by Sue Seabury
Kyle started ignoring me just like Ned. I talked to Hannah about when she thought Ned might start planning on crumbling. All she did was shrug.
“Go figure. He’s even dumber than he looks.”
Since this was not exactly the type of advice/encouragement I had been hoping for, I asked for her opinion on a different issue. I told her about Mrs. Rochel and the truffles.
Hannah pouted thoughtfully. “So she never actually tasted them?”
I nodded the affirmative.
“I say you go with saying that it was imitation extract.”
“Does that exist?”
“Oh yeah. My dad’s a bigtime baker.”
Her father is a plumber. My thoughts must have betrayed themselves.
“It relaxes him. He bakes, like, every weekend.”
I marveled again at how she was able to keep that neat little figure of hers.
When Diana bypassed me without even a nod of acknowledgment for a second time to eat with Kyle, my veneer of impenetrability crumbled. I went to finish out the lunch period in the library.
As I sat there with only dusty books for company, I came to the conclusion that I really needed to talk to someone about this mess. Miss Kindley was just the person for the job. As if she had read my mind, there was a note waiting from her in French class that she wanted to see me “sometime soon.”
Directly after class, I made a beeline for her office, the first real smile on my face in many days. Her door was shut. But I was so excited about the idea of having a sympathetic ear that I almost forgot my manners and barged right in. At the last second, I caught myself and peered through the cutout in her door. I had no trouble recognizing that severe blonde bun.
Sofagirl.
I pulled my face back from the window before Miss Kindley noticed me. Sofagirl had some nerve intruding on my time with the counselor. For heaven’s sake, what could she possibly have to talk about that was more important than my boyfriend problems?
I huffed off to struggle through wood shop on my own now that some people were heartless enough not to want to help me anymore.
Right after shop class, I tried to catch Miss Kindley again, but someone else was taking up my seat. Had her office suddenly become Grand Central Terminal or what?
The next morning, I went to see her first thing to set up an appointment.
“Jane, I’m so happy you came. Unfortunately, I have a meeting right now.”
I stomped my foot like a little kid who has been told she can’t have candy for breakfast. Miss Kindley raised her eyebrows at me. I had to explain. “Oh, it’s just I stopped by yesterday - twice - and you were busy. And now today...”
Miss Kindley kneaded the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I know, it seems like all I do is put out fires lately. But listen -” She glanced down at her planner. “When do you have lunch?” I told her. “Perfect. Do you mind spending it with me?”
Would I mind giving up my lonely, pathetic lunch to eat with the nicest person in this entire building and possibly the whole world? I told her I didn’t have any prior commitments.
The one thing I really didn’t want her to see was what I had for lunch. Mom packed Marmite again. It’s kind of stinky.
“What’s that you have?” she asked, unwrapping a tuna salad sandwich. I was happy to see she had something even stinkier than mine.
I told her. Then I had to explain what it was.
“So you’re creative in the kitchen as well.”
Miss Kindley and I used to talk fashion all the time.
“Not really. My mom is more into cooking than I am.”
“Oh,” Miss Kindley was looking at me oddly. A little light went on.
Something told me we weren’t going to get to my personal problems today.
I was so glad to have consulted with Hannah yesterday. Without missing a beat, I replied, “Oh, you mean the truffles? Yeah, Mrs. Rochel got all bent out of shape about them. I don’t know why. It was a total accident that they fell on the floor. I cleaned it up, so there wasn’t any mess for the janitor.”
Miss Kindley was watching me very closely so I did a few long division problems in my head to keep my breathing even.
“Dropping them on the floor was not the issue. Mrs. Rochel said, and I have to admit I had a very hard time believing her, that they reeked of alcohol.”
I blinked at her as I translated ounces into grams and then liters. It helped me to put the right amount of mystification into my voice when I said, “What? Oh, it’s imitation extract. My mom bakes, like, all the time. It relaxes her.”
Thank you Hannah for that line too.
Miss Kindley smiled. “I knew there had to be a reasonable explanation. It’s not in your character at all to do something as egregious as that.” Apparently Miss Kindley does a little dictionary-reading herself.
She laughed.
I had to solve several irrational square roots before I could laugh along with her. I kept chewing the whole grain bread to give my mouth something to do.
Once I had calmed down, though, it was kind of funny that Mrs. Rochel wanted to stage an intervention for me, just as I had wanted to do for M. Waddell.
My heart stopped again in French class when M. Waddell asked me directly if I had spoken to Miss Kindley yet. Seriously, I am going to need one of those artificial hearts if this keeps up.
With an encouraging smile I told him that it was all taken care of. For some reason, he didn’t look reassured.
Strange but true scientific fact: 8% of human males are color blind. 99% of the 8% are in fact only color-impaired and can detect some hues.
Other than narrowly escaping permanent expulsion for transporting and distributing alcohol in the school, the only good thing that happened that day was that a new issue of Sassy Classy came in the mail. Slim comfort, I know, but there was an article in it about how color affects a person’s mood. I didn’t know if Ned’s weak eye was color blind or not. Based on the way he had been dressing lately, it was a good possibility. I still figured it was worth a shot.
Having lost several days already, I didn’t think this was the time to fool around. For maximum impact, I wore a purple velvet vest for sophistication over my white tuxedo shirt denoting innocence with red studs for love and a blue choker indicating loyalty and tranquility.
I also went with rainbow toe socks and my multicolored sweater, figuring that would cover the remaining colors such as pink for romance and orange for optimism and warmth.
Black was the color of choice for my pants because, although black is considered to be serious and somber, it is slimming and therefore has a mood-boosting effect on the wearer.
At the last minute, I put a yellow flower of optimism in my hair. I was certainly being optimistic by sticking it in that rat’s nest, but I ran out of time after trying to get the outfit exactly right.
I got plenty of second glances from people as I made my way down the hall at school, but there was only one eye that I was interested in catching.
Meliss cracked her gum loudly in my face and said, “Who are you supposed to be, a psychedelic muppet?”
Even Diana gave me a few looks I would not categorize as kind. All I have to say is, she had some nerve, showing up in a pink ensemble, looking like a giant heart and I do not mean a cute little thing a ten-year-old would draw. The top and bottom halves didn’t even match. They were off by a half a tone if not more.
All that effort, and Ned didn’t give me a first glance, never mind a second. I guess that gimpy eye of his is color blind.
When he utterly ignored me and then blew out of class again, I had an actual pain in my chest that could only be called heartache. Sign me up for one of those replacement ones.
Another day went by with no thawing on Ned’s part. While Mrs. Dipsey was leading another “vision quest,” I came up with action plan #2. At least art was not turning out to be a total waste since it gave me the time to come up with action plans.
I would demand Ned meet me f
or lunch. It was C day and he owed me this much. After class, he tried to avoid me first by talking to Mr. Hiro and then by pretty much running down the hall, but I had on rubber-soled shoes and caught him.
Grabbing him firmly by the arm, I knocked his books to the floor. He leaned down to pick them up without looking at me once.
I put my foot on top of his books. For a second, it looked like he was considering leaving them there and walking away.
“Ned,” I said in my most commanding Robin Jane voice. “We have to talk. Lunch. The courtyard. Be there.”
Then I helped him gather his books, but he still wouldn’t look at me.
My heart, oh, my heart. Did you know the wait for one of those replacement ones is hundreds of people long? Doesn’t seem like a very practical solution if you ask me.
It was cold and a little damp, in other words, not the best day to be out in the courtyard. So I blame it on the weather that I was pacing back and forth. I had spent the entire morning reviewing my argument, ignoring all attempts made at teaching me something. Screwing this up was not an option.
As I reviewed my main points and walked up and down for the fiftieth time, it hit me that Ned should have been here by now.
Activate Full Panic Mode (FPM).
My action plan would only work if Ned provided minimal cooperation by showing up.
I tried to remember his schedule, but it was all a jumble in my head. Did he have gym today? No, or else he would have it now. Was it really C day or had I missed a day somewhere? At some point I began flapping my arms because my fingers were starting to feel tingly with the cold.
I may have even been mumbling Ned’s schedule aloud when a voice behind me said, “Are you okay?”
I jumped three feet in the air. That’s what it felt like anyway.
Perhaps I should make more of an effort to ramp up my adrenaline output with the basketball unit we have coming up in gym.
Strange but true scientific fact: A person does not need a stomach to live. In fact, she could lose a lung, a kidney, her spleen, 75% of her liver, 80% of her intestines, and virtually all of the organs of the pelvic region and keep on ticking.
This is all very interesting, but the only organ that concerns me right now is my heart.
“Ned!” I cried in genuine happiness and relief. “You came!” I held my arms out.
Ned crossed his. I chose to believe it was to keep himself warm.
“Yeah.” He considered me with pursed lips. “I wasn’t going to.”
My stomach sank down about level with my knees. “You weren’t?”
He shook his head at the ground.
“Why not?” My voice cracked. Action plan #2 was not off to a good start. I was supposed to be posing hard-hitting questions and combining them with irrefutable assertions in order to bowl him over with charming persuasion that would send him right back into my welcoming arms.
Ned shrugged and kicked the frozen ground. He looked like he was thinking about leaving right now. I wasted no further time waiting for him to begin.
“Ned, I-”
Ned spoke at the same time. Since his voice is deeper, he won.
“You’re always so gung-ho about that Kyle kid. ‘Kyle said this.’ Kyle’s from Borneo.’ Then, the deal at your locker...I just figured it was your way of breaking up with me.”
My knees felt weaker and weaker as his explanation went on, perhaps because my stomach was weighing them down. At the end of his speech, I sank down into a squatting position and only just saved the butt of my pants from getting muddy.
He was right. I had been too gushy about Kyle and never once thought about how it sounded.
But the second half was despicable. I would never break up with someone like that. Not that I had ever had anyone to break up with before, but I feel certain Robin Jane’s moral code would never allow it.
“Ned, I would never break up with you like that. I would just tell you,” I said, with what I hoped was an utter sincere, loving and loyal gaze since my coat was plain black and did not communicate these noble ideas.
Ned stared back at me with a look that said that these honorable feelings were not coming across. “So is that what you are telling me now?”
“No!” I yelled. I jumped to my feet but almost fell over because they had frozen from squatting for so long.
Ned grabbed my arm and I was not too proud not to take advantage of it. I tried to snuggle in close to him but he held me firmly away.
My stomach dropped for the second time in two minutes but I pretended it didn’t bother me at all that my first boyfriend ever was acting totally immune to my charms. I straightened up, cleared my throat and said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He was so coldly polite, it just about killed me.
“Ned,” I said, losing all pretense of calm. “Please believe me. I did not ask Kyle to kiss me in front of you.”
Ned didn’t look convinced.
“I swear, he followed me to my locker. I didn’t even know he was there. Then he lays one on me. I was as surprised as you.”
Ned was still unimpressed with my story. He gazed at me, now looking more sad than angry, and then shrugged. He turned to walk away, mumbling something I couldn’t hear.
“Ned!” I cried, much louder than necessary since he was still standing right in front of me, just facing the opposite direction. He cringed at my shriek.
Once again, I took advantage of his momentary shock to hang on to him. “Where are you going? Why won’t you talk to me?”
Ned turned halfway. His lips were almost white, they pressed together so tightly. “So, he kissed you and you were surprised.”
“Yes! Yes! That’s exactly what happened!” I was starting to hyperventilate.
“So then what?”
“What do you mean? You showed up.”
“Yeah, I remember that part. I mean what happened after I left?”
“Oh, I see. I ran after you.”
“After that.”
“Well, I dropped the truffles I made for you in the hallway.”
“You made me truffles?”
“Uh-huh.”
He softened ever so slightly at the mention of food. More shameless advancing of my cause. “A whole bunch. I almost got suspended because Mrs. Rochel smelled the alcohol in them. I threw them away, even though Kyle said he would eat them after they fell on the floor. I almost wish I had let him eat the dirty ones so he would have dropped dead and died.” Okay, too much information.
Ned crossed his arms. “So he was still waiting for you.”
“Yeah, but I screamed at him and told him to leave me alone.”
Ned nodded faintly. “Then what happened?”
Uh-oh. “Um, nothing much. I missed the bus and had to call my mom for a ride.” I couldn’t quite meet his eye for that one.
“Did she come?”
I hadn’t notice Ned’s car in the parking lot that afternoon. Then again, I hadn’t lifted my eyes higher than the pavement.
“She said it would take a while,” I said evasively. I don’t know why I was prolonging the agony. Ned totally knew.
“So what’d you do?”
“Umm, I said I would wait, what was I going to do? Then I went and cried in the bathroom for a while.” I said in a pathetic attempt to pull his heart strings.
“So you didn’t get a ride from anyone else?”
My heart strings were the ones being pulled. Ned had waited for me. He saw the snow and was going to at least give me a lift home. My stomach did another twist. It felt like my pancreas and liver swapped places too. It can’t be healthy to have one’s organs lurching about like this.
Ned crossed his arms, waiting for me to answer.
“Oh, yes. That’s right. I forgot. Kyle’s mom did offer me a ride. Totally slipped my mind.” I let out a little, light chuckle to show how ditzy I can be sometimes.
Ned nodded his head slowly. He turned to leave.
“Wait, Ned, let me explain,�
� I said, catching up to him again. “My mother forced me to take the ride with his mom.” Then I really started blathering, “Really, she is trying to hit Kyle’s mom up for some charity fundraiser or something and she is forcing me to be nice to him. But I just rode in the car. I didn’t even speak except to say thank you to his mom. He even had the nerve to ask me out on a date after all that. But I told him to bug off. I haven’t spoken to him since except when I have to in biology class because he’s my partner.”
I would give anything - a kidney, 75% of my liver, my whole entire brain - to not have said the last three sentences.
Ned actually laughed a little, which I took as a good sign. “I love the way you’re so bad at lying.” He walked around me.
He just said love! I darted in front of him. “Wait! Where are you going?”
“Inside. It’s freezing.”
“But what about us?”
Ned shrugged and looked a little uncomfortable but said loud and clear, “I don’t think there is an ‘us’ any more.”
As Ned disappeared back inside the building, my stomach did its final drop. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see it lying on the ground between my shoes.
Strange but true scientific fact: 93% of communication is non-verbal.
I don’t know why I ever bother opening my mouth.
Leaving behind any organs that may have fallen into the mud, I walked robotically back into the building. Somehow I found the correct class. Or at least, the teacher didn’t tell me to leave. Then again maybe he or she did. I don’t remember what the teacher looked like or what s/he talked about. The only thing I could see was Ned’s face as he said those horrible final words to me.
The bell rang. People around me moved. I knew I needed to do the same but the prospect seemed overwhelming. Fortunately someone took pity on me.
“Jane? Are you okay? You look a little dazed,” said a kind soul, whose features I eventually recognized as Diana’s.