by Shel Delisle
“I asked her to bring it. It was my idea, and so was the art.”
“Well, maybe your ideas will change with a little less exposure to Lexington Murphy.”
No. My ideas won’t change. And my friendship with Lexie won’t change either. But Alana better watch out.
~~~
“Merry Christmas,” I whisper into the phone even though my bedroom door is shut.
“Jane?” Lexie asks.
“Who else?”
Lexie and I have texted every day since Mom forbade me to be friends with her. The first day, when I told Lexie about Mom’s new rule, she didn’t respond for three whole minutes. I thought maybe she’d been disconnected or didn’t get my message or something until WHAAAAAAATTTTTTT?!!!! appeared on my screen, followed by a quick it figures.
It cracked me up. Mom might be able to keep me from hanging out with her, but I have no intention of losing my best friend. And today, on Christmas, I miss her so much that I decided to risk a call.
“What’dya get?” I ask.
“These totally bitchin’ boots from Mom and Dad and money for the demo fund.”
I trace my finger over the wave design on my comforter. “That’s awesome! Are you close?”
“It depends on if Willow and Tara got cash. If they did, we might be able to record over break.”
I’m so incredibly happy for her and so abysmally sad that I’ll miss it.
“How ’bout you?” she asks.
“I got the swim! I still can’t believe they gave it to me.” I roll over on my bed and look at the poster.
“That’s so cool,” she says. “How’s everything else? Weird?”
Yesterday our text convo was all about how John and Desiree were coming for Christmas and that it would be strange, because the holiday would make it official — our family has changed. They both arrived about an hour ago, right before we opened gifts, and it was surprisingly normal. For me, at least. Mom might feel different.
“She brought the dog. And he lay in the piles of wrapping paper. Desiree stuck a bow on his head. It was adorable.” I glance at Flipper like I’ve betrayed him. “Desiree’s really sticking out now. You can’t miss that she’s preggers.”
“How far along is she?”
There’s a quick rap on the door. “Jane?” It’s Mom.
“Just a sec,” I holler.
“You need to pack up the bows.” Her voice filters through the door.
“Gotta go,” I tell Lexie.
“But how far along?” she wails.
The door swings open as I say, “Almost six months,” and flip the phone closed before tucking it under my thigh.
“The bows, Jane.” Mom taps her fingernail on my light switch. “I hope that wasn’t Lexington.”
Geez. It’s Christmas, and Mom still won’t go back to calling her Lexie.
Strandings are one of the most disheartening phenomena in the dolphin world. Scientists haven’t been able to pinpoint why an animal separates from the pod to go ashore and die. Sometimes it seems they are lost or disoriented. Other times, merely isolated socially. When a dolphin is saved and returned to their family it’s a cause for great celebration amongst admirers of this mammal.
(Excerpt: The Magic and Mystery of Dolphins)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“The demo last night was unbelievable,” Lexie gushes as we stand next to the water fountain before the first bell. “I got my birthday check from Nana and Pops early, so I added it to the Christmas money and then with everyone else’s money, we had enough.”
“What an awesome birthday present!” I say.
Lexie turns seventeen this coming weekend, and her parents are taking our pod out to dinner. It’ll be the first time I haven’t celebrated with her in — well — ever since we’ve been friends. All because Mom won’t change her mind.
Today, our return to school from break, is the first time I’ve actually seen my best friend since we went shopping. Most kids are disappointed to lose the freedom they had over break, but for me it’s an improvement, as I gain some by getting out of the house.
It’s not like Mom grounded me or anything. But when you can’t hang with your best friend and your approved friends hang with her, you might as well be. Grounded, that is. I even missed the first session for The Fallopian Tubes and wish I could have been there because Lexie is so obviously pumped about it.
“Sorry I missed it,” I tell her. She takes me through the whole session song by song and then I ask, “Hey, have you seen Sam yet?”
She rolls her eyes when I change the subject. “No sign of him.”
The worst part about that whole situation is I haven’t seen him since Irwin got sick and I took over as yearbook photographer. He never showed up at the beach. And now I have this huge underground zit on my chin. Not. Too. Attractive.
“How bad is this?” I ask Lexie, pointing at the zit.
“Not too bad,” she lies. I love her for it.
The best part about seeing Sam will be lunch. Before the end of last semester, we got our new schedules and our lunch periods were moved to the regular junior time.
“You’ll still eat with me?” I asked him.
“Of course,” he said without hesitation.
So today will be our debut as lunch buddies before God, the trophy case and everyone. It won’t matter that I didn’t fit in at the dance.
My first clue something is wrong is when Lexie grabs my wrist, shakes it and asks, “Have you talked to Sam since the Ball?”
I freeze. “No.”
Sam never calls or texts me. We’re Facebook friends — whatever that means — and I’m ashamed to admit I’ve stalked his page. Only Lexie knows this. But, he didn’t even post there over the break. I have serious Sam withdrawal.
I follow her eyes to the trophy case. Sam’s arm is draped around Alana’s waist, his hand on her hip.
Is that a live fish flopping in my stomach?
Travis stares at me, blabbering and acting like a knob. What else is new? Brittney, Ashley and Chase stare too. When Travis points, Sam and Alana look over their shoulders. No smiles, no waves.
Oh God. Will I never be able to fit in with them? Did I just imagine Sam liked me? Maybe I made it up, or made it bigger than it really was. Maybe he was just flirting and it was no big deal.
The image of a dolphin dying alone on a sand bar flashes through my mind. It kills me.
“Why’d I have to go with Travis? Why’d I have to take over for Irwin?” I ask Lexie. “Why couldn’t Alana? She’s on yearbook too, you know?”
My questions are rhetorical, but she answers anyway, “Because stuff like that never happens to girls like Alana. It’s partly why she stopped being our friend.”
~~~
“You’re okay with Sam sitting with us, right?” I ask Lexie in the café. I consider the roast beef. New Year’s is a great time to make changes, but I end up grabbing my usual tuna and place it on the tray. Nothing much at school has changed, except lunch hour.
Sam strolls into the cafeteria. I wave at him. He’s looking all around, but not in my direction. When he finally does, his face is blank. Like he doesn’t see me. Then he breaks into a smile, sidles up to Alana, and they head to the line together.
I keep thinking Sam’s just being friendly to her because that’s how he is. I keep expecting him to split off from her and head my way. I keep hoping this right up until he puts his tray at the trophy case table.
Lexie stabs a tater tot and wiggles her fork at me. “He’s not worth the heartache.”
“He is. You even said we looked like we belong together.” Willow plants herself next to me and I tell Lexie, “You just don’t know him the way I do.”
Willow twists open her juice bottle. “Know who?”
“We’re talking about Sam,” Lexie says, “and Jane’s obsession with him.”
“He’s gonna eat with us today, right?”
I nudge Willow and point in Sam’s direction. Her eyes widen. “Oh
. I’m sure it’s nothing. Maybe he needs to talk to her for a class or something.”
He never showed up at the beach. I wish I shared Willow’s optimism, but between the hall and now this, it’s not happening. I ignore her comment and glare at Lexie. “I am not obsessed.”
“It’s all right if you are,” Willow says at the same time Lexie says, “You are.”
Fine. Everyone thinks I’m obsessed with Sam.
Lucas puts his tray next to Lexie and gives her a little smooch on her cheek.
She makes googly eyes at him, so I guess it’s easy for her to be critical of the guy I like. “All I’m saying is, there are other fish in the sea.” She’s right about this, but not all of them are dolphin boy.
“Who are we talking about?” Lucas takes a big bite of his burger.
“Sam Rojas.”
“Oh, wite,” Lucas says with a full mouth. He swallows. “Nice guy.”
“See,” I say to Lexie. “Everyone likes Sam.”
“I never said he wasn’t a good guy. Everyone does like him, including Alana apparently, so you just need to get over it.” Lexie stabs another tater tot. “Look, Jane. The thing is, he’s in with that group. There are a lot of other guys in this school who would want to hang out with us.”
And there it is — the whole damn pod thing again.
After lunch, my insides are quiet and hollow while I drift from class to class like smoke, vanishing silently. Finally, before English, I see Sam at his locker and become solid again. I walk up behind him and put my hands over his eyes.
“Guess who?” I ask, but Sam’s shoulders droop. He doesn’t play along. I take my hands away and lean to face him. “Hey! How was your Christmas?”
“Good.” Sam is stony-faced, concentrating all his attention on the book swap.
“What’d Santa bring?”
Without looking at me, he says, “I got the new iPod.”
“That’s cool.”
There’s this awkward pause while Sam stares into his locker, transfixed by his Biology text. I wish for the bazillionth time we’d never stopped to see Alana’s car. Or that Irwin had a stronger stomach.
When Sam doesn’t speak, I do. “Mine was good, thanks for asking. I didn’t get any coal this year.”
Sam smiles. It’s brittle. And he doesn’t ask what I got, so I volunteer. “My parents gave me the dolphin swim in the Keys. I get to go over Spring Break.”
This brings on a fleeting smile from Sam, and then his face turns angry again. “That’s not all you got, right?”
I’ve been foggy all day, and this remark certainly doesn’t clear up anything.
“Jungle gym kisses. You’re an animal, I hear,” Sam continues.
I snort a laugh and expect Sam to laugh along with me. “You mean Travis?”
“You went to the beach after the dance, right?” Sam’s staring at me and he’s angry.
“Yeah.” Where this is going makes me queasy. “But you didn’t.”
Sam shoves his text into his backpack. “I did. And I saw you. On the beach. With Travis. You guys decided to cut out early, huh?” Sam slams his locker, spins the dial and walks away.
I hurry to catch him. “What does that mean?”
“You know what it means. You were there.”
I grab Sam by the arm and make him stop. “Listen, I kept looking for you, but you weren’t there.”
“Alana ran out of gas. I had to walk to get it for her and when we finally made it to the beach, you were sprawled out with my best friend.”
“Listen, Sam,” I plead, “you don’t understand. We only kissed a couple of times, but he tasted like Rodeo Bob’s, so I asked him to take me home. Nothing happened.”
“Nothing? That’s not what I heard.”
“That’s the truth. What did Travis say?”
Sam and I stand in the middle of the hall, creating a traffic jam, and other kids on their way to class have to loop around us.
He pulls his arm away and jerks it twice before stalking off.
Whaa—? It takes a minute for it to sink in. Omigod. He thinks I hooked up with Travis.
Travis. What a d-bag! I can’t believe he told Sam we hooked up. Why would he do that? What was I thinking when I kissed him? Why did I even go to the ball with him? I can’t believe Sam believes him instead of me.
A weird thought pops into my head. All day today I thought everyone was looking at me because of my dress, or the way I danced or because I helped Irwin, but what if all the talk was about me and Travis?
~~~
When the final bell rings, I’m ready to be out of here. English and Bio totally sucked. Clavell lectured about the role of fungi in our world, which should have brought a comment from Sam. But he sat with Travis and kept his eyes trained on the lab table, like I was a parasitic fungi — athlete’s foot or something.
I wish I didn’t have yearbook after school and could go straight home. Or, better yet, to the preserve. No such luck.
As I walk by the trophy case in the main hall, Travis, Chase and Ashley are hanging out. Sam’s there too, his arm slung over Alana’s shoulder. Travis points, laughs, makes his hands into a shark fin and sings the theme from Jaws. “Do, do… do, do, dodododo.”
Everyone cracks up.
I flush hot. My hands clench, and my fingernails dig into my palms. “You’re disgusting and a liar,” I yell and stomp off.
I don’t know what Travis is doing now, but can hear Alana’s shrill squeal pierce the air. My skin is blistering, I’m so pissed. A hot tear dribbles down my cheek.
By the time I reach the Journalism lab, I can’t hear her anymore. The light is on over the darkroom, so hiding there is out of the question. Inside the cubby labeled with my name, there’s a stack of photos from the Snow Ball. A note from Mr. Fischer is attached with one of Irwin’s clothes pins:
Jane,
Thought you might like to try your hand at a spread. If you have any questions, find me or ask Alana for help.
Mr. Fischer
Fat chance. Asking Alana, that is. I don’t care if she is the editor of the Events section. I can figure this out on my own.
I prop each photo in front of me and then flip it face-down into a pile while my eyes continue to leak. I can’t seem to get the whole crying thing under control, and that pisses me off even more. Just focus on the pictures.
There are some good ones of Lexie performing. Irwin must not have been wasted yet. Eventually, I come to the shot when Sam pulled me against him. How did I get from there — where I was so close — to him laughing while Travis sang the Jaws theme?
I sense someone standing behind me. Alana hovers over my shoulder. “Mr. Fischer told me he was going to assign this spread to you. You should use that as your dominant photo.” She points to the group pic then picks up the stack of photos I’d already flipped through and fans them out like she’s playing cards. From the middle she plucks one and lays it on the desk. It’s a vertical shot of her dancing with Sam.
The picture opens a hole in my heart.
“This will work on the opposing page. Template three would work best.”
After she leaves, I pull up Template 3 on the computer and flip through the stack again. Which of these photos will work to fill smaller holes?
But something inside me revolts. That’s. It.
Jealousy washes over me. Dolphins get jealous too, ya know? I read about this female dolphin that attacked Susan Sarandon while she swam with the girl dolphin’s hubby or boyfriend or partner or whatever it is that dolphins have.
And I am jealous of Alana.
First, she got the VW Beetle, my favorite car. Okay, so this one is dumb, I know, but whatever — it still makes me jealous. Second, she got my date for the Snow Ball. Third, she opened her big, big mouth — telling her mom about the band and my art. This is nothing new; she had a big mouth when we were friends. But her blab made it so I can’t hang with my best friend outside of school. And finally, not only did she get the date, but no
w it looks like she got Sam.
I’m not going to let her have what she wants on this spread. I refuse to play along, acting all submissive.
Clicking through the templates, I come across one that features two dominant vertical spots — one on each page. I take the group shot and one of the Tubes and head to the darkroom.
Bang! Irwin’s agitating film.
“Hey!” I yell through the door, “when you’re done with that, can you help me to crop some photos?”
~~~
Irwin slowly pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose after marking up the photos for the Snow Ball spread. He reminds me of an elderly tortoise. I learn how to crop quickly, before his lengthy explanation, but I’ve come to realize he’s methodical about everything and you just have to go with that.
“Thanks, Irwin. Hey! I’ve been meaning to ask you, how did things go after you got home from the Ball? John said he made sure you got inside okay.”
“Yeah. Thanks for calling him. Your sister-in-law was really nice.”
“Listen, tomorrow morning — why don’t you come and hang out with me at the water fountain? I’ll introduce you to Lexie and Willow and Tara—”
“I like to come here.” Irwin fiddles with a film case.
“But you don’t have any friends.”
Two things happen simultaneously. Irwin’s face falls, and I realize what I said. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant.” Irwin’s face reverts to the bitter expression he wore the first day I met him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Pregnant women are everywhere.
I never noticed them at the mall or the grocery store or the movies until Desiree got pregnant. They walk around with the world’s future stored in their bellies, mostly unnoticed by the rest of us.
Today I’m surrounded by tomorrow. In the waiting room at the OB-GYN, it’s the biggest number of pregnant women I’ve ever seen in one place at one time. Flat-stomached, I’m out of place.
When Desiree asked me to come along for her monthly check-up, I was surprised because it seems so private. But she said, “You’re going to be the baby’s auntie,” and “I think you’ll find it enlightening.” How could I pass that up? Especially since I can’t hang with Lexie and friends.