They never have pizza anymore. Remember how Patrick was supposed to teach us to make pizza?”

  At this moment, I see Brady walk into the cafeteria. He’s heading this way, so I quickly stand up.

  “Here,” I say to Kayla. “Eat my hummus. It’s made of garbanzo beans.”

  I quickly gather my tray and head out the back door, making what I hope is a dignified exit, but not really caring if it’s all that dignified or not. The only thing I hear as I go is Kayla saying, “What the fuck is a garbanzo bean?”

  TAUPE

  “What do you think, the taupe or the salmon?” my mom asks me. She’s sitting at the dining room table wearing a dress and heels and diamond hoop earrings. She flips through a catalog from Restoration Hardware as I pour myself a bowl of Special K for dinner.

  “For what?” I ask.

  “For the new blinds in the living room. It needs a spruce-up.”

  The front door opens and my dad enters, wearing a pin-striped suit and carrying his briefcase. He gives a tight smile when he sees us.

  “What do you think, Jacob? Taupe or salmon?” But my dad’s already on his way into the living room.

  “Honey?” my mom calls out. “Remember we have dinner with the Underwoods? They wanted to try that new Indian place downtown?”

  “I have to go back to the office,” my dad says. “I just came home to grab a change of clothes.”

  My mom nods and goes back to her catalog.

  We sit in silence as he pads around upstairs, and then a few minutes later the front door closes with a gentle click.

  I feel like there’s nowhere I can be where there isn’t a dickhead male polluting my airspace.

  “I guess I can just have a bite here,” my mom says. “I’ll call Rachel to cancel. She’ll understand.”

  I stare at her. Her once-beautiful face now has crow’s-feet and lines around her mouth. She’s still pretty, and her blond hair looks sleek and perfect as always, but she’s choking on the obvious. She refills her glass with soda and Tanqueray.

  “Seriously, Mom. Really?”

  She looks up at me. “What?”

  “Where is he even going?”

  “He’s going to work. Didn’t you hear him?”

  “It’s seven thirty at night.” I can’t believe she’s managed to live in such an utterly delusional state.

  “I think the front room should be more muted,” she says. “The salmon is tacky. I’m going with the taupe.”

  Good Eye

  I pass my dad’s office

  on the way upstairs.

  I poke my head in

  and say, Hey, how was your presentation?

  He looks surprised and says, It was fine.

  Thank you for asking.

  He’s so formal

  it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking

  or if he’s having fun talking or not,

  but I guess he must be

  because he asks how Yearbook is going

  and I take out my camera and

  show him a few photos.

  You have a good eye, he says.

  It’s something my mom used to say.

  She loved photography

  as much as she loved movies

  and, I guess, as much as she loved me

  or as much as she loved him.

  We catch each other’s gaze for a second

  and he says, You must miss her a lot.

  I don’t want to talk about it

  so I bolt out, saying, Well, I’d better get back to my homework.

  He says, I’ll see you downstairs,

  and we part ways

  as friends,

  or whatever it is

  you want to call it.

  APRIL 22

  Today after Shoplifters Anonymous we took the bus to Multnomah Village to a record store called the Vinyl Monkey. It just opened next to Switch Shoes on Capitol Highway, and it’s a great place to hang out, since no one cares about records anymore and the people who go there are older and cool. It would be a great place to steal from too, except it’s not exactly easy to fit an LP under your shirt and go unnoticed. Flat, square boobs would be pretty obvious.

  The best part about the store is the lady who runs it. I shall call her Lady. She’s in her fifties and skinny and she wears colorful muumuus and somehow makes them seem stylish. In addition to the orange clogs she sports, her best quality is she has a genuine love of pop songs. Alex and Janet and everybody only listen to hard-rock songs, which are not made to dance to. To them any body movement beyond a head nod is considered a colossal social foul. I don’t know why they are so anti-shimmy. Today Lady turned up the music really loud and we danced around the store. I greatly enjoyed doing the Sprinkler, and Elodie and Tabitha showed real promise Washing the Car.

  One time Marc’s name came up and Elodie got all blushy. She obviously has a crush on him. I’ve only known two girls he’s dated, but they were both kind of bitchy, and he broke up with them because he said he wanted a girl with a good heart. Even though I don’t know Elodie all that well, I’d say that if anyone fits the “good heart” bill, it’s probably her.

  Everybody Else

  After the record store

  we go to the MAC store in Nob Hill

  and Tabitha says, Let’s get some fake eyelashes.

  Why would we want those? Moe asks.

  Because, Tabitha explains,

  you ask them to put the lashes on for you

  and then you ask for a little bit of concealer

  and a little bit of eyeliner

  and then boo-ya!

  You’ve gotten a free makeover!

  As we sit there, I can’t help but wonder

  if Marc will think I look good.

  Tabitha leaves us there and after a while

  comes back with a pair of earrings.

  One is a star and the other is a moon.

  She hands them to Moe.

  Thanks for the mix CD, Tabitha says. I like it.

  Moe grins as she puts them in her ears.

  Did you steal them?

  Tabitha tells her, Of course.

  She knows stolen gifts mean way more

  than ones that are bought,

  because of what you have to go through

  to get them.

  We only have three meetings left, she says,

  so we’d better work our magic while we still can.

  I guess that was her way

  of saying that once this is over,

  it’s over.

  Speaking in Code

  You look nice,

  Jenna says to me when I come home,

  and I say, Thanks, but what I really want to ask is:

  “Is that code for ‘You normally look ugly’?”

  But I don’t.

  What’s the occasion? she asks.

  (Code for: “Do you actually have a life?”)

  I tell her, No occasion. I was out with some friends.

  (Code for: “Fuck you very much.”)

  Girlfriends or guy-friends? (“I love being nosy.”)

  Girls, I say. (“Must we continue this conversation?”)

  Oh, that’s nice, she says. (“You’re a l
oser.”)

  I know them from Shoplifters Anonymous, I add.

  (“I’m a dangerous criminal, so don’t mess with me.”)

  How’s Rachelle? she asks. (“I thought you only had one friend.”)

  I shrug and say, Fine. (“Do we have to continue this conversation?”)

  So are there any guys at school you like? she asks.

  (“Is there a remote possibility you’ll ever have a boyfriend?”)

  Not really. (“Would I tell you if I did?”)

  I’ll call you when dinner’s ready, she offers. (“I give up.”)

  Sounds good, I say. (“We will never, ever be friends, so please stop trying.”)

  APRIL 24

  Today in the parking lot I saw Noah getting into his car so I decided SCREW IT and I walked up to him. I was about to say hi when he goes, “Are you confusing me with someone else?” And then I saw that Kayla Lee and another girl were already sitting in the backseat, staring out at me.

  I was so pissed I didn’t even say anything to Marc on the way into the house. The parrot kept squawking like he felt my pain. Then about a half hour later the doorbell rang and it was Noah. I tried to shut the door in his face, but he stopped me and said, “Here,” and handed me a Kit Kat bar. A fucking Kit Kat?! He started to say something about being sorry for school today, but I slammed the door. Afterward I just stood there with my heart beating really fast. I waited for a few minutes, then opened the front door. He was gone, but he’d left the Kit Kat bar on the front mat. We have this really stupid mat that says “HOWDY, STRANGER!” with a squirrel in a cowboy hat on it, and it was sitting in the middle of that.

  I was about to throw the Kit Kat into the front yard when I realized that this was the first time he had ever come to the front door of my house. And then I remembered the very first time we ever talked, way back when I moved in six years ago and we were in fourth grade. I was outside sitting on the curb, taking a break from lugging all my shit inside, and I was eating a Kit Kat. He rode by on his bike and stopped and asked me if I was moving in. And I said, “Duh.” But he looked so sad when I did that I felt guilty and offered him some of my Kit Kat. He ate it with a huge smile and that was the beginning of the end for me and Noah Simos.