by Jeff Moberg
***
The ride home in the limo was quiet. The moms thought we were just tired when we got back to my house. Luke tried to smile and give me a hug when he left, but I just couldn’t smile or hug back. I was sad that such a wonderful night had turned out so bad. And I was sad that I didn’t get my BFK. And I was mad that Luke did get his BFK—from someone else. And I was mad at Janet J for giving him that surprise kiss.
Madder than mad.
Madder than… well, you know what.
But I was secretly happy that I had ruined her dress.
After I said goodnight to my mom, I went to my room and closed the door. Then I sat down on the edge of my bed and peeled the nametag from the front of my dream dress. It said:
Norma L
It seemed like there was nothing normal about me or my life--and there was nothing normal about what had happened that night.
As I was getting ready for bed, I got a text from Luke.
I didn’t read it.
28
Logic and the L Word
I had always dreamed about the L word. You know, the L dash dash dash word. It sounded so romantic… and so special… and so fun.
I had no idea it would be so hard.
I still cared about Luke. No matter how mad I was about what had happened at the party, or whose fault it was, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was a unique person and he seemed to like me too--despite all my faults. I thought it was the weirdest thing. It was almost as if he didn’t even see my faults--like he saw a completely different person than the one I saw in the mirror every day. He actually saw me as beautiful. Me. And I knew there was something extraordinary about that.
But I was too mad to talk to him.
If he sent me a text, I ignored it.
If he called me, I didn’t answer my phone.
If he talked to me in class, I didn’t respond.
If he tried to talk to me in the hall, I just kept walking.
I found out later that Taylor Johnson was in on the sinister plan to get me away from Luke. And it worked perfectly. At first, I was also mad at Taylor, and then I remembered something. Janet J’s best friend was Norma B. And Norma B was Taylor Johnson’s girlfriend. So when Janet J asked Norma B to ask Taylor to help, he was basically powerless to resist. And how could anyone really blame him? After all, Norma B wasn’t just beautiful—she was beyond beautiful. Nature had been good to her. Real, real good. So I forgave Taylor.
But I didn’t give him any more Chocodiles.
It wasn’t as easy for me to forgive Luke. I just couldn’t forget the image of Janet J’s lips on his. I kept thinking that he could have done something to prevent that awful kiss (awful for me) from happening. He could have faked fainting. Or he could have had a sudden, near-fatal heart attack. Or he could have defended himself (and my honor), by giving her a karate chop or a judo flip. But he didn’t do any of those things. He just stood there and let himself be kissed.
Reason told me that it wasn’t really his fault. But I wasn’t being reasonable.
Logic told me to forgive and forget. But I wasn’t being logical.
That was the problem with the L word. There was nothing reasonable or logical about it.
29
The Good News
September crept by and soon it was October. I still hadn’t talked to Luke, despite his best efforts to achieve the contrary. Mom told me to just forgive and forget. And I tried--really I did. But the more I tried, the harder it seemed. It was like going in a vicious circle. I would finally decide to forgive him and then move on to forgetting—but then I would remember what had happened, and I wouldn’t want to forgive him anymore. I was hopelessly stuck.
One day, in English class, Mr. Spinoza announced that there would be a new project for us. Everyone groaned—except Luke. He looked at me hopefully, and I got the idea that he thought if we worked together on a project again, that maybe things could go back to the way they were. I gave him a snotty, “I don’t think so” look. He kept smiling anyway.
Then Mr. Spinoza wrote the word NEWS on the front board. “Who can tell me what the news is?”
Amanda’s hand immediately shot up. “Yes, Amanda, go ahead.” said Mr. Spinoza as he sat on the edge of his desk.
“The news is how we get our information about the world. It tells us what’s going on around us.”
Mr. Spinoza smiled and nodded. “Good answer, Amanda. That’s correct. The news tells us what’s happening.”
Amanda smiled her confident “I told you so smile”. I envied that smile, and sometimes I wished that I had that kind of confidence, where I could raise my hand and know that my answer was correct and that I wouldn’t be laughed at or ridiculed for a probable stupid response.
Mr. Spinoza continued. “And who can tell us where we get our news?” Amanda’s hand was up again, but he looked around for someone else to chime in.
This time it was Derrick (which was kind of a surprise, until I heard his answer). “ESPN man. That’s where I get all my important info.” The football players all knuckled and said, “Sportscenter rules!”
Mr. Spinoza tried not to crack up. “Alright,” he said, barely maintaining a straight face. “That’s a good point. A lot of us get our news on TV—whether it’s sports or local news or national news or global news. What else?” He was still scanning the room.
Norma B raised her extraordinarily beautiful hand (it’s true – even her hands were beautiful).
“Yes, Norma B.” said Mr. Spinoza. “Go ahead.”
Whenever Norma B was in the spotlight, she paused and took her time answering. She knew everyone (especially the boys) was looking at her and she loved the attention. I also wished that I had that kind of confidence. With the way I looked, I hated any kind of attention at all.
“The internet,” she said in a way too soft and sultry voice for a thirteen year old. “I get all of my information online.”
Mr. Spinoza nodded again. “Yep. The internet is a great resource for information. You can find news about any possible subject—past or present.”
None of the boys in the class heard a word Mr. Spinoza had just said. They were all still looking in Norma B’s direction. I even heard a couple of sighs.
“There’s one more important source for news and information. Anyone know what it is?”
Norma P raised her hand and waved it back and forth in a “Call on me, I know the answer!” gesture.
Mr. Spinoza nodded. “Norma P. Enlighten us.”
“Magazines!” she said proudly. “You know… like People… and US… and Star… and of course, CGW… Celebrity Gossip Weekly… it’s the bomb!”
Mr. Spinoza looked like he was trying not to laugh again. “OK, I guess those do provide a certain type of news.”
One of the football players, Matt Mattingly, groaned. “What? Those are terrible! My mom reads those. The only good magazine is Sports Illustrated.”
Taylor added his two cents, “Yeah, especially the Swimsuit Issue!”
The football players all knuckled again and Mr. Spinoza had to clear his voice loudly to get us all back on track. “I’m a little disappointed,” he said. “You’re still missing a big one.”
Luke raised his hand confidently.
Mr. Spinoza let out a sigh of relief, knowing that he probably wouldn’t get a typical goofy girl or guy middle school answer this time. “Yes, Luke. Please help us out.”
Luke said one word. “Newspapers.”
Mr. Spinoza raised his hands in the air and said, “Hallelujah! Thank you Mr. Krattenmucker!”
Luke smiled and glanced sideways at me, hoping I would acknowledge his correct answer. I didn’t. But I did admire his confidence also.
“Now,” said a rejuvenated Mr. Spinoza. “Who can give me an example of a new story?”
As a class, we spent the next 20 m
inutes or so, going over all of the terrible, horrible, and awful news stories we had recently heard about:
Wars.
Poverty.
Famine.
Disease.
Accidents.
Crime.
Natural disasters.
And every other possible type of tragedy and destruction known to man.
It was all very depressing.
Mr. Spinoza could see the looks on our faces. “News of all kinds is important. Unfortunately, most of the news we hear about is the negative kind.” He walked over to the front board and picked up a purple marker. “And that is why we are going to start our own newspaper.”
He erased the word NEWS, and then rewrote, in bigger, bolder letters:
THE GOOD NEWS!
“Welcome to our class newspaper,” Mr. Spinoza said as the bell rang. And before we were dismissed, he added, “Think about what job you might want. You and your partner will be reporters, working together for the next month.”
Luke and I walked out of the classroom, with completely different looks on our faces. The look on my face said, clearly, “Why in the world do we have to be partners with the same person for the entire year?” Luke’s face said, also clearly, “Yes! This is my chance to break through Norma L’s wall of defense.”
30
Local, National, Global—or Oxy Moron
The next day in class, Mr. Spinoza assigned jobs for the newspaper project. “Remember,” he said as he explained our duties as reporters, “no matter what story you are working on, it must be about something positive or good in the world. ”
Norma P and Amanda wanted to be ‘gossip’ reporters. The look on Mr. Spinoza’s face was simple. It said, “no, pick something else”. But Norma P and Amanda were persistent (as usual). I also admired that. “Come on,” pleaded Amanda. “We’re only going to report on good gossip.”
“Isn’t that an oxy moron—good gossip?” asked Herman Smellnick.
Mr. Spinoza wasn’t sold either. “Give me an example… of good gossip.”
Norma P had done her homework. “OK,” she said, with a look of assurance on her face. “There was a rumor—or some gossip that Mrs. Wilma might be retiring after this year, so Amanda and I thought we might do a story on what a positive impact she has had on our school over the years.”
I had to admit it was a pretty good answer. And apparently Mr. Spinoza agreed. He reluctantly said, “OK… but make sure you keep things positive.”
Norma A and Derrick wanted to be sports reporters (big surprise). Ditto for several of the football players. They all high fived and knuckled and man hugged. Norma B and Taylor were going to be entertainment reporters. That left local, national and global news for the rest of us. Boring. Beyond boring. And boring beyond belief.
Mary Mattingly (Matt’s non-identical twin) and Lucy Simpson decided to do national news. Claudia Ziffle and Janet J wanted to do cooking--regional. And Herman Smellnick and Lidia Hanrahan settled on global medical research and disease control. Mr. Spinoza was impressed. Pretty soon, it was down to just one pair of partners left. Guess who? You got it. Me and Luke.
Mr. Spinoza looked at the list he had so far. Then he looked at the two of us—clueless in the back row. “We still need someone to do a local story.”
Before Luke could say anything, I spoke for both of us. “We’ll do local.”
“What kind of a local story are we going to do?” whispered Luke.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered back. “I have the perfect story.”
31
A True Hero
At lunch, I made things crystal clear to Luke. “This project,” I said in a very business-like voice, “will be on a strictly professional basis.”
Luke nodded. I think he was just happy that I was actually talking to him again. “OK,” he said. “Agreed.”
During the next 15 minutes, I told Luke all about my mom’s cousin, Kletch. I told him about his service in the Marines and how he had saved his entire platoon--16 men--by picking up a live grenade that had been thrown at them as they were on patrol in Iraq, and throwing it out a nearby window. The explosion blew off his right hand and a piece of shrapnel hit him in the side of the head, causing some permanent brain damage. He was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, the highest distinction in the U.S. military.
Luke was blown away. “Wow,” he said reverently. “That’s an incredible story. So how do we get in contact with him to do the article?”
“He works at the mall,” I said as I finished my lunch.
“Our mall? Right here? The Mega Mall?”
“Yep. The Haywood Mega Mall. In the foodcourt. At Superdog.”
“That’s perfect,” said Luke. “When do you think we could go there?”
“I’ll have my mom call him and ask if there’s a time we could interview him—like maybe on his lunch break or something. And if he can’t remember all the details of what happened, we’ll have Mom fill in the blanks.”
“That sounds perfect,” Luke said again.
I wasn’t sure if he was really listening or not. He was giving me an odd look. I realized it was that hopeful look. I also realized that my defenses were starting to weaken, so I added, “Remember, this is all strictly professional between us.”
“Oh yeah,” he said as he shook his head a little. “Strictly professional.”
***
Mom called Kletch that night and he said that he would be happy to talk to us on his lunch break Saturday at 1:00. “Anything for Normy,” he had told my mom.
