Ordinary Girl

by Pamela Gossiaux

  “I should take my own car,” I say. Cory doesn’t seem to mind.

  “Okay,” he says. “When do you work next?”

  “Tomorrow night. Same time.”

  We are standing facing each other. For a moment neither of us does anything, and I think he might kiss me. I feel my breath quicken. His lips are so incredibly soft-looking. Is that the right word? Soft? I’ll find out when/if he kisses me. Do I want him to?

  But he only gives me that shy grin again.

  “Well, good night, then,” he says.

  “Good night.” I can’t help but feel disappointed.

  He waits until I get in my car before he gets in his. I start Charger up and pull out of the parking lot, wondering what will happen next. As I drive home, I replay every detail of tonight. It seems like it went really well, and he wants to see me again. At least I think that’s what he meant when he asked when I work next. And he offered me a ride home. Was that him being chivalrous, or did he just want to spend more time with me? Is he into me? Do I want him to be?

  And…my hands grip the steering wheel harder as this next thought crosses my mind… can he really help me get into Harvard?

  Whoever thought it was a good idea to have AP Chemistry first hour should be shot.

  I sip my cup of coffee and try to comprehend the concept of chemical equilibrium, but the truth is, my mind keeps wandering back to Cory. I spent half of last night awake thinking about him and hearing Brit’s voice inside my head saying “Girl, you gotta go out and have some fun.”

  But it’s March and I only have THREE MORE MONTHS until I graduate. I can and will hang in there. No parties. No boys. Just study. I Googled “deferred” last night (since I wasn’t sleeping anyway) to remind myself that the University of Michigan is still watching my grades. I still have a chance.

  Don’t blow it now, Heather.

  Brittney’s head is bobbing over her desk. Is she drifting off to sleep? The birthday party ran late last night because they all decided to go out to a movie afterwards. I was invited, but I was with Cory so ignored her text. I didn’t tell her about Cory yet this morning. I’m keeping him to myself for now.

  Actually, I’m going to forget about him completely. It was a fluke. No one like him could ever be interested in me. He’s sexy, smart, and wow, what a car.

  And he has a connection to Harvard. Not that it matters. That is TOTALLY not why I’m interested in him.

  “Heather?”

  I realize with a start that Mr. Mitchell called on me.

  I scan the board quickly. He’s in the middle of an equation.

  “Um….”

  Brit suddenly comes to life and looks over at me. “Soda pop,” she whispers.

  “Soda pop,” I say out loud even though I’m still not sure what the question is.

  “Good example,” Mr. Roberts says. “Thank you Brittney Roberts. Now can you explain why?”

  Brit sits up taller in her chair. “Because the CO2…is…gas…”

  Brit is flailing. My brain is waking up. I raise my hand and speak before being called on.

  “There is a constant movement of CO2 from the liquid to the gas phase and from the gas phase into the liquid. But if you look at the liquid there doesn’t appear to be any change. It’s in equilibrium,” I say.

  Mr. Mitchell frowns. “Thank you Ms. Thomas. Maybe you and Ms. Roberts can win a team Nobel Prize someday.” His voice is sarcastic, but I can tell he is pleased with my answer. Mr. Mitchell is a pretty cool teacher.

  The bell rings and we head out into the hall. “Thanks,” I say to Brit.

  “Thanks to you too,” she says, and we fist bump. “What were you dreaming about in there?”

  I can’t help blushing. I can’t keep this from Brit. Not Brit.

  “I’ll tell you at lunch.”

  Her eyes light up. “You got into Harvard!” she says.

  My face must do something, because she apologizes. “I’m so sorry! Oh no. What happened?”

  But the bell is about to ring. “Later,” I say, and I hurry off to Spanish.

  At lunch, Brit bangs her lunch tray down next to me and says, “It’s a guy, isn’t it?”

  “What? How can you—”

  “Because you never drift off in Chem class, and you’re all dreamy-eyed. You didn’t get into Harvard, and yet you’re still that high on life—”

  “It’s a guy,” I say and feel my cheeks heat up.

  “What? Where? When? Girl, do tell!”

  “Last night. He came into the coffee shop. It’s probably nothing. It’s just stupid.” But I give her his full description of god-like looks and include the hot car. I don’t mention his connection to Harvard.

  “Do you think he’ll be back?”

  I shrug. “He did ask when I worked next. But I don’t expect to really see him tonight.”

  Aaron and Dennis arrive. We talk about sports and classes and Veronica. She still isn’t at school, and neither are Kevin or his friends.

  “I heard the guys got suspended,” Aaron says. “But it’s not confirmed.”

  The day doesn’t go fast enough. Brit has to work after school. She’s a sale clerk at this high-end fashion store in town. Aaron offers to drive her, and so I head home alone. I want to shower and change before work.

  Mom’s car is still in the garage and the house is dark again. I hope we’re not in for another spell. Mom has her “spells” and sleeps for days. Weeks sometimes. I picked up some groceries for us the other day so we’re set for a long haul if needed. After the last time, the social worker told me I should call if this happens again. But I’m seventeen. It’s not like I need a babysitter.

  I enter the dark house, and Gracie greets me, purring. I pull back the curtains in the living room. “Mom?”

  “In here.”

  The voice comes from the kitchen. She’s out of bed today, but she’s still in her bathrobe. She stretches her arm out for a hug, and I let her enfold me with it, but I don’t hug back.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask. Yesterday’s dirty dishes are still in the sink. She’s unshowered and her hair is a mess.

  “I got an email from Harvard,” she says.

  Darn. I forgot we were sharing the account I originally set up so she could help me with applications and stuff.

  “It’s not a big deal,” I say, shrugging. I open the fridge. “Have you eaten anything?” I’m starved. There are some eggs. Maybe I could scramble us up some for dinner.

  “It is a big deal,” Mom says. “Oh honey, I wish I could be of more help.”

  Yeah, me too. Maybe she should try taking her meds.

  “I know how much this meant to you,” her voice breaks. I glance at her and she’s starting to cry.

  Oh no.

  I can’t deal with this right now. I close the fridge. “I really have to get to work.”

  I flee to my bedroom and dig out my second Café shirt, the one that says “A yawn is a silent scream for coffee” and put it on. I brush my hair and freshen up my makeup. In less than five minutes I’m out the door.

  “Heather?” she calls from the kitchen.

  “Bye!” I yell to Mom, shutting the door behind me and swallowing the guilt. I should have made her dinner.

  I keep my eye on the road and my mind on my job. I arrive a full hour early, but Jess is never one to turn away help. She gives me a bagel, and after I eat it she puts me to work.

  Cherise asks a hundred questions about Cory, and I tell her what I know. Mr. Sneeder isn’t here today. We’re steadily busy, and I try not to keep glancing at the door for Cory.

  “Are you expecting him?” Cherise asks.

  “Who?” I say, playing dumb as I make a mocha latte.

  She rolls her eyes.

  At 7 p.m. he walks in. His long, black wool coat is hanging open. Today he’s wearing a dark blue button down with dark jeans and some Yeezys on his feet. Those must have set him back about $500. He jangles his keys in his left hand and looks in my direction. Wh
en our eyes meet, he smiles. I smile back.

  “Prince Charming has arrived,” Cherise says only loud enough for me to hear.

  I can’t believe he came! I hand the café latte to the customer and walk out from behind the counter to the table where Cory sits.

  “Can I help you?” I say, giving him a little smile.

  “Something caffeinated,” he says. “I brought my laptop. I’m going to work while you work, and then maybe we can talk? Can I buy you dinner?”

  We’re open until 9 p.m. tonight. Dinner would be late. And I have homework.

  “Sure,” I hear myself saying. “I get off at nine.”

  We’re really busy tonight, so I have to get back to work. Every now and then I glance at Cory. He’s focused on his laptop, but a few times I catch him watching me.

  Jess leaves at 8 p.m. and it’s just me and Cherise closing up. I help her out and then finally, I’m free.

  “All set?” Cory asks as I walk over to him.

  “Yep.”

  “Where do you like to eat?” he asks. “I was thinking about this little sandwich place on campus called Juliette’s. Have you been there?”

  Brit and I love that place It’s a great hangout to talk or do homework.

  “Yes. Great food.”

  He pulls his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll drive.”

  He opens the car door for me and I slide down into the cool leather seat. I run my hand across the dash. The Corvette is as amazing on the inside as it is on the outside.

  It’s cold and dark, but he puts the top down on the convertible and cranks up the heat and the tunes. It’s only about a ten-minute drive through town, with the traffic, but it’s awesome. People turn to stare at us and admire his car. Some smile and nod. Some give us looks like they think we’re obnoxious, which I’m sure we are. I wonder if we are breaking a noise ordinance.

  He finds a meter and parks at the curb, a block down from Juliette’s. He puts the roof up on the car. “Stay there,” he says, smiling over at me.

  I stay in the car, wondering what he’s up to. He jumps out and holds up a finger for me to wait while he puts money in the meter for parking. Then he comes around and opens my door.

  “M’lady,” he says, offering me a hand.

  I laugh at this totally unexpected act of chivalry and take his hand. It’s warm. He pulls me up and out of the car.

  We hold hands as we walk towards the restaurant. His feels warm and strong. I remind myself that this is the first real date I’ve ever been on, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to stand out as one of the best.

  We order burgers, fries and milkshakes. We make small talk. Cory is an only child from New York. All he says about his dad is that he sells real estate, but I expect it must be some big kind of real estate, like million-dollar houses or something. He's paying for college for Cory so his son doesn’t have to work.

  “I’m going home this weekend to see my dad,” Cory says. “I’ll ask him about his friend, the Harvard professor. Maybe he can help you.”

  “That would be awesome!” I say. I try not to appear too excited, but I fail at it.

  “The Admissions Office is weird,” Cory says. “Often it’s not what you know but who you know. I’m shooting for Johns Hopkins myself, for medical school, but Harvard is second on my list, and I know for a fact that my dad can get me in.”

  “I’m saving Johns Hopkins for medical school too,” I say. “That’s why I want Harvard for undergrad.” I take a sip of milkshake. “So what does your mom do?”

  Cory dips a fry in his ketchup before he speaks. “She died when I was nine. Breast cancer. I really miss her.”

  Wow. I can’t believe it. I so totally understand what he means. “My dad died when I was ten,” I say. “Heart attack. He died instantly.”

  “It took my mom two years,” Cory says. “She fought hard. She didn’t want to leave us.”

  We’re quiet for a moment. What else is there to say?

  “Has your mom remarried?” he asks after a while.

  “No.”

  “Neither has my dad.”

  The waitress comes and asks if we want dessert. We both say no. I’m so full I could pop.

  Cory pays, and we put our coats on. “I’ll drive you back to your car,” he says. “I need to get back to study.”

  He drives slowly, leaving the top up. When we reach the Café parking lot, he pulls up next to my car. He leaves the car idling and looks over at me.

  “Can I see you again?” he asks.

  “Yes. I don’t work tomorrow night.”

  “Perfect,” he says.

  He leans towards me and I close my eyes. This is it. This is the moment when he’s going to kiss me. I wonder if I should lick my lips or not.

  But then his lips touch mine and they are warm and soft, just like I imagined. He tastes slightly of the mint candy he had after dinner. A pleasant tingly feeling starts in my toes and travels all the way up, until it reaches my face. I wonder if he can feel the energy in our kiss.

  It’s a soft kiss, gentle, and then he pulls back a little. I open my eyes and his face is inches from mine. His blue eyes are staring into my green ones, and I can see how long and thick his lashes are. He’s so beautiful.

  His shy smile spreads across his face. “That was nice,” he says.

  I want more, but he sits back in his seat.

  “I’d like to see you again,” he says.

  “Um, sure.” It’s all I can say. My head is still spinning from that kiss. I manage to give him the rest of my week’s schedule, and we agree to meet up again tomorrow night.

  Then he presses the button to unlock the car door.

  “Good night,” he says.

  I say goodnight and float to my car, his kiss still lingering on my lips. He waits until I start my car before he backs out and drives away. I float on air the entire way home.

  In light of what happened to Veronica, The School Board thinks we should have an assembly to remind us about yes meaning yes. They situate it during second hour. It’s a brilliant strategy, because the kids who got wind of it last night still have to show up to school on time or get marked absent for first hour. This way, attendance will be higher, and those of us who think assemblies are a waste of brain space don’t skip it.

  First, Principal Make-it-So gets up to talk. His last name is Makispow but since he reigns supreme at Galactic Central High, we call him Make-it-So after Star Trek’s Captain Picard. It was Dennis’ idea and it stuck.

  Principal Make-it-So talks about sex and how we should not be having it unless both parties are in agreement. He gets into details about what yes actually means and what constitutes a no. He even puts up a Power Point with the definition of the words and how each separate stage of intimacy requires a specific yes. He’s really gung-ho about this. I think he should print contracts up. We could carry them around with us, and both parties would have to sign before engaging in any mating ritual.

  Then we see a short movie about “What is Affirmative Consent.” After that, just to round it out, the DARE committee reminds us that alcohol and drug use is one way our “no” can be accidentally misunderstood for “yes.”

  We survive the fifty-three-minute ordeal and go to third hour.

  At least I missed Spanish.

  In third hour, our English teacher, Ms. Marple, decides we each need to write a short essay on respecting others. It’s a broad topic. I can’t help but think she was being forced to tie today’s work in with the assembly. She gives us Chromebooks and we take off. Ready, set, go.

  Lunch can’t come soon enough.

  “Well?” Brit says, now that we have a proper chance to talk.

  “He kissed me,” I whisper.

  “Oh my gosh!” Brit shrieks. People look over at us.

  “Shhh!” I say, busying myself by opening my brown bag. In a rare moment of parenting, Mom packed my lunch last night. I wonder what I got.

  “How was it?”

  “Nice.” />
  “Nice?” Brit exclaims. “That’s all you have to say?”

  Bologna and cheese. At least there’s cheese. “Yes.”

  Brit asks for details and I pretend to be nonchalant, but finally I can’t hold it in any longer and I lean over to her and spill. I tell her about the dinner, the Yeezys and cruising through town with the top down on his convertible. Then I tell her about the kiss and his long eyelashes, and the fact that he wants to see me again.

  “So cool!” she says.

  “I know!”

  But then she frowns. “So what happened to your ‘no dating’ rule? You didn’t get into Harvard so now you’re giving up?”

  “No. I’m still waiting on Michigan. I just…Cory’s different. School is important to him too. He’s pre-med as well.”

  Then Brit suddenly changes the topic. “I have good news too!” She pulls out her phone and opens her mail app. She clicks on an email.

  “Look! I got into Columbia University!” she says.

  “I can’t believe it!” I say, squinting at her phone. “I mean I can, because you’re so awesome, but Brit, that’s incredible!”

  I’m really excited for her. That was her first choice. I’m also a little jealous. Even if they don’t give her a full ride, her parents can afford to pay. They aren’t rich, but they do what they can to support their kids. They planned for college while the kids were still little.

  Not like my mom.

  “Cory wants to take me out tonight,” I say. “But Mom wants me to have dinner at home. I feel kind of bad if I don’t show up because she’s…” I don’t want to say “she’s finally out of bed,” because then Brit will tell her mom, and there will be phone calls to check up on us. “She’s expecting me. Can you cover for me? I’ll tell her we have a really important project we have to do for class tomorrow. If she calls, you can tell her I’m there with you.”

  “I’m not gonna lie to your mother,” Brit says firmly.