by Alana Siegel
“Vice Presidential candidate Nixon went on television to ask the American people to review his campaign expenses when he came under criticism for accepting gifts. He said the one gift he wouldn't give back was their family dog which his little girls named Checkers,” Ms. Magos informed the class, continuing with her lesson. In her crisp, neat handwriting, she wrote some notes for the class to copy.
“It was a brilliant move. In my eyes, Nixon was a genius. So many times he fooled the American people. If not for his one slip-up, we might be leading different lives today.” She said the last sentence with a tinge of glee, like she idolized Nixon's corrupt motives. It was certainly one thing to respect the audacity and gall of a crazy person, but quite another to speak of them with a loving verbal caress.
I thought it was an odd sentiment and lost focus when I looked around to see if anyone else was feeling the way I did. As I turned, Ms. Magos clapped the eraser hard against the chalkboard. It wasn't the noise that grabbed my attention. It was the quick hand motion and the smell of lemon once again. White chalk dust floated toward the ceiling. There in the dust was a familiar symbol, the same symbol that was on my necklace.
Captivating me, it swelled and swirled in the chalk dust and then just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. If I wasn't paying attention, I would have missed it.
Ms. Magos turned around and looked directly at me. I tried to close my mouth before she noticed, but she only winked and kept teaching her lesson. Simply mesmerized, I didn't look down for the rest of class.
I heard the bell ring and rose to gather my books.
“Can Jaime and Olivia come to my desk for a few minutes?” Ms. Magos asked as I was about to walk out of the classroom. I saw Jaime was already making her way over, and I tried to think of an excuse for why I couldn't be late for my next class. Instead, I slowly made my way to her desk.
“How is your project going?” Her eyebrows pinched together in concern as she leaned on the edge of her desk. I looked at Jaime and thought of the lack of work that we had done. I held my books a little tighter and shrugged my shoulders in a non-committal way.
“Don't worry, there is plenty of time. I wanted to let you know that Ancient Greece was the subject for my thesis when I studied for my master’s degree. Here.” She handed us each a text book. It was thick and heavy, and covered in Greek symbols like the ones from our calculus lessons.
“I placed a bookmark where you'll want to start reading.” She smiled like she had just given us a piece of candy to enjoy instead of an extra load of school work. Teachers always think you share the same passions as they do. I mentally sighed as I put the book in the nook of my arm and tried to figure out where in my crowded locker I was going to store this extra book.
Jaime and I thanked her as we walked into the hall. I was already thinking about my next class when Jaime grabbed my arm. Her other hand was holding a bookmark she had just pulled from Ms. Magos’s book. Keeping her eyes on the bookmark Jaime said, “Have you ever heard of a teacher asking her students to meet her at school at nine p.m.?” She put the bookmark in front of my face and forced me to look. Jaime finally had my attention, and that's when I gasped.
The note was written in Ms. Magos’s handwriting. I checked my bookmark, and it said exactly the same thing. Jaime looked around at all the kids passing in the hallway. She put her forefinger in front of her lips and turned around.
I walked away in a daze. I turned the corner and would have walked right into Justin if he hadn’t stopped me by grabbing hold of both of my arms. His palms were warm and the touch of his skin on mine sent a tingle up my spine. His sad eyes searched my face. I felt my temperature rising and looked down at my feet to hide my blushing.
This was the first time he didn’t immediately walk away when given the chance to disappear. However, it only took him a second to realize we were still touching, and then he quickly removed his hands and stuck them in his pocket.
“How are you feeling?” he asked. Shocked at his outright concern for my well-being, I was speechless. “You…uh…seem okay, considering your eyes rolled to the back of your head a few hours ago,” he said.
I almost forgot that everyone was a witness to my embarrassing fainting episode in Biology that morning. He couldn't have approached me to say ‘good answer in class’ or ‘your hair looks nice today.’ He had to remind me of the one embarrassing thing that happened today. I watched his eyes momentarily flash with impatience or maybe insecurity when I didn’t answer.
“Fine, thanks,” I responded, unsure how long of a response he was looking for, but trying to avoid a deep discussion on the topic. I thought I saw him glance at my necklace before nodding his head once and walking away.
* * * *
Chapter Eight: Kickline Conundrum
I headed down the gym hallway that was lined with showcases full of trophies. Many talented people had passed through these halls. People who were known for their brains or skills and remembered by the student body.
I stopped in front of the newest case, free of dust and scratches. On the center shelf was a trophy topped with a man kicking a soccer ball and engraved with a date from last year. There was a framed picture of the team in celebration sitting next to it. Dead center in the photograph with his teammates’ arms slung over his shoulders was my brother.
For the first time I felt a pang of jealousy that he was comfortable in the spotlight. Would I forever fade into the darkness? Years down the road when students opened the yearbook to my picture, would they shrug their shoulders and turn the page, not even remembering my name?
Derek would have embraced the attention received from getting sick in Biology class. He would have thanked those concerned for his health with graciousness and appreciation, and he would have reveled in the increase in ‘coolness’ he received when people thought it was a creative way to skip class. The only thing I did was run from the embarrassment.
I pulled myself away from the showcase. The bell for the last period of the day had rung, and the school was empty. The kids who remained at school for team practices were already out on the field, enjoying the escape from claustrophobic classrooms.
The smell of gym clothes and used towels became overbearing as I reached the gym entrance. Before I could grab the handle, a scrawny freshman burst through the doorway.
Hmph! The right side of his body rammed directly into my stomach, letting the door close shut behind him. Doubling backwards in pain, I looked up at the charging bull.
The boy’s backpack was slung over one shoulder and pulling at the neckline of his oversized T-shirt. He carried four text books in the other arm forcing him to stumble another few steps before regaining his balance. Once his eyes landed on me, his body language changed. Abruptly stopping, his sneakers made a terrible screeching noise as they skidded across the floor. His pimple-covered face flushed.
For a second we stood there, his mouth open in awe and his unfaltering stare pointed directly at me. Did he think I was a teacher who would yell at him for being in the building after school hours?
I broke the trance and continued toward the door. The boy’s eyes followed me. With a crooked smile, he ran for the door handle, pulled the door open with his free hand, and held it for me. I walked through the door and murmured, “Thanks,” before continuing to the locker room.
All day, people had acted odd around me, just like he had. Everyone did a double take when they saw me pass by. I was starting to think this wasn’t just about my fainting spell in Biology class. Maybe there was something stuck to my clothes. Then again, it didn’t seem like they were laughing at me. It was more like kids went out of their way to help me out, like they were trying to impress me. Did Max spread a rumor that I was the long-lost daughter of some celebrity? He knew I would hate the attention. Or maybe he told everyone that I spit venom when agitated and people were scared I would get upset if they weren’t nice.
Leaning on the locker room's sink, I ignored my usual rule of avoiding overu
sed, unclean public bathrooms and angled my face as close as I could get. The mirror was covered in lipstick drawn scribbles stating ‘I heart JP’ and ‘AS & ED are BFF’ in the corners.
The fluorescent lighting was so poor that it gave my skin a greenish tint. I squinted and tried not to breathe hot air that would fog my view. I definitely didn't see anything in my teeth.
My clothes looked normal. I was dressed for kickline practice in a tight white ribbed tank top with a sports bra, pink cotton shorts, a pair of dance sneakers, and the necklace I found.
Turning around, I attempted a closer look at my butt. It didn't look like I sat in anything or that anyone put a sign on my back when I wasn’t looking. Still, something had been grabbing kids’ attention all day.
Helen walked in, propped her foot on the wooden bench and started tying her sneakers. I couldn’t deny that my mood lifted just being in her presence.
“What are your plans for after practice? I was thinking we could go for ice cream,” I said, not taking my eyes off our reflection in the mirror. She was wearing black leggings that showed off her perfectly toned legs and a tight black T-shirt that said ‘Just Dance.’
“I can’t go. My Yiayia and Poppy are coming over early tomorrow morning for my brother’s birthday.” She didn’t look up from tying her other sneaker, but I could hear the guilt in her voice. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. It would have been nice to spend the evening with Helen, secluded in our comfortable, reassuring friendship, but I didn’t want to make her feel bad.
Trying another approach, I changed the subject and asked her a broad question, “Do I look different to you today?” I asked, turning to face her. Maybe she would see something I didn't. I watched her look me up and down, trying to decipher what was altered.
“You got new eye shadow! Purple looks great with your skin tone,” Helen said enthusiastically. I walked away, disappointed and deflated that she couldn’t point out anything about me that had changed.
“No, I got this color last week, and I wore it on Monday,” I said, unable to hide my frustration. Giving up, I saw Helen’s eyes go sad and her mouth set into a frown. She sighed and twisted the end of her shirt uncomfortably. There was no use in both of us being upset.
Placing my hand on her arm, I said, “It’s a nice color for me, right? Maybe I can wear it to the homecoming dance.” Her face brightened and she leaned over to give me a hug.
“By the way, you smell like fresh roses. Your new perfume is great,” Helen said. She came close again to inhale.
The gym was decorated for school spirit week; banners draped from the rafters, plaques covered the walls, even the massive bleachers that circled the perimeter were dressed in our school colors, red, white, and black.
When the bleachers were pulled out for spectators, the waxed wooden floor became a stage for athletes to compete and show off their trained skills. It was a stage where I was never comfortable. Send a large fierce competitor in my direction, and I would run away.
On the other hand, dancing was a sport I could handle. You moved to the music and counted on the beats. I relaxed as we made our way outside to kickline practice, my favorite part of the day.
I stepped outside. Fields of average size and quality covered the grounds of the school behind the building. The amenities were there, like a backstop and dugout for the baseball field and a goal post and bleachers for the football field, but they were rusty and rundown.
Crossing over the blacktop where the marching band practiced, we passed the tennis courts on our left. The net that divided the court had holes in it. The students didn’t mind, as long as there was a place to run and play.
The sun peeked through the clouds. It was still warm enough to wear shorts and a T-shirt without getting cold. I basked in the sun on our walk to the grassy area between the baseball field and the football field where the kickline team practiced.
We jumped into high gear, performing the number we prepared for the pep rally. For the first time all day, I pretended that no one was watching me and felt at ease. The music made my body move in ways that felt natural. Soaring through the air for a jete leap or chaine turn helped me forget the day’s troubles.
Being outside added to the pleasure I felt when dancing. As the team linked arms to form a line, our legs kicked up grass to the beat of the music and the scent of roses surrounded me.
After running through the routine a few times, we broke into groups to perfect a few steps. My group moved closer to the football field. I kicked over my head, completed a turn, and landed a pose. I was concentrating so hard that I barely noticed one of the girls calling my name.
She said, “Wake up, Olivia!” She waved her hands in front of my face until, finally, I stopped dancing. She pointed down the track where two football players were leaning on the fence, their padding and helmets abandoned on the ground.
The larger boy, obviously a defensive player, barely fit into his practice uniform. The red shorts and white T-shirt hugged his body like spandex rather than the light-weight cotton it really was. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his arms hung over the side of the fence. He looked like a puppy waiting to be fed his treats.
The uniform on the boy next to him outlined a perfectly sculpted body. His hair was sweaty and sticking up in a few places from his helmet. He squinted and ran his fingers through it. I felt my insides melt and my knees go weak.
They waved when they saw me looking over. Incredulous, I turned and looked behind me, expecting to see someone else standing there. Were they waving at me? I didn't know whether to be embarrassed or flattered. Do they even know my name?
“Hey, Beautiful. Are you going to Frank’s party this weekend?” I was still not sure they knew my name, but “beautiful” worked for me!
I stood there in a dreamy daze for a few seconds until the girl standing next to me nudged me back to reality.
“Say yes!” she said, exasperated by my pause.
“Sure,” I squeaked in a high pitch voice.
I couldn't concentrate the rest of practice. I kept worrying about the way my hair looked or whether my shirt got dirty. Every time I looked up, the football players were watching me.
Then I realized their attention was a positive thing. For the first time, people were noticing me. I was ecstatic and overwhelmed. Elation hardly explains how I felt.
Walking back to the locker room, I was on cloud nine, but I should have known it wouldn’t last long. It seemed like luck was never on my side. Leaning against the bricks of the school building next to the door was Chelsea Steinem.
Her blue eyes followed my path down the blacktop. She watched me approach with her arms crossed and jaw clenched. She meant business.
I planned to ignore her, but she stopped me by placing her left hand on my shoulder and blocking the entrance to the school.
“I heard about your little stunt in Biology and the spell you put on Cliff. Now you’re going for the football team. Looking for some extra attention?” she asked, accusing me with her steely glare. I shook my head, crossed my arms, and looked down.
The metal threshold of the doorway was streaked with muddy footprints from athletes dragging in dirt from the fields. I concentrated on one large footprint filled with brown circles, most likely created by a soccer cleat. I hoped she would take my disinterest as a reason to walk away.
“Well, I just wanted to tell you it won’t work. Your little tricks to make Max jealous won’t win him back. He’s in love with me,” she said. For the first time I heard her voice crack. I looked at her face. She was still angry, but I could also see a slight chink in her hard exterior. I pushed around her and into the building.
I wasn’t happy that Chelsea thought the day’s events were a ploy to win back Max because it meant that Max was thinking the same thing, but I was relieved that someone else noticed that something had changed.
Starting with the kids in the hallway this afternoon, Cliff after Biology class, and the boy outside the locker roo
m, add the football players to the list of extra attention I received today, and it was becoming a substantial list. The only problem was I didn’t understand why I was receiving all the attention.
* * * *
Chapter Nine: Surpass Our Heredity
“Olivia, are you sure you have the time right? It doesn't look like anyone is at school right now.” My mom’s voice was filled with concern. I looked at the school through the SUV window. The tall columns which were lit from small lights in the ground looked like Roman guards in front of an ancient castle. She was right, the building looked eerily quiet. But why would it be full of people right now? Most kids avoided school when their required time was up.
For the hundredth time today, I wondered why Ms. Magos wanted us to meet after school hours. Maybe she thought we would get more work done when there were fewer people around. During the day, there was always someone coming in to ask her a question or tell her a story. Maybe she had appointments or errands to do in the afternoon. Either way, I was sure she had a good reason.
“Yes, Mom. Look, there's Jaime.” I'll admit that I was relieved to see Jaime standing in front of the school's large columns. Before my mom could argue, I jumped out of the SUV and waved for her to drive away. Returning my attention to Jaime, I saw her thumbing through the book Ms. Magos handed us in class, and I tensed up again.
“Were we supposed to read that by tonight?” Seeing the panic on my face, she shook her head, and closed the book.
“I hope not, this is the first time I opened it since she handed it to us,” she said. I let out a sigh and tried to calm down, but relaxing seemed impossible at the moment. The empty parking lot was giving me the creeps. I kept thinking that someone was watching us or something was lurking in the shadows.
