Magnet & Steele

by Trisha Fuentes

  The Jock guffawed. “Never,” he said, trying to ignore his heart pounding as well. “It wasn’t that close to your head.”

  Irritated now more than charmed, Francine uttered, “If you’re supposed to be the quarterback, you should have better aim.”

  The Jock opened his mouth to counter-attack, but then closed it again to study her face. He was so attracted to her, but why? She wasn’t spectacular like his last girlfriend; she was just evenly basic with reddish-brown hair pulled back with a head-band, baby-blue over her brown eyes and pink lips. Feeling embarrassed all of a sudden because he felt the urge to chew on those pink lips, the Jock let go a cough instead and gruffly conveyed, “It was an accident.”

  Francine then turned around, gathered up her things and headed off to her next class trying not to take into account the kids around her pointing and laughing now at her sopping attire as she came across them.

  The Jock watched Francine as she ran away. Feeling the yen to go after her, he stopped and remembered where he was, who he was and pumped the football twice in his hands before throwing it precisely into the arms of one of his teammates a hundred yards away.

  Francine managed to run into the girls’ bathroom and locked herself in one of the stalls. Resting the back of her head on the metal door, she wiped away the tears that she had been holding back. She was mortified to say the least; everyone at this new school would hereon in think of her as the butt of their jokes. This was not the first impression she wanted to leave—and the Jock? Who the heck was he? Stealing all her air, she felt like she couldn’t even breathe, she had never been around a boy who made her heart flutter as much as he did; he was so handsome and rightfully so. With heavy lidded brown mysterious eyes, heavenly sun-kissed skin, and his body? He was perfect, an absolute hunk and she felt like a ditz ogling him as much as she did. She would have to avoid him at all costs, steer clear of him as much as she could in fear of the ridicule that she would forever endure in the future from this new school, never mind the sensations he made her feel. She couldn’t get passed that feeling of wanting to touch him the next time she saw him in the hallways. That wouldn’t look good—nope—and Francine smiled inwardly as she made her way out of the stall imagining her body dragging at his feet as she tried to hold onto him from behind.

  Inside her Economic class, Mr. Conner was in his early twenties, a hip young teacher trying to make economics more interesting.

  “All right class, pipe down. Pipe down,” he said motioning for everyone to take their seats. “For the next couple of weeks we’re going to create experimental marriages.” The class then began to get unsettled again. “Now don’t get all stupid on me, this project will be part of your final grade. So I suggest that you pay attention.” The class then calmed down. “Each union will have their own household and organize their own budgets. I will provide you with a job and the amount of money you get to spend each month. All you have to do is to figure out your monthly budgets and income for the year.” He then gathered up some papers from his desk and walked up and down the side of the chalkboard. “Now, each marriage will be paired up by the luck of the draw. I have two hats here,” he stated, picking up two large hats; one pink, one blue. “One is for the girls and the other is for the boys. Now, let’s get started. Write down your names for me on a piece of paper and place it into one of the hats as it passes by.”

  Mr. Conner then handed the blue hat to the corner row of students, while the other one, the pink hat made its way to the opposite side of the room. The students all pissed and moaned but began to write their names on pieces of paper and threw them into the gender hats.

  A few minutes passed when the two hats finally reached the teacher. He then began to toss the pieces of paper in each hat. “Nervous, aren’t you? I can tell,” he quipped with an evil giggle.

  The class was now in total silence, in complete anticipation of this marriage lottery.

  Francine sat in a corner biting her fingernails, dreading the unknown and her equally nameless partner. She gazed around the classroom, everyone, not just her were on pins and needles.

  Mr. Conner afterward placed his hand into the pink hat and pulled out, “Jennifer Ostin,” and then placed his hand into the blue hat, “Michael Rodgers.”

  The class started to laugh. Jennifer and Michael were a little overweight.

  “Well, there goes their food budget!” Some boy with long hair bellowed.

  Then silence. Mr. Conner repeated the operation; pink hat: “Marg Henry”…and then, blue: “Stuart Billmen.”

  “Divorce…” A boy with a clean shaven head snickered.

  More laughter, then a moment of silence for the next pairing.

  “Andrea Carson…and Sam Duhatey.”

  The students immediately started to boo.

  “That’s not fair teach!” One boy protested.

  “Yeah, they can’t be a couple, they’re already going steady!” One girl complained as well.

  “Now listen folks,” Mr. Conner explained, trying to calm everyone down. “This is the luck of the draw, remember? There is no dictation here and no cheating…look,” he said, displaying how he can’t see the names crumpled up in the pieces of paper. “It must be fate,” he said simply, “They’re all still folded, now let’s continue.”

  The students all look at one another and give in with grumpy attitudes now.

  “Francine Steele…”

  Francine stopped in mid-chomp.

  “…Derek Magnet. Hmmm, magnet and steal,” Mr. Conner realized out loud.

  A hush overcame the room. Dead silence, then giggling, then laughter.

  “Hey Derrie…hide that milk buddy!” One guy shouted.

  “You’re gonna spend a lot of money washing her clothes,” a girl in a pony-tail shrilled.

  “All right, all right,” Mr. Conner chimed in. “Let’s everybody calm down. Now listen folks, the newlyweds already called, go and sit down in a corner somewhere while we get on with the rest of the class…”

  Francine waited and watched as the pairs doubled up. Five minutes passed, then ten, fifteen, until a chair pulled up beside her. Not moving her head much, she rolled her eyes around first to notice him and then his arrogance. It was the Jock with the milk incident. Oh great.

  Leaning his chair back, exposing his argyle socks, Derek Magnet smiled a cocky smile. “Well,” he said, leisurely scanning her body from toe to tip, “I always wondered what my wife would look like.”

  That Evening

  Petula Clark was singing and Francine switched the volume up on her HI-FI and threw herself down on her bed to cry. “I have no friends,” she suffered, “I hate this house, I hate California…Everyone at school now thinks I’m a joke.”

  Closing her eyes, continuing to shell out emotion, Francine went over the events of her day. She was wet…wet and sticky, starting to reek from the milk being splashed all over her body, but still, something happened to her today that was more poignant than some embarrassing moment. She met Derek Magnet…he was her economics partner…he was stuck with her for at least a week as his make-believe “wife” and was suddenly hers to freely inspect at her leisure. Why was he so bitchin’ anyhow! She had never been into jocks before; she was into the studious type, a dude and straight-A student. Derek Magnet aka “Derrie” to his closest friends, was athletic, hip, wore mod shirts and was very popular and she couldn’t believe she was chosen to be his partner? After his comment, Francine went into student style and gave him direction on how to establish a household budget and Derrie just took the route and wrote along with her. After what felt like an eternity, ten minutes later the school bell rang and he said nothing more to her, so she said nothing further to him and left the class feeling a bit short changed from the brief enchantment they seemed to share.

  Rolling her body over, Francine grabbed her pillow and held it against her body. Hearing the sound of a motorcycle driving up to her neighbors’ house next door, Francine got curious and then stumbled over to her win
dow. Looking down through the trees limbs, Francine viewed two teenagers through the brush. The fella got off the motorcycle first, then grabbed at the waist of his passenger and gently placed her down. Leaning her torso seductively back onto the bike the girl seized the fellas’ body to hers and kissed him long and hard.

  Francine then left the window, “Great,” she said angrily, throwing her pillow to the bed. “And hippies live next door to me.”

  The next morning, Francine prematurely woke up to the sound of the same motorcycle she heard the day before. With its engine revving, she squinted towards a nearby alarm clock horrified: Five-thirty? “Five-thirty!? It’s five-thirty in the morning? Nobody wakes up at five-thirty in the morning on a Saturday!”

  Francine then covered up her ears with a pillow; it didn’t help. She pulled the sheets up over her head; that didn’t help either. The engine noise continued. “God! I don’t believe this!” She then stumbled out of bed and headed towards her window. At the sill, she opened up the window only to hear the noise even louder. She yelled down and out her window, “Hey! People are trying to sleep up here!”

  The fella looked up at her but apparently didn’t see her through the thick leaves of the tree on her side of the house. “What?” He yelled back.

  “Could you please keep it down, down there?” Francine yelled back down at him and the fella responded, but Francine couldn’t hear him through the revving of his engine. “What? Turn your engine off! I can’t hear you!”

  Exasperated, the fella gets on his bike and revs up the engine even louder and then sped off.

  “Thank you…I think,” Francine ended up saying, heading back towards her bed.

  *****

  Nancy and Francine were in their backyard attempting to garden. Their barren backyard was taking shape now. Green grass was beginning to grow. Flowers were beginning to bloom, there was even a squared off area with a white picket fence around it for an herb and vegetable garden.

  Nancy and Francine were on their knees pulling weeds from inside the herb garden when Francine looked up for a moment and watched her mother vigorously pulling weeds from around the basil. “Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think Suzy’s all right?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, we haven’t seen any letters from her. Do you think she’s all right?” Francine asked again, uncertain.

  Nancy got up off her knees and grabbed the hoe next to the brick wall and started to over-turn the soil. “I want to believe that she is,” she grimaced, sticking the hoe into the hard ground.

  “Do you think dad will ever let her back into the family?”

  Nancy dug a nice hole in the soil, “That remains to be seen.”

  Francine shook her head. “He can’t do that to us, can he?”

  Nancy stopped and looked over at her daughter, “Yes Francine, he can.”

  Just then, a Frisbee came whirling down and landed on top of one of her mother’s tomato plants.

  “What the—”

  “Excuse me?” A muffled voice on the other side of the stone wall asked.

  Francine looked oddly at her mother and they both started to smile. “Yes?” Francine answered back.

  “Could you please toss that Frisbee back over the wall?”

  Francine stood next to the stone wall. “What Frisbee?” She asked with the Frisbee now in her hands.

  Nancy thought it was funny too and began giggling alongside with her.

  “Um…didn’t a Frisbee just come over the wall?”

  “Ooooh, you mean this bright colored object that just chopped off some of my roses?” Francine quipped, twirling the Frisbee around in her hands once more.

  “Yeah, that’s it, sorry.”

  Francine seemed to annoy the person rather than amuse them.

  “Could you just throw it over?”

  “Poor sport,” Francine said to her mother, “Can’t take a joke.”

  “Just flip it over Fran,” Nancy directed, going back to her digging.

  “OK mom, now how am I gonna do this? This is crazy, you know I can’t throw. I can’t even toss what should I do?”

  “Just kinda flip it over,” Nancy suggested.

  Grabbing the Frisbee with her right hand, Francine whirled it as hard as she could and the Frisbee seemed to take flight and landed in an unreachable boundary of a tree in her neighbor’s backyard.

  “Crap!” She heard the fella say.

  “Oh man, I’m sorry!” Francine apologized running up to the wall. After hearing nothing from the other side, Francine took a few steps backwards and watched her neighbor as he climbed the tree to retrieve the Frisbee. The young man climbed his way up the branches, reached over for the toy…reached…but couldn’t seem to get it…then fell!

  “Oh my God!” Francine yelled, making Nancy flinch.

  “What’s going on Fran?” Nancy asked now, her elbow resting on the handle of the hoe. “What’s happening over there?”

  Francine ran over to the wall. “Oh my God mom, he fell! The guy next door, he just…fell!” She exclaimed, running to the wall and then running backwards to take a look up at her neighbors’ tree again.

  Nancy watched her daughter as she scampered around her and flew out the backyard.

  Moments later at her neighbor’s house, Francine repeatedly knocked on their front door.

  A short, plump Italian woman answered, “Yes? May I help you?”

  Francine stared at her for a moment. “Hi, I saw your son fall from a tree. Is he OK?”

  The short, plump Italian woman was Sophia, in her late sixties, and her son was in his forties…and he fell from the tree? She looked oddly at Francine. Did she misunderstand? She knew she didn’t speak very good English, but even this sounded a little unusual. “Are you the girl who called earlier?”

  Francine nodded her head, “No, I’m not the girl who called earlier. I’m your neighbor, and I saw your son fall from a tree. Is he OK?”

  Sophia widened the door to look behind her, she then left Francine alone and dumb-founded.

  Francine was just about to leave feeling a little stupid now when Derek Magnet appears out of nowhere and crowded the doorway. “Francine Steele…what are you doing here?”

  Francine stood taken-back. “Did you just come out of that house?”

  Just then, the boy who Francine saw actually fall from the tree came out of the same front doorway and left from behind Derrie.

  “See ya Derrie,” he said, trotting down the sidewalk.

  “Hang loose, man,” Derrie said, patting his friend on his back before he left.

  “This is your house?” Francine asked still unconvinced watching his friend’s exit.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Oh my God and you live here?”

  Derrie chuckled, “Yeah, that’s usually how it works. What are doing here? Did you follow me home?” He asked a little cocky.

  Francine humpfed, “Get real, I was the one who threw the Frisbee over the wall.”

  “Oh yeah? Visiting my new neighbors?” He asked, taking a peek over at his next door neighbor’s home.

  “I live there.”

  Derrie stared at her for a moment and Francine stared at him back. Unusual thoughts ran through her sanity; a football falls in her lap for no apparent reason, she’s suddenly paired up with the cute guy and now she conveniently lives next door? Was this just a coincidence?