Unlovable

by Sherry Gammon

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said with a grin.

  Oh, no! This can’t be! We now had three classes together!

  “There you are,” Mrs. Gianchi said to him, closing her book.

  “I was held up, it won’t happen again.” He looked over at me and quietly added, “I had to fix my hair.” Heat overtook my face, and I looked away.

  “I need you to partner with Maggie.” He smiled broadly at Mrs. Gianchi’s request. I turned my back on him as he slid up behind me, standing much too close. I moved a few inches away, hoping he wouldn’t realize it. He did and scooted even closer. I got the distinct impression he was teasing me. I folded my arms across my stomach and glued my feet to the floor. He would have to walk over me if he thought I’d give him another inch. My eyes stayed fixed on the teacher, and yet I could feel his smile burrowing into the back of my head. She handed me the instructions, and I accidentally bumped into him moving toward the small counter. Still ignoring him, I began measuring and pouring items into the pan.

  “Would you like my help, or am I supposed to stand here and look pretty?” he asked. I passed the recipe over and signaled for him to continue. He poured and measured so quickly I had a hard time keeping up with what he was doing.

  Neither of us spoke as the temperature of our candy mixture slowly rose. Bore the Snore’s class was more thrilling than this… well, maybe it wasn’t quite that bad. Thankfully, Mrs. Gianchi interrupted our rampant excitement. “Class, remember drop a small amount of your mixture in cold water at each temperature gauge, and record the reaction on your worksheet.”

  An eternity later, the stupid mixture finally reached 230 degrees, our first test temperature. I reached into the pot, scooped up a spoonful of the sugary substance and was about to drop it into the glass of cold water, when an all-too-familiar voice startled me, causing me to spill the liquid candy.

  “Seth, what did you do in a previous life that doomed you to be stuck with her for a partner?” Hillary. She was dressed in jeans and a cute black shearing jacket with a white fleece collar that made her alabaster skin glow. I never felt uglier. She gave me a supercilious look as she folded her arms across her chest. Her perfect chest. I quickly folded my arms cross my not so perfect chest, as if it was a big secret God had forgotten to give me breasts. “Nice sweater, by the way,” she added. “It just screams trailer trash.”

  “That’s enough, Hillary.” Seth frowned and glanced over at me. I was surprised that he actually shut her down. Impressive, though it didn’t seem to bother her at all since she just flipped her hair and twisted his face back to hers.

  “My notebook is still in your car from last night.” She actually purred as she walked her fingers up his arm. “I need it for my history class. May I have your keys?

  “I put the notebook in my bag this morning, wait here, I'll go got it.” Hillary and I both watched him walk over to the desk and rifle through his book bag.

  Abruptly, she coiled back to me. “You’re so out of your league, girlfriend.” Her voice was low and her face, tight. “Even if he were to go out with you, it’d be for one reason and one reason only. Your kind are merely toys for boys like him.”

  Racking my brain for a witty comeback, I came up flat and turned back to the thermometer. It now read 315 degrees. Sure, now the dumb mixture heats up fast! We’d missed every reading in between. I pulled the pan off the burner as Seth returned with the red notebook. Hillary tucked it under her arm and blew him a kiss as she left.

  “It’s ruined.” I slammed the pot onto the back of the stove, causing the contents to splash everywhere. “If your airhead girlfriend hadn’t come in and interrupted us we wouldn’t have failed this cooking lab. Now we’re going to get an F on the assignment!” For the life of me I couldn’t figure out why I was letting those two upset me like this.

  His jaw tightened. “Hillary’s on the honor roll, so I guess that blows your airhead theory, and she’s not my girlfriend. Please let Melody know, won’t you?”

  He snagged the candy worksheet, wrote down the answers, and tossed it back at me, muttering that something wasn’t working and he needed to make a phone call. He turned and stormed out the door without saying another word. Mrs. Gianchi rushed over.

  “What is the matter with Seth?” I shrugged my shoulders trying not to look guilty. She picked up the worksheet and smiled. “He’s such a nice boy and what wonderful penmanship.”

  Geez, even the adults were bedazzled by him!

  “This worksheet looks correct. Once you’ve cleaned up this mess, you may leave,” she said, pointing at the candy splattered on the stove. She walked away leaving me to wallow in my misery. It took me the rest of the class period to clean up the now hardened mess.

  My mind kept replaying Seth’s angry words in culinary class on my walk home, and I took offense to his comment. Melody was the bad guy here, I had never said anything about him.

  On the other hand, I didn’t stop her from maligning him or Hillary either, and I did laugh at a few of her comments. As hard as I tried to appease my guilty conscience, I still felt terrible. I had been a victim of false rumors before and even though they were lies, it still hurt. I swore to myself that the next time Melody started ranting about Seth, I was going to speak up. My decision helped ease the guilt somewhat, and I picked up the pace. It was cold.

  I got home and took a long hot shower to warm up my frigid body. My mom had already ingested her daily allotment of booze and was passed out on the couch. I thought about helping her into bed, only the last two times I’d tried, I was rewarded with some pretty nasty bruises. She was an ornery drunk. Sometimes it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.

  3

  With a ten-page research paper for my Mythology class looming over my head, Sunday morning I got up early and went to the library while my mom slept. I could have chosen to do ten hours of community service, the alternative Bore offered those who didn’t want to do a paper, but without a car I didn’t have that option. He insisted we become mindful of our community. To quote Bore, ’The needs of our community are not a myth.’ A pretty good idea, only for me it meant spending more time away from home since we didn’t have a computer.

  In my rush to leave, I accidentally pushed my big toe out the end of my worn blue sneaker. “Great!” I hurriedly tied the ruined shoe and said goodbye to my mother, mostly out of habit. She was still sleeping off yesterday’s vodka and resting up for today’s onslaught. She didn’t stir. Even though I knew she wouldn’t acknowledge me, a slight twinge still tugged at my heart. I ignored it and left.

  The frigid morning welcomed me with a bone chilling blast of icy cold as I stepped off the porch and right into a slush puddle. “Yuck!” I shook the mess out of my shoe and trudged off.

  While tracking down information on local children’s charities, my eye caught the calendar hanging on the wall above the reference desk. January 9th. It was thirteen years ago today my world changed forever.

  I remembered my grandmother and I being in the kitchen. She was tying a yellow ribbon in my hair to match the dress she’d made me: blue with white and yellow daisies. I was sitting on a stool, fidgeting. The room smelled of fresh-baked cookies and I desperately wanted one.

  “Hold still, sweetheart,” she said, fishing the silky ribbon through my ponytail and tying it into a bow. “There, perfect.” I jumped off the stool and began spinning in circles. The dress had a full skirt, and when I swirled around it floated out in a huge circle.

  “I love it, grandma, thank you very much. It’s delightful.” I ran over and gave her a big hug.

  “Delightful? What a big word for such a little girl.” I looked up into her blue eyes, and watched her smile fade. She cupped my chin and kissed my forehead. “I guess it’s a good thing you’re mature far beyond your four and a half years.”

  She took a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “Alright, Princess Maggie. Scoot along and find your grandfather. Let him know your mom will be here any minute.” I spun around
one last time and skipped off to find him. “And no cookies, you’ll spoil your appetite,” she added.

  I found my grandpa in the bathroom as he finished shaving. “Oh, my, aren’t you the sweetest little princess in all the land.”

  “Thanks, Grandpa. Mom’s on her way. Why is she coming over?” I sank down onto the edge of the tub and studied him as he put on his tie.

  “It was her 21st birthday a few days ago, remember? We’re going out to dinner to celebrate tonight.” He looked over at me. “What’s the matter, Magpie?”

  “Do I have to go and stay with mommy again?” I seldom saw her when I was very young, and the few times she did come to visit, the three of them would usually end up arguing. My grandfather would demand she act more responsibly, and I’d have to go stay with her for a day or two. My grandmother would prepare a backpack for me to take, putting cereal, peanut butter, jam and some bread in it. She’d taught me how to make sandwiches and had me practice pouring cereal into a bowl and adding milk. Of course, at my mom’s place I usually had to add water since she never had milk.

  My mom would hate it when I played with my toys in her living room and often banished me to the bedroom. “Get out of my hair,” she’d demand. I spent most of the time alone playing with my dolls.

  After a couple of days my grandparents would check on us, they’d have another huge fight, and I’d go back with them until my mother came around again, and the cycle would repeat itself.

  “Not today, princess.” Sorrow touched his face as he spoke of my mother, and I felt bad for having said anything. “Hey, how about a butter-rum Lifesaver?” He held out a tattered roll of the candy, inviting me to take one.

  “Grandma will be angry if I have one before dinner.” He was forever tempting me with butter-rum Lifesavers, and I was forever falling for the temptation.

  “I won’t tell if you won’t,” he whispered.

  “I heard that, Harry,” my grandmother chided from the other room. “You’ll spoil her dinner.”

  “Yes, dear,” he said, handing me one with a wink. I popped the candy into my mouth and sucked on it until it dissolved into nothing.

  My mother arrived a few minutes later reeking of alcohol. At the time I didn’t know what the smell was, only that she smelled funny. We all climbed into their car with my grandparents up front. I sat in a booster chair next to my mom in the back.

  On our way to the restaurant, an uninsured drunk driver ran into us, killing my grandparents instantly. I wasn’t hurt, thanks to my car seat, however, my mom wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, and she was thrown from the car. She hurt her right leg and her back and never fully recovered from the injuries. With what little insurance money my grandparents had, she bought the singlewide trailer we currently called home. I don’t know how we’d have survived otherwise. It wasn’t much, but it was paid for. I often wondered how different things would have been if not for the accident.

  I gathered a few books and went back to working on my research paper. It was stupid to dwell on the past, it only depressed me. Around noon, the librarians began setting up tables in a conference room off to the side for a luncheon. I did fine until they brought the food out, the smell drove me crazy. I used the last of the bread to make my mom a sandwich before I left and hadn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday. Unable to stomach the enticing smells of food any longer, I shoved my belongings into my bag and left.

  The wind pounded me mercilessly, making it difficult to keep from being blown over. Reaching the corner, I collapsed onto a bus stop bench and dropped my head to my knees, exhausted and dizzy. Somehow, I had to find a way of getting more food into the house without my mother knowing about it. If I spent too much of her money on food, she’d berate me for my selfishness, but the hunger headaches which plagued me and now this dizziness was plain ridiculous.

  I heard a car pull up next to the bus stop. Too weak to look up, I kept my head down. “Are you alright?” It was Seth. Unbelievable!

  “I’m fine. Just waiting for the bus.” I kept my head down, still not bothering to look at him. I was surprised he even stopped. We’d hardly spoken since the candy disaster in culinary class earlier in the week.

  “You’ll have a long wait. This bus doesn’t run on weekends.” I glanced up at the bus sign. Sure enough, it was a ’weekday only’ bus. I closed my eyes and dropped my increasingly dizzy head back into my hands.

  “Come on.” Silently, he appeared at my side with an arm around my waist before I could argue. “You look awful, let me take you home.”

  “Did I ask your opinion on my outfit?” I tried sounding fierce with my retort, but thanks to the dizziness, it sounded silly more than anything.

  “That’s not what I meant. It’s your face, it looks awful.”

  I snapped my head up to his. I’d known of Seth’s high cheekbones, having drooled over them many a time. Today, however, they were slightly pink, probably from the cold. It gave his face a warm friendly glow. It was then I noted his mouth for the first time. It was definitely kissable, with its full round lower lip, and the Cupid’s bow on the upper. There was a strong temptation to reach up and… I jumped back a few inches and shook my head to clear it. I needed some food, quick!

  He laughed. “That didn’t come out right, I meant you look pale. Please let me take you home,” he said, sliding the arm of my sweater up above my elbow.

  “What are you doing?” I pulled my arm away from his warm hands.

  “Just checking your pulse to make sure you’re still alive,” he chortled.

  “I believe a person’s pulse is in their wrist.”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I didn’t do so well in Human Physiology.” He began guiding me toward his car.

  I pulled back. “I don’t need a ride, thanks. Really, I’m fine,” I said as a gust of wind came by blowing me back into his arms.

  “I can see that.”

  Too weak and dizzy to fight anymore, I allowed him to lead me over to the car. He opened it, and I stood there for a moment debating.

  “Please get in, Maggie.”

  Impressive, he actually looked concerned. I decided that pride was easier on a warm day and settled into the car. He turned the heater vents toward me as he had before and set the temperature on high. Our trailer never felt this warm.

  “Thanks.” I wasn’t sure he understood me through my half frozen lips. Holding my hands in front of the heater vents, the warm air blew up my sleeves and down my thin sweater, thawing my frozen body. It felt wonderful. He didn’t make a single comment about my sweater, or the hole in my sneaker, though the fact that I kept the shoe tucked strategically under the seat might have been why.

  Or maybe he was a really nice guy, and I should cut him some slack.

  “Warm enough?” Short of starting a small fire, I had no idea what he planned to do to make it any warmer.

  As I thanked him, I noticed the undeniable smell in his car. “Why do I smell food?”

  “I’m delivering lunches to some of the local senior citizens.”

  My first thought was to question why, until I remembered our Mythology class assignment. He must have opted to do the community service.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? What did you have for breakfast?” He felt my forehead causing goose bumps to dance up my back.

  “I was in a hurry this morning and forgot to eat.” And the lies kept piling up! Besides, he didn’t need to know about our family struggles.

  “If I give you a lunch, will you eat it?” He looked at me skeptically.

  Great, he thinks I’m anorexic. Oh, well, may as well feed the anorexic rumors. My clothes hung on me anymore, and I’d heard the whispers as I’d walked down the hall at school. “No thanks, I’ll eat something later.”

  “You know these lunches don’t have a home, and if you don’t eat them they’ll go to waste.” How sweet, he was trying to encourage the anorexic to eat. I muffled my laugh.

  “Why don’t you eat it?” I dared him.

  “I’ve
already had my lunch,” he said. “Here.” He grabbed two Styrofoam boxes from the back seat and held them in front of me. “You have your choice of a chicken, or a roast beef sandwich.” He began reciting the menu as if he were reading from a brochure. “There’s also a choice of steamed mixed vegetables, or broccoli smothered in cheese, and a brownie.” He tempted me once more with the small white boxes, and my stomach let out a huge growl. Ugh! I thanked him and took one, forcing myself to pick casually at the food instead of inhaling it. I was unbearably hungry.

  “I have two more stops, if that’s alright with you. They’re on the way, I believe, you said you live over by the park, right?” He asked right as I took a huge bite of the chicken sandwich, blowing my casually picking plan. I could only nod.

  “The first delivery is to a man named Frank McSheehy. He was injured in World War II and struggles with getting around these days. He fell and broke his hip three months ago, and now he’s temporarily confined to a wheelchair. Oh, one more thing, he likes to talk. You’ve been warned!” He winked, causing my heart to skip a beat. For crying out loud, Maggie, get a grip on yourself.

  We pulled up in front of a tiny run down cottage on Front Street. A frail-looking man, Mr. McSheehy I assumed, was sitting by the front window waiting for us. He pushed open the door when we reached the porch. The petite man all but disappeared in his oversized wheelchair. A few wisps of white hair danced around on the top of his head with the wind, and his thick black-rimmed glasses made his eyes bug-like in appearance.

  “Good afternoon, my guardian angel.” He held out his hand and shook Seth’s warmly. “Who is this beauty by your side, an angel in training?” He took my hand, squeezing it softly.

  “Maggie’s a friend of mine, although an assistant would be helpful,” he said. “Maggie, this is Mr. McSheehy, also a friend of mine.”

  “Come, sit down for a minute.” He led us inside and pointed to a coffee table in the living room. “I was looking through some photos of my days in the war.” He had several photo albums spread out on the small table. “I promise to keep you for no more than ten minutes. You still have to deliver lunch to Miss Ethel, correct?” Seth nodded.