Unlovable

by Sherry Gammon

  “I also heard he ducks into the bathroom between classes to check up on it. Girls only like him because he’s hot, I’ll bet his personality totally sucks. And did you know Hillary changed her schedule around so they would be in all the same classes?”

  “I don’t know him very well, he seems nice.” She rolled her eyes and accused me of having a crush on him before running off after another friend.

  The CaL classroom was full. I worked my way to the back, waiting for my carpool assignment. The teacher, Miss Coy, came in and tried to call the class to order. She was a small soft-spoken woman and it took her several tries to quiet the room down. Eventually, a techno-geek helped her hook up a microphone. It only made it worse. Her petite voice kept breaking up over the speakers. I leaned toward her as if it would help me to understand better.

  “Most of you had this c—ss last s—ester and wo-ld like you to conti—e driving with the same p—ple. H—ever some of you are new, or h—ve switched perio—. Who does not —ave a ride this seme—er?” My hand and four others shot up. Before Miss Coy could ask for volunteers, Seth Prescott turned to her and said something.

  Seth? I had no idea he had signed up for CaL. He didn’t seem the type: a good looking, seemingly self-absorbed guy, working with children? I quickly chastised myself for judging him unfairly. I’d noticed I was getting a little too judgmental lately and decided my New Year’s resolution this year would be to rein it in. Might as well start now. I will not judge, I repeated over in my mind.

  Miss Coy said something in reply to Seth before calling the class to order again. “Who can t—ke —?” She rattled off the other four student’s names, nine kids volunteered, and she made the assignments. “Maggie Br—, you’—be riding wi-h—” Her voice broke up again making it impossible for me to understand her. She continued. “These assi—ments are for the e—ire semest—, no exceptio—,” she added sternly. I raised my hand to ask of my fate, when Seth appeared next to me out of nowhere.

  “Ready, Maggie?” Seth rattled his keys in front of me. I gawked at him as if he had lost his mind. Surely, Miss Coy hadn’t assigned me to ride with him? “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the entire semester, you heard what she said about switching rides.”

  Why did he volunteer to take me? The expression on my face must have been obvious because he added, “I believe we’re both in Mrs. Mathew’s class at Hunter Hills, correct?”

  I groaned silently and nodded. There was my answer. What in the world would we possibly have to talk about on the drive over? Hair-gel? He could probably give me some pointers, his hair always looked great even after the wind had tossed it onto his face. I heaved my book bag up onto my shoulder, smiled politely, and followed him out to the parking lot.

  An arctic blast cut through my thin sweater as he opened the car door for me and I let out a gasp. He was around and in the car in record time, cranking up the heat and twisting the vents in my direction. “You really should wear a warmer coat,” he said. “You could get pneumonia wearing only that.” His car had black leather interior; it was beautiful, and cold. I was glad the heater worked well.

  “I love this sweater,” I mumbled through my chattering teeth. Besides, it’s not as if I had another choice. Rich people like him don’t have a clue what … You’re judging him, Maggie. I smiled, tightened my sweater around me, and blocked out the negative thoughts.

  Before long, we lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, neither he nor I seemed to know what to say. I wrenched myself closer to the door while stealing a quick glance at him. I was surprised to see his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, so tight his knuckles were white. I looked out at the road to see if maybe we were driving on ice. It looked clear to me.

  Finally, Seth broke the silence. “Why do I make you nervous?” He had a slight smile on his face now. “By the way, you should slide to the center of the seat, it’s much more comfortable.”

  “I’m comfortable, thanks.” In actuality, the armrest was digging into my hip, causing me significant pain. I shifted a bit, making it worse.

  “Isn’t Hillary taking this class with you?” I desperately wanted to change the subject.

  “No, cheerleading practice was switched to second period. She had to drop CaL.” He chuckled softly, leading me to believe he’d heard Melody in the hall earlier. How embarrassing!

  Only when we pulled up to the school did I realize my fingers were tangled up around my hair. Seth looked over at me and smiled. My face went pink as I untwisted them. He jumped out and came around to open my door before I could get out.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  He nodded. “This is my second semester here. It’s my favorite class.”

  “Mine too,” I said, astonished.

  “Why is it yours?” His face looked sincere, as if he was truly interested in what I had to say.

  “The kids love you, and they don’t care what you wear.” I thought of my thin worn out sweater. “Nor do they care what your hair looks like.” That was aimed at his vanity. For a split second, he smiled. “They love you and want you to love them, no strings attached. It’s …” I trailed off in search of the right word.

  “Pure love.”

  “Yes, pure love.” I couldn’t have said it any better. This was the one place I ever felt loved or wanted. My mother certainly didn’t love me, at least she never expressed it in any way. As a child, I longed for her to gather me onto her lap and read me a story, or brush my hair and tell me I was pretty. She never did. She never hugged me, or tucked me into bed at night, and she never made me dinner, or any other meal for that matter. She had a wicked mean streak, and when she was upset, her harsh words nipped at my heart. She was a cold, distant woman who drank too much.

  A year and a half ago things changed-for the worst. She was rarely sober anymore and seldom left the house. Her words took on a new cruelty; they cut clear to my soul, some days shredding it into pieces. Words like: get out of my sight, you lazy girl, or, can’t you do anything right, you unlovable nothing? And my favorite, I should have given you up when I had the chance!

  As we approached the school door, a passage from my favorite Victor Hugo novel Les Misérables crossed my mind. For Jean Valjean there was no sun, no beautiful summer days, no radiant sky, no fresh April dawn. Completely lost in my pain, I didn’t feel the tears brimming up in my eyes until one spilled over the edge.

  Seth softly turned me around to face him. “What’s wrong?” He peered into my eyes and it felt as if he was burrowing down into the dark recesses of my soul. His fingers ran softly across my cheek, brushing away the tear. There was an undeniable tenderness about him and it made my heart flutter. His reaction caught me off guard, I stammered for a moment not knowing what to say. Should I tell him about my pathetic life, explain to him how unloved I was, or how I could totally relate to these children and what they were feeling?

  I opted for the safe answer, like always; show no emotion, keep it locked inside, they can’t hurt you if they don’t know anything about you.

  “It’s the cold air, it’s burning my eyes.” Clearly, he didn’t buy my lame excuse, but to his credit he said nothing. He held the school door open for me and led us down the hall.

  Crying? What the heck was wrong with me? It must be PMS! I stayed a few steps behind him secretly drying my face and running through a calendar in my mind.

  Approaching the classroom, I peered around his shoulder and saw twenty-two little smiles eagerly awaiting us, their little cherub faces pressed up against the glass before the door promptly flew open. Out they came, jumping on Seth and me, knocking us both to the floor. Their reaction to him stunned me. Apparently, they loved him as much as they did me.

  Zane, a tenderhearted blond boy, was now perched on my knees. “Why are you here early, Miss Maggie?”

  “I had to change my school schedule to this hour.”

  “Wow! Our two most favoritist teachers at the same time,” swooned Noah, a sweet little guy with big
brown eyes. “I’m the luckiest boy ever!” He smiled as Seth helped me up off the floor.

  “You know what this means!” said Elise, a stunning, curly-haired blond girl.

  “What?” Seth asked.

  “It means you two have to get married.” She smothered her giggle into her hands, along with several other little girls, while some began chanting, “Kiss her, kiss her.” Seth laughed loudly, scooped me into his arms, and before I could protest, planted a big noisy kiss on my cheek. Wow, his cologne smelled heavenly. I laughed as the girls cheered and the boys made gagging sounds. He released me when their teacher, Mrs. Mathews, a tall, middle-aged, Korean woman with long silky black hair, came out into the hall and shooed them back inside.

  “Alright, children, settle down.” As always, her voice was gentle. “We now have Mr. Seth, along with Miss Maggie as our visiting teachers for this hour. Since we haven’t had our guest teachers read to us for several weeks, we’re going to separate into two groups for story time.” She quickly divided the kids up and sent the groups to opposing ends of the room. Harrison, a precious redheaded boy, chose several books for me to read as the rest of my group settled into beanbag chairs or on small carpet squares. Noah curled up in my lap and began stroking my cheek.

  The time flew. Occasionally, I’d hear Seth read a line with exaggerated drama and the children would laugh. I tried not to look over at him, yet my eyes were drawn there as if by some unseen force. He was glowing. He seemed at home with the little first graders, three of whom were sitting on his lap. I was taken aback by this side of him.

  Halfway through the hour, Mrs. Mathews had us switch places so the children could spend equal time with both of us, though Noah insisted he stay with me. I looked at Seth as we crossed the room. He smiled and winked. I dropped my head as my face turned at least four shades of red, and my mind flooded with suspicion. Why was he acting this way? Did he think I was going to be another notch in his belt?

  Elise tugged at my arm. “What’s wrong, Miss Maggie?” I didn’t realize my expression had deteriorated into a scowl. Nudging the negative thoughts out, I began reading to my new group.

  By the end of class, my ill feelings toward Seth had almost vanished, that was until he slipped his arm around my shoulders while we walked down the hall toward his car. I pulled away and gave him an icy glare.

  “Sorry,” he said, wrestling with a smile. “My car is out this way.” I glanced around and realized I had turned down the wrong hall. I nodded curtly and walked toward the correct door, completely humiliated by my childish overreaction.

  I settled quietly into his car, and we drove back to the high school, again, in tortured silence. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was as nervous as I was.

  Clearing my throat, I attempted to make conversation as we approached the school. “The kids really like you,” I said.

  “Yeah, probably because I’m so hot!” he teased, I think… I hope!

  Augh! Melody!

  “You know, I’m surprised the three of us can fit in your car.”

  “Three? I do believe there are only two.”

  “Me, you, and your over-sized ego. I believe that makes three.” I jumped out before the car came to a complete stop, slamming the door shut behind me. I was trying to placate some of my guilt, though why I should feel guilty I had no idea. It was Melody who criticized him, not me.

  “You’re welcome,” he shouted to my backside.

  Just because he does something kind doesn’t mean he’s not an egomaniac, I reasoned, still trying to salve my wounded pride.

  Later at lunch, I cut through the cafeteria on my way to the library. The placed reeked of rotted food and gym socks, not the most enticing smells for a lunchroom. Divided into rows of three were forty long gray plastic tables with attached benches. Spaced evenly across the ceiling were a dozen humming fluorescent lights and down the center of the room sat three black garbage cans spaced between the tables, adding to the ambiance.

  Seth and Hillary were snuggled together at their usual table near the front of the room, all giggles and jokes. Never once did he look my way, which was just fine with me. Who needed an arrogant snob in their life? I had enough to deal with without adding him to the list, including the nagging voice in the back of my head telling me it was wrong to judge him. It really needed to shut up!

  I arrived home from school to find my slimy neighbor, Mr. Hoffman from across the road, walking back toward his haggard gray trailer. My guess was that he had spent the afternoon with my mother and a bottle of vodka, something he seemed to be doing all too regularly over the past three weeks. I opened the door and found my mother passed out on the couch and surmised I was right.

  My mom used to have lots of friends coming by to visit until I realized they were using her for what little money we had. After I’d gone to the bank and set up a checking account with direct deposit, and kept the checkbook hidden, the supposed friendships evaporated. Except for Hoffman. He’d moved in a few months ago and they’d become fast friends. He gave me the creeps.

  I set about cleaning the house so not to think about the aching hunger in the pit of my stomach. It was a pocket-sized trailer consisting of an extremely small living room-dining room-kitchen combination. The sparse mismatched furnishings were tattered beyond repair.

  There was a brown couch that sagged horribly in the middle, a blue armchair—minus an arm- and a rickety kitchen table with two wobbly folding chairs Toward the back of the trailer was our micro-chip sized bathroom, and opposite the bathroom, were two 9 by 7 foot bedrooms. My mother rarely used hers, preferring to spend most of her days and nights passed out on the couch.

  The floors throughout were a linoleum, cold brown linoleum, and it was normally littered with an empty booze bottle or two and a few stray tissues. The walls were painted a blanched white and were bare and tedious, mostly because we didn’t have the money to decorate them. I’d used thumbtacks to hang some old beige pillowcases over the tall narrow windows to afford us privacy.

  My frantic cleaning efforts were rewarded. I found 83 cents under the chair’s flattened cushion. I finished my housework and ran to the store to buy some day-old bread.

  ***

  Most of my lunch hours were spent in the library studying, that way I didn’t have to watch others eat, but not today. I had a peanut butter sandwich, and I ate in the cafeteria sitting alongside Melody who had asked me to sit with her before anyone else did. On any given day, I battled hunger headaches, this afternoon, however, it was a tension headache from listening to Melody’s insipid gossiping. I made several attempts to change the subject and finally gave up. The girl was like a dog with a bone. I tried to chew loudly on my dry bread and crunchy peanut butter, nevertheless, her voice still hacked through the white noise.

  “Hillary said you are riding with Seth to CaL class now.” Melody adjusting her black polka dot shirt as she spoke. “How many times did pretty boy fix his hair on the ride over?” I shrugged my shoulders, dropping my head back down to my lunch. “You’re trying to be nice by not saying anything, but you know I’m right. Look at them. They’re the perfect couple.”

  They were sitting a few tables away from us, and I hoped they couldn’t hear her this time. I didn’t dare look, and instead nodded silently and continued staring down at my dehydrated bread.

  “They sit there never speaking to anyone who isn’t in their little clique. They think they’re better than any of us because they’re rich and good-looking.” She snorted loudly. “They’re totally self-absorbed, it's as if the rest of us don’t exist.”

  I wiggled around uncomfortably in my seat, debating whether to say something about Seth and the way he loved the CaL kids, or that I had indeed seen him hanging out with lots of different kids around school, not just the popular ones. But I didn’t. Instead, I swallowed the last of my sandwich and gathered up my things.

  “I have to go, Melody. Thanks for sitting with me today.” Some of what she said was probably true, yet I
couldn’t stop thinking about him yesterday with the children. I rushed to culinary class, relieved to be away from her.

  The advantage of a cooking class was you got to eat what you created, and hungry as I was most of the time, I’d even eat my cooking. The classroom was close to the cafeteria, and with my hasty departure, I arrived ten minutes early. I chose a desk in the far back corner and hoped the teacher wasn’t one of those control freaks with a seating chart.

  The classroom was huge. On one side were twelve two-person desks, and on the opposite end of the room were twelve white stoves with small counters to the left of each, along with four stainless steel refrigerators spaced out across the back.

  Soon the class began filling up. Several of my friends stopped at my desk to ask how my Christmas was. Since everyone had already partnered up before coming in, I was still sitting alone at my desk when the teacher arrived. I hoped that she’d pair me up with someone who cooked better than I did.

  “Alright everyone, take your seat.” The teacher, Mrs. Gianchi, was a feisty Italian woman with dark hair she wrapped tightly in a bun and anchored to the top of her head with several clips. Her smile was warm and generous, and her cheeks glowed bright pink, presumably from the heat of the ovens in the room. I’d seen her walking around in the halls before with her flowered aprons, and they usually looked nice, but today she had on a striped dress and the combination of the two made my eyes hurt.

  “Good afternoon.” She stepped her petite frame up onto a small stool so everyone could see her better. “We’re going to jump right into cooking today with an easy lesson on candy making.” She explained how we were to mix up the ingredients and record the effect the various temperatures had on the candy mixture as it heated up. She directed us toward the stoves, dividing everyone up into pairs. When she came to me, I still didn’t have a partner.

  “How can this be?” She pulled out her roll book. “There’s an even number of students enrolled in class.” Before she could find the list, Seth appeared out of nowhere, startling me.