Breakfast with Neruda (22 page)

August 25, 1995

Senior year! I am almost DONE with this place. I am sad and happy at the same time. But more happy than sad because high school overall kind of sucks. Maybe the popular kids feel different, but for girls like me who live “on the wrong side of the tracks,” we have a hard time getting noticed. Even a lot of teachers don't see us. We are kids in the middle. Not bad enough to go to prison, but not good enough to go to college. We are kids who get by.

I think I can do more than what everyone else thinks, but I don't know how. So far I pass with a C average, except I get As in art and choir, but if you do the work and show up in those classes, how can you not get As? Like Mrs. Beasely, the art teacher (some of the kids call her Mrs. Beastly, but I like her), says I am talented and should think about being an artist and go to this art school. What does an artist do, though? I mean, for money?

Bill Nye makes science look fun. But I get terrible grades in science. But if I had the brains I would be a mad scientist. One of those people who discovers volcanoes or cures for things. Like in this movie we saw in science class. James Bond (the actor, not the character) lives in this jungle and found plants that cure diseases and people tried to kill him over it. But wouldn't that be cool to discover something so rare that people want to kill you?

Not that I want someone to kill me. But I want to be admired, and maybe have people jealous of me.

Nobody is jealous of me. Except maybe Monica Deal, but that's because she's chubby and says she “just looks at food and gains five pounds.” I am tall and thin, and I can eat anything. It just doesn't stick to me. So even though Monica and I are friends, I think she secretly hates me because I'm thin and she's fat. But we hang together because we are both from the wrong side of town and ride the same bus. She's pretty too and she actually has nicer hair. Hers is thick and dark and wavy, so I hate her a little too since mine is straight as a poker.

Monica is also smart and gets good grades and will probably head to Ohio State or OU because she can get scholarships if she wants. They don't give money to kids with a 2.0 grade point like me.

But nobody else is jealous of me. I'm sort of not noticed. You know? And who would be jealous of a girl who lives in a trailer with no heat or hot water?

I don't think too many people know. Paul, of course, since he lives down the road, and sometimes in winter I go there to take showers and his mom also lets me run a load of laundry. Otherwise Mom and I hand wash stuff in cold water in the kitchen sink and it takes three days to air dry sometimes when it's cold.

This summer the cold showers felt good, and even now, it's still fairly warm out, so a chilly shower is sort of refreshing. But it's hard to soap up my hair.

August 28

My brother moved out. He moved in with Ginny, his girlfriend. They live in a battered-looking house just on the edge of town. The front porch is falling off, so they have to use the back door, but the rent is cheap. Ginny says I can shower over there now if I want to.

Before he left, Gil fixed me up with a car so I can drive back and forth to Burger King after school. I'm working three or four nights a week plus weekends. I started there in July. Paul stops in a lot, and I have to tell him not to hang out so I don't get in trouble. The manager is funny about us having boyfriends hanging around. Even though Paul is just my friend. Sort of.

I hate my uniform. Orange and brown polyester. Ugh! I look like a Cleveland Browns fan. Yuck. Steelers, baby! I should get a job at the roller rink. They wear black shirts with yellow stripes. But I don't know how to skate. Do you have to know how to skate to work there? Anyway, this job sucks too. I smell like french fries at the end of each shift, so I have been stopping by Ginny and Gil's every night to take a shower and change clothes before I go home. Sometimes I just sleep on their couch. It has a giant gap in the middle where their dog chewed the stuffing out, but if I stuff a towel in the hole I'm able to get half comfortable. I should just move in with them, but the house is real small. It only has the one bedroom. So when I stay over I am up and out the door before they even wake up. They like to party at night when Gil isn't working. He works second shift at Corning. He says he can help get me on there when school is done. Probably not the factory, but maybe I can work reception or filing. But like I said, I want to get OUT of Rooster. I'm afraid if I start working at Corning I will never leave. I'll marry Paul and pop out sixteen kids and work until I am buried here.

I think I want kids. But I don't want to raise them like I have been. I want us to have a big house and a nice yard. With flowers. Not like where I live, the yard littered with beer cans and crappy car parts. Tree branches that never get cleaned up after storms. When I was a kid I stuck plastic flowers in the yard to make things look nicer. My mom ran them over with her car.

It's a good thing we live outside the city and nobody sees how we live.

I want the kind of house I see on
Days of Our Lives
. They all have nice homes, with pretty furniture and paintings on the walls. Except for Patch. He reminds me of my brother, except Gil doesn't wear a patch. But he looks like him with the blond hair and motorcycle jacket.

September 5

Senior year kind of sucks. Nothing interesting happened this week. I have a feeling it's going to be a long-ass year.

September 16

I think I told you I like science class. But that was biology. This year I have Physical Science II which is like chemistry and physics together and it's soooooo hard. I am barely passing, and I won't graduate if I don't pass it. I talked to Mr. Long about it, and he said I could get peer tutoring. This is where they have a smart kid help you in the library during your study hall periods. They get Service Learning credit for helping the dumb kids like me. But I want to pass science, so I said sure, so today I go to the library and find out who I am matched up with and it's
%$#@*!T*&^Me&
!!!

So I sit down next to him in the back of the library and introduce myself.

I know who you are he says.

Really? I'm one of those invisible girls, I say. Nobody knows me.

He laughs. You're not as invisible as you think you are
%$#@*!
tells me. I feel a little jolt of electricity run through me. Even though I am dating Paul, I have always liked
%$#@*!
. He is sooooo good-looking and smart, and his family has shitloads money. They own half the town and live near the country club on a lake. They have a yacht and things. Wayyyyy out of my league. And he is dating
C%[email protected] W#!(*&
. so I wonder how in the world
%$#@*!
would bother to notice me.

Anyway, he asks me what I need help with. I show him my last test paper with the big 26 percent on it. Sometimes Mr. Long talks so fast I don't get what he says, I say. It's like Mr. Long speaks a different language.

I expect
%$#@*!
to laugh and shake his head at me, the hopeless idiot. But he nods. Yeah, I know what you mean, he says. Let's look at the ones you missed and see if I can explain this better.

And he kind of does. Like one question about the difference between an element and a compound.

Elements are the basic structures, he says. Like hydrogen, and oxygen. Compounds are when you combine them to form a new substance. Kind of like when you use flour in cakes, and pizza, but each of those has other ingredients that make them unique.

That makes sense, I say. I wonder why Mr. Long didn't just say it that way. Maybe you should teach chemistry instead of Mr. Long.

%$#@*!
laughs and shrugs. He glances over my test paper and says, it looks like you missed all the formulas too.

Yeah I don't get those at all. Like what's the difference between an atom and a molecule?

Atoms are the tiny, tiny particles that make up things. They're so small we can't even see them with the naked eye. Yet not all atoms are created equal. The atoms of the different elements are different. For example, hydrogen and oxygen are both invisible gases, but hydrogen is lighter in weight, so it reacts with other elements differently.

But why do they both have H and O but are different chemicals? All those letters with the numbers after them don't make any sense.

Atoms can only hook up a certain way, creating molecules. It's like the sun appears every day, but it rises in the east and sets in the west. So depending on the number of atoms you string together, they have to go the same direction. H
2O and H
2O
2 look similar on paper and in a glass, but they are totally different. Make sense?

Um . . .Yeah?

You understand how H
2O equals two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom to form water, right?

I nod.

Well, it's the same principle with these others. Say you're baking an ether cake. Your recipe is going to need 6 cups of carbon. Add 10 cups of hydrogen, and one measly unit of oxygen. Your formula becomes C
6H
10O.

And he draws a little picture of it and it clicks in my head.

But you can't have
16H and
4O atoms. There is an order to things.

The period ends too quickly. I tell
%$#@*!
, Thank you.

And he smiles and says, Anytime. He has the best teeth, gleaming and straight, like perfectly laid tile. And his eyes kind of look over me in a way that makes me feel tingly inside. Oh my. They are the prettiest blue-green. Like a swimming pool. And he has long lashes. Why do boys always get the best eyelashes?

September 22

Over the next few days I meet
%$#@*!
in the library again, and by the end of the week we don't talk much science anymore. He asks me how long I have been going out with Paul.

Forever, I say. And that's sort of true. I have known Paul forever. I mean like we played in the sandbox together, where we sat in our underwear and blew sand off one another's skin. And now we still breathe on each other's skin but this time in a different way, a way that feels good, like what no six-year-old can imagine. It's like when you go to the movies and the screen lights up with lovely colors and rainbows. I guess kissing and sex are the imaginary worlds we pictured as kids, but we did not have the images to complete the picture. But for some reason I also tell
%$#@*!
I don't plan to marry Paul or anything. (I know he's dating
C%[email protected] W#!(*&
yet I think I want to leave the door open in case he breaks up with
C%[email protected] W#!(*&
.
Like I have a chance. Ha ha.

%$#@*!
laughs, and says let's hope not. You're too young to get married.

September 23

I stayed after school to help on the homecoming committee and my car would not start and I would have been late for work, but lucky for me
%$#@*!
stayed after school too for football practice and he offered me a ride. And I'm kind of surprised
C%[email protected]
isn't with him, and I say so. He sneers, and says they sort of had a fight. This shouldn't make any difference to me, but it makes me feel good. Even though I tell him I'm sorry.

Don't be, he says. I think we're near the end of our run.

I'm glad I am not wearing my skanky Browns fan Burger King uniform. I have it in a bag in the trunk of the car. I grab all my stuff and get in the passenger side of his car. I tell
%$#@*!
to drop me off at the mall, which is close to Burger King. I don't know why, but I don't want him to know I work at Burger King. I'd rather he think I work in a place where I don't wear a uniform.

September 28

Homecoming is my favorite dance because the weather is still nice in early October and it rarely rains. So you don't have to worry about your hair getting wet or that you'll have goose bumps from wearing a sleeveless dress. This year my dress is light cat-eye green. What they call tea length. And it's sort of chiffon-like with a full skirt. Even though I bought it secondhand, I still love it. It fits like it was made for me. It makes me look like a Barbie doll, and I found some pretty white pumps to go with it. I asked Paul to wear a light green shirt so we sort of match. He doesn't get to wear jeans. Poor guy. He hates to dress up, but it's not like it's prom where you have to wear a tux, I told him. He only has to wear dress pants and a green shirt.

So like an army work shirt? he asks.

NO. I tell him. A dress shirt.

Paul gets all MAD because he hates to dress up, so I tell him, FINE. Then stay home.

FINE, he says. I will.

October 4 Dance Night

Paul takes me to the dance, but acts like his clothes itch. At first things are okay. We sit with Monica and her date. Some guy from another school. She says she met him through her church. He seems nice and he and Monica spend most of the time on the dance floor.

But Paul refuses to dance with me. Claims to have two left feet, which he kind of does, but still. I look all pretty, and he should make the exception tonight. He says he needs a few beers in him, so I get mad and run out of the gym to get some fresh air and I notice
%$#@*!
standing outside the building. He gives me a look of shock at first because he is smoking a joint, but then relief when he sees it's me. He looks me over with those pretty eyes, and without even thinking, I blurt out, Hey, my dress matches your eyes!

He laughs. Maybe because he's stoned, but still, I like that he laughs.

Where's
C%[email protected] W#!(*&
? I ask.

He shakes his head. Mad because I wasn't nominated for Homecoming King so we won't be crowned together.

She's the queen?

She thinks she is. He shakes his head. They won't announce it until near the end of the dance.

Oh, I say. I don't keep up with such things. I'll never be queen of nothing.

He smiles at me and asks where Paul is, and I tell him we had a fight because he wouldn't dance, and I ran out on him.

%$#@*!
holds the joint out to me. Want a hit?

Sure, I say. And I take a long toke. Paul and I smoke every once in a while, so I know my way around weed.
%$#@*!
and I finish the joint. While we smoke we talk about music and how his favorite is jazz and blues.

I'm not sure I've ever heard that kind of music, I tell him.

He hums a tune and I tell him it sounds nice. And it does. Kind of slow and soothing.

It's called “So What” by Miles Davis, he says.

%$#@*!
takes my hand and we go behind the school in a dark spot and we lean into one another and start kissing and it feels natural, as if we have been dating for a long time. All the times I had kissed Paul NEVER felt this good.
%$#@*!
's lips on me feel like fireworks exploding every time he runs his hands over my skin and puts his lips on me. He kisses my neck and my bare arms. Then
%$#@*!
reaches under my dress and starts to . . .