Life was all around me, unseen shapes crawling and leaping and flying, their identities shrouded by underbrush. Melissa wasn’t here. At least not yet. The woods remained quiet, the silence broken only by an occasional chirp and a sporadic dripping from the branches. A moist, earthy smell mingled with the leafy scent. The ground was slightly damp. It must have rained earlier.
I wrapped my arms around my body. The air was warm and still – could I even feel cold? – but there was something about being alone in a forest that’s slightly chilly and creepy. My eyes and ears strained to penetrate the silence. If anything made you believe in ghosts, it was a silent forest, and, at this point, I was open to believing in just about anything.
I heard a crackle behind me. I turned to greet Melissa, but instead found a cat standing about five feet away from me, ears flat against its head, tail puffed and body coiled like a spring. Scraggly whiskers twitched like radio antennae in a strong breeze as they probed the air for danger. Hard eyes glared at me, their pupils black slits set inside yellow armor.
The cat was ginger with a wide face and a white breast. On a window sill or a sofa, with its throat purring, it would have been beautiful. But the creature that fired bolts of malevolence from its eyes had damp, matted fur with streaks of dirt on a once-pristine belly. Its head methodically swung from side to side as it scanned the clearing where I stood.
Regardless of my being invisible and untouchable, I instinctively moved a few steps back. The cat swiveled its head in my direction and sniffed. A low growl came from its throat. I moved to the left. Its head moved slightly in my direction, its whiskers quivering uncertainly. A sidestep to the right, and again a pointed nose swung tentatively in my direction. It couldn’t see me, but it knew something was out there.
Birds chirped. The woods dripped. I felt like a gunfighter facing the villain in a Wild West movie. Was this animal going to spring at me? What would happen if it did? Maybe it was just people I couldn’t interact with in the past.
Then I heard feet crunching twigs. Bushes parted to reveal two girls in tan Girl Scout uniforms emerging into the clearing.
“I think he’s cute,” Melissa said. Her voice was almost the one I knew, just a little higher pitched. She was almost fully grown, her hair raven-black and shoulder-length. The girl next to her was stockier, with straight brown hair and pudgy legs. She looked vaguely familiar.
“I think Jimmy is a total jerk,” the second girl said. It had to be a young Kate Jordan. I’d recognize that cynicism anywhere.
Melissa suddenly stopped and stared through me. “There’s a kitty over there,” she said in a whisper. I glanced back at the cat. It looked ready to attack or bolt at the intruders in its space. A feral cat would have run away by now, but some residual memory or curiosity about humans made this cat stay, even if it looked ready to claw all of us to death.
As Melissa stepped forward, Kate took a step back. “Mangy-looking thing,” she said in a loud voice surprisingly deep. “Wonder how he got out here?”
“I’ll bet some campers brought him and he got lost. He could have been out here for months.” Melissa knelt and extended her hands. “Psst, psst. Come here, boy. I won’t hurt you.”
“I don’t know about this, Melissa.” Kate was a mirror-image of the cat, knees slightly bent, head craning forward. “That thing looks pretty wild. He might have rabies. Maybe we should tell one of the forest rangers.”
“By the time we get a ranger, he’ll be gone. Besides, he looks scared to me, not dangerous.” Her voice had that tone of compassion I knew so well. There were times when I criticized her for giving money to a homeless man who would only use it to buy a pint. Yet as I watched Melissa patiently extend her hand to a frightened, tired animal, I felt a thrill of pride.
“He’s probably cold and hungry. His fur is all wet.” Melissa moved slowly forward. “Psst, psst. Come here, kitty.”
The cat bared long, sharp teeth and its eyes tracked the movement of Melissa’s hand.
“He’ll bite you,” Kate said, picking up a long stick.
“Don’t worry.”
“If he jumps at you, I’m gonna whack him.” Kate thwacked the stick in her palm and glared at the feline. For a girl who couldn’t have been more than twelve, she had an intimidating stare. The cat spared her a contemptuous glance, then returned its eyes to Melissa.
“Take it easy, Kate. I think he’s more scared of us than you are of him. I’ll bet he hasn’t seen any humans in a while. He looks like he hasn’t eaten much, either.”
The cat tensed until its leg muscles looked like they were about to pop out of its skin. Why didn’t it run? “Get out of here, you stupid pest,” I said sharply. The animal’s whiskers twitched.
Melissa showed her open palms to the cat as if she were its prisoner. Then she slowly reached into her pocket. “I think I have some of those cheese crackers. I’ll bet he’s hungry enough to eat it.” She pulled out a packet, opened a wrapper, and extracted a double-cracker with an unnatural orange filling. Melissa carefully slid one cracker off another, leaving cheese piled on top of the bottom cracker like paste stuck to a floor tile.
The cat rose slightly off its rear legs. Melissa was right – it definitely once belonged to someone. It was a big cat. Or it had been, judging by the folds of skin hanging loosely from its side. This was an animal that did not enjoy missing its meals.
Melissa advanced slowly. The cat hissed.
“It’s okay, kitty. Come on. I’ll give you some nice cheese. Then I’ll take you home and give you some milk.”
“Rabies, Melissa, rabies,” Kate said darkly. “Do you know how they cure you? I’m talking needles the size of telephone poles.”
“Psst, psst. He doesn’t have rabies, Kate. He’s not foaming at the mouth and he’s not acting crazy. It’s no wonder he’s nervous. Look how hungry and dirty he is.”
The cat’s jaws opened wide and I thought I saw wetness around its lips.
“No! Don’t do it, Melissa.” I ran between her and the cat and spread my arms. She walked right through me.
“Come on, Kitty. Come with me out of the rain. I’ll take care of you.” The cat retreated a few steps. It limped on its right rear paw. “You’ve hurt your leg. Come here; I’ll take you to a vet.”
Kate grasped the stick grimly. “If it’s injured, Melissa, it will attack you. If it does, move away as quickly as you can. I’ll knock its lights out.”
The cat mewed once, twice, in a cry of pain and despair. Then it inched forward as Melissa did the same. Melissa stuck out a finger. The cat sniffed it, then rolled on its side as Melissa reached out for its belly.
I braced for the scream of pain. How could she be stupid enough to rub a feral cat’s belly in the middle of the woods? “Be careful, sweetie,” I said with a cringe as I waited for a snarl and bite.
The cat rubbed its head against Melissa’s hand and then turned its attention to the cheese.
“I don’t believe it,” Kate said, sounding disappointed that she wouldn’t get to use her stick. She dropped it to the ground. “I thought he was going to bite you. How did you do that?”
“You just have to know how to deal with animals. Besides, it’s a living creature. If we saw a person limping, we would help him without thinking, right?”
Kate shrugged, though Melissa didn’t see this since she was still focused on the cat.
“Don’t worry, kitty,” she said. “You’re coming home with me.”
“You can’t take him home. How are you going to convince your parents to let you keep him? You told me your dad hates cats. They drive your dog crazy.”
Melissa grinned as she tickled the cat under his chin. “Don’t worry. I’ll convince them.” She studied the cat. “What am I going to call you? I think I’ll call you Ginger.”
The fog that enveloped me was bright yellow…
*
/> …and then it was as blue as the Caribbean at high noon. Now my world was bounded by tall curtains and a scuffed hardwood floor. I was in the wings of a stage, and when I stepped out into the center, I saw kids buzzing and chattering as they filled the rows of the auditorium. Through the open doors of the hall came glimpses of a corridor crisscrossed by rushing students bent under the weight of book bags. A buzzer announced that the next period had begun. A teacher closed the auditorium doors with a final thud. Above the doors hung a huge crimson banner inscribed with gold letters proclaiming PATRICK HENRY JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL.
Over the roar of a student body in motion came heavy, precise footsteps. Slowly they climbed the stairs on the side of the stage, the footfalls themselves broadcasting a message of pure authority. I instinctively assumed a slumped teenage posture. Finally emerging from the stairs was a short, pudgy man with dark hair not his natural color. His jacket was gray, his pants were gray and his tie was laced with blue and black stripes. His mouth was deliberately expressionless. PRINCIPAL was metaphorically stamped over his broad forehead.
The principal slowly approached the podium. A teacher waved a boy in a Clash T-shirt to sit down. Off the walls echoed a wrenching sound as the principal lowered the microphone to his height. He gazed at the chattering students with a deep frown, and then cleared his throat. The chattering continued. He coughed into the microphone, while the teachers in the aisles strove to shush their unruly charges. Then a hulking, bald gym teacher pointed a thick finger at a skinny boy who’d just fired a rubber band at a spectacled girl in the next row.
I recognized Melissa in the front, sitting beside Kate. She hadn’t changed much since the forest, except for a small pimple on her nose that must have had her rubbing acne cream on it every morning. Kate had definitely changed. She was slimmer now, her face evolving into the countenance of the pretty lawyer who would introduce me to the woman of my life. She whispered something in Melissa’s ear that put a smile on her face.
The principal removed his glasses and polished them with exaggerated patience until they gleamed under the lights. It was a corny trick to establish control, but the kids began to quiet down until there were just a few whispers among the boys in the back row. All of them wore black T-shirts. Yes, the back row. Just like in my school, the future gas pump boys and penitentiary graduates sat together, drawing strength from each other’s anger at the system that would spit them out.
The principal leaned over the microphone. “You may not believe this,” he said. His voice was deep. Magnified by the microphone, it sounded omnipotent. He waited until all the noise finally died. “You may not believe this, but being the principal of a junior high school can be a tough job.” Only the teachers chuckled, presumably remembering the words for their next contract talks. The principal smiled and shook his head, acknowledging the hard truth behind his own joke. “But sometimes my job involves more than sending students to detention. Being principal has some rewards, especially when I can bring you good news. Today I have the pleasure of introducing Melissa Argent, the new eighth-grade class president.”
He looked down and smiled mischievously at a squirming Melissa. “I could torture poor Melissa by describing just how much of an outstanding member of our school she has been, but I know students hate it when I make long speeches about them. So I will just confine my remarks to saying that Melissa’s accomplishments speak for themselves. She is vice-president of the Junior Honor Society, captain of the girl’s volleyball team, a member of the school orchestra, and editor of the yearbook. And somehow she finds time to be co-chairperson of the Environmental Committee. I get tired just looking at her. Melissa, come on up.”
Kate and the other girls in the front row cheered and waved. Most of the students dutifully applauded. The boys in the back rows booed and hissed. A gray-haired teacher pointed her finger at a boy with a red bandana around his neck. She gestured for him to stand up and whispered something in his ear. He grinned at his friends as he strutted behind her into the hall.
Melissa strode to the podium, dignified and regal in a white sweater and plain blue skirt. She shook hands with the principal, who gave an exaggerated bow as he gestured to the microphone. He patted her shoulder as Melissa placed a sheet of paper on the podium and looked out into the crowd. A gaggle of girls giggled in the second row, then abruptly fell silent at Kate’s withering glare.
Melissa cleared her throat. “Thank you for that kind introduction, Principal Andrews.” A few more boos from the back, and another delinquent-in-training was escorted outside. Melissa was unfazed. “And thank you, classmates and friends. Thank you for voting me to be your class president. Everyone says that today’s young people don’t care about anything except themselves. I get mad when I hear this. We all know that we face a world with many challenges, from drug abuse to pollution. I wish it was in our power to change everything that is wrong. But even if we do not have that power, this is not an excuse to do nothing. I tell you that we can do our part to make the world a better place. All of us together can accomplish great things. We can help clean up the environment so that when we become adults, we will inherit a better tomorrow. We can help our peers resist drugs so that they have the chance to grow up to become adults. I ask all of you to join me.
“I know that class presidents have been making speeches of this sort forever. And you know what else I know? Statements like these are usually a lot of garbage.”
The principal’s eyebrows raised and even the boys in the back began to pay attention.
“But there’s something to be said for truly caring. For making a commitment and sticking to it. For having the strength of character to decide what you think is important and then going out and making it happen no matter how hard or crazy or unpopular it might seem. That’s the real job for our generation and together I know that we can do it. It won’t be easy, but if it’s going to happen, it needs to start in this school. And I promise that I will do my best to make it happen with you.”
Melissa bowed her head and the audience clapped appreciatively. It wasn’t easy to stir a room full of adolescents. I, of course, was overwhelmed, as blown away by this as by any impassioned speech I ever heard my fiancée deliver. Melissa could rally nonbelievers. I knew this from personal experience.
Principal Skinner shook Melissa’s hand vigorously. Then he took the microphone. “Thank you for that magnificent speech, Melissa. I think all of us can agree with those stirring words. They were a strong reminder that we can make a difference. Thank you again, Melissa. Assembly dismissed.”
At the students filed out, Principal Skinner patted Melissa’s shoulder and smiled. “That really was a wonderful speech. I have seen class presidents come and go for fifteen years, and most of them deliver some trite speech that no one cares about. But you spoke from the heart, young lady. I rarely see these students get fired up about anything, but you got them going a little today. I’ll have to call President Reagan and tell him he had better watch out for his job.”
Melissa stared at her feet as she always did when she was embarrassed. “No, I don’t think I want to be a politician,” she said shyly. “I’m actually thinking of becoming an environmentalist. Or maybe a musician.”
“I am certain you will succeed at whatever you put your mind to.”
“Thank you, sir. I meant what I said. I will do my best.”
“Your best is going to be great, Melissa. I know it. Believe me, I also meant what I said. It’s a treat to have a student like you. Now, you had better get on to your next class or I’ll have to send you to detention.”
He smiled and patted her shoulder again and left the stage. The door squeaked as he left the auditorium.
Melissa picked up her speech from the podium. She paused, looking out at the empty hall. Then she smiled proudly.
I simply applauded as she headed off for class.
*
The walls were pink. So were
the curtains and the furniture. Everything was pink except for the purple bed sheets. This was Melissa’s old bedroom, which I recognized from some of the photos. Now it was the Colonel’s den, painted and paneled over. The last time I saw it, it was decorated with a moose head and a captured Viet Cong AK-47.
Melissa lay on her bed with her neck on a fluffy pillow, flanked on one side by a fuzzy white lamb – maybe even the same one from her toddler picture – and on the other by a pink elephant. She held a pink princess phone in her hand – I’d never seen so much pink in one place before, and certainly never saw Melissa around anywhere near this much – and leaned her mouth against the receiver in the way that people do when they share a confidence.
“Don’t tell anybody this,” she said in a whisper, “but I think Tommy really might be the cutest guy in the entire freshman class.”
A teenage girl’s private conversation? I shouldn’t be listening to this. But Stephon told me that my heart would avoid what it wasn’t meant to witness. Besides, I had absolutely no idea how to exit a scene. I stood at the head of Melissa’s bed and watched her face light up. She giggled. Gossip and giggling – my Melissa never did those things.
Melissa rolled from her back onto her stomach in a graceful motion. Her legs – and they were long by now – kicked up, the feet weaving short steps in the air like a duck waddling.
“No, Heidi, Greg is not cute. His ears are huge and his eyebrows meet in the middle.”
She was talking to Heidi? About boys? Heidi called Melissa every few months now to complain about her latest disastrous relationship. She lived in San Diego, fleeing from the wreckage of her third marriage. If Heidi was advising her about romance, there was little wonder why I was Melissa’s first serious boyfriend.
Metal flashed silver against pink. My eyes automatically locked onto the source. So these were the legendary braces. My fiancée had perfect teeth, but obviously she needed some external help – help that she was still self-conscious about today – to get there. She looked cute to me. I definitely would have asked her out if I was a boy in her school, even if I wasn’t the cutest guy in the entire freshman class like Tommy.
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