by Laura Moe
I stop reading. I can’t read about some guy reaching under my mother’s dress. It’s weird enough to read she smoked pot in high school. I set the journal aside and run my hands through my hair. I glance at my phone to see how much charge I have left. Maybe half an hour’s worth. I lie down and close my eyes and try to sleep, but my mother’s diary gnaws at me. Shit. I grab it and turn on my flashlight.
I want to, but something in me stops. I tell him I don’t want to do anything on the side of a building all stoned.
That’s cool he says. We kiss some more, then some of his friends come outside. Football-type guys and their cheerleader girlfriends. They all are wasted too and the girls kind of look at me like what the hell am I doing with %$#@*!. I feel uncomfortable and tell %$#@*! goodnight and go back inside the dance. I find Paul, who says he’s been looking for me.
Let’s leave, I tell him. He doesn’t argue.
October 20
%$#@*! is still helping me with science, even though it feels kind of weird now. I like him and I think he likes me, but even though she didn’t get queen, C%$@S W#!(*& is sort of back in the picture. So it’s a good thing I didn’t let things get too far, but something has changed. I like spending time with %$#@*!. And I think it’s mutual. We meet every day, and we rarely talk about science.
When %$#@*! sees me in the hallway he says Hi if he’s alone, but if he is with any of his jock friends or C%$@S W#!(*& he barely acknowledges that he knows me. He’ll just nod his head or smile or raise his eyebrows.
He apologized to me the other day for that.
I get it, I told him. And I do. He’s from a different social class, and we aren’t exactly friends. But I think we are. Sort of. He talks to me. He says I’m a good listener.
Like the other day we talked about what we want to do out of high school. He told me he doesn’t want to go to college in the fall. Maybe never, he said.
But you’re so smart.
He shrugs. All my life I’ve felt pressure to be the best, and I’m tired of being what everybody thinks I am. He shakes his head. But my dad expects me to take over one of his businesses.
What do you want to do? I ask.
Maybe be a beach bum.
I laugh. You’re good-looking enough to be an actor or a model.
All I know is I don’t want to waste my whole life in this town, he tells me.
Me either, I say.
And he asks me my plans.
Nothing special.
Tell me, he says.
I shrug. I almost rattle off how Paul thinks he and I are going to get married and settle here, and I love Paul, but I don’t think I love him enough. And I feel kind of bad about that. He’s such a good guy, but I’m not sure he’s the ONE, you know? He represents HERE, and I think the first chance I get I am getting out of HERE too. Somewhere BETTER. Somewhere BIGGER. Like Columbus or Cincinnati, a place where I might get a good job and meet people who have been to other countries and drink fancy wines, and maybe someday I can go to Hollywood and you will see me on TV and you will say, Hey isn’t that the girl who lived in a trailer? The one we all kind of made fun of because yeah, she was pretty, but she had a hick accent and wore used clothes and always stank like smoke. Yeah, wow, she cleans up nice! That’s my dream.
But all I tell %$#@*! is, Well, I want to do something exciting, something where I travel to other countries and stuff.
Like an airline hostess? he asks.
I think for a minute. Maybe. But I have never flown before, I say.
He laughs. You don’t have to fly the plane! You only have to serve coffee and stuff to people on airplanes. And herd them toward the exits if the plane crashes.
I don’t like the idea of crashing, but the rest of it kind of sounds cool. And that would get me around the world. I could do that, I say.
So I guess %$#@*! and I are friends. We just can’t tell anyone.
November 15
Sorry. I’ve been too busy to write!!!
My grades in science are so much better now. I’m not making As, but I get Cs on almost every test and homework. When %$#@*! and I sit in the library our thighs touch. It feels like electricity burbling through me, and even though I have not been alone with him since that night at the dance I would love to just kiss him right here.
We write notes to each other too. When I sit down he hands me one. Like today he wrote, “The trees are full of glowing colors that remind me of you.” And it’s funny how nobody suspects anything because he and I are both seeing other people, and we never see each other outside of school. Like we are hiding in plain sight.
December 1
%$#@*! came into Burger King tonight with C%$@S W#!(*& and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. I KNOW he has a girlfriend, and I’m with Paul, but there is something about him, about us together that feels right. Seeing %$#@*! with her, I wanted to bolt into the back room, but I didn’t know they were standing there until I looked up. I had my back turned while straightening up the cups and when I heard the door open I turned, and there they were, together. I looked at him and his eyes grew wide, almost in panic.
I jumped in surprise and dropped the stack of cups in my hands. My manager came over and snarled at me for being so clumsy. I’ll clean this up, he barked. Just take care of your customers!
I know my face was tomato red. Hey, I said to %$#@*!. He nodded, and said, Hey, Susan. I saw C%$@S W#!(*& shoot him a look. How may I help you? I asked.
He ordered for both of them: 2 double cheeseburgers, one with extra pickles, 2 fries, and one large Coke, one large Diet Coke. I rang it up and took his money. As I got their drinks I heard her say How do you know HER? She said HER as if she was holding her nose in the air.
She’s in choir class with me, he told her. Which is true. It’s just he’s on the other side of the room with the tenors and I’m with the sopranos. Funny how he didn’t mention the tutoring.
I heard her mumble something to him, and he said, Can we get that to go?
C%$@S W#!(*& glared at him. I thought we were eating here! I hate eating in the car!
I think the line at the theater will be long, he said.
She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. WhatEVER.
I was relieved when they left, but still bothered too. Did he know I worked here? Did he bring her here on purpose? But he looked surprised to see me. What movie did they go see? And the biggest thing that bothered me is what did they do afterward?
December 4
At school today when I meet %$#@*! in the library, he says, I’m really sorry about Saturday. I would never have come there if I knew that’s where you worked. Under the table he squeezes my hand. My skin is warm from his fingers and sparks flutter inside me. His fingers loop around mine and we keep them clasped together under the table the rest of period as he tries to explain the Doppler effect.
January 5
I can’t believe it’s been a month since I wrote in this. So much has happened.
%$#@*! and I meet secretly at school. We still go to the library every day during study hall, where we sometimes talk about physics. But during lunch, when C%$@S W#!(*& has a different lunch period every other day, he and I meet in one of the storerooms underneath the stage where they store sets and props for school plays and concerts. He discovered the door is never locked. I don’t ask how he found this out.
Anyway, %$#@*! meets me there. The first time was right after we got back from Christmas break. He and C%$@S W#!(*& had sort of broken up again, and during study hall he seemed upset. I asked if he wanted to talk. The librarian, Mrs. Simpson, was eyeing us from the front desk. I think she’s suspicious of us anyway.
Not here, he said. I know a place, he whispered. Then he scrawled out a note that read MEET ME UNDER THE STAGE DURING LUNCH. We both have fifth period lunch. He knows that because he sees me every day but has to pretend he doesn’t.
I stand outside the prop room and wait for %$#@*!. He shows up a couple minutes later, book bag slung over one sho
ulder, looking AWEsome. He turns the knob and guides me into the dark room. He reaches up and pulls on a light. The room is cluttered and comfortable, like a very crowded living room with couches and lamps and props they use in the plays.
I notice a red velvet cape draped over a screen. I lift it off and cover myself with it. I feel like a queen. I swing the cape back and forth. %$#@*! laughs. This place is cool, I say. It’s like my imagination can go wild in here.
I knew you’d like it.
I glance through all the stuff. I notice a box overflowing with necklaces and bracelets. %$#@*! reaches inside the box and pulls out a crown. He places it on my head.
All I need is a throne, I say.
Hold on. He climbs to the back of the room and rummages around. He comes back with a giant wicker chair. Your throne, my lady.
I sit and cover myself in velvet. Send in my royal subjects! I say in a demanding tone.
He grins at me and kneels. I beg of thee, my lady, do not send me to the gallows.
I find a plastic sword and tap each of his shoulders. I declare you Sir %$#@*! of Rooster, Ohio.
He stands and kisses my hand. Thank you, your highness. Your wish is my command.
I blush and say, my wish is for you to kiss me.
I set the journal down and text Shelly.
-U still up?
-Yeeesss
-Need to call you.
-K.
“Hey,” I say, when she answers.
“Wuz up?”
“I think I found out who my father is,” I say.
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” I run my hand over the cover of my mother’s pink-flowered diary. “Not his name, but . . . can I read it to you?” I say.
“Over the phone?”
“Something like this is better in person.”
“Do you want to come over?”
“Now? Won’t your parents get mad at me coming over so late?”
“They sleep like mummies,” she says. “Meet me out by the pool. I’ll leave the back gate open for you.”
Chapter Seventeen
I set the journal on the passenger seat and back out of my space under the streetlamp. As I drive, I think about how I am digging up secrets she doesn’t want me to know. But they are my secrets too.
I park in front of the house next to Shelly’s so her parents won’t see my car in case they have heard my getting-louder-each-day muffler. I grab the book and skulk across their lawn, and as Shelly promised, the gate hangs open. Two lounge chairs are pushed together. Shelly is reclining in one. She sits up when she notices me and waves me over. I plunk down on the other chair with the book on my lap. She hands me a flashlight.
“So, do you want to start from the beginning?” she says.
I recline next to her and open the journal. The candles on the table produce just enough light for me to read the cursive writing on the pages. I begin to read. “August 25, 1995. Senior year! I am almost DONE with this place. I am sad and happy at the same time . . .”
February 5
I LOVE fifth period every other day. It’s the best part of my week when %$#@*! and I snuggle together under the stage. Sometimes we hear footsteps above us when people walk across. I know we’re taking a chance, especially now with the Valentine Concert coming up. The band rehearses during fifth. In fact one time %$#@*! and I had to hide quickly under some props because we heard someone coming into the room.
I love this room. It’s like a giant sandbox full of toys. Every day %$#@*! and I find new stuff to play with and we pretend. Like today we found costumes from West Side Story. I pretended I was Maria and wore a dark wig. He found a leather jacket and said he was Tony of the Jets. We pretended we were at the school dance.
[EX1-sa]Valentine’s Day
Today %$#@*! and I did IT for the first time. He and I have been messing around some since our first time in the prop room, but never all the way. This morning when I woke up I sensed today something would turn in our relationship.
I made him some lemon bars and he kissed me deeply as a thank you. He brought me one of those little heart-shaped boxes of chocolates with a bear on it. I tried not to think about HER.
And I soon forgot after %$#@*! laid me down on a mattress and started to unwrap me from my clothes. Time stopped and he just looked at me naked. You’re so beautiful, he said to me. Like a sculpture. Then he stood up and took off all his clothes and laid down next to me. Feeling his skin on mine felt like nothing I ever felt before. With Paul we never really get naked all the way. A lot of times we just do it in his pickup. But here I was skin to skin with %$#@*!and he was warm and smelled so clean. And we started kissing and he rolled himself on top of me. I wanted my body to melt inside his. I have protection, he said. And he put on a rubber, and then he slipped himself inside me and we rocked until I felt the Fourth of July just explode inside me.
February 20
I think someone else is using our room for the same reasons as me and %$#@*!. We started finding used condoms among some of the props.
But so far nobody has caught us.
March 1
Happy Birthday to me.
Mom and I had a HUGE fight today because the first thing she says to me this morning is, You’re 18 now. Get out of my house! See, now that I am of age, Mom can’t get any support money on me. All Gil and I have ever been is welfare money to her. Checks she can use to buy booze and shit. She did the same to Gil when he turned 18. So it’s not like I’m surprised. But still. Can’t she wait a couple months until school is out? I’m never tossing my own kids out just because they turn 18. I plan to love my children.
March 12
I knew %$#@*! was into sports, but I didn’t know he did pole-vaulting. I found out when he was trying to explain trajectory to me. I had a problem where I was supposed to predict a trajectory of tossing a softball???? Who thinks about this kind of stuff?
It’s like in pole-vaulting, he said. I have to mentally calculate how much speed and how many steps down the runway to achieve maximum speed and initiate my takeoff at the end of the approach. I also need to figure out the angle to hold my pole. At the beginning my pole is upright, and as I run, I decrease the degrees gradually as I get closer to the landing pit. The pole acts as a lever to vault me over the bar.
I nod. Kind of like in the Middle Ages and they used catapults to throw boulders over castle walls?
Yeah, exactly, he said. I’m like a human catapult.
But how do you know where you will land?
Part of it’s luck, but mainly it’s simple physics. I kind of make a mental movie of it before I start. I count my steps backward from the starting point to the box. But I have to calculate my stride length and speed together, only counting the steps taken with my right foot, until the last three steps, which are faster, are counted as three, two, one. The goal here is to use the kinetic energy, or K, from the approach and to use the potential energy of the pole, or P, to jump off the ground and obtain vertical lift.
But how do you get all the way over the bar once you’re up in the air? Doesn’t gravity make you fall?
Yes, but I use my body to defy gravity for a split second. I raise my arms above my head, beginning with my left arm, since I’m left-handed, and extend my right arm perpendicular to the pole so my body forms a T, so when I drop the pole into the box, the whole thing pulls me up and forward at the same time. But this is where I have to be careful to keep my legs straight.
Why?
It’s like having a spoiler on a car for speed. You have to hold your trail leg just right.
What happens if you don’t?
The trajectory is wrong, and I knock the bar off.
He makes a sketch of the bar and a stick figure holding a pole.
Imagine this is a triangle. I draw a mental picture of this triangle before I run, and my goal is to make my body part of this triangle. But once you’re over you’re not home yet because you have to twist yourself on an imaginary axis while releasing the
pole so it falls away from you before you hit the mats.
Is there a certain way you’re supposed to land?
Face up. Otherwise you can break your nose because your speed is still pretty fast. I tend to land on my back with bent knees.
Wow, everything is physics, isn’t it?
Yeah, pretty much. You should come watch me sometime.
Maybe I will, I told him. I’m pretty sure I won’t because C%$@S W#!(*& will be there. I wonder what he sees in her. She’s such a snot and I know she makes fun of me. I went to the second floor girls’ restroom the other day when she was in there with some of her homecoming court cheerleader friends. They were all at the mirror teasing and spraying their hair, and they stopped talking when I came in. After I walked out I could hear them through the door laughing, and C%$@S W#!(*& saying I was Most Likely to Grow up and Work in a Donut Shop.
So no, I don’t think I will ever go watch %$#@*! pole-vault.
March 14
I had to move in with Gil and Ginny. I guess it’s okay because now I am closer to work. And they love me and I love them right back. Ginny is teaching me how to ride a motorcycle. Gil’s is way too big and heavy for me.
Oh well. Other than Gil and his friends staying up too late a lot of nights, I like living there. The only bad thing is my period is late. I hope this doesn’t mean anything.
March 20
I’m so confused. I meet %$#@*! in the prop room almost every day now, and we have the most amazing time. Sometimes we just talk. Other times we spend the whole time kissing and stuff even though I am still dating Paul and he has %C$@S W#!(*& and it’s not like this can go anywhere. We both have other plans. And we’re not in love. I don’t think we are. But I dread the thought of not seeing him every day once we graduate.