Chapter 16 Jessa
JESSA
I’m absentmindedly picking at the scab on my knee, watching Bird and Kayla eat a lunch made of tension and possibly a touch of irritation.
No, definitely irritation. Bird has that face she gets when I deliver an off-color joke or mean comment.
Nonetheless, Sleater-Kinney is chanting about “good things” through my headphones and I’m trying to have my chill-out lunch in what Bird defined as my liminal space.
It doesn’t help that I slept in and forgot to grab food, so my short trip to the caf earned me a nice performance from Olivia Fucking Rubens and her turd of a boyfriend.
Soon as she spotted me, she pulled her cardigan close.
Like I was even trying to look at her mosquito bites, and her darling dipshit started yelling, “Eyes off my prize, jessbian!” Their table started laughing and her C.H.U.D.
boyfriend leaned in and added, “Come on… she just needs a good deep dicking to set her straight.” Not the first time I’ve heard the phrase, but the implication…
Fear pitched up into my throat and I got the hell out.
Now it’s me and girlpunk and a distant look at Bird’s dysfunctional friendship.
I keep thinking about her at the rink, how she glided about, swooped in, grabbed me up.
How gentle she was with my knees. How she didn’t freak out about the blood or touching me, how she brushed away the one tear I managed to let loose.
How she yelled at Dade and Kayla for laughing.
Damn. I don’t think I’d have the courage.
She makes me think about things. Like when she said it wouldn’t be funny to see Kayla biff it.
Then I biffed it and it wasn’t funny. Made me wonder how many times I did that shit to someone else.
How she thinks Dade is mean… I might be a bit mean too.
I don’t like the idea of her thinking that about me.
Before I can brood deeply about how I feel like an asshole, here comes Emmanuel, spiked collar and darkened eyes and chipped black nail polish.
A far cry from two years ago, when he was still in orchestra on the upright bass and wearing Hilfiger.
He rebelled all the way into a noise-rock trio called Fat Baby Moose that…
well, they do make noise. They dream of being Lightning Bolt, and maybe they might have a chance if they stopped drinking during shows and if Keller on drums practiced a bit more.
In spite of us both frequenting Touchstone, Emmanuel and I don’t really talk much.
Usually just a nod as we pass each other. But here he is standing in front of me.
I hold up a finger and finish my way outta the song, then pull my headphones off.
“What’s up, killer?”
Emmanuel shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, all weird-like. Is this dude actually nervous around me?
“Hey, uh, Jess?”
“Jessa.” Good god, why does everyone drop the A?
“Yeah, uh, Jessa, how are you doing?” He starts picking at his wallet chain, what is wrong with him?
“Emmanuel, you’re shit at small talk, what the hell do you want?”
I follow his eyes to where Bird and Kayla sit and for once I’m happy he’s burning a hole in Kayla’s figure. Somehow I think I’d be more irked if that gaze was on Bird.
“So, I kinda heard that Kayla might still be into me and I thought she was with Dade. I know y’all are friends and all….”
“Really? You see me hanging out with him at school?”
“Come on, Jessa, everyone knows you two are together. I mean, not together, but close. Shit, I just guess…” He trails off, runs what looks like a sweaty hand through his over-gelled spiky hair, and looks back at me.
“Spit it out, Billie Joe.” He definitely stole his look from Green Day.
“Well, I wanted to know if Kayla was… interested?”
I pop a fry into my mouth to hide my smile—shit, this is actually working! “Yeah, she and Dade have something going on… but to be honest, I think she’s looking for something more.”
He smiles, then shifts his feet. Dude’s acting like he’s about to ask me out.
“Look, man, Dade’s grounded tonight for his dumbass coat. But I’ll get her and Bird out to Six Roots. You can meet up there and I’ll draw her friend off. Rest is up to you.”
He smiles a big, white, straight orthodontic smile and then gives me an awkward thumbs-up. “Sweet, thanks!”
I roll my eyes and start to put my headphones back on. “You owe me one, Emmanuel.”
He nods and walks away, and I think that having a semi-popular alt-rock boy owing me one is the kinda clout I’ve needed at this godforsaken school for the past three years.
Lunch ends and I find myself in journalism with Bird, both of us finally paying attention to our schoolwork, trying to figure out what the hell to do about our zine.
“I feel like poetry and music reviews aren’t really cohesive,” Bird says, chewing on the end of her gel pen. It’s adorable.
“Maybe if we have a common theme?” I suggest. “Like, something you write poems about, and I pair music selections to images or something. Or is that dumb as shit?”
She brightens up and I’m suddenly proud of my idea, the usual self-consciousness falling to the wayside. “I like that! Hey, what if our theme was something like liminal spaces?”
Liminal spaces. The new phrase she taught me. The places I feel most comfortable in. Where others are meant to walk through and I stay. Safe places, empty and not yet full. I like it.
She’s searching my face, her excitement over the concept draining as I think it over. I realize she must assume I hate it ’cause I’m making that scowly face I do when I think. “I love it, Bird, I think it’s a great idea.”
“Really?” The relief and smile she responds with warm my cheeks.
“Yeah,” I say, considering the concept. “I could go out and take some Polaroids of liminal spaces, then we photocopy them and cut them up all guerrilla-style.”
“I love it!” she says, placing a hand on my forearm.
It feels like some kind of happy lightning running up my arm.
But we’re in public and I can see her old friends looking our way, and the rest of the class could notice too.
She doesn’t realize the kinda shit that could come her way if people thought we were…
if her damned sister thought we were… I pull my arm away and try to ignore the flash of hurt in her eyes.
“So, um, Emmanuel wants to see about getting with Kayla,” I say, changing the topic. Her hand sits on the desktop, abandoned. I feel bad, but I’d feel worse if rumors turned the hate in her direction.
“Yeah?” she murmurs, pulling her hand back into her lap. “What’s the next move?”
“You get her to Six Roots after school, I meet up with y’all, and he happens to drop by our table…” I smile, she reflects it.
“Smooth,” she says. “I think Kayla wanted to do a sleepover too, so I’ll crash at her place and play up how hot and awesome Emmanuel is.”
“Nice follow-through, Bird,” I say, and for a second it seems like she’s forgotten how I snatched my arm back.
Six Roots is packed, and the first person I run into is Natalie.
She’s definitely having a good afternoon thanks to some kind of illicit substance.
She plops onto the dilapidated couch I’ve claimed and drapes her arm over me.
“Wasssssuuuup?” she slurs into my ear, and then lays her head on my shoulder. “Wow, you are soft.”
I surprise myself by edging back from her. “My flannel is soft. I am a hard, indecent bitch. Don’t you read the papers?”
She laughs a little and then digs in an old Care Bears lunch box she’s using as a purse. She pulls out some pills in a tiny plastic bag and waves them at me. “Wanna trip with me? This X is primo.”
“I’m good, I’m waiting on Bird and Kayla. Gotta drive home tonight too.”
She pouts and puts them back in her box, then pulls out a joint. “A little green?”
I think about it, it definitely would make everything easier. But Bird isn’t a fan, and I can abstain if it means not ticking her off. “Gotta keep a clear mind this time, Natalie.”
She leans back and looks at me, squinting a little, sizing me up. “Damn, woman, I think you might be changing.”
“Just trying to get something done. Not transforming into Ms. Responsible.”
“Something like Bi-ird…” she trills. All of a sudden I’m flushed and suuuuper uncomfortable.
“Not exactly,” I say, and then I see Bird and Kayla enter. I catch Bird’s eye and nod, then see a funny expression cross her face when she notices Natalie, and my mind goes back to our initial bathroom meeting. I disentangle myself from Natalie and stand up.
“Thinking of hitting the show at Touchstone later,” I say. “If you want, we can toke up there.”
She follows my gaze, gives a slow, exaggerated wink to me, then leans back into the couch. “Sure, Jessa, see you there.”
Her eyes are drooping in chemical satisfaction as I head over to Bird and Kayla, now grabbing a table.
“Ladies,” I say nonchalantly, and make a business out of pulling out the extra chair, flipping it around, and straddling it in the most badass fashion I can summon. Kayla rolls her eyes, Bird doesn’t.
“Hey, Jessa,” Bird says. “Anything new since fifth period?”
“Just a shitty precalc test, but I survived it.”
“You take precalc?” Kayla seems genuinely surprised.
“I’m queer, not stupid,” I snap back, and Bird starts to sputter on the sip of coffee she was drinking.
Kayla scoffs, but there isn’t time for her to get in another dig, because Emmanuel is right on time.
“Ladies,” he says, and hovers by the table. I smile at the repeat.
“What’s up, E?” I say.
“Uh, so my band, Fat Baby Moose, is playing Touchstone tonight, I was thinking y’all might wanna join.” He is not that smooth, but it seems like Kayla is sucking it up.
“Oh my god, Emmanuel, I didn’t know you were in a band!” Yes she did. “That is so hot!”
I catch Bird’s gaze and we both roll our eyes at each other.
“Yeah, uh, we do noise rock, a little screamo, I mean, we’re still finding our sound….”
Understatement of the year.