It feels good to be back at school and hanging around with Kelly again. Today, my life almost felt like it did when I started school last year, before all of the madness really began . . .
August 31
Dear Kitty,
Sam’s gone now. Mom cried pretty hard all the way home after we dropped her off at school down south. The rest of us were quiet the whole way back. It’s weird to have someone leave. It’s been Mom, Dad, Sam, Alex, and me (and now you, of course!) for so long I guess I took it for granted it would always be that way. I of all people should know nothing stays the same long enough. Just when you start getting used to something, everything changes. Why does that always have to happen? Dad says it’s part of growing up and becoming an adult. Mom says it’s part of life. I say it stinks, no matter how you look at it . . .
September 5
Dear Kitty,
We played our first real season football game today. Having Alex and now Kelly on the Varsity team with me is the best. The game was challenging, but so dang much fun! Usually when I play football, things will happen during the game to make me mad—like receivers who don’t catch my passes—but like in preseason, nothing could make me angry. It almost seems like a crime to get so happy over playing football. We won this game, too. Our team is so incredible, smart, and fast that Coach feels good about teaching us more complicated plays. We’re all so psyched and determined to take state this year that we’re working as hard as we can, and it’s paying off. We’ve already had a few write-ups in the paper about our team. They’re saying we’re the team to watch this year and that we have the best chance of going to state!
Everyone’s amazed at how well and smart I can play this game. Believe me—the real game of football is played between the ears, not out on the field. Coach says that all the time, and it’s true. You, of course, were—and are!—my inspiration to keep going and keep trying. I’m always going to be grateful to you for that . . .
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
So, Kathy, which study question are you doing your paper on this week?”
“Mmm—I think I’m going to do the one on Bartleby as a Christ figure.”
Jason and I had been calmly reviewing Melville’s short story together while Emily practiced her piano lesson. After the first time I’d come to Jason’s to tutor him, I’d made it a point to tell Emily how much I loved hearing her play the piano. As a result, every afternoon at four o’clock, Emily made sure she was the one who scrambled to the door to let me in. After hurrying me to Jason, she’d scoot off to the piano and play and play—which as Jason had pointed out, made it a win-win situation for all of us: Emily got her practicing done, and we were able to study in peace.
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
I jumped at Jason’s loud reaction and laughed. “Wow, Jason—you scared me!”
Jason shook his head incredulously. “So did you! But you’re just messing with me, right? I mean—because of all the religious stuff we’ve talked about. You’re not seriously going to write on Bartleby as a Christ figure, are you?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Actually, yes, I am seriously going to write a paper on Bartleby as a Christ figure.”
“How—why? Especially after all the stuff we’ve talked about—”
“Exactly, Jason,” I interrupted, much to Jason’s annoyance. “Actually, because of all the stuff we’ve talked about. Considering all of your amazing knowledge on Christ, I’m surprised you didn’t decide to write on this study question yourself.”
Jason almost snorted in disgust. “I’m not writing on that stupid question because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Bartleby is not at all like Christ. I’d feel sacrilegious writing a paper on Bartleby as a Christ figure!”
“If that’s how you feel, maybe you need to read the story again,” I said evenly.
“I don’t need to read the story again—I know he’s nothing like Christ! I’m just sorry that you seem to think he is. Disappointed, actually.”
“Hey, Jason—what’s going on?”
I’d been so into our debate that I hadn’t heard anyone come into the room. Jason didn’t look like he’d heard anything, either, but none of that changed the harsh reality of Angela’s presence bouncing toward us. I didn’t know what to say. Jason wore a dumbfounded look on his face and, surprisingly, didn’t seem to know what to say, either, but that was fine, because Angela had plenty to say, enough to make up for both of us.
“I made some cookies for you, Jas. Chocolate chip—your favorite! Just the way you like them—extra gooey.” I groaned in pain while Angela planted herself so close to Jason she practically sat on him.
Jason finally found his voice. “Oh—wow—you didn’t need to do that.” Once again he had the decency to look uncomfortable and even a little embarrassed.
Angela smiled her biggest and did her best to pretend I wasn’t there. “I wanted to.”
Being turned into a piece of furniture by Jason’s football buddies was one thing, but having to deal with it from Angela—I took a deep breath, closed my book, and reached for my book bag. “Well, I think I’ll take off now, Jason.”
Jason leaned down and snatched my book bag before I could touch it. “No—we’re not done studying.” Jason turned back to Angela. “You know Kathy’s my English tutor, Angela—”
Angela quickly cut him off. “Brad and Jeff told me at my party on Halloween. All about Kathy tutoring you in your home. Privately.” Now that Angela was pointedly glaring at me, I decided that maybe being ignored by Angela was okay after all.
Jason tried to smile. “Oh—good. Well, Kathy’s still tutoring me right now, so—”
“Oh, I know. Don’t mind me! I’ll just wait until you’re done.” Angela settled herself snugly on the couch next to Jason, clearly not intending to budge an inch.
“Is that okay with you, Kathy?” Jason tried to smile, but I knew his real smiles, and this one was too tight, tense, and painful looking.
“Good grief, Jason!” Angela interrupted. “I’m sure she doesn’t mind if your girlfriend wants to wait around until you’re done! I’ll be quiet as a mouse. Quieter! You won’t even know I’m here.”
With an encouraging nod from Jason, I opened my literature book again while Angela grabbed a magazine and watched us over the top of its pages. I was seething inside, watching her gloat with an evil grin on her face, but of course whenever Jason looked up, she had nothing but innocent, flirty smiles for him. I was determined to grit my teeth and get through the session, hoping to bore her into leaving. Unfortunately, Angela was just as determined to get rid of me. After five minutes, she tossed the magazine aside and made Jason eat a cookie. Then she brought him a glass of milk and snuggled back beside him to lace her fingers into his and play with his hand. This was mouse-like? The only thing that got me through the rest of the hour was Jason’s discomfort over our interesting triangle and every little flirty thing Angela inflicted upon him. I worked through my pain until the bitter end and drove home, sticking my tongue out at Angela’s baby blue Volkswagen, hating that final, smug smile on Angela’s face as she grinned her good-bye, still clinging to Jason’s hand and feeding him her stupid cookies.
~
October 1
Dear Kitty,
While I’ve been busy winning football games, you’ve been busy scoring some touchdowns of your own! You crawl around everywhere now. You can crawl faster than I can run, and don’t you know it! It’s dangerous to leave you alone at all, because quick as lightning, you’re off to some unknown destination that’s sure to be trouble. You squeal all the way while I chase you at a dead run. I have no idea how you can move so fast. We need to suit you up and put you out on the field—you’d score us more touchdowns than Alex or I ever could!
We’re all going to have to watch out, though, because you’ve figured out how to pull yourself up by holding onto just about anything. You’d think that would be enough to keep you satisfied, but no—you’ve barely figured out
how to pull yourself up, and once you’re there, you’re cruising around the room, hanging onto furniture as you go.
And then there’s dinnertime. That’s become a whole new adventure. You prefer to feed yourself, but I’ve learned to keep a close eye on you, since you insist on having your highchair set up by me. If I ignore you at all, I get a blob of something thrown in my hair or face. If I try to get mad at you, you laugh and babble at me as if it’s just a new game we’re playing. I can’t stay mad. Who could, after looking into those blue eyes of yours and seeing you smile?
I’ve just been in the best mood lately—there aren’t any words to describe how awesome it’s been to play football again, but as great as that’s been, the greatest thing was having Jennifer say yes to going to homecoming with me. I sent her roses, and she drove me crazy making me wait before she answered with a huge mass of balloons. I had to pop every one before I found the Y, E, and S in the last three. You jumped a mile each time I popped a balloon, and then you stared in shock at all the dead balloons after I’d finished massacring them. It took a quick drive to the store for a few helium balloons to get you to even look at me again!
Jennifer gave me a piece of the dress she’s making for the dance so I can make sure her corsage matches. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited and nervous at the same time.
Kelly came over later on and unfortunately got caught by Mom comparing some Bible stuff with similar stuff from his Book of Mormon with me. Mom looked like she was ready to get medieval about it, but I told her that I’d brought the religion thing up, not Kelly, which was true. This time, anyway. Kelly apologized for upsetting her, though. I thought that was pretty funny. He didn’t apologize for talking Book of Mormon stuff with me—just for upsetting her.
Once Mom calmed down and was convinced Kelly wasn’t going to baptize me on the spot, you woke up from your nap, so I got you out of your crib, and Kelly and I figured out the best way to help you learn to walk. Kelly brought a bag of M&Ms, and after he slipped one in your mouth, you were hooked and begged for more. He was pretty excited and said, “Hey, look—she really does like me!” but I told him, “Toss the bag to me, and we’ll see who she’s really in love with.” Once he did, it was obvious who—or what—your first love was! Your head flipped around, and with your eyes glued to that M&M bag, you cruised your way over to me, and soon we had a great game of catch going between us with the M&M bag. Of course, we made sure you got a few M&Ms each time you crossed over to either of us. A couple more times of the old M&M game and you’ll be ready for your first marathon! So after we’d fed you enough M&Ms to make you sick for a week, I had to show Kelly our latest trick. If I say, “Kitty, where’s your eyes?” you put your finger in your eye. If I say, “Where’s your chin?” you put your finger on your chin. You can find your nose, your mouth—even your tongue and your knees. But I have to admit, I love to mess with your mind. If I say, “Kitty, where’s your thighs?” you stick a finger in your eye. If I say, “where’s your shin?” you, of course, touch your chin.
You’re so much fun—I never imagined how much fun a little sister could be. You still love the Beatles as much as I do, so we listen to Rubber Soul every night. Hanging out with you in our room listening to music before going to sleep is always the best way to end the day . . .
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
So explain to me again why you’re doing your paper on Bartleby as a Christ figure.”
I’d been listening to Emily practice her piano lesson with one ear while I’d reviewed the story with Jason when he blasted me with my paper choice again. I’d tried to keep the conversation away from that particular topic, considering how weird he had gotten over it yesterday, but Jason was giving me a determined look that pinned me into my chair.
“Well, the story’s overflowing with similarities,” I began carefully. “I can’t believe you haven’t noticed.”
“Well, clue me in, because it’s been bugging me. Show me what you’re going to try and use for your paper.”
I sighed and turned to my literature book. “Well, to begin with, the story’s tone screams that not only is Bartleby misunderstood—or simply not understood—by everyone he has to deal with, but what he does and says is just plain confusing to everyone as well. Wasn’t that true of Christ, too? That the things He did and said were misunderstood, or not understood at all, and usually confusing to those around Him? Then of course, there’s the fact that like Christ, Bartleby has lawyers around him bugging him, asking questions, and trying to trip him up and confound him. However, again like Christ, he always ends up being the one who does the tripping and confounding! Plus, Bartleby responds calmly to everyone and refuses to freak out when people try to provoke him. Christ never lost control, either. And Bartleby’s unjustly dumped into prison among thieves, like Christ was unjustly crucified between two thieves. And—why are you smiling?”
Jason folded his arms smugly. “It’s just good to know you’ve been listening to me.”
I raised both eyebrows back. “You mean, to your religious sermons?” Before Jason could retaliate, I grudgingly added, “Well, I admit some of the time I have. But I’ve been doing my usual amount of research for this paper, which just so happens to require opening a Bible.” Jason’s annoying grin had returned to his face. “I know. Me reading a Bible. Hard to imagine, isn’t it?”
Jason shook his head. “Nah—not really. But, hey, since you’re willing to read the Bible for an English paper, what would it take for me to get you to read the Book of Mormon?”
“Haven’t you practically quoted the entire book to me yourself?”
Jason beaned me in the head with one of the couch throw pillows. “Very funny!”
I grabbed the pillow off the floor and chucked it back at Jason’s face as hard as I could. He neatly and easily caught it. I rolled my eyes and made a big show of picking up my book and settling it into my lap before motioning for Jason to do the same. Then I pointed out everything in the story that to me clearly showed the similarities between Bartleby and Christ.
“Well, I’ll give you a few points,” Jason said grudgingly when I was through. “But still, for every point about Bartleby that’s like Christ, I can find two that show he’s totally the opposite of Christ. All of that ‘I prefer not to’ stuff just bugs me. That’s not Christlike at all.”
“Then maybe you should compare and contrast him to Christ, explaining why you don’t think he’s a Christ figure. Just be sure to write something you feel strongly about. It’ll show in your writing and make your paper more solid. And interesting. And Mrs. Dubois will have no choice but to give you an A.”
Jason nodded slowly. “Yeah, maybe.”
“That’s part of literature, Jason—comparing two unlikely characters and finding not only their differences but their similarities as well. Any two people have at least one thing in common.”
Jason nodded slowly before he looked at me carefully. Thoughtfully. “I guess that would explain why any two people can be friends. Even the two most unlikely people in the whole world, huh, Kathy?” He was looking at me so intently I had to fight not to squirm.
“Hey, Jason! Still studying?”
Both Jason and I jumped. Angela. Again! And once again, she looked through me as if I wasn’t even there.
Jason sighed and leaned back into the pillows cushioning his back, the intense look now gone. “It’s not five o’clock yet. Kathy tutors me for an hour.”
Angela shrugged and bounced her way over to the couch, settling herself snugly against Jason’s side. “Oh, sorry. Well, since I’m here, and it’s going to be five soon, mind if I stay?”
“I guess not.” Jason looked to me as if for an okay, but since I’d become a plant again as far as Angela was concerned, I couldn’t imagine anything I might say would’ve made any difference.
~
October 16
Dear Kitty,
Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,
Happy birthday, dear Kitty
(yeah, now it’s finally YOUR birthday!!)
Happy birthday to You!!!
I can’t believe you’re a year old! Wow! My Kitty’s a whole year old!!
What a fantastic day we’ve had—Mom made a big cake just for you that looks like a kitten. I had to videotape you plowing your hands and face into it. Even Sam, who came home for the weekend, got a kick out of it, though she wouldn’t touch you while you had all that icing all over your face and hands. It didn’t bother me any, though. I didn’t even mind that you rubbed your hands in my hair when I lifted you out of your highchair. I thought it was pretty funny and made sure Alex took a picture of us covered in chocolate icing!
The greatest part of the whole party happened after we sang to you. You looked at me and pointed, then clapped your hands and said, “Bet!” I really freaked out, because although I’ve secretly been trying to get you to say my name, you’ve never let on that you were paying any attention. You’d either stare at me like I was an idiot, or you’d ignore me. You haven’t even attempted “Mama” or “Dada” yet, so I’m pretty honored that the first word you’ve attempted to say is my name! I’ll bet you did it on purpose—waiting until a big moment to let loose on something you’d been planning all along—like a true Colton! I got all choked up, because it’s your birthday. You’re the one who’s supposed to be getting gifts, not giving out awesome gifts like the one you gave me . . .
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I’d stopped vacuuming in the living room to stare at Brett’s picture on the bookshelf, but after a few moments, my gaze moved to the three football heroes picture. I was still thinking about the three in the picture as I entered the kitchen to perch on one of the bar stools while Mom emptied the dishwasher, her locket swinging from its gold chain around her neck. I hadn’t been listening to her while she attempted to ask me questions until she walked over to me and folded her arms.
The Secret Journal of Brett Colton Page 16