Nice Try, Jane Sinner

by Lianne Oelke

  FFAFFJun3

  Marc offered to take me to a fancy steakhouse tonight. Actually, he offered me a gift card so I wouldn’t have to sit with him, which was surprisingly thoughtful. The only thing right now I want more than filet mignon and expensive wine is the chance to rehabilitate some of my mangled dignity, so I politely declined. Everything still hurts.

  I’ve never seen Alexander Park so happy. The challenge was a big hit, and not just with the college. Students told their friends, who told their mothers, who told their hairdressers, who told their therapists. The comment forums on the HOO website have seen quite a lot of activity recently. I spent an hour reading the comments, even though R advised against it. I didn’t find anything unexpected—​just the usual mix of ignorance, rage, and sincerity. But I didn’t know that AP had set up a viewer contest! People submit photos of themselves with our van in the background, and the best photos will win a HOO sweater and mug. Since when do we have sweaters and mugs?! Most of the photos so far involve Marc and me sleeping in a Walmart parking lot.

  AP also gave me a copy of the newspaper. I had forgotten about the article. I’d just assumed nothing that happened last week counted. It’s not a bad article, although it leaves the reader with the impression that Marc and I are two nugz short of a twenty-pack for living in a van for days. Fair enough.

  “Yeah, it’s all about the money, for me. I’d do pretty much anything for money. (laughs) I kind of hate it though.”

  —​Marc P., full-time business administration student

  “Yes it’s uncomfortable, but I could really use the cash. School isn’t cheap, you know.”

  —​Jane S., full-time psychology student

  I always assumed if I ever made the paper, I’d tape the article to my bedroom wall and feel good about myself whenever I walked past it. Probably this won’t happen.

  AP set up new GoPros in the house this aft. It seems the school is investing more money in the show these days. I asked AP if he could carry the upgrades a bit further and get me a door. He said he’d get back to me. Which means no.

  A fortune cookie from last week that I found in my pocket today as I was (finally) doing laundry: Humor is an affirmation of dignity.

  (in bed)

  Watched hockey tonight with Hinkfuss. She’s all right, I suppose. For a cat. I might as well get used to her. A cat is probably the closest thing to a child I’ll ever have.

  SatJun4

  I half let myself believe he’d show up at my curtain door in a fitted T-shirt and skinny jeans. Holding a textbook or something, not a corsage. A bubble of anxiety has been rising in my chest all day, and it only got bigger at the sight of him in a suit. Threatening to lift my heart right up through my throat.

  He’s waiting for me now, probably sitting on the sunlit concrete steps outside our front door. I told him I needed a few minutes to finish getting ready. Really I’m just trying to stab this anxiety bubble hard enough to pop it.

  The corsage he slipped on my wrist is white, which he thought would go with whatever I wore. I decided on a long green dress, simple, smooth, and slim enough for me to slide through the cracks and slip away from unwanted conversations. Bonnie thought I should wear the ELBOW GREASE shirt to the ceremony to show I don’t care what people think. But I care. I don’t want to make a statement, I don’t want to stand out. I want to make myself very very small. I’ve already ruined one party for the James Fowler kids. I don’t want to take this away from them too.

  He complimented me on my dress. I knew I looked pretty, and it made me feel unsteady and pretentious. I hated that.

  We could have taken the bus, but R booked a cab instead. He knew without me telling him that I needed privacy tonight. Besides, limos are tacky. The ceremony and dinner took place in a swanky convention center downtown, and I made sure we arrived just as the ceremony started so we didn’t have to make awkward small talk with anyone. We sat near the back with the parents and families. My own parents didn’t come because I neglected to mention the occasion to them.

  Observing all the people I’ve gone to school with for years graduate without me is not the most fun I’ve ever had on a Saturday night. It took an hour and a half to watch every student walk across the stage and collect a diploma. Two hundred ninety-nine names were called. My name would have made it three hundred. R started a game of Xs and Os on the program to pass the time. I’m glad he came with me, despite how surreal it was for me to have R see my high school life. Like mixing colors in with the whites. And that’s a laundry metaphor, just to be clear.

  I wasn’t expecting Tom to make the valedictorian speech, because why didn’t he tell me he’d made valedictorian?! His speech was hilarious. Or at least the other students seemed to think so. Half the inside jokes went over my head.

  As soon as the ceremony ended, I rushed through the crowd to find Bonnie, dodging eager parents like bullets in slow motion. I hugged her longer than I’ve ever hugged anyone before. Long enough for Tom to spot me and latch onto us. I congratulated everyone, telling them how excited I was for them, how awesome tonight would be, smiling, always smiling. They were all happy I came. And very interested in R, once he caught up with me. The novelty of a College Boy was soon distraction enough for me to slip away.

  I knew the girls’ washroom would be a shit storm of giggles and lipstick, so I had to find an alley outside to cry in.

  Crying is stupid. I know that. If I didn’t graduate today, it’s my own goddamn fault.

  I wished I smoked cigarettes so I’d have something to do other than trying not to think about how red my eyes must be. No rain fell, no thunder boomed dramatically, no one followed me outside.

  Just Jane Sinner and the sunset.

  Bonnie, Tegan, Tom, and a couple other girls I used to hang out with reserved a table for us. Normally they wouldn’t all sit together, but I guess the friendship of Jane Sinner is like magic glue or something. They weren’t expecting me to bring a plus one, so I stole a chair and the plate under Jenny Gunther’s name card to make room for R. Jenny borrowed my pen last year and didn’t give it back. Also, I just don’t like her. Bonnie and Tegan held the table in case someone ratted me out to Jenny while the rest of us waited in line for punch and an extra breadbasket.

  TOM

  How’s Elbow River?

  JS

  Pretty good, actually. I’m—​

  TOM

  Hold on.

  Tom placed a hand on the side of my face, tilted it up to meet his, and rubbed his thumb across my cheek. For fuck’s sake. Did I not wipe off all the mascara tracks?

  TOM

  Just a bit of Elbow Grease.

  I moved away from his hand.

  JS

  Fuck off, Tom.

  TOM

  Still got a dirty mouth, I see. At least the rest of you cleaned up nice.

  He didn’t wink as he said it. Behind me, R grew even more still. I don’t know how I felt that, but I did.

  TOM

  What’s Elbow’s motto again? Success is just around the bend? We’re the coolest joint in town?

  JS

  Good thing you’re going into engineering, because you could never make it as a standup comic.

  TOM

  Yeah, well, I used up all the good material in my speech.

  JS

  It was a nice speech, by the way.

  TOM

  Thanks. I’m just . . . I’m glad . . . it’s good that you’re doing . . . good, Jane. In community college.

  He glanced at R as he said it.

  R

  She is doing good. Jane’s the smartest person in our Sociology class.

  TOM

  Yeah. Like that means a lot at Elbow River.

  Well, we can’t all be engineers.

  JS

  The fuck is wrong with you, Tom?

  TOM

  Nothing. Punch?

  We waited in silence while Tom filled all seven glasses, ignoring me the same way he ignores everything he doesn
’t want to deal with. A well-rounded young man, indeed.

  Back at the table, Bonnie pulled out a flask from the depths of her neon-orange tulle and passed it around. I didn’t take any. My emotions were hobbling around in stilettos, sore and unsteady. No need to make it worse.

  BONNIE

  [to me]

  I’m going out for a smoke. Keep me company?

  JS

  (Thank god.)

  Sure.

  We didn’t think to bring jackets, so we shivered and huddled together the way underdressed girls do when they’re standing outside at night.

  JS

  So . . . what’s the deal with Tom?

  Bonnie sighed—​the same long-suffering sigh she gives when I ask her to finish my food for me. Which I haven’t done in a while, actually.

  BONNIE

  Jane. Dear, sweet Jane. You’re living with college boys. Dating college boys.

  Maybe Tom wasn’t the only one ignoring things he didn’t want to deal with.

  JS

  The fuck I am! What, did he expect me to sit through the ceremony and watch you all get your diplomas by myself? And how does he know I live with Robbie? Did he find out about the show?

  It wasn’t an accusation—​I know Bonnie would never tell anyone if I asked her not to.

  BONNIE

  He has access to the internet, Jane. Things get around.

  I made a weird growling noise and scuffed my feet on the pavement.

  JS

  What am I going to do when you leave in the fall?

  BONNIE

  Actually—​

  Bonnie took a drag and turned her back to me to exhale.

  BONNIE

  —​I’m leaving sooner. In July.

  JS

  Wait—​July? Already?

  BONNIE

  I got into a summer program: mixed media sculpting. It happened so quickly. I tried to tell you, Jane, but you’re always wrapped up in that dumb show.

  What happened to us? Nobody tells each other anything anymore. I watched Bonnie finish her cigarette. The unnaturally bright orange of her dress nearly glowed in the dark, and the trail of smoke smeared across the air made it seem like she was on fire.

  R and I didn’t go to the after party, although (almost) everyone insisted loudly that we both come. I wasn’t in the mood. I wanted to go for a walk around our neighborhood by myself, to clear my head. R gave me his suit jacket so I wouldn’t be cold, even though I could have run inside and grabbed my own.

  JS

  Robbie . . . thanks. For coming. And I’m sorry Tom was such a dick.

  R

  Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t get to make fun of Elbow River. We do.

  Maybe Elbow River isn’t so bad after all.

  I texted Tom when I got in, only because I knew he was one of the few kids not already drunk on cheap beer.

  JS: I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the show.

  He hasn’t replied yet.

  MonJun6

  An email from Bonnie:

  Dearest Jane,

  Please accept my hearty congratulations on being born exactly eighteen years ago today. I hope your day is filled with excitement, tasteful treats, and general well-being. I regret that I am not with you in the flesh to purchase you beverages and/or food items for your pleasurable consumption, as my evening tutoring session is inescapable, what with exams next week. I am grateful to have you as a friend and correspondent and wish you every happiness this special day.

  Sincerely,

  B.

  My reply:

  Dearest Bonnie,

  First I would like to sincerely thank you for the warm wishes. They were received with much gratitude and rejoicing.

  Second, I would like to tell you a story. Here it is.

  I didn’t tell anyone about my birthday because you know how I feel about vanity and self-indulgence: discretion is key. I was having a lovely day, holding onto my birthday like a secret. Like an inside joke between myself and I. However, I forgot I put my birthday on my House of Orange application and Alexander Park is not one to overlook details. I showed up at the on-campus pub at 7, hoping to get through the scheduled interview as quickly as possible, daydreaming about the bag of M&M’s sitting on my desk at home. I walked into a three-camera setup, a large crowd, and a spotlight.

  CROWD

  Happy birthday, Jane/Sinner!

  JS

  . . .

  AP

  You wouldn’t believe how hard this was to keep from you.

  Naturally I resented AP for exploiting my secret day for dramatic purposes. I smiled cautiously, aware of the three cameras focused on me.

  JS

  I don’t know what to say!

  That’s always a safe thing to say.

  MARC

  Have a drink; they’re on Alex! Just for contestants, though. Sorry, everyone else.

  I searched for Robbie as I followed AP and Marc to the bar. I couldn’t find him. People I didn’t know kept wishing me happy birthday, patting me on the shoulder. I tried not to flinch. As soon as AP gave the sign, one of the makeup and hair people rushed in for touchups. The cameras had to move in closer and pull focus before I was allowed to drink. I made polite conversation with everyone around me for what I assumed was two hours but turned out to be twenty minutes. I wished you were there. This is the sort of event we’d be good at avoiding, or at least leaving early. Unfortunately there were no opportunities for graceful exits.

  At one point I was cornered by a boy I sit next to in Psychology. His name is Will and he has a beard, and he sat down and tried to buy me a drink. I told him to save his money because I already got drinks for free. He was distracted and didn’t listen.

  WILL

  Listen. I’ve been meaning to tell you something.

  JS

  Um. Kay.

  WILL

  It’s been hard for me to watch the show.

  JS

  Um. Kay.

  WILL

  Because I get jealous every time I see you talking with another guy.

  JS

  (WHOA THERE! HOLD UP! THIS IS NOT THE TIME OR PLACE!)

  Pardon?

  WILL

  It’s pretty obvious you aren’t like other girls. You’re different. I mean, you’re so confident. And weird. But I mean that in the best possible way. And you have really cool hair.

  JS

  (Obviously I am a fucking snowflake, but don’t you see the cameras around? Don’t you know there is a boom mike hanging over your head?)

  . . .

  WILL

  I really like you, Jane.

  At this point Will put his hand on my thigh. If my mouth had been full, I would have choked. If my glass hadn’t been empty, I would have dumped it on him. Maybe not. But maybe. Beer was free, after all. I blushed stupidly and scrambled for an appropriate response.

  JS

  I don’t know what to say.

  I picked up his hand, holding it like I’d hold my father’s underwear when it was my turn to do laundry, and placed it on his own lap. Will seemed unaware of the awkward angle his elbow now stuck out at.

  WILL

  It’s all right. You don’t have to say anything now. We’ll talk more in private.

  Will stood up.

  JS

  No!

  I motioned for him to sit back down. There was no way I was going to let this moment dangle in an ambiguous place where an editor could do something unnecessary with it.

  JS

  I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same way.