I stood there shocked. She really thought I was trying to do all that stuff? “I...I did what?” was all I could muster, astonished by the accusation.
“Oh, don’t try it. I saw you all flirting with Brad in the hallway. You knew we spent the weekend together, but then you tried to do something like that on your first day?”
“I wasn’t flirting. He just helped me up,” I protested.
“Look, I said I would help you because I’m in Secundas and that’s what we do, but now I say, screw you! I don’t care why you are here or if you need help or not. All you’d better know is that if you talk to Brad again, you will pay!” She turned and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, walking to her table full of girls as I stood there in the middle of the lunchroom surrounded by a bunch of strangers.
Chapter Two
For a moment, I thought I would go apologize, though for what, I really wasn’t sure. I didn’t know I had been doing any of these things, but maybe it seemed like it to her. I wasn’t trying to show up anyone in class, but instead wanted to hide away from everyone, especially the teacher. I wasn’t trying to steal her friends, either, but was just answering the questions they asked me. And I really had no intention of stealing anyone’s boyfriend either, no matter how cute Brad actually was.
No! I’m not apologizing for anything I didn’t do. If she thought I was doing all these things on my first day, then how bad did I really want to try and make our friendship, more like acquaintances, work? I wasn’t going to bow down to the blonde cheerleader who needed to take her Ritalin. Where is your dignity, Hope?
Actually, where is your seat going to be, Hope? I gazed across the lunchroom getting a quick assessment of the situation. The cliques had grouped themselves together: boy’s athletics over in the corner broken down by sport, the skateboard grunge group over there, the flashy kids with their parents’ money over in their own private corner, and of course Secundas/cheerleaders over here, led by their bi-polar drama queen, Jody. Then there was a breakdown by groups of other groups: from your Future Farmers to your chess club to the debate team and finally, oh there they were, the band/orchestra members. The rest of the school was an intermingling of dejected, but they all had something I didn’t. They were not the new weird kid. I just have to walk, one foot in front of the other. I’ll find a spot. Go now, one foot, just one stupid foot. Head to the band table, they may take you in. Oh, Jeez!
I saw the door. Maybe I could con the office into letting me eat in there with the secretary? Right now she even seemed more inviting than this room. I took a couple of steps toward the door when I heard a small voice to the right of me.
“Do you need a seat?” I looked down at a freckled faced girl wearing glasses and hair in a long braid down her back. She smiled at me, showing off the perfect set of braces. She sat alone at the end of the table closest to the door.
“Um, yes?”
“You can sit here if you want.” Jeez, she sounded like a young Jenny asking a young Forest Gump to sit, and being Forest Gump was probably a step too high for me right now.
I looked around briefly and then sat down. How could I not? She was the only one to open up to me before I made it to the door. We sat there, moving our food back and forth upon the tray but not talking. Two shy people, what a match.
“I’m Lizzy,” she finally said, looking down at her tray.
“I’m Hope.”
She looked up and smiled and then immediately dropped her head again. “I liked the way you played yesterday.”
“Huh?”
“Your violin, during practice. You were really good.”
“Oh, yes, thank you.” I didn’t even remember her little face in the orchestra hall from yesterday. I peered up at her. “What do you play?”
“The cornet. Trying to, anyway. I just am having trouble.”
“Well, I’m sure you will get it if you keep practicing.” Did I really just say that?
“You sound like my dad. He’s always saying how ‘practice makes perfect’ and that ‘everyone learns from their mistakes.’ I think my only mistake was picking the thing up.”
“Oh, I bet you’re fine. I mean, you are in the orchestra, right? Your dad sounds like a very smart guy to me.” My dad always told me the same things, like it had been written in some manual for all would-be fathers to follow. Practice makes perfect. I’d bet he said it a million times to me about the violin. It was always better than hearing how he shelled out a lot of money for me to play the thing that I fell in love with at a young age. Not that he wasn’t supportive, he made every recital I ever had, but I knew that Tyler’s basketball was more his thing. Getting out and shooting a round of hoops with his boy was much better than hearing Mozart for the five-thousandth time. Still, it was he who pushed me and made me focus on it. Mom thought I played well at ten years old, and maybe I did for that age, but it was Dad who always let me know that I could improve myself that much more.
“Yeah, my dad is a good guy,” Lizzy said, bringing me back to the conversation. “He’d better be, because I’m always afraid his mouth will get him in trouble with Mr. Franklin someday.”
“Mr. Franklin?”
“Yeah, the head principal. My dad can be a jerk sometimes. You’ve heard him, cursing in class and such. I haven’t had him yet, but that’s what the upper classmen say.”
I shook my head confused. “Who is your dad?”
“Mr. Peet. He teaches the eleventh graders in U.S. history.”
“Mr. Peet is your dad?” I sounded amazed.
“Yeah,” Lizzy said shyly. “Sorry for that.”
I giggled. “Why are you apologizing? He seems like a pretty good teacher. He wasn’t boring on the first day, anyway.”
“Well, he’s kind of crazy.”
“I think you have to be if you want to be a teacher. You know, they have to put up with a lot of junk. Being crazy just comes along with the assignment.”
“Yeah, I guess so. I wouldn’t want to be one,” Lizzy smiled as if I understood when in fact I didn’t. My dad had been a lawyer, a high-powered successful attorney in New York City. When people looked at him, it was practically in awe of his accomplishments. He was also able to provide the world for me with a nice house, a top dollar education, and a future that was also going to make me all that and more. Well, it was, but I wasn’t so sure any more. But I really had no idea what Lizzy was talking about, being the daughter of a teacher, especially in Texas where you were probably overworked and underpaid. Where my father set up my world for me, Lizzy was doing her best to avoid everything about hers.
We ate most of the meal in silence, not really knowing what to say to each other. I was the new kid on campus and she was the daughter of the crazy history teacher. Soon, our table would be cliqued as the “losers” group. Still, I didn’t seem to mind. I had come to get away from things, and in the world of a teenager, this was about as far as I could go. The first bell rang, warning us we had five minutes to make it to the next class. My last school didn’t have bells, but everyone knew where they were supposed to be and that there were few excuses for being tardy. But here, the bell rang so often that it became confusing. How many warnings do you have to give someone before they understand they are needed to be in class? We scraped our trays of any leftovers and tossed them in the bin to be cleaned. We turned to each other as if to say something, but didn’t know what.
“Well ...”
“Well, um ... thanks for lunch?” Lizzy said more like a question than a statement. “And I guess I’ll see you in class.”
“Yeah, thanks for lunch.”
She smiled and began heading in the opposite direction.
“Oh, Lizzy?”
“Yes?”
“I wouldn’t worry about your dad being too weird. I mean all parents are weird, right?”
She smiled at me. “Yeah, but just wait till he puts on his uniform and brings his musket to class.” Before I could respond she was swept away in the crowd of teenagers barging their way t
o class.
I turned to go myself when a large splash of milk flew straight across my front, saturating my shirt. I froze like a deer in the headlights. This was no accident and I knew it. When I opened my eyes I could see Jody and her collection of friends laughing as they headed towards the door, mischief in their glinting eyes. I was now their new project targeted for destruction, all for talking to a boy. How shallow can some people be?
After I cleaned my shirt, I made it to music just after the bell. The teacher, Miss Appleton, glared down her straight-line nose at me. “Miss Kilpatrick, it is only your second day here and you are already tardy.” I was expecting a write-up, but was given a warning. “If you’d have the decency to get to class on time so we may start our lesson, that would be just perfect.”
I nodded but didn’t say anything, catching the sorrowful eyes of Lizzy sitting across the room. I sat down, sighed, and unbuttoned my violin case and pulled out the instrument. The feeling that I was being watched began to overwhelm me, and I looked over my shoulder to see the glimmer in Jody’s eyes as they bore into me. I was going to leave it alone. Besides, this was her turf and I was only the new girl in town who meant next to nothing to her, especially now. She helped me because she had to, for her little religious club, and now that wasn’t even going to happen. And I’m sure God was oh-so-happy to see his good reputation mired by the likes of them. Hopefully, if I kept an even lower profile, this would blow over and I could live the rest of my life at Jimmy Carter HS in peace and quiet.
That wasn’t going to happen, though. I arrived in computer tech class to see that my previous day’s work had been erased but by what the teacher could only guess was a “strange malfunction.” In my mind I gave it a name, the Jody virus, a vicious self-centered egomaniac that, with its minions, attacked its host until there was nothing left. Sadly enough, I was the host. Things didn’t relent in gym class either, as I was tripped not once but twice accidentally when someone inadvertently stepped into my lane. The first fall hurt as I hit my knee hard against the track’s not so very rubbery rubber. The second attack finished what the first one had started, leaving my knees bloodied and bruised. The coach didn’t seem to see either catastrophe, but was kind enough to let me lick my wounds in the stands for the remainder of class. How very thoughtful. Why in the heck we have to run outside, anyway, was beyond me, but it was Texas, which never seemed to get less than eighty degrees.
As I sat there with bandages over both knees, I tried to figure out what I could do. Maybe I should have apologized to Jody? I did talk to her camping buddy after all, even though I didn’t even know who he was. He was cute though and in some way I guess I could see why she was irritated. But I wasn’t anything compared to her. She had everything going for her, the looks, the popularity, and the high school glimmer that I could only be envious of. All I had was wavy red hair and a strange aunt. Anyway, I didn’t understand it. How could someone just take it that I was flirting with her boyfriend without getting my side of the story? It was that skateboarder’s entire fault. If these bloody bandages should be blamed on anyone, it would have to be him. No! He was just an inconsiderate jerk. This was worse than that. I know I was from a New York prep school and probably that alone was enough for this Texas group to see me as an easy target to take their gun toting rage out on, but it was totally sophomoric to act like this without all the information, and they were supposed to be juniors. Still, was it going to last the next year and a half of my life? Ugh!
Mom wouldn’t have stood for it. I would’ve told her about being picked on and she would have told me to “be strong” and to try and work it out as best I could, and if I couldn’t then she would. She hated bullies, we all did. Mom and Dad looked at bullying every day in the courtroom: a big interest company doing everything it could to hurt the little guy. They had taken a stand against it a long time ago, so why couldn’t I now?
I went to the locker room first, cleaned up and got dressed, hoping to meet Jody and her gaggle as they made their way into the showers. I would confront them; tell them that Brad had just helped me off the floor and that she had nothing to worry about. They would understand, probably give me a hug, which girly girls like to do, and invite me back to their table tomorrow. My one day of being voted off the island would be over and then I could survive in their shadows, which would be just fine by me.
Leaving the locker room, I turned the corner to meet Jody and her gang face to face. The feeling of infinite smallness came over me as they approached. It had to be something like what mom and dad first witnessed when they entered law, peering across the aisle at a bunch of high dollar suits that wanted to do nothing but destroy them in the most legal way possible. Jeez, do I really want to be a lawyer? Their eyes connected with mine as they came to a halt.
“Um, Jody. I just wanted to say that–“
“What? That you were talking to my boyfriend even though you already knew how close we were?”
“I didn’t know it was him,” I blurted out defensively.
“Bull! You are just some New York tramp who thinks you can come down here and take any man she wants. That’s what you think.” A few of the gaggle shook their head in agreement. This was not a one-on-one situation and the crowd was only going to make things worse. This was not going to be very easy if I couldn’t separate her from the herd. “You think you are going to come show us all up because we ain’t as good as you?”
“No, I don’t think that. I just–“
“You just need to go back where you came from. We don’t need your kind around here.” She tossed her bouncing blonde hair back over her shoulder and continued passed me, nudging me as she did. I could feel the Irish in me begin to simmer.
“It’s pretty sad you’re taking this out on me when you don’t even trust him enough to talk to other girls,” I said loudly enough so that I knew she would hear.
The next five seconds flew by in a heartbeat because before I knew it, she had spun me around and socked me right in the eye. The floor was cold against my elbows as I found myself wincing from the shock of taking my first punch. Even as brother and sister, Tyler and I never punched each other. Yes, we played around like we would, but nothing ever resulted in physical violence. But down here, down here in Texas where the only justice seemed to be street justice, I was practically flat on my back awaiting the next attack against me, surrounded by the attacker’s friends, with no teacher in sight.
Jody stood over me like a predator would do its prey, just waiting to see if I would even try to do anything. But since I had never taken a punch, I had never thrown a punch either. Fighting was something they did in movies for entertainment. People usually didn’t go to school to see a knock-down-drag-out, and if they did, well, that’s pretty sad.
“Listen, you little hussy. We run this school and everything that goes with it. And you, you are just crap that we allow to stain our floors. You had better watch yourself around here or there might be more accidents like the one that just happened when you fell against your locker and got that black eye, understand?”
I didn’t, but I shook my head as if I did. My Irish had failed me and every drop of weakness bubbled up to the surface of my body. I was scared of this girl, the same girl that put on such a good show in front of the counselor about how she was a wonderful student that wanted to help everyone. Now, if anything was crap that certainly was.
“Good, now get outta here and keep your eyes off our boyfriends, especially Brad!” She stood up from hovering over me and turned away to leave before looking at me again. “Oh, and enjoy your stay over there on the loser table.” She and the gaggle entered the locker room, leaving me to pick myself off the floor.
Loser table. I had thought of it myself earlier in the day and now we actually had the name loser table.
Mags was waiting in her Ford POS as I walked from the gym. The cool breeze gingerly caressed my throbbing eye. Being punched felt so much like a dream, like it really hadn’t happened. But it did, and I w
as afraid that the redness was already starting to show upon my white skin. When I entered the car, I turned to make sure that I didn’t make face-to-face contact with my aunt, but sat at an angle so that she could only see the left side of my face. Taking a wisp of hair I flapped it over my eye for further concealment. It was a very normal look for me, having a little hair in my face, so Mags didn’t even think about me being quiet. She was probably used to it now from having me around her home. She did try at least to have a conversation though as I entered.
“So how was your day?” she asked while pulling away from the curb and starting a twenty minute jolt back to her rented box of a house.
“Fine.”
“And did you learn anything?” Yeah, I learned I should take self-defense classes to protect myself from Jody and the rest of the bimbos of Jimmy Carter High.
“Nope.” The usual teenage answer. We haven’t learned anything at school since the fifties when it was appropriate to talk about one’s day. Back then they were probably beaten for not learning anything. Oh, how times have changed. Now we are beaten for being helped up off the floor by the head cheerleader’s boyfriend.
“Well, I’m sure it wasn’t all wasted. I remember that I always had the same answer for your grandparents, too. Your dad though, well, he always wanted to let them know how he was doing and his newest accomplishments. They always liked hearing that about him. Maybe you’re more like me, though.”
More like me? I didn’t know where the comparison was coming from. Because I answered no to her mundane question? Did she really think I was anything like her? If it had been Mom or Dad sitting in the driver’s seat, I would have spilled my guts. I would have told them that I tried to make things right with Jody only to get punched in the eye and that she and her friends all hated me. That now I was subject to sit at the loser table with the daughter of the crazy history teacher. I would have told them all that and more.
And oh, how Mom would have jumped into action. “Punched? My daughter?” she would have said. I could hear the tires streak across the pavement as she would have made a hard U-turn right back to school with Tyler in the back saying something of the sort, “Oh-oh, Mom’s going to go kick some butt.” Everyone would have known that this thing doesn’t happen at school, that parents don’t drop their kids off in the morning for them to be assaulted out of the sight of the teacher, um coach, in charge. Things would have changed quickly and for good reason. But back home, things had no reason to change. This just didn’t happen, and if it did, those sorts of people were never heard of again at our prep school. But I just had no reason to tell Mags. She was a person, a stranger that chose to leave her life behind to follow one loser after another. And I certainly didn’t want to be compared to her. Ick!
Finding Hope in Texas Page 3
