by Cody Wagner
“I’m so glad you’re in this class. I mean, I know plenty of people and have tons of friends but since you’re new and we’re roomies, I can show you the ropes. I don’t mean to brag but I know every nook and cranny of this school. I could probably draw a map more accurate than the one they hand out. In fact, I have a few attempts in my bag. I’ll have to show them to you sometime. I had a really weird dream last night. Someone was singing to me and I tried covering my ears but it didn’t help. Have you ever had a dream like that? I think I get it from my dad. He always had weird dreams.”
I wished I had told him the seat was taken.
It’s not that Jimmy was mean or anything. He was just weird, what with the lying and the rambling and the fish underwear. And I very much doubted he had tons of friends; students who came in sat miles away after seeing him. One girl even gave me a sorrowful look.
Finally, Jimmy stopped talking and smiled at me like I’d said something really witty. I looked around to see if I was missing something. I wasn’t; he was genuinely happy just sitting next to me. It made me feel bad—despite my lack of enthusiasm, he was thrilled—so I decided to play along.
“Cool. So you’re in this class?”
“Yep.”
I thought back to roll call yesterday and didn’t remember hearing his name. Of course, I was too busy staring at Luke and Darrin to remember everything Ms. Meeks said.
“Where were you yesterday?” I asked.
Jimmy’s eyes got big and he clamped his mouth shut. The act was overly exaggerated. I think the effect was meant to say, Oh it was something really important. I wondered if the imaginary event involved his dad. Before I could ask, he deflated and said, “I wasn’t feeling very well.”
“Is that why you were asleep so early?”
“Sure.”
I squinted at Jimmy, noticing something. His voice got higher when he told a lie. The “sure” was almost screechy. As was the comment about having lots of friends. I smiled to myself, feeling like a human lie detector, and muttered, “Sorry,” just as Luke and Darrin walked in.
I realized that everyone stared at them wherever they went. They seemed to realize it, too, and walked to their desks like the linoleum floor was a catwalk. I peeked over at Jimmy. He gaped as if they were celebrities. A girl next to us snickered and I nudged Jimmy. He turned to me and I made a motion of closing my mouth. He flushed and clacked his teeth together.
“We’re pretty close is all,” he screeched, gesturing to Luke and Darrin.
“Oh,” I said.
When they were seated, Luke turned and caught my eye. He grinned at me and I grimaced, as if to say, Here goes another day of math. He smiled and pushed his arms up like he was bench pressing then pointed at me. I gave him a thumbs up; I’d be there tonight. He nodded at me. I realized the class was looking and I felt so cool for a minute.
Luke cocked his head and looked next to me. I glanced over and saw Jimmy smiling. To my horror, he gestured to himself and said, “Me?” Oh no, I thought. He thought Luke was talking to him.
Luke covered his mouth and grabbed Darrin. They both turned and stared at Jimmy. Darrin stuck out a hand and gave him a thumbs down. Jimmy pretended to laugh and looked past them, as if he were talking to someone else. Luke and Darrin broke into hysterics. I heard the word, “Loser,” and my face heated up. Memories of middle school flooded back to me. I pictured Ryan Kirkpatrick grabbing the new calculator from my desk and ripping off the buttons.
It hurt to see Luke and Darrin mess with Jimmy. Still, I was torn. People in Pamata were mean to me, but I felt I was a normal kid who didn’t deserve it. Jimmy was weird. Harmless and perfectly nice, but weird.
The situation got infinitely worse when Darrin pointed first to me then at the desk to his right.
I froze. They wanted me to sit next to them! I admit I wanted to so bad. My heart actually began pounding like I was about to meet Jimmy Fallon. Who am I hurting? I rationalized to myself. I’m just switching desks.
I shifted in my seat, preparing to grab my stuff, when I heard a small whimper next to me. Jimmy hunched forward, his frown as big as a cartoon character’s. He tried covering it up and doodled on a piece of paper. But I saw it all over his face; he didn’t want me to leave.
Dammit. Why couldn’t he have been gone today? I didn’t even like him that much. Hell, I barely knew him. If he didn’t like me moving, that was his problem, right? And it wasn’t even that big a deal; just one stupid class.
“Go ahead,” Jimmy whispered.
The words were genuine and encouraging, but his voice dropped a sad octave. He began humming to himself, attempting to remain upbeat. My stomach sank to my knees; he was trying to help me. The inner conflict returned at full volume. Jimmy may have been a weirdo, but he was about the nicest person I’d met. He reminded me of a puppy.
I couldn’t do it.
Mind racing, I tried to think of a good excuse. Of course! Looking as cool as I could, I looked at Darrin then pointed down to my desk.
“It’s the only left-handed one.” I then picked up a pencil and wrote with my left hand in the air.
Darrin wasn’t going to beg. He shrugged, laughed, and turned around. I sank lower in my chair. I could practically hear Jimmy grinning next to me. It didn’t help.
After Ms. Meeks walked in and checked roll, I tried to settle into learning. It didn’t sound fun, but between ignoring Jimmy (who constantly showed me the doodles on his paper—pandas with dalmatian spots and things like that) and pretending I was thrilled with my left-handed seat, focusing on algebra was my distraction. How sad.
Halfway through class, Luke turned around and handed a folded piece of paper to the kid behind him. He turned back and gave it to Jimmy. Jimmy’s face grew pale and I felt that gnawing in my stomach again. Hesitant, I looked at the paper, which read, “Orphan Jimmy: Volume 82.”
Jimmy inched the paper open. It contained a drawing of a building that read, Orphanage. A picture of Jimmy stood in front. He had one of those thought bubbles over his head. A huge man with tons of muscles—and standing on a pile of skulls—burst from the bubble. The words, Jimmy’s Dad, pointed at the man.
Wringing my hands together, I focused on Jimmy. His eyes sagged, but he forced a smile. The guys next to Luke began giggling. Jimmy grinned and whispered, “Good one.” He caught me looking, hastily folded the paper, and shoved it into his bag.
I wanted to put my head on the desk and disappear. Was this an innocent joke? Maybe Luke and Darrin were just messing with him. No, that was stupid; Jimmy was clearly hurt. I started thinking Roze was right—those guys were jerks. But it didn’t make sense. How could kids here be mean to each other? The thought really messed with me, as I’d put all the students at Sanctuary Prep on a pedestal. Staring at the back of Luke’s head, I realized I was probably being oblivious again.
After leaving gym that afternoon (I finished third on the obstacle course this time, staying past the alotted time trying, pathetically, to do pull-ups), I decided to talk to Roze. After Luke and Darrin’s group passed by, garnering an eye roll from Roze, I blurted, “Why did you think they were fake?”
“You can just tell,” Roze replied.
“But how?”
She thought for a second, a buried anger rising in her eyes. She quickly covered it up and said, “They’re all the same.”
“Who, the jocks like that?”
“Yeah.”
That was all she said before blurting, “You know I did seven pull-ups, right?”
She was trying to change the subject. I wanted to keep at it, but her tactic was something I would have done. Thinking of Jimmy, babbling away, completely unaware, I decided it was best to just play along. Mimicking her arm punch, I said, “You know I spent longer than forty-five seconds there and still beat you, right?”
As the day progressed, my mood got better. For the second day in a row, I wasn’t assigned any real homework (I got my first novel to read in English, but the test wasn’t for w
eeks, so I had plenty of time). I also made Cassie laugh in history, which made me feel like a professional comedian.
Shortly after class began, Mr. Pryor went around the room, having us name the presidents in order. I wished I was first, but ended up eighth, and I sure as heck didn’t know the eighth president. When it was my turn, I didn’t know what to do and blurted, “Spaghetti Von Meatballs.” It was stupid, but Cassie burst into a giggle she quickly covered with a hand. The teacher wasn’t amused, and asked if Cassie would “care to grace everyone with the answer.” She stopped laughing and studiously answered, “Martin Van Buren.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. I rolled my eyes; of course she’d know the answer. It didn’t really bother me, though. I liked her giggle. It was like a baby meerkat on YouTube.
That evening at dinner she tried convincing me my response wasn’t that bad.
“I think, subconsciously, you knew the answer,” she said, between small bites of “Curative Casserole”.
“How do you mean?”
“You said Spaghetti Von Meatballs. Von. Think about it. Martin Van Buren. It’s the same middle name.”
I laughed. “Wow, you’re reaching.”
“I’ll say,” Roze said, shoving a bite of “Check Yourself Chicken Fried Steak” into her mouth.
I ignored her and said, “But thanks.”
Cassie smiled, pleased by my tiny compliment. I shook my head and blurted, “Are people not nice to you at home?”
Cassie lowered her head and said, “I’m adopted.”
“So?” I said. “I have an adopted cousin and his family is nice.”
Roze punched me, hard this time.
“Ow! What was that for?” I reached over and, in retaliation, stuck my finger in her mashed potatoes. She gaped at me as a huge guffaw erupted behind us. I turned to see Jimmy grinning down at me. He pointed at Roze’s potatoes and laughed again, like I’d just done the funniest thing ever (OK it was pretty awesome).
“Mind if I join you?”
Cassie smiled at him. “Sure.”
He squeezed in between me and Roze. Let me rephrase that, he literally pushed us apart so he could sit down next to me.
“Hey!” Roze said.
I was thrilled to have a barrier; there was no telling what she was about to do for my finger in the potatoes.
After he was seated, Roze stuck out a hand. “Hi, I’m Roze. You must be Jimmy. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The way she said it suggested she wasn’t surprised at his forcing himself between us.
Jimmy grinned. “Really?”
“Yeah, Cassie’s mentioned you.”
“Cool.”
That was all Jimmy said before digging into his tray, which was packed with food: a hamburger, two hot dogs, mashed potatoes, macaroni & cheese, and cobbler. I half expected him to ignore silverware and stick his face right in the mess. But he ate extremely carefully. He even used a knife and fork to eat the hot dog. Jimmy caught me staring and said, “It helps me eat slower.”
“Oh,” I said.
“So what were y’all talking about?” Jimmy asked.
I looked at Cassie, not sure if she wanted to continue. She wiped her mouth, put her hands in her lap and said, “My adoptive parents expect a lot from me. I never meet their expectations.”
“My dad was really awesome about that stuff,” Jimmy said.
Here he goes, I thought. But Roze held up her hand. “We were talking to Cassie. As soon as we’re done, I’d love to hear about your dad.”
I held my breath and stared at Jimmy. He looked stunned for a moment when something seemed to click in his brain, like he realized what he was doing. He grinned sheepishly, and didn’t look angry at all. “Sure.” Then he said, “I bet being gay didn’t help.”
That was a perfectly normal statement. I looked at Roze, who nodded her approval.
“No, not at all.” Cassie replied. “It was like I failed them. Again.”
“Ugh,” I said. I couldn’t imagine her failing at anything.
“I have to call them at least once a week with progress reports.” Then she gave the hint of a smile. “Don’t be surprised if they’ll want you to join as a witness, Blaize.”
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Maybe.”
I shook my head. “No way! I’d rather deal with Jimmy’s jumping spiders.”
Jimmy guffawed again, snorting mashed potatoes across the table. We all froze and looked at him. Roze said, “Yuck,” and I was about to agree, when I noticed she wasn’t talking about the potatoes. Instead, she watched the double-doors leading into the cafeteria, where Luke, Darrin, and their group walked in.
I didn’t think anything of it until I realized they were heading straight to our table. Tons of people observed and, feeling my whole body tense, I threw down my fork; the last thing I needed was to dump a “Mending Meatball” in my lap.
A stupid grin sprouted on my face like fungus. It was promptly squashed when Luke grabbed a roll from someone’s plate. “Thank you,” he said before taking a bite. Roze cursed under her breath. I held my own, thinking of the Orphan Jimmy comic.
When they reached us, Darrin stuck out a fist and I touched it with mine. My thoughts went back to Justin fist bumping Timothy at the funeral. Is that how douchey I look?
“Blaize, you coming to workout?”
The air became heavy. Roze gave me a look so intense, it burned my face. Going with them felt wrong. Of my tiny group of sort-of friends, one already hated them, and the other was being picked on. On the other hand, what was wrong with working out? It was important to stay in shape. And spending just a few hours with people wouldn’t make me behave like them.
Those were the lame excuses I made to myself as I nodded like a bobble-head doll. “Yeah. I just need to finish eating.”
“Meet us there, then.”
“OK.”
When they sauntered out (pausing to set the half-eaten roll back on the kid’s plate), I realized I was still nodding like an idiot. Roze reached around Jimmy’s hefty frame and slapped the back of my head.
“Really?” she said.
“What? It’s just a workout.”
“No it’s not. First you workout, then you sit with them. Next thing you know, you’ll be stealing food from peoples’ plates.”
“I will not,” I said. But I wasn’t sure I believed myself as I realized how badly I wanted to fit in.
“I think you should go,” Jimmy said.
“No you don’t,” snapped Roze. Jimmy flinched and became very interested in the remains of his hamburger. I glared over him at Roze.
“What is your problem?”
Roze glared right back. “I just know their type, OK.”
I was steaming. She had been saying that since we met them, but never followed it up with anything substantial. Part of me—worried she might say something to change my mind—didn’t want to hear any more. However, caught up in the moment, I said, “Well then, why don’t you enlighten me.”
She stopped and looked from Cassie to me. Then she grabbed her tray, threw it into the trash, and stomped out of the building. I stared after her, jaw clenched. I liked Roze, but I didn’t think I’d said enough to warrant her reaction.
“She was one of them, you know.” It was Cassie.
Releasing a tense breath, I turned back to her. “One of what?”
She gestured at the door. “One of them. Like Luke and Darrin.”
That made total sense. “What happened?”
“When she came out, they abandoned her.”
“Because she was gay?”
She shrugged but didn’t add anything else.
“Cassie.”
“If you want more, you’ll have to talk to her.”
I threw my hands up. “Geez.”
We stewed in silence for a few minutes, when I noticed Cassie studying me.
“Is there anything else?” I said.
Nodding absently, she said, “They didn’t wait for you.”
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br /> “Huh?”
She pulled herself from her thoughts and said, “Luke and Darrin didn’t wait for you to finish eating. They left without you.”
“So?”
“It just seemed intentional to me. Like they were too good to wait.”
“Whatever.”
She was probably right, but I didn’t want to hear any more. Almost knocking Jimmy off his seat, I got up, threw my own stuff away, and left.
As I plodded through the muggy, oppressive air toward the gym, I tried to figure out why I felt so out-of-sorts. What happened in the cafeteria really wasn’t that big a deal. Friends disagreed with each other. It’s not like I thought my friendship with Roze was over. Don’t get me wrong: I didn’t look forward to talking to her. But it wasn’t a huge deal.
As I stepped up onto the grass leading to the gym, I asked myself if I’d want to be friends with the bullies back in Pamata. No way, I told myself. Then I asked myself, Is that really true? Would I have turned them away if they’d approached me like Luke and Darrin? I honestly didn’t know the answer.
Just then, I heard voices coming from the gym. Tiptoeing, I walked to the entrance and peeked in. Luke, Darrin, and about eight other students were doing push-ups. Every single one of them was well built and well dressed. They pumped out push-ups like machines designed to . . . well . . . pump out push-ups. For some reason, watching them move in perfect rhythm with each other made my stomach hurt.
After a minute, I tried walking in, but couldn’t. It was like my mind and body had separated and declared war on each other. A few minutes later, I tried again but, still, nothing happened. This is your chance, I yelled at myself, over and over. No matter what I said, my muscles wouldn’t comply, and I remained frozen.
Desperate for any movement, I began walking around the gym. Occasionally, I’d hear laughter or grunts or yelling. Every time, part of me wanted to turn and run in the gym, screaming, “I’m here! Accept me!” But I didn’t, and kept walking in giant circles.
After an agonizing half hour, I trudged to the exercise field, angry and frustrated. The obstacle course was still there, so I went to the pull-up bar and grabbed on. I let myself hang for a few seconds before hauling myself up.