by Blake Nelson
One thought I had: I could call Sadie and apologize. That would appear very mature, very civilized.
Or I could just go throw myself off a bridge, like a real seventeen-year-old.
Or I could just grow a new humiliation zit on my chin, which is apparently what my pores have decided to do.
April 14
Bored and girl-less, Gabe and I drive around. It’s Saturday night and we’ve got nothing to do. We go to Fred Meyer’s. We sit in the car and listen to the radio and watch people in the parking lot.
Then Gabe gets a call. It’s Renee. There’s a party somewhere. Gabe is very excited about this. He still likes Renee. I don’t think that’s ever going to happen but I keep quiet. We start up the monster engine and off we go.
So we get there and the party is at this senior girl’s house we don’t know. We go in and it’s kind of crowded and we find Renee and some other people downstairs, playing foosball. It’s pretty much a jock/prep crowd. I do my best to hang, for Gabe’s sake.
Then Stephanie appears. Stephanie, from Disco Bowling. I haven’t seen her in a while. She looks good, though. She’s wearing dark eye makeup and a cute skirt. I think, Maybe I could go out with her. She’s attractive. She’s a girl. She thought I was vain, I seem to remember. Well, that will give us something to talk about.
“Hey,” I say, handing her a Coke someone just handed me.
“Thank god,” she says, putting down the Bud Light she was carrying and taking the Coke. “I hate Bud Light.”
“Me, too.”
“Why do they even have it here? We’re in high school. Can’t we drink normal beer, like normal high school students?”
“Maybe Bud Light is normal beer.”
We stand there and watch people play foosball. Stephanie might be a little drunk. “So what’s up with you these days?” she asks me.
“I’m looking for a new girlfriend,” I answer. “Gabe is making me.”
“Did you have an old girlfriend?”
“I did. Sadie Kinnell.”
“Sadie Kinnell?” she says, surprised. “I know her. She’s always doing things to save the world.”
“That’s the one.”
Stephanie sips her Coke. We look at each other. Stephanie has quite a bit of eye mascara on. She’s definitely drunk.
I feel drunk. And I feel like talking. So I do. “I tried to get back with her,” I say. “I tried to kiss her. I just sorta went for it. I thought she would be into it. But she wasn’t.”
“Guys always do that,” says Stephanie, waving at someone. “They always go for the kiss at the wrong moment. Or they don’t go for it at all.”
“Yeah…”
“Why did you guys break up, anyways?”
“I’m too depressing,” I say. “My brain. It’s full of darkness.”
“Oh.”
“I think about what you said sometimes,” I tell her. “The thing about shyness being a form of vanity.”
“Oh yeah. I remember that.” She drinks more Coke.
“I think you might be right about that,” I say.
“Of course I am.”
“So what should I do? How can I make myself more likeable?”
“You could dress normal. Didn’t you used to cut up your clothing? That’s too weird. You can’t do stuff like that.”
“Yeah, but what about my brain?”
“What about it?” she says. “Drink more. Or get some meds or whatever.” She looks at the Coke can I gave her. “This doesn’t have any alcohol in it.”
“No,” I say.
She spots a passing senior with a Heineken. “Hey, cutie,” she says, grabbing his arm. “Where did you get that?”
He points to a downstairs refrigerator. “Thank you!” she says. To me: “You want one?”
“Nah, I’m good,” I say. She disappears in the direction of the refrigerator and I turn back toward the foosball game. Everyone’s shouting and jumping around as the little ball bounces around. They look like monkeys in a zoo.
I stand there and pretend to watch. I think about Jill Kantor. That was a funny editorial she wrote. I wonder what she does on Friday nights. I wonder what sort of books she reads.
April 16
It’s been five days since I tried to kiss Sadie at the pond. I haven’t seen her since. Then this morning, in the cafeteria, we finally ran into each other. I gave her my most humble, apologetic smile. She didn’t accept it. Her eyes bounced right off me and she kept on walking.
After that I went to fifth period and sat in the back. The teacher started to talk and all I could think was: Oh my god, I have lost Sadie again. Tears came into my eyes. I thought of stuff we did when we first got together, how we used to have coffee at Café Artiste and walk around and talk about the Russian Revolution, while the yellow leaves fell around us. And then these last months, starting back at the library, how good it felt to talk to her, how happy I was to be around her again. And the feeling of having a shot. I felt like I had a shot with her. I really did. BUT I SCREWED IT UP. AGAIN. She is not getting back with me. It is not happening.
The teacher called on me. I was like, “What do you want?” I mean, I didn’t say that. But I might as well have.
April 23
Went to see Ms. Flowers today. She’s our college counselor. She wanted to see my list of schools I was interested in. I didn’t have one.
So then we talked about other stuff, and what was going on with me. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.
I told her I didn’t know if I wanted to go to college. She batted her long eyelashes at me and said, “But what would you do instead?”
That is an excellent question.
April 26
Jedediah Strock got expelled today for crawling around in the dumpster outside the cafeteria. Everyone was talking about it. People don’t get expelled from Evergreen very often, so it’s kind of a big deal. Everyone was totally pissed at first, like it’s sooo not right, it’s sooo not fair. But then this sense of gloom settled over the whole school, as people realized he’d left the administration no choice. He made them do it. He’d forced their hand.
I saw one of the Activist Club girls in the hall. She looked like she was about to cry. I’m sure Sadie is all over this right now. I’m sure she and Jedediah are off somewhere having secret, impassioned conversations. I can imagine him comforting her, telling her it is okay, he will live to fight again.
Maybe if I was more like him, she would want me back. If I stood up more for what I believed in. The problem is, I don’t believe in anything.
April 27
By some strange coincidence, I happen to be in the hallway when Jedediah gets escorted out of school for the last time. He’d cleaned out his locker and was walking through the hall with an armful of books and his old Tibetan backpack. Our vice principal and some security guy were with him.
He looked very heroic, very much like a martyr for the cause. It’s weird, though, because class had already started and there weren’t any people in the hall to see him go. Maybe they planned it that way. I was the only one there because I was blowing off study hall. It was kind of an important moment, and everyone was missing it.
I saw it, though. Poor guy. I wonder what goes on in his head? No one really knows him. I wonder if he’s ever had a girlfriend. You’d think he’d have his pick of the Activist Club girls. Probably he won’t lower himself to hook up with girls. He’s too pure. Or maybe that’s all he’s after. Maybe the whole Garbage Eater thing is a way to get chicks.
Jedediah Strock: mystery man.
April 30
Back entrance, after school, Sadie is standing against the wall, waiting for me.
SADIE: James?
ME (surprised): Hey—
SADIE: I need to talk to you. Do you have a second?
ME: Sure.
SADIE: Come over here.
ME (following her around the building): What do you want to talk about?
SADIE (stopping): What do you think?
ME: I don’t know.
SADIE: How about what happened at the pond?
ME: Okay.
SADIE: Why did you do that?
ME: What do you mean?
SADIE: You can’t just kiss people randomly, you know.
ME: Why not? Is it against the law?
SADIE: Because it freaks people out!
ME: Sorry.
SADIE: You totally…I was totally…in shock!
ME: I didn’t mean to—
SADIE: And now what am I supposed to do? Can we even hang out? Can I trust you? Can we even be friends?
ME: I don’t know. Maybe we can’t.
SADIE: Maybe we can’t? That’s your answer?
ME: Well, what do you expect me to say!?
SADIE: That’s the other thing about you. You are a total quitter. You just give up the minute things get difficult.
ME: Like what things?
SADIE: Like being friends! Or anything. You can’t just grab me in the middle of the night and do something like that and not have any kind of…explanation.
ME: What do you want me to say?
SADIE: God. I can’t believe you sometimes. And we’re supposed to be saving the pond!
ME: Maybe that’s how I felt.
SADIE: And you don’t have anything else to say about it? Except that?
ME: No. Not really.
SADIE: All right then. So I guess I should just ask the obvious question. If I do, will you answer it truthfully?
ME: I’ll try.
SADIE: Okay then.
ME: Okay.
SADIE (shifting her stance): Do you still like me?
ME: You already asked me that.
SADIE: But you didn’t answer!
ME: Okay, I’ll answer. I…I do. I mean—
SADIE: See! You’re not answering again! You’re being wishy-washy. You’re being noncommittal!
ME: Okay. Yes. I do like you still. What do you want from me? It wasn’t my idea to break up.
SADIE: And whose idea was it? Mine?
ME: It seemed like it was. You brought it up.
SADIE: It was mutual! I thought we agreed that it was.
ME: Maybe you did.
SADIE: So did you!
ME: Okay. Maybe I did. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe that’s not what I wanted.
SADIE (shaking her head): This isn’t the way this is supposed to happen. You know that, don’t you? Even if we do still like each other. This is not the way to handle the situation!
ME: How am I supposed to know how to handle it? I don’t want to get hurt again.
SADIE: I wouldn’t do that to you…
ME: Yes, you would. You wouldn’t try to. But you would.
SADIE: Well, what about me? You’re the one kissing people with no warning! What about my feelings?
ME: Your feelings? Are you kidding me? I would do anything for you. You’re the only thing I care about in this entire world.
SADIE:——
ME:——
SADIE (catching her breath): Wow. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.
ME: Me neither.
SADIE: This is really weird.
ME: I know.
SADIE: So what do we do now?
ME: I don’t know.
SADIE: Well, I don’t know either.
ME: I guess we should just try to…figure something out.
MOVIE
We go to a movie that weekend. Sadie and I. We decide that’s a low-key, relatively safe thing to do, considering our situation. We’re just gonna try it. See how it goes. It’s an experiment.
She picks me up in her dad’s Camry and we drive to the cineplex. Everything’s cool. I’m excited, and a little nervous. I’m wearing my favorite deck shoes and my sweater with the elbows cut out for good luck. We drive through my neighborhood. I roll down my window and breathe in the soft spring air. I watch the houses pass, the streetlights move by in rhythm.
It’s a little strange, sitting beside Sadie and knowing that this is pretty much a date. But I’m okay. I’m loose. I’m hanging in.
On the main road, we talk about stuff. She tells me about this fellowship she’s got where she’s going up to British Columbia for eight weeks this summer, to help build an eco-park. You build the eco-park during the day and at night they teach you forestry and conservation and stuff like that. It sounds amazing. Also, her older brother is flunking out of Berkeley. He doesn’t want to go to med school now. Her parents are not happy about that. She talked to him and he said he wants to take a year off and do music, since that’s his first love.
She asks me about my family, and I tell her my parents are freaking out about my lack of interest in college. I tell her about the deal my dad is offering me. Go to college, get a car. She laughs when she hears that. I laugh, too.
At the theater, we go inside, get popcorn, and find a place to sit. It’s been almost one year since we broke up. May 12th, it was. A Tuesday. It was a relatively orderly breakup. No crying. No pleading. We were both more relieved than anything. We sat on her parents’ steps outside her house and talked it through. I remember picking at the laces of my tennis shoe for most of it. It was mutual. That part is true. I wanted…I don’t know what…to run around with my guy friends more, to meet other girls, to have different experiences. She wanted freedom, too. Girls don’t think of it that way, but it’s true. She wanted to meet new people, do new things, grow into a different person.
We had to give stuff back to each other. Sadie was a big mixer of stuff. We had a lot of crap at each other’s house. So we had to sort that out. Also, she offered to make me a copy of the love letter I wrote her at Christmas from Costa Rica, but I said no, I didn’t want it.
Then, a week later, I ran into her mom at Fred Meyer’s. Of course, I stopped and talked to her like I always did. But then as I stood there making conversation, I remembered that I wasn’t going out with her daughter anymore. We didn’t have to talk anymore. I was like, “Okay, Mrs. Kinnell, I should probably get going.” I cried all the way home. It was the first time I cried. It was the first time I truly understood what I had lost.
In the movie theater, I eat my popcorn. Sadie eats hers. She puts her feet up on the seat in front of her, which she always used to do. I do the same. The weird thing about this is we already know everything the other person is going to do. We’ve done all of this before.
The movie comes on. It’s a thriller with some sort of plot twist that I miss, so I’m confused the whole time. Sadie doesn’t seem to get it either. But we sit there. We watch the car chase scene. Stuff blows up at the end.
Afterward, we walk around the mall and go back to her car. We’re both thinking, Now what do we do? At the same time, there’s no real pressure. Like what’s the worst that could happen? We’re gonna break up? We already broke up. We’re broken up now.
We get in the Camry. We both seem older somehow, and we act older around each other. There isn’t that electricity that comes when you’re out with someone you barely know. Not that I’ve done that so many times. Twice, actually: Kristine the Goth Chick and Lucy Branch.
A strange thing happens then. I think about Lucy Branch, who I never think about. I wonder how she’s doing. Good, I hope. She was nice. I wonder if she feels weird about going to that French movie that time. I should remember to say hi to her in the hall sometime. I never really see her, though.
Sadie pulls out of the parking lot. I’m not saying anything and she’s not sure what the plan is, so she says, “I should probably get back. I have that big history test…”
“Yeah, I have a paper due,” I say. We drive a little more. But then I start to feel like I did at the pond, like I want to kiss her, like if I don’t kiss her, I’m gonna die.
“You don’t by chance…feel like…,” I say.
“What?” she says.
“You wanna go check out the pond for a minute?”
“Okay,” she says.
We drive to the pond. We
pull in and the metal gate is open. That’s odd.
Sadie cautiously drives down the dirt road and slows down as we near the water. We both look around to see what else has happened. That’s when we see a row of property stakes stuck in the hillside to our left. Each one has a bright pink ribbon tied to the top.
“Here they come,” Sadie murmurs.
I say nothing. But I stare at them, too. The stakes. The concept of private property. They are coming. And when they’re done, there will be no pond, no trees, no nothing—just spanky new houses, with chemical lawns and SUVs parked out front.
Sadie turns off the engine and we sit for a moment. Frogs croak in the warm night. The property stakes seem to change the mood between us. I still want to kiss her. But there’s something I want to do first.
We get out of the car. Sadie stands by her door, her arms crossed. I go after the stakes.
I hop over the ditch, crawl up the muddy hill, and try to yank the top stake out of the ground. It won’t come out. I have to work it back and forth. While I’m doing that, Sadie crawls up the hill and tries pulling on one herself. I finally pull mine out, then break another one, then pull out two more. Sadie has managed to pull out a couple as well.
When we’ve uprooted all of them, we throw them in the ditch.
“That’s not going to do much,” Sadie says, wiping the dirt off her hands.
“Yeah, but it feels good,” I say back.
We both jump back over the ditch. We walk back toward the car. Both our shoes are caked with mud. I try to kick the mud off mine.
That’s when I notice Sadie watching me. She’s staring at me.
“What?” I say.
“Nothing,” she answers.
“You don’t approve of my methods?”
“Have you ever approved of mine?”
I smile. I go back to my shoes. I scrape the mud off with a stick.