Ordinary Girl

by Pamela Gossiaux

  I lay there for a long time, very still, waiting for my heart rate to slow. I try to go over what just happened, but it was all so fast. I stole. I brought this onto myself. If I had just stayed with that last John.

  My breath is coming in ragged gasps, and that scares me. I pretend I’m a medical student, in the ER, and that this girl (me) has just came in. I need to assess her injuries.

  My kidney hurts. Probably bruised. My ribs, probably cracked. It hurts when I try to take a breath in. But not completely broken because I can move my right arm upwards and my ribs feel like they stay intact.

  After a few minutes, I slowly sit up. I feel a bit dizzy, but that passes after about a minute. I do have a bad headache now, from the hitting. I do a concussion assessment, based on what I learned during my freshman year when I played volleyball. I can’t do the usual memory test because I have no idea what day it is, or what time it is, and my mind is still a little fuzzy from the drugs I took. I do know the current president, and I remember the name of my high school and my own name.

  But I could be mildly concussed. I have a bad headache, but there’s no way to tell if I have any double vision, because I’m in the dark. I can’t see a thing.

  What if I’m blind?

  New panic starts my heart racing again. I wave my hand in front of my eyes, but still nothing. Then I squint upwards towards where I think the stairs are, and after a moment I see a faint glow under the door.

  I’m not blind. I’m just in the dark.

  I’m in a basement.

  It’s cold. I feel my way around to see if there’s a chair, or a blanket, but after a few swipes with my hands they encounter cobwebs, and I pull back. I try to wipe the sticky stuff off of my hands, but it’s hard to do, even on the sequined dress. I wonder if there are spiders. I hear myself whimper, and I pull my knees up against my chest and wrap my arms around them, making myself as small as I can.

  I wonder what will happen next.

  It’s quiet upstairs, and I suppose the other girls are still working. I don’t even hear footsteps, and I wonder if Tommy has gone. Maybe I could try going upstairs?

  But no. the beating Tommy gave me…I don’t want to risk that again.

  I’ll just stay here in the dark. Maybe he’ll forget about me.

  I try to think of happy thoughts. For some reason the first thing that comes to mind is last fall’s homecoming. I didn’t go because I had to work, and also because I had my no dating rule. Which I should have stuck to. Look what happened with Cory.

  I’m so stupid.

  — — —

  Dennis wanted to ask Emily Watson to homecoming. Emily was way out of his league. She was a cheerleader, for starts. But she was probably the only sweet cheerleader, so I guess if he had to go for that type, she was the best to pick from. Emily was petite and blond and had big blue eyes. She didn’t have a steady boyfriend, but she was always being asked to dances and usually showed up on somebody’s arm. As far as I knew, she wasn’t the kind of girl to sleep around. She was just nice, and pretty, and very popular.

  But she wasn’t the kind of popular that made her unapproachable. Unless you were Dennis.

  Three weeks before homecoming he caught up to me by my car in the morning when I arrived at school.

  “I want to ask Emily to the dance,” he said. I just stared at him for a moment because it threw me completely off guard. I had no idea he had a thing for her.

  “Emily?” I said, then coughed because I wanted to cover up the surprise in my voice.

  “Yes,” Dennis said. He started wringing his hands, a bad habit he had when he got nervous. “And I need your help.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “You’re experienced.”

  “At dating?”

  Because I certainly was not.

  “No. I mean…experienced at being a girl.”

  I laughed. “I guess you’re right about that. But why do you need me? Just go ask her.”

  Dennis gave me a withering look, like I was a dork. It was obvious. He was the school nerd and was ostracized by the football team. The only reason he hadn’t been smashed by now was because of Aaron’s friendship. I sighed.

  “Okay. Come to my house after school. We’ll figure something out.”

  I spent the day wondering what I would want from a guy if I was going to be asked to the homecoming dance. What would get my attention? I’d definitely want something romantic. I thought of all of the romance books I read and all the chick flick movies that Brit and I watched over the years. And finally, at the end of fifth hour, an idea came.

  Dennis showed up at my house at 4:40 p.m. Mom wasn’t home from work yet. She was in a good period, so there were ice cream sandwiches in the freezer. I got one for each of us.

  “It has to be personal and something that is very you,” I said. “And also very her. I’ll stalk her a little bit and find out what she likes.”

  “Something very me…” said Dennis, thinking. He peeled back the paper on his ice cream sandwich and took a bite. His dark hair was tousled and wavy. He glanced over at me with his dark brown eyes and smiled. “You’re such a good friend to help me out. Do you think I even have a chance?”

  Dennis, as I said before, is kind of cute. He just needs to get his head out of a computer long enough to live a little.

  “Of course,” I said, taking a bite of my own ice cream sandwich. “I mean…at least a little bit. What does it hurt to ask?”

  “Rejection is painful,” said Dennis.

  “Yeah, but aren’t you rejected already anyway?”

  “True enough.”

  We both nodded at his sad truth and took another bite of our ice cream sandwiches.

  “So since you’re like some kind of super dude with computer hacking, what if you created some kind of computer code that would run the question across her screen when she logged on?”

  “The question?”

  I put my hand against my forehead. “The question! You know, “‘Will you go to homecoming with me?’”

  “Oh.” Dennis was quiet while he finished his ice cream sandwich. “I could do that,” he said finally. “I know exactly how. She’s in computer science with me, and I can hack into the entire system, and it will show up on everybody’s computer….”

  “Wait,” I said. “That might get you expelled. What if you just hack into her computer?”

  He was quiet for a moment. I could see the wheels turning.

  “I can send her an email that will act like a virus. When she clicks on it, the words can pop up and scroll across her screen!”

  “That’s perfect!”

  Dennis’s enthusiasm was short lived. “But she’d never say yes. That’s just another nerdy thing I’d do. She needs to get into me, you know. Notice me. Like me.”

  “That’s the part I’m going to work on. I’ll figure out what she likes, and you can send her little surprises for several days before the big proposal.”

  “Surprises?”

  “Let me work on it.”

  So I spent the rest of that week discreetly stalking Emily. I sat next to her in class, followed an unnoticeable distance behind her in the halls, and listened in to her conversations with her friends. I even did some cyberstalking, looking at her Facebook and Instagram feed and even following her on Snapchat.

  Dennis, meanwhile, got to work on his virus. We met again at the end of the week. He showed up at the coffee shop where I was working. I was ready with an arsenal of stuff.

  “Her favorite color is pink,” I said. “On Monday, leave a pink rose on the hood of her car with a note that says “‘From your secret admirer.’”

  “That’s creepy.”

  “No, because you’re going to add ‘I want to ask you to homecoming. Will you think about it?’ That way if somebody else asks her, she will know she might have something better waiting for her.”

  “Oh.”

  “She collects teddy bears,” I said, pulling out an old Beanie baby of mine that
still looked brand new. It had a note tied around the neck that said “To Emily.”

  Dennis opened it and read it. “From your secret admirer. Only two more days until I ask you to homecoming.”

  “You’re building anticipation,” I said. “You can leave it in a pretty bag hanging from her locker. With this.”

  I reached into my pocket for the rubber suction cup with a hook on it. I took it off the small stained-glass cat I have hanging on our kitchen window.

  “Perfect.” He grinned. I could tell he was impressed.

  Then I pulled out a heart-shaped cherry lollipop. I had tied a note to it with red ribbon and curled the ribbon with scissors. The note read “You are sweet. Tomorrow I will ask you to homecoming. I hope you say yes! From your secret admirer.”

  I had typed the notes on my computer and printed them off so no one would know my handwriting.

  “She always brings her lunch on Thursdays,” I said. “I heard her talking to her friends about how she hates the Thursday cafeteria choices. On Thursday morning I’ll ask her friend Anne to sneak it into her lunch bag.”

  “How are you going to do that without being seen?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll get a pass to the bathroom. Anne has a free hour then and will be in the library. She’ll go along with it because she loves secrets. I remember that from fifth grade camp.”

  “But you’re my friend. She’ll guess.”

  “No, because I’m also Aaron’s friend. It could be a guy on the basketball team who is interested.”

  Dennis nodded. “You’re brilliant.”

  Mr. Sneeder had been sitting there, sipping his coffee and listening. “Sounds like quite a plan,” he said. “That’s sort of how I proposed to my wife. Only I bought her a train ticket and took her to Chicago for the Christmas window displays. I gave her some clues, and she had to guess her way through the stores until she came to the jewelry counter where I had pre-purchased her ring.”

  “Awwwww!” I said. “That’s so romantic.”

  Dennis rolled his eyes. “Heather likes romance.”

  Mr. Sneeder rolled his eyes too. “I know. She’s always telling me about the latest romance novel she’s reading. It’s what the women like, my man. You’ve gotta know how to woo the women.”

  “I guess.”

  But Dennis’s eyes were sparkling. He was excited, I could tell. I was pretty proud of my ideas myself. It was fun to plan out someone else’s romantic adventure.

  So on Monday, Dennis left the pink rose on Emily’s car. There was a flutter in the cheerleader world as they talked and wondered who it could possibly be. Names were tossed about, the captain of the football team, the co-captain of the basketball team (Not Aaron – the other guy), or that really cute lacrosse player, the new kid.

  On Wednesday, when she found the teddy bear in her locker right before lunch, she smiled so big I thought her face would burst. Dennis and I were watching from our own lockers nearby. “Scored!” I said quietly to him.

  Then on Thursday, we sat at our lunch table and waited for Emily to open her lunch bag.

  “She’s gonna be creeped out,” Brit said. “I mean, I wouldn’t wanna eat any lunch that someone had pawed through.”

  Dennis looked worried, but I put my hand on his arm. “Brit’s just jealous that Aaron hasn’t thought of these things.”

  Brit smiled sweetly at Aaron, who was taking mental notes, I could tell.

  We all watched as Emily pulled out her sandwich. She didn’t notice the lollipop right away, and it was an agonizing ten minutes before she pulled out her chips and found it. She showed her friends and their heads turned, trying to figure out who this secret admirer was. Our plan was working out perfectly.

  Then Friday came. Dennis had his virus ready. It was set to pop up both on the laptop she carried with her and on her phone, just to be safe. Dennis timed it for fifth hour so if she said “no,” he could hurry home and hide. It was perfect because we had English lit that hour and would be using our laptops to write. Or those who had laptops. I had to use one of the school’s Chromebooks.

  Dennis and I sat together in agonizing silence while our teacher told us the symbolism behind Paradise Lost. Then we opened our laptops to write a short essay on said symbolism. My heart was beating quickly. I was scared for Dennis. And hopeful.

  Dennis looked at me and swallowed. He was nervous. He was wearing a pin-striped button down, open a little at the chest, and khakis instead of his usual baggy jeans. I had told him what to wear today. I thought he looked pretty darn good.

  He opened his phone and sent the email. It popped up on Emily’s computer and phone at the same time. She glanced at it, then looked over at Dennis. “Open it,” he mouthed silently.

  She did. I was sitting two rows behind her and a bit diagonal from her, and I could see her screen light up as a large rose appeared on the dashboard. It slowly opened, and words spilled out from it. “Emily. Will you go to homecoming with me? From Dennis – your secret admirer.” Then it had a brief slide show of the rose, the teddy bear, and the lollipop, after which the whole thing started over.

  Katie, who sat behind her, could see the screen also, and so could a few other kids. As people noticed, I heard some small talk starting.

  “Dennis?” someone said. “That nerd?”

  Emily turned an interesting shade of pale, and then red. She swallowed a few times. I could tell she was trying to decide. He had won her heart, but her popularity was at stake.

  Finally, she turned to him, smiled, and nodded.

  I looked over at Dennis, who had a huge grin on his face. I sent him a quick text. “Play it cool, dude,” after which he tried to suppress his smile a little bit. Emily closed the email. Her face was still very red, but she was smiling.

  So Dennis’s parents sprang for a new suit, and he took Emily to the homecoming dance. They looked awesome together. Brit gave him a few dancing lessons, and he made it through the evening without messing anything up. Afterwards, Dennis told us that Emily thanked him for a wonderful time and gave him a light kiss on the lips.

  Nothing came of it. She talked to him now when she passed him in the halls, but they didn’t become a couple. He didn’t ask her out on any more dates, not wanting to press his luck, but he did ask her to dance with him at Snowcoming. And she said yes to one dance, even though she showed up with one of the basketball players.

  Dennis was happy. And it felt super good to have been a part of that.

  Sometime during the night I fall asleep, but I wake up trembling from the cold. My arm is numb where my head has been laying on it. I sit up in the dark and search for the light under the stairs. I don’t see anything. It must be totally dark upstairs.

  I have that gnawing feeling of unease again, and some nausea. Probably from the concussion?

  I wrap my arms around me, trying to stop the trembling. My heart is racing. A sudden wave of panic takes me. Clawy things are crawling across my skin. I brush at my arms.

  I need help. I need to get out of here.

  There are no widows. What type of basement doesn’t have windows? I think about moving away from the stairs and looking for a door to the outside, like a cellar might have. But it’s so dark. And I remember the spider webs.

  I scramble around on my knees, looking for the stairs, feeling my way across the cold concrete floor. My entire body is aching, especially my head and my side. I find the bottom step and pull myself towards it. Then I make my way up the stairs, crawling. One step at a time.

  The shaking is getting worse. I feel like I might throw up. By the time I’m at the top of the stairs, my whole body is racked with tremors.

  “Tommy!” I try to choke out the words. My throat is dry and hoarse. I need help.

  “Tommy!” I sit there, calling his name. I’ll beg him to forgive me. I just need help. I need something. Something. I don’t know what.

  After what seems like forever, someone opens the door. I can’t see because it’s dark.

 
“Shhhh!” says a voice, and I realize it’s Chloe. “You’re having withdrawal symptoms. Here.” She hands me a few pills.

  “I need help,” I say, pushing her hand and the pills away.

  “Shhhh. If Tommy catches me here, he’ll be mad. Take these. This is what you need.” She folds them into my hand. “Take them, Heather, please.”

  The pleading in her voice, the tremors in my body, make me do as she asks. She hands me a glass of water to wash them down. Then she sits beside me on the step and holds my hand, waiting with me until my body quiets down. It couldn’t possibly be withdrawal. I’m not a drug addict. I’m just cold and scared.

  Eventually, the tremors stop, the shaking stops, and I feel the anxiety retreating.

  “I’ll see you soon,” Chloe says, and closes the door. She locks it again, and I hear her footsteps move away.

  I am once again alone.

  — — —

  I’m still sitting on the top step when Tommy opens the door. The bright daylight streams in, hurting my eyes. “Time to work,” he says. He walks off, leaving the door open.

  I get up shakily and walk to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I hardly recognize the woman I see in the mirror. My left eye is circled in black, my bottom lip swollen. I still have the bruises around my neck. I take my dress off and look at my side. It’s black and blue. I touch it and it’s very tender. There are other bruises on my torso where I was kicked and beaten.

  I run cold water and splash my face. There’s a sharp knock on the door.

  “Time to go!” Reg says.

  “Hurry up, Heather!” I hear Tommy shout from the living room. “I don’t have all day! Do I need to teach you another lesson?”

  I wrap a towel around me and open the door. “I need to get dressed,” I say. I hear Reg gasp as she sees my bruises, but I keep moving.