Chickens & Hens

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Chickens & Hens Page 22

by Nancy-Gail Burns


  I return with the bucket and drop to my knees. Prince Charming is also going to buy me a no-wax floor. I wipe the surface we just scrubbed. Ma glares at the floor. “We didn’t get all of it,” she says.

  “You’re too fussy.”

  “I’m not. You don’t understand, if we don’t get all of it, the new polish won’t hold fast.”

  “You can’t expect perfection.”

  “I don’t, but I’m not going to ask for trouble.”

  She turns on the overhead light, and we search for leftover residue of the previous wax. “You should buy a no-wax floor.”

  “Naw, I like this old floor.”

  I scrub, thinking she’s wrong. A new floor would be perfect.

  Chapter 56

  My breath quickens. My heart races so fiercely, I fear it’ll collapse in exhaustion. Prince Charming wanders into my grade eleven science lab, and the teacher’s voice ceases to exist the moment he walks through the door.

  My body quivers with delight. Blood rushes as forcefully as a river freed from winter’s unyielding grip. Everything pounds until I can’t hear the teacher’s introduction.

  The new student transferred from another school, but I can’t tell you which one. My eyes become so gluttonous, my other senses shut down. His beauty hypnotizes me. Golden-blonde hair fans his delicate face and fights for attention with blue eyes that are so bright, they blaze like sapphires. He’s much taller than I am, and I instantly know that if we walk together, I could easily fit under his shoulder. The thought sends a shiver of delight down my spine.

  When his eyes find mine, I fear my heart will rip open from my chest and he’ll see my undying love and longing.

  Within days of his arrival, every girl decides that she loves him. The school dance is a week away, and we all pray to be the fortunate one.

  God answers only one girl’s prayers.

  Danny Price leans against the lockers and looks down at me. “Would you like to go to the dance with me?”

  Giddiness rises in me. I count to three slowly. I slam my locker shut. “I’d like that. It should be fun.”

  He brushes his golden locks from his magnificent eyes. “Great, catch you later.”

  He’s going to catch me later. Wow! The weight of the privilege forces me to lean against my locker and catch my breath.

  The news spreads like wildfire. Embers of jealousy strike me as I walk through the halls. I hold my head high. Any one of the chattering girls would trade places with me. They scrutinize and question—why is she the chosen one? None of us suspects that some people select others as you would a handbag. The art of fine accessories is an area not yet explored.

  I spend the days dreaming of our date. I hope Ma and Granny will meet Danny.

  He’ll come to the door clutching a bouquet of orange, red, and yellow gerbera daisies. Sprigs of lily of the valley will peep through the bouquet, making it so full, he’ll be unable to reach the bell. Ma and Granny will rush to his assistance. When he sees me, he’ll smile shyly and present the plethora of flowers. Their heavenly smell will transport me to paradise. Granny and Ma will squeal in delight over the sheer beauty of his presence.

  After my third class, Danny meets me in the hall. “Hey, Marnie, do you mind if I meet you at the dance? It’ll save time. I’ll have to backtrack if I pick you up.”

  “No problem,” I say, wanting to appear easygoing. My insides churn, but I force myself to smile. There’ll surely be other occasions for Ma and Granny to meet him.

  Friday finally arrives. The dance is at seven o’clock. I rush home to make myself beautiful. Butterflies flit in my stomach. I forgo my afternoon snack and hurry to my vanity to look for imperfections. The task proves disappointingly easy. My eyebrows resemble two large, tangled Potentilla bushes. I borrow Ma’s tweezers and prune the offensive follicles. Hairs flutter in every direction until my eyebrows resemble two diminutive bowed twigs. I dab the pinpricks of blood and tell myself it was worth it. I take a respite from my beauty regime and close my eyes.

  Since he’s meeting me at the dance, a bouquet won’t do. Much too cumbersome. He’ll stand still, eyes peeled for my arrival. Two opened buttons of his crisp white shirt will reveal blonde chest hairs that glitter in the sun. I’ll turn the corner and see him clutching a single red rose. He’ll hurry toward me. The emotions he feels deep in his heart will burst from his smile and dazzle me with their brilliance. His hair will fall in gentle golden waves. His sapphire eyes will shine brighter than any gem and widen in revelation and enchantment when he finally reaches me. He’ll take my hand and whisper, “You are so beautiful.”

  Ahh.

  I glance in the mirror. My curly hair has a mind of its own. I must tame it. Sheer willpower and a sturdy brush force it to fall on my shoulders in gentle waves.

  Before putting on my dress, I grab Ma’s razor and shave my legs and underarms. I have to pass the surface a few times to remove all the hair. I don’t want any blonde strays catching the light.

  I slip into the simple beige dress Ma bought for me. I thought it would be boring, but it brings out the honey colour of my hair and eyes. I look older, because it stresses the curves of my slim body. Ma thinks I’m too young to wear makeup, but I talked her into letting me wear some lipstick and mascara.

  I’m sure the mascara will make my eyes appear bigger. I hold the magical wand in my hand and brush the eyelashes with long strokes. I get in close to blacken every strand. “Ouch,” I say when the wand touches my eye.

  Water gushes, and mascara runs. Damn, the eye looks big and puffy. A cold compress rectifies the problem. I throw the mascara aside and apply lipstick.

  The grandfather clock strikes six. Each bong prompts me to hurry. Where did the time go? I take to the stairs and rush from the house.

  I run until I’m a block from the school. I then force myself to walk at a normal pace. I don’t want Danny to think I’m overanxious, but I am, I am.

  His tall, well-built body leans casually against the school fence. He’s wearing the same clothes he wore to class—faded jeans and a denim shirt. Giggles discharge from every direction as a group of girls surrounds him. I have to stand in front of him before he sees me. Even then, a few seconds pass before he offhandedly says, “Oh, hi. You’ve made it.” The girls saunter off with exaggerated wiggles.

  “Hi,” I say back. Smiling, I anticipate a compliment. He grabs hold of my arm without saying a word. We approach the glass door of the school, and when I pull it open, he studies his reflection. As we walk down the hall, he says, “You have some hairs that are sticking out funny.”

  I pat down the mischievous curls and wonder how he only sees three flyaway strands of hair after I spent hours beautifying myself for him. The movement causes an intense itch to run through my armpit. I can’t scratch it. I’ll look like a monkey. He swings his arm as he walks, and my arm swings with it. The burning itch grows. I bite at my lip and hope it subsides.

  Every girl we pass almost shrieks, “Hey, Danny!”

  “Hey right back at ya,” he tells each of them with a wink.

  At first, I’m content to just stare at him. But after a while, it becomes tiresome, and I expect more. He doesn’t look at me and never says a word. My burning itch grows as the first ember of doubt ignites.

  “So, are you happy with our school?”

  “It’s all right. It’ll take some time for things to click into place.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m a quarterback. That’s the only position I want to play.”

  “Johnny brought us to the finals last year.”

  “But did you win?”

  I don’t answer him. I scratch my armpit instead.

  “Something wrong?” he asks.

  “No,” I lie.

  “As I was saying, I was the star quarterback at my last school. As soon as the coach sees me whip the ball, I’ll be the starting quarterback again.” His thumb and index finger become a trigger, and he shoots me and winks.
<
br />   I’m beginning to wish it was a real gun.

  “I saw that Johnny guy. He can’t throw as well as I can, and his timing is a bit off.” His cheeks puff out with arrogance. “Mine is perfect.”

  He stops and takes a drink from the water fountain. I take that moment to scratch a little harder.

  He falls into step with me. “I hated leaving my last school. But what can you do? My old man got a new job. We had to leave. Girls cried when they heard I was moving. I broke more than a few hearts. Just so you know, I don’t go steady. I like to keep it out there.”

  “Much more fair,” I quip.

  “Exactly. I’m glad you understand.”

  His haughtiness fans the ember of doubt until it ignites into a bonfire of disappointment. I check my watch. My first crush lasted barely twenty minutes. How crushing!

  The music starts up, and everyone clusters around the dance floor.

  Marjorie’s laughter rings out. A group of girlfriends surrounds her. She looks past them and stares at Danny. I recognize her hound-dog look. I just discarded it. Her glance falls on me, and the green-eyed monster replaces the dog.

  “What are you looking at?” Danny snaps. “Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

  “Of course I am. I was admiring the decorations. Don’t you just love the lanterns? I wonder who made them.”

  “Who cares? They’re only paper.”

  And so are you, my friend.

  Danny grabs my arm. “Let’s dance.”

  We drift onto the dance floor. Marjorie’s glance never leaves us. Jealousy and longing coil around us, making my steps awkward. It’s difficult to glide across the floor in threes. I whisper in Danny’s ear. “Do me a favour and ask Marjorie to dance.”

  “Who’s Marjorie?”

  I discretely point.

  “The girl with the chubby legs?” he asks in amazement. “Why would I dance with her?”

  “You’re new to the school, and Marjorie is very popular. She can introduce you to nearly everyone.”

  “Her?” he questions.

  “Yes, she’s very influential. Her uncle is the coach of the football team.”

  He lets go of my hand and walks toward her. When he whispers something in her ear, she casts a victorious glance in my direction.

  I suspect that she thinks her lovesick glances stole him from me. I swallow my laughter and enjoy how it sits in my belly. For once, the glass she grabs is empty of aspirations and desires. Instead, it’s a puddle of putrid disappointment.

  I hurry to the girl’s bathroom. Friends chat in tight little bundles. I push myself into the bunch by the door.

  “If I was with Danny, I wouldn’t be here gossiping with the girls.”

  I smile at Susan. “You only say that because you weren’t with Danny.”

  “What do you mean?” Donna asks.

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just say I prefer being with my friends.”

  I return to the dance floor half an hour later. I join a group of kids known as “the losers.” I like them regardless of the mockery that surrounds them. Danny will never see me while I stand in their ranks. I can hide in the open. Time quits standing still.

  Donna runs up to me on Monday morning.

  “Danny walked Marjorie home. She’s telling everyone that she stole him from you.”

  I grab my books and close my locker. “She can have him.”

  “Aren’t you upset?”

  “Do I look upset?”

  “Not at all.”

  “There you go.”

  Marjorie tells everyone I cried like a baby when Danny picked her. Most believe her because they can’t visualize walking away from him. My friends know the truth, so I really don’t care if strangers choose to see me as hurt and wounded.

  Two weeks after the dance, Marjorie clings to Danny’s arm as they walk the halls. He’s the new starting quarterback, and they’re going steady. The bell sounds. She doesn’t let go of his arm. She holds tight until wedding bells sound five years later.

  Chapter 57

  My first date is a glimpse of things to come. My eyes seek Prince Charming, but he doesn’t leap onto a stallion to journey toward me. Dates remain casual without the yoke of love.

  I accept my fate and pursue my love of literature. When friends marry and plan weddings, I head off to a small university hours from my home. Ma and Granny help me find an affordable apartment ten minutes from campus.

  “It’s eclectic,” the proprietor, Mrs. Firth, says as she opens the door.

  Depicting the orange-and-brown flowered sofa, blue wing chairs, and rickety tables as eclectic misleads with an aura of pretentiousness that the furnishings don’t deserve.

  Mrs. Firth forces a window open, wipes her brow, and says, “The street is quiet, and the area is safe.” A truck takes that moment to honk its thunderous horn. Ma’s mouth twists in disdain, and Mrs. Firth blurts, “I only rent to women.”

  “We’ll take it,” Ma says.

  As the words leave her mouth, the hodgepodge before me takes on a different cast now that it belongs to me, even if it’s for only a short time.

  “You won’t regret it,” she assures Ma.

  Ma nods, but she looks unsure when she sees a wad of paper under one of the kitchen table’s legs.

  “She’ll only be renting,” Granny says as we walk down the stairs.

  “Yes,” Ma says. “I shouldn’t expect too much.”

  The day of the move arrives three months later. “It’s silly for the two of you to come. You’ll be taking the bus and jumping back on it within hours.”

  “We don’t mind,” Ma replies, and her eyes insist that I end the argument.

  We sit in the back of the bus, where four seats face one another. The driver hollers out the name of each small town we sail past. “Cantley, Springfield, Athens…”

  Young women and men board the bus and sit tightly against window seats with suitcases bulging beside them.

  I move away from Farley Falls, and although Granny and Ma sit beside me, I move away from them, too. “It’ll be odd to wake up and not see your faces,” I say.

  Granny’s voice quivers when she says, “It’s time to find your own path.” She clutches Ma’s hand tightly, and I don’t know why I want to cry. I look out the window. Trees blur as we whip by them.

  “Don’t forget, colors in cold and hot for whites,” Ma says as she and Granny wait for the bus to bring them home. “And whatever you do, get the superintendent to look at that lock. It shouldn’t stick.”

  I look down at her and wonder how she can appear so big and so small at the same time. Tears well in my eyes. I refuse to blink. My arms take a life of their own. They grab hold and cling tightly. “Don’t worry, Ma. I’ll be fine.” Her body feels warm and familiar. I don’t want to let go. “What about me?” Granny pipes, and I take hold of her, grateful for my long arms, capable of holding them both.

  They hop on the bus, sit down, and peer through the window. The bus chugs and begins to move. I witness the impossible. I can’t bear to suffer the result. I’m no longer living with Ma and Granny. My two feet feel lifeless and weighty as I drag myself back to my apartment. Once there, I open the door and fall on the unfamiliar bed and cry for two hours. For the first time in my life, I’m alone, and I miss Ma and Granny so.

  Classes begin the following day. I check and re-check room numbers, determined to navigate a new life. I look ahead and fail to see what’s in front of me. “Sorry,” I mumble as I bump into a fellow student.

  He turns, and my heart leaps from my chest. “Don’t worry about it.”

  The feelings pulsing through my body are evocative of my first love, yet the two share no similarities. This boy has thick, dark, curly hair and inquisitive black eyes. His body is long and muscular. I can barely hold on to my smile when he turns into room 402, my English literature class. Lecherous, I take the seat behind him. A pretty blonde with her hair piled high on her head follow
s his every movement. He wears his good looks casually, seemingly indifferent to the effect they have on women.

  Devon raises his hand and answers one of the professor’s questions. My attraction deepens. His voice is just the right timbre. I could listen to it until the end of time.

  Weeks pass. Devon’s popularity grows. Men like his easygoing ways, and women find him easy to look at. Whenever I walk into a room, his face lights up, and he becomes shy and awkward. Tired of the dating game, I don’t pretend to be nicer than I really am. I present my impatience alongside my bluntness. Let the chips fall where they should.

  My character doesn’t scare him away. If anything, his glances linger longer, and he finds excuses to talk to me. Leaving my English class, I hear my name. “Marnie, wait up.”

  I turn around and his words come out in a rush. “Would you like to go with me to O’Reilly’s this Friday? Loggalie is playing.”

  Words blurt out before I can stop them. “I love Loggalie. What time should I meet you?”

  “The place will be packed. How about if I pick you up?”

  I write down my address and hand him the slip of paper.

  And so it begins…

  Chapter 58

  Warmth courses through me as Devon and I walk hand-in-hand. “I can’t believe I’m stuck doing a group project with Blake Eaton and Carrie Monroe. It’s an effort for them to read the requirements. I don’t see how I’ll get them to do anything.”

  Asinine comments slip from his mouth. My complaints lose their footing and fall apart in a heap of giggles. “You’re crazy,” I say, knowing it’s me who is crazy—about him.

  We stop for groceries and prepare a simple lunch of ham sandwiches and tomato soup. “Did you remember to bring your paper? You have to hand it in on Monday.”

 

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