Chapter Seven #2
“That’s none of your business,” she says, walking faster. “You need to think about your own life. Before you end up in jail.”
I stop walking, which makes her stop. She turns to face me and I stuff my hands in my pockets.
I’m so used to seeing distaste in her eyes, it shouldn’t bother me anymore, but it still makes me want to shrink till I’m invisible.
And that makes me want to fight back, because who is she to make me feel so small?
“What, Mom? You forgive Peter for being a dick all the time. But you can’t give your own kid a break.”
“I don’t know what you have against Peter, but I wish you’d just let it go.”
I want to scream. Bring Dad back. Bring Dad back. It feels like a million waves are crashing in my head and all I can do to quiet the noise is close my eyes and breathe deep and grit my teeth. When I open my eyes again, Mom is walking away.
“Do you even care about me?” I ask. I don’t mean for it to come out this way, like I’m fourteen and scared again.
“Of course I care,” she says, frowning.
“As much as you care about Peter? And your pain meds?”
Mom’s face is bright red now, and her lips are pressed into a tight line like she’s trying to keep herself from blowing up.
But I don’t care. I’m not the one who smashed her vase into a thousand pieces.
Maybe I’m a stupid kid and I do stupid things, but at least I don’t try to hurt the people I love.
“You believe in past lives? Rebirth, right? Maybe in your next life, you’ll love your son, too.” I swallow a lump in my throat, turn away, and pull a cigarette out of my pocket. Sorry, Dad.
Mom calls my name as I walk past the school doors toward the grove. “Derek, where are you going? Don’t play the martyr now. Get back to class.”
I finally stop and look at her. Her hand is holding her purse strap in place on her shoulder. Even from where I’m standing, I can see her hand shake.
“I’m not the one who broke your vase,” I say. I leave her in the lot and walk into the quiet woods.
When I’m in the thick of it, I sit on a tree stump and rest my elbows on my knees. Let my eyes fall to the space between my feet. Somewhere there’s an open classroom window. The sound of laughter filters through. I try to remember the last time I felt that good.
The school’s main office looks much nicer than any high school should.
It’s dimly lit, with light fixtures installed in the dark wood panels along the walls.
On a table is a small fountain, and the sound of trickling water interrupts the silence.
One of the student volunteers, a senior, is sitting behind the secretary’s desk.
“Hey, Derek,” she says as I walk in.
I almost stop in my tracks. Should I know her? Her strawberry-blond hair falls around her shoulders and she has a light spattering of freckles on her nose. There aren’t many girls around here that look like that.
“Uh …” I squint, searching through my memory bank for her name.
“Sarah?” Her upper lip curls up, revealing teeth. “You don’t remember me?”
“I, uh … I wish I could say I do.”
“You kissed me at Miguel’s party? Your freshman year?”
I’m starting to notice that every statement she makes rises like a question. “Hm.” I don’t remember her or her lips. I did a lot of kissing my freshman year. Including with Valeria, which, in hindsight, was a mistake. It’s hard to shake her off once she sinks her teeth into you.
Sarah drops her head to leaf through an open notebook. After she’s made a point of ignoring me, she snaps, “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I need to sign up for community service. Or a poetry club.”
“I hope you don’t think I’m going to decide for you.”
“Well, do they have information sheets or something?”
She riffles through a large accordion folder sitting on the desk and pulls out a few flyers. “This is the sign-up sheet for the Green Planet Club.”
“You mean Green Earth?”
“Nooo? This is the Green Planet Club. They do a lot of fundraisers for environmental causes, but mostly they pick up trash on the beach or along Atlantic Avenue.”
I clench my teeth. If I have to do something wholesome with my time, I’d prefer it not to be so public. “Do they wear orange jumpsuits, too?”
Sarah rolls her eyes. “Yes or no?”
“Any other options?”
“Tutoring at the local church.”
“How far is it?”
“Probably fifteen minutes.”
“By car?”
“Of course.”
I sigh. Right now, the best option seems to be the poetry club. At least I could get away with no one finding out. The meetings would be in one of the classrooms. I could slip in and out without anyone knowing. “How about the poetry club?”
She slaps a paper in front of me. On the top is scrawled The Free Verse Society, and there are two names on the list. William Huntington. Jae A?enyo.
“Wait.” I hold up the sheet and point at the neat cursive at the bottom. “This girl. Did you see her?”
“Um … yeah?”
“She’s this high?” I put my hand at chest level. “Long hair? Super cute?”
Sarah sits back and frowns again. “Black. She’s Black.”
I grab the pen on the desk and scribble my name on the bottom, right beneath Jae’s name. “Hey, there’s no room number here.”
“They meet in the grove?”
“The grove?”
I push the paper toward Sarah and give her a genuine smile. “Thanks.”
I head to my locker, feeling a little better. No, it’s not ideal. The poetry club is still social exile. But Jae will be there. For a minute, I let myself indulge in thoughts of her. The soft eyes. The cute dimples. The milky voice. Are you okay?
I open my locker and start planning my first poetic masterpiece.
There once was a naked mole
Who slid down a stripper pole
He felt rather stiff
Attempted the splits
And tore him another black hole