I suddenly wanted to be the best possible version of myself for him. I read even more than before and memorized quotes and poems so that I could contribute to our conversation. I listened to the radio religiously so that I could discuss new songs in the same analytical fashion that he did.
After we started talking, I found my confidence increasing and found myself making friends, finally. The girls’ gang left me alone. My admirers started to calm down and back off a little. Little did I know at the time that word was out—Michael had staked his claim, and I was off limits. The new friends I made were also because of him. Years later, they would tell me how Michael talked to them and asked them to be nice to me and watch out for me. His probing questions that
day about my schedule were to ensure that I had a friend in each class, at lunch, and during my various activities. I’m sure I kept the friends once made, but he was responsible for delivering them to me. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be the only way he meddled.
Chapter Seven
No Guts, No Glory
I managed to kill another couple of hours shopping and journaling. As I start to get ready for my outing, I tell my mom that Ginny and I are going to have dinner and hang out so that I don’t arouse suspicion. I would feel bad for lying, but I’m just too excited to care about that right now. I toss my journal and my emergency cell phone in my purse. At the last minute, I decide to take some extra clothes with me. Who knows what this night will hold?
I walk into the living room to say goodbye, and my step falters as I realize that everyone is staring at me.
Shit!
Do I look silly? I glance down. Nothing seems out of place. My confidence flies straight out the window. “What is it?” I ask, hearing the tremble in my voice.
Joe clears his throat and says, “You look different.”
Oh, great, as opposed to what exactly?
“Is that good or bad?”
“Oh, good, good,” Joe
rushes.
“Thanks,” I mutter. “I’ll probably end up staying the night with Ginny if that’s OK.”
“Yeah,” my mom says, “just let me know for sure so I don’t worry.” Her dark brown eyes meet mine as she says sincerely, “You look beautiful.”
I give her a genuine smile. She has no idea how much I had needed to hear that. “Thanks, Mamma
. I'll let you know. Good night.”
……………………………………………………....
My plan is to arrive much earlier than he is scheduled to play. I want to sit somewhere where I can listen to him without being spotted. My conscious whispers, “Creep.” I hear Radiohead’s lyrics on repeat in my head. For so many years, it was Michael that was the Creep. My, oh my, how the tables have turned. I giggle. He would love this. It would do wonders for his ego.
I arrive at Mona’s. I have an hour before he starts to play. At least there is plenty to read here and keep me from considering what I’m doing. I order a smoothie, best not to be too jittery. I ask if it will be Michael who plays and where he will set up and take a seat towards the back of the store. This is perfect. There’s even a little half wall to block me. If he looks this way, all he will see is the back of a dirty blonde head. I make my way to the restroom, deciding to check my hair and makeup one more time. I
can’t believe I’m so nervous: it’s just Michael! My feelings have morphed into something unrecognizable, and I fret that he will be able to pick up on that immediately.
I stare into the mirror, focusing on what I can control. Not half bad. At least I hadn’t forgotten how to apply makeup. My eyes look fuller with eyeliner and the turquoise shirt brings out the green in my eyes. I try smoothing the frizz from my waves one more time and practicing smiling. I spin around and am, for once, grateful for what my mom calls my bubble butt because it quite nicely fills out my black mini-skirt. My legs even look halfway decent due to the sheer black hose and slightly high heels. I tried on a taller pair but got no more than a wobbling gate out of them and decided not to push it. Clumsiness wouldn’t get Michael to see what I hoped looked like the grown up version of me.
Back at my table, I take out my journal and reread what I’ve written so far. It makes me giddy. I’ll need to purchase a new one soon at the rate I’m going. I’m so excited to see him but full of mixed emotions. I only pray that I’m still everything he once loved. I know I don’t measure up to the girl he idolized all those years ago. I hope I’m just being overly hard on myself; on the other hand, he always had impossibly high standards where I was concerned. Another memory bombards me, so I give in and put it to paper.
“I haven’t heard from you in forever. What’s been going on? Are we OK?” He plies me with questions before I can respond to the first.
“I’m fine. I just got ‘ungrounded,’” I complain. I don’t tell him that I also couldn’t sit down for a week because of the lashing my dad had given me.
He busts out with a relieved laugh, “What did YOU do to get grounded?”
I grimace. “I’d really rather not say.”
“Did you not clean your room? Forget to feed the horses? Bad grades? Leave the milk out? What?”
“Ugh…You’re gonna drive me insane until I tell you, aren’t you?”
He laughs. “How’d you guess?”
I release an answer on an impatient breath, “Fine. I wrote a profanity laced letter to Missy McIntyre.”
“Really?! How interesting. I’ve never even heard you cuss. Well, not anything major anyway,” he amends. “It must’ve been bad.”
My behind stings with the memory of just how bad it was. “Yeah, I was feeling pretty good when I told her off in the letter for talking about me behind my back. She was spreading rumors about me making out with some boy I barely know, and it really pissed me off. I decided to, very
authoritatively
,” I stress the word he taught me when he curtailed the girls’ gang from killing me, “cuss her out in writing, but I signed my stupid name to it. She promptly handed it over to a teacher.”
I have to sit there for a good couple of minutes listening to his laughter. Finally, I crack and am laughing too. What an idiot, I think.
“What an idiot,” he says aloud and elicits another round of laughter from me. I proceed to tell him how I drafted the very angry, threatening letter filled with every curse word I’d ever heard. I tell him I even took pride in my excellent penmanship and elegant signature. He admonishes me for my lack of civility and tells me that kind of stuff will ruin my reputation not only with the students but also with the teachers and administrators. Great, disappointment. As if I didn’t feel bad enough.
“Anyway, what’s been going on with you?” I ask, changing the subject.
“You haven’t been the only one in trouble. My dad and I got into a fistfight a few days back. I’m pretty sure he loosened a molar. My mom left for a couple of days and threatened to make it permanent if he ever hit me like that again. I feel so bad for her. She’s had a miserable life being married to a drunk and raising a black sheep.”
“You’re not a black sheep!” I protest vehemently. “I know all about black sheep. Remember who my dad is. I can’t even look people in the eye when I say my own last name for fear they will know which Dabney my dad is. There’s no telling who all he’s screwed or screwed over around here. You’re NOTHING like that!”
There’s a pause. I wonder if we got cut off for a minute. He finally replies tersely, “Thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome; but I mean it, Michael. I hate it when you put yourself down. You’re a good person, Michael. The best actually. And, I…Anyways, what did you do or not do?” Did I really almost tell him I lo
ve him? That would have been a huge mistake. It’s true. I love him, but I love him as a friend; and he wouldn’t get the distinction.
“Well, it seems that I will reprise my role as a student at the illustrious Harrisonville Central Ninth Grade School next year.” Stuck at that awful school another year, ugh!
“Oh no,” I gasp. “Why? You’re so smart.” I offer the compliment unthinkingly.
“My intelligence is not in question here.”
“So, what’s the deal? Miss too many days?”
“I failed on purpose.”
“Umm…Why exactly would you do that? I’ve heard it’s not the best of environments.” I don’t believe him. No sane person would do that. Why doesn’t he want me to know the real reason?
He releases a long pent up breath like he’s about to make a confession. “It’s pretty simple. You’ll be at the ninth grade next year.”
Oh, shit. My gut twists. Like I thought, no sane person. “Are you friggin’ kidding me?!” I yell.
“Nope. It’ll be fun don’t you think?” He asks, warming to the subject.
“Michael, that’s just crazy. You lost a whole year of school just to hang out with some girl?”
“Yes and no. Lost a whole year. Not just some girl,” he replies glibly.
“I don’t even know what to say to that.”
“There’s nothing to say. I am gonna drop out when I turn sixteen anyway and start working. I might as well spend my last year with you.”
“Oh, well, now that you put it that way it just makes perfect sense,” I spit scornfully.
I’d almost told him I loved him in that conversation, but I knew he would take it the wrong way and get his hopes up. Having him at the ninth grade was great, though. I’d had an awful summer. That was the summer my dad really lost it, and my parents divorced. We moved into town, but he was there for me like no one had ever been before or since. He managed to get three classes with me and secure the locker right next to mine. Almost on a daily basis I would find a note, a poem, a drawing, a song stuffed in my locker. I threw it all away. It made me crazy. Why couldn’t he just accept our friendship? I treasured our friendship, and he was one of the most important people in my life. However, I could only take so much of his incessant pushing and shoving. Then again, sometimes his meddling was very much welcomed.
I’m at my new house that I love. My old house was a perpetual construction zone. Alcohol and partying came before lumber and nails. We have actual walls and floors throughout. It’s even close to civilization. At times, I’m glad that my dad torched it all. I hear the doorbell, which also takes some getting used to. No one who would have been required to ring the doorbell, if we’d had one, ever came to my old house. I run to the door to prevent my little brothers from getting to it before me. I throw it open in my haste, not even checking the peephole, which I can never seem to remember exists.
“Hi,” he says on a smile.
“What are you doing here?” I grab him and hug him, taking us both by surprise. “I missed you, Michael.”
“I missed you too, Lorraina. I have good news.” He hesitates a moment and squeezes me back and drops his face into my hair. I can feel him breathing me in. My eyes widen, and I suddenly feel as if his is a crushing weight. I pull back quickly.
I step out onto the porch, closing the door behind me. “Really? What’s the good news?” My voice sounds scratchy to my ears. I try to clear it.
He pinches at something in my hair, and I watch as he flicks the almost invisible fuzz away. “I moved in with my brother.”
“What brother? Where? Do you have to change schools?” Why would this be good news? I had no idea he even had a brother. In the whole year we’ve been friends, he has never mentioned a brother.
“No, I’m still going to the ninth grade. He lives two streets over. He’s my half brother. We have the same mom.”
“Two streets over from what?”
“From you,” he pronounces carefully as if I’m the slowest person on the planet.
“Nuh uh!” This is very good news. I fling myself at him again and give him a quick hug, releasing him before he can wrap his arms around me.
“Yep. You’re glad?” he asks incredulously.
“Absolutely. You’re my best friend.”
He groans at my proclamation, “Usually, when I manipulate situations to be closer to you, you get pissed. You’re really not pissed?”
“No, this time I’m not pissed. I’m happy.”
And I really was. Having him near was amazing. We rode bikes together. We walked the neighborhood. We rode the same bus again. My mom didn’t know about my dad’s feelings towards Michael, so he was even allowed over to hang out. He was so good to my brothers that my mother trusted him implicitly. It was like she knew that Michael would protect me from everything and everyone. He always had. He would never hurt me. Why couldn’t I see that then? I was so blind. At least I know I was not completely impervious to him, though.
Chapter Eight
One and Only
"Do you really have to go? Can’t you ask your mom for more time?” I’d been over at his house playing Mario Brothers for a couple of hours. He was pretty impressed with my video game prowess. I had two younger brothers. I couldn’t let them beat me—ever. I had to be good at it, I told him.
“My mom’s blown the horn twice. Yeah, I better go so that she doesn’t come storming in here.” I stand up to leave and reach down for my bag. When I straighten back up, he’s standing in front of the now closed door with his arms spread, effectively blocking my exit. “What are you doing?” I laugh nervously.
“You can’t leave until you give me a kiss,” he demands.
I roll my eyes toward the ceiling. “Michael, there is absolutely no way that I am going to kiss you,” I respond scathingly.