Tools of Ignorance: Lisa's Story
Copyright © 2010 by Barbara L. Clanton
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
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Tools of Ignorance: Lisa's Story
by
Barbara L. Clanton
Copyright © 2010 by Barbara L. Clanton
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Parts of this work are fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or events is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 978-1-935053-99-6 (eBook)
eBook Conversion September 2011
Cover design by Donna Pawlowski
Published by:
Regal Crest Enterprises, LLC
4700 Hwy 365, Suite A, PMB 210
Port Arthur, Texas 7764
Find us on the World Wide Web at http://www.regalcrest.biz
Published in the United States of America
Acknowledgments
Thanks once again to the great folks at Regal Crest—Cathy LeNoir, Mary Phillips, J. Robin Whitley, and Donna Pawlowski. Collectively, we make a great team. Thanks also to my awesome beta readers Sheri Milburn, Vicky Snyder, and Diana Schnitzer for catching inconsistencies, subtleties, and rough spots. Thanks, as always, to my folks Paul and JoAnne Clanton, my “in-laws” Mamie and Joe Weathers, my brothers John and Paul and their respective families for remaining supportive of my writing. And thanks, finally, to my shelter, Jackie Weathers, who is my sanctuary in a very noisy world.
Dedication
For Jackie Weathers who continually reminds me not to sweat the small stuff, but who’s always by my side for the big stuff.
Tools of Ignorance: Lisa's Story
by
Barbara L. Clanton
Chapter One
Just a Catcher
LISA BROWN PICKED up the phone in her room and hesitated. Her fingers hovered over the keypad. With a deep breath for courage, she punched in the memorized phone number.
“Oh, my God,” Lisa fell back against the pillows on her bed. Why was asking Marlee to hang out so freakin’ difficult?
“Hello?”
“Marlee? It’s Lisa.” Duh, state the obvious.
“Lisa Brown, world’s greatest catcher. What’s up?”
Lisa smiled at her pitcher’s praise. “That’s what I was going to ask you. Some of us from the team are going to the Roxy tonight. They finally changed the movie. And, we’ll probably get some ice cream at Stewart’s after.” She held her hand over the mouthpiece and blew out a sigh. She pulled her long dark braid over her shoulder and twirled the end.
“Sounds like fun. But Bobby’s coming over and we’re…well, actually, I don’t know what we’re doing, but he’s coming over, and we’re doing something. Sorry.”
Lisa knew that Marlee had a boyfriend, but Lisa also knew it was only a matter of time before Marlee dumped the boyfriend and looked at her as more than just a catcher. Lisa had really good gaydar, and Marlee shot Lisa’s gaydar to maximum ping.
Lisa tried to hide the disappointment in her voice when she said, “Okay. That’s cool.” She wasn’t sure what else to say, but added, “Just figured I’d try. Maybe next time, eh?”
“Maybe we can play catch tomorrow. I gotta work on my stride for that stupid rise ball. I’ll call you, okay?”
Lisa smiled. All was not lost. “All right. Cool. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. See ya.” She leaned forward to hang up the phone and blew out a sigh of relief as she fell back into the pillows. She only needed one more month’s allowance to finally afford a cell phone, so by mid-May she could call Marlee with complete privacy.
The door to Lisa’s bedroom slowly squeaked open.
“Weesa?” Bridget, Lisa’s three-year old sister, peeked in.
“Yes, Sweetpea?”
“Ki come in?”
“Of course you can. It’s your room, too.” Lisa sat up and patted her bed in invitation.
Bridget ran past her own bed and leaped onto Lisa’s. “Did you finish your ‘portent phone call?”
Lisa smiled at her baby sister. “I did, but my friend doesn’t want to hang out with me today.”
“You can hang down with me if you want,” Bridget offered and patted Lisa’s hand. “Okay?”
Lisa tried not to laugh at her youngest sister’s furrowed brow. “I would love to hang down with you anytime, Sweetpea. In fact, you and I and Lynnie and Lawrence Jr. are going to hang down all afternoon at the playground. Mama has a customer today.”
Bridget looked at her big sister wide-eyed. “Ki ride my bike?”
“Course you can. A bike ride will make it twice as fun, eh?”
“Okay, but I want my hair in a braid wike yours. Mama says she’ll cut my hair off if I tangle it again.”
Lisa laughed. “Okay, one braid coming up. Go get your brush.”
Bridget leaped off the bed and scurried to her dresser. She grabbed the brush and ran back.
“Turn around.”
Lisa began the arduous process of combing out her sister’s tangle of curls. A recent bubble gum incident had forced their mom to cut out the tangles along with the gum. Bridget had cried for days, but since their mother cut and styled hair to make extra income for the family, Lisa knew it must have been the only way to fix it.
“Weesa?”
“Yes?”
“How come your friend doesn’t wike you?”
Lisa grunted. “Oh, she does, I think, but she’s busy today. But you know what?”
“What?”
“Don’t ever fall in love. It’ll tear your heart up.”
“That would hurt.”
Lisa took a deep breath and said, “Yeah, Tara broke my heart big time, but you know what else?”
“What?”
“I still have lots of friends. Like Marlee and Julie.”
“Julie’s nice. She’s brown.”
“Yeah, that’s true. Julie’s skin is a lot darker than ours.” Lisa chuckled. “But don’t worry. I have a lot of friends who are happy to hang out with me.”
“Friends are fun ‘cept when they break your stuff.”
“Geez, you’re right about that.”
Lisa’s mother knocked on the open bedroom door just as Lisa finished her sister’s braid. “C’mon, Sweetpea. Let’s leave Lisa alone for another hour. She’s has to do her homework.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Her mother smiled and then ushered the three year old out of the room. “Thank you for taking them to the playground while I do Mrs. Winfred.”
“Another perm?”
“Unfor
tunately, but she pays cash, so I’m not complaining. And since your father’s got that big roofing job at the library, he’ll be gone all day and can’t fuss about the smell. Oh, if Lynnie gives you a hard time about going to the playground, tell her she can sit on the bench and read her book.”
“Okay.”
Her mother started to back out and close the door, but Lisa blurted, “Mom, can I go to Marlee’s tomorrow? To play catch?”
“After church? Sure.”
“Geez, Mom. Of course after church.”
“Okay, we’ll drop you off on the way home. Bring your softball stuff and a change of clothes with you.”
Lisa didn’t have a chance to answer because Bridget ran back into the room and blurted. “Weesa, don’t get your heart tord up, today.”
Too late, Lisa thought. “Okay, I won’t.”
Lisa’s mother smiled, but raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Lisa shrugged and grinned sheepishly.
As soon as the door closed, Lisa pulled her geometry textbook from her backpack and leaned back against her pillow.
She read the first homework problem out loud. “Prove that the diagonal of a parallelogram creates two congruent triangles.” She drew the diagram in her notebook and tapped the pencil on the paper. She knew it was an easy proof, but she couldn’t focus. With a sigh she slammed the book shut and tossed it on the bottom of her bed. The notebook followed. “Who cares if two triangles are congruent?” she mumbled. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind for geometry. She’d ask Julie how to do it later when they went to the movies.
Lisa opened the drawer on her bedside stand. She reached way in the back and pulled out her journal. Tucked inside was her favorite extra fine blue gel pen, just where she’d left it. She uncapped the pen and began writing.
Tara: The Good Things
1. Tara was my first and only girlfriend.
2. Tara’s hot.
3. Tara didn’t care that I’m a five foot nine sequoia.
4. Tara’s the first girl I ever kissed. (And only!)
Lisa had met Tara at the State Univeristy New York Rockville softball camp downstate in Cayuga County the summer before. Lisa had just finished ninth grade. She hugged the journal to her chest as she remembered.
The drive to the camp in Cayuga County was long–about three and a half hours. She hugged her mother goodbye in the parking lot in the Rockville College campus and instant homesickness squeezed her chest before her mother had even gotten back in the family minivan. Lisa had never been away from her family before. With three siblings under the age of ten, she knew she should have been happy to have a week away from that madness, but she couldn’t help missing her family immediately.
She watched her mother drive away, tears hazing her vision. She jumped when one of the older girls said, “Catcher, huh?”
Lisa nodded and wiped at her tears. When she could finally see clearly, she looked up into the most perfect pair of hazel eyes she’d ever seen.
“Let me help you with your gear.” The older girl picked up the bag of catcher’s equipment.
Lisa’s breath caught in her throat for a second until she remembered her manners. “Oh, thanks.”
“I’m Tara.” The older girl smiled and stuck out her hand.
Lisa grabbed the offered hand. “Thanks. I don’t, uh; I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.”
“Here, let me see your registration form.”
Lisa reached into the back pocket of her shorts and handed Tara the rumpled form. While Tara looked it over, Lisa took in Tara’s tanned skin and perfect shoulder length brown hair. Lisa suddenly felt giant and awkward in front of this hot girl.
“Oh, cool,” Tara said. “You’re in my dorm. Coach Greer’s our resident supervisor. She’s a pushover.”
Lisa walked side by side with Tara and couldn’t help but register the girl’s strong gait and confident manner. This cute girl would probably die if she knew I was checking her out, Lisa thought. Up until that point Lisa had only come out to one person—herself. No one else on the planet knew she was gay. She hadn’t had the nerve to tell anybody.
Tara looked at Lisa and smiled again. “I’m from Long Island. Brookhaven. Where are you from?”
“Oh, the North Country. Clarksonville.”
“Nope, sorry. Never heard of it.” Tara smiled at Lisa with her eyes, and Lisa felt something stir inside her chest. “Rockville’s as far upstate as I’ve ever been.” She laughed. “But, then again, everything north of the Bronx is upstate to me.”
“We’re all apple pickers to you guys, eh?”
Tara stopped walking and laughed. “That’s freakin’ funny, Lisa. Nope, I’m gonna call you apple picker. That’s your new name.” They headed into the dormitory lobby. “And you apple pickers probably think that all Long Islanders are hoodlums, right?”
Lisa took a few steps away from Tara and asked, “Are you a hoodlum?”
Tara narrowed her eyes. “Maybe I am, apple picker, maybe I am.”
Lisa settled in fairly quickly with Tara’s help. The next day after dinner, Tara asked Lisa to go with her to get a bag of softballs from the equipment shed for Coach Greer. Lisa willingly followed Tara toward the shed on the far end of the practice fields. In only a day and a half, Lisa had willingly done anything Tara wanted her to do. She couldn’t help it.
“Hey, I want to show you something.” Tara veered off the path and into the stand of trees bordering the field.
“What is it?”
“You’ll see, c’mon.”
The trees grew thicker, and the trail grew darker the further they got into the woods. After a while, Lisa couldn’t see the practice fields anymore.
“Shouldn’t we be getting those softballs for Coach Greer?”
“Yeah, yeah, but I want to show you this first. Here it is.” Tara pointed to a barely discernable cement structure almost completely hidden by vines and dead leaves. If Tara hadn’t pointed it out, Lisa might not have seen it.
“C’mere. I want to show you inside,” Tara said.
“Inside?”
“Yeah, it used to be an old shooting range. I bet if we looked hard enough we could find some old bullets, but come inside here first.” Tara grabbed Lisa’s hand and led her to the open doorway about fifty feet down.
Tara didn’t let go of her hand as they walked. Lisa’s heart raced the entire way. She let herself be led through the metal doorway and was disappointed when Tara released her hand.
A concrete tunnel about six feet wide and just as high went off into the pitch black darkness. She couldn’t tell how far the tunnel went. Without flashlights it was hard to see much past the open door. The empty beer cans and stale smell of urine weren’t very appealing, so Lisa headed back toward the doorway.
“Kind of cool, huh?” Tara followed Lisa out.
“Kind of stinky, eh?”
Tara stepped closer to Lisa. “You apple pickers are so cute, eh?”
“Are you making fun of me, hoodlum?” Lisa didn’t back up even though Tara moved dangerously close, closer than she should have.
Tara took another step and put her right hand on Lisa’s hip. The smile faded from her eyes, and she said softly, “Stop me if this isn’t okay.”
Lisa’s heart thumped hard against her chest. She gulped but made no move to stop the older girl.
Tara put her left hand on Lisa’s other hip and pulled her closer. Lisa whimpered when their bodies touched. Tara leaned in closer still. The only things in Lisa’s world at that moment were Tara’s lips, inches away. Tara closed the distance, and their lips met.
Lisa drank in the sweet, sweet taste of the beautiful hoodlum from Long Island. She threw her arms around Tara’s neck. Meanwhile, Tara slid her hands slowly up and down Lisa’s back. Lisa moaned.
Tara pulled away slightly. “Like it, don’t ya, apple picker?” Tara kissed Lisa’s neck and started to lift up Lisa’s T-shirt.
Lisa pulled back. “No, no.” She pulled the T-shirt back down.
&
nbsp; “Too much?”
Lisa nodded. “You’re the first girl I ever kissed.”
Tara’s eyes lit up. “I’m your first? Really?” Tara sounded proud.
Lisa nodded and felt herself blush even more.
“Okay, we’ll go slower.”
Lisa wanted Tara to kiss her again. Tara must have read her mind and obliged.
Lisa closed her journal for a moment and sighed at the memory. Their first kiss had been so sweet, but the week had been so short. Tara must have known how short, because she invited Lisa to her dorm room that same night.
Alone in Tara’s room after lights out, Lisa let Tara have her way with the T-shirt. She had trembled so much that she was sure Tara was going to laugh at her.
“I’m not going to bite you,” Tara said after easing Lisa’s shirt off. “Unless you want me to, that is.”
Lisa would have laughed, but Tara fell to her knees and started kissing her bare stomach.
Lisa sighed and stopped the memory in mid-stomach. There was no point in it. She reopened her journal and hesitated, not sure she wanted to dredge up this part of her past with Tara.
Tara: The Not-So-Good Things
1. Brookhaven, Long Island is four hundred miles away.
2. Tara graduates in June and won’t be at camp this summer.
Lisa pressed hard against the paper when she wrote the next two items.
3. I got Tara’s “Dear Jane” letter today.
4. Tara is a hoodlum.
She slammed her journal shut and then threw it and the pen across the room. Tara hadn’t even bothered to call to break up with her. She’d written a letter. She buried her face into her pillow. Maybe Marlee would turn out differently. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.
Barbara L. Clanton - 2 - Tools of Ignorance - Lisa's Story Page 1
