by Teresa Rae
Fact #5 – Gramps is the best grandfather in the world.
Proof – He has never yelled at me…ever. When I was ten, he curled my hair in ringlets for picture day, burning his fingers with the curling iron no less than a dozen times, but he didn’t complain. He never had a problem playing dolls with me. He brings me breakfast in bed when I’m sick. Last, but not least, he cleans the bathroom.
* * *
Next morning, I skip to the kitchen. Gramps is drinking his morning coffee.
“How was the catch?” I ask with a hug.
“Not good, it must’ve been the storm. I let Joe have it. He has a family to provide for, and we have my social security.”
I nod, knowing he is right. Joe has a wife and three kids to support.
“Let’s see your hand,” Gramps orders.
I hold it up. All that remains of the cut is a red scar.
“Good, I’ve been worried about you.” He sips his coffee. “What else has happened while I’ve been away?”
“I accepted a job to lifeguard at the Rec. Center,” I avoid his eyes. “It sounds like we’ll need the money.”
“Alexandra, we’ve talked about this,” he says. His tone is unhappy. “I don’t want you working.”
“It’s only twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Fred promised that I’ll be home before eight.”
“I still don’t want you working.”
“Gramps, lots of teens have jobs.”
“You’re not like other teens,” he replies. “Your health is more delicate. Besides, I would rather you focus on your schooling. You have enough going on that you don’t need a job.”
It’s always the same. I seem to get every cold and illness that goes around the Village. I’ve even had the chicken pox…twice. It is so unbelievably frustrating! Gramps needs my help, and I’m letting him down. “I work every shift with Jen, and it’s less than ten hours a week,” I negotiate.
“No,” he shakes his head. “I’ll call Fred and let him know that you’re willing, but I don’t want you working.”
“But we need new windows, and they’re going to cost a bunch. If I work, I can pay for them.”
“Alex, the windows will just have to make do. You let me worry about them.”
A knock on the door interrupts our conversation.
“Go get dressed,” he kisses my head as he stands. “I’ll get the door.”
I quickly go down the hallway, frustrated about not working, and wondering who would visit us on a Sunday morning. Joe is home resting, and Jen is at church with her family. I keep my door slightly ajar and listen as Gramps opens the front door.
“Tom, I heard you came in during the night,” Dr. Michael Powers’s voice surprises me. He is the last person I expected.
“Hello, Mike. What can I do for you this morning?” asks Gramps.
“May we come in?”
Gramps must have nodded his head because footsteps walk into the living room.
“You remember my son, Jackson?” says the doctor.
“Yes, can I offer you anything?” Gramps asks.
“No, I’ll get straight to the point. We’re very fond of Alex, and we’re concerned about her wellbeing.”
“A lot of people are fond of Alex, but they’re not knocking on my door on a Sunday morning.”
“Of course, of course,” agrees Dr. Powers. “It’s just this business with her cut hand. We were told that Marjory stitched it up, and we know that although she can be strangely charming, she is…let’s just say eccentric. Then, just this morning we heard that Alexandra is going to be working at the Rec. Center. She is too fragile to be working, even part time.”
“Her hand has healed completely, but I already told her that she can’t accept the job,” Gramps says.
“Good, but she shouldn’t have been left here to fend for herself with a hurt hand!” snaps Jackson.
“I’m a fisherman, I fish for a living, but the Marshes keep an eye on her while I’m away. Jen stays with her.”
“It’s not good enough. Alex deserves better!”Jackson yells.
Hypothesis # 4 – Jackson Powers is a meddling jerk!
I can’t listen to another word. Gramps doesn’t deserve to be talked to like that. I storm into the living room.
“Jackson Powers, you need to mind your own business!” I glare at him.
He jumps to his feet and swallows noisily as he looks at me. Dr. Powers also stands.
“We don’t mean to upset you, Alexandra,” he says. “We’re simply concerned for your health.”
I lift my healed hand. “I’m fine…”
“Alex, please go get dressed.” Gramps stands protectively in front of me.
I’ve forgotten that I’m still in my nightgown but not the flannel one. It is my summer nightgown which hangs loosely off my shoulders. No wonder Jackson is staring at me! I dash to my bedroom without saying another word. Once safely inside, I retake my place at the door.
“Tom, we understand that you have many pressures being the sole guardian of Alex, and we don’t want to add to your burden,” says Dr. Powers.
“Alex isn’t a burden, but a blessing,” Gramps retorts.
“Of course,” he replies, sincerely. “Our goal is the same as yours. We simply want you to know that Alex is welcome to stay with us whenever your work calls you away. We have help that would wait on her hand and foot, giving her what someone in her condition needs.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” I hear Gramps open the front door for the Powers. “Now, if you don’t mind, I want to make blueberry pancakes for Alex before she gets out of the shower.”
After my shower, hot blueberry pancakes are waiting for me when I return to the kitchen.
“He’s smitten with you,” Gramps holds up the dry, shriveled flowers from Jackson I had thrown out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he’s delusional,” I say. “We haven’t ever had a real conversation, and he thinks that he somehow owns me.”
“I knew this was coming. I just hoped it wouldn’t be this soon. I know it seems like it’s happened over night, but it happened the same way for your mother and grandmother. Alex, you’re much too pretty for your own good. Stay away from Jackson.”
“Three months ago I was just a plain Jane and now it seems every boy’s gone crazy! I’m trying to stay away from all of them!”
“You were always a lovely child. The difference is now you’re a woman.” He pats my hand. “When I get the chance, I’m going to talk to Peggy about some robes for you to wear over your pajamas and swim suit between races. I don’t want you to feel like you’re hiding, but hopefully out of sight, out of mind.”
* * *
Next morning, I nervously look in the mirror. Wearing a Gramps approved outfit, I pull my hair into a ponytail and put on my glasses to hide my green eyes.
Hypothesis #1 has been upgraded to Theory #2 - Puberty is unfair.
Observations – My breasts are always growing. I’m receiving attention from the wrong places. I have to wear ugly clothes to school to reduce unwanted attention from meddling boys.
A horn honks outside the house.
“Jen’s here!” Gramps calls.
I go to the living room. He hands me my backpack. “I’ll see you after school,” he says.
We hug goodbye, and I jump into the passenger seat of Jen’s family’s old van, Merlin the Magical. They call it that because it has been magically running for years. It’s so old all that’s holding it together are rust and dirt.
After dropping off a couple of Jen’s younger brothers at the middle school, we pull into the high school’s parking lot. I sigh when I see Jackson’s car. I had hoped that the last twenty-four hours had gifted him with mono.
“Daddy must have bought Vanessa a new toy,” Jen whistles as she parks next to a light green, antique sports car with some foreign name.
“Let’s not talk about them, I’d prefer to have a non-Powers day,” I say.
“Good luck on that one.” Jen points to Jackson crossing the parking lot.
“Alex, can I carry your backpack for you?” he asks. I shield my body with it, remembering that he saw me in my nightgown.
“I’m fine. I’ve got to go find my locker,” I grab Jen’s arm and we disappear into the school.
Nothing ever seems to change in Seaside. We’ve gone to school with the same group of kids since we were potty-training, the teachers taught our parents, and we know the name of every person in the school, including the names of the incoming freshmen. Most people would find this monotony tedious, but I take comfort in the known. Jen and I greet everyone we pass.
“I wish we had more classes together.” Jen looks over her schedule. “I should have studied more last year.”
“Yes, you should have,” I agree. Jen would rather play a game of soccer than do homework. I unlock my locker and put my extra notebooks in it. The smell of dirty gym shoes wafts from Justin Fisher’s locker next door. “I have Calculus. What do you have first period?”
“Algebra, and then English,” she answers. “We won’t meet up until third period for gym”
“This day already stinks,” I shut my smelly locker as the bell rings. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”
Mrs. Smith’s calculus is a small class comprised of pubescent nerds, which is completely fine with me. Two of my friends, Kyle and Dan, take seats on either side of me. We’ve been in the same classes since preschool and have always studied together. Kyle and Dan are your stereotypical nerds but some of my oldest friends. Dan is bone thin, gangly, and wears glasses. Kyle also wears glasses but is slightly overweight from his time in front of his computer and eating pizza in his dad’s pizzeria.
“How is your hand?” Dan asks me. “Marjory told my mom that you cut it when she brought us some apples.”
“I’m more embarrassed than anything,” I answer. “How’s your dad’s job search going?”
“He’s looked all over the county, but no one’s hiring mechanics.”
“I’m sure something will open up,” I say in effort to comfort him.
AP History is exactly the same class, just a different classroom and teacher. Thick books and large homework assignments are also passed out in this class. By the time I get to gym, I’m grateful for a change of pace.
“Have you met the foreign exchange students?” Jen asks excitedly as we meet in the locker room to change into our uniforms.
“Is it another sweet girl from Japan?” I ask, remembering a friend I made as a freshman.
She begins laughing. “They just showed up. It’s all everyone can talk about. They’re three cousins from Denmark, and they’re hot!”
“Maybe Jackson will bother them instead of me.” I relish the thought.
Jen laughs again. “They’re boys, seniors, and eye candy, every one. Girls have been following them through the halls. Just wait until you see them! ” For someone who doesn’t date, Jen seems too excited.
I shake my head. “They’re all yours. I’ll stick with my nerd minions. At least they behave like gentlemen.”
Jen shrugs her shoulder, “Just wait until you see them,” she replies as we take a seat on the floor with the rest of the gym class. Coach Jones takes roll.
“Marsh, Jenifer,” he says halfway through.
“Here,” Jen answers.
“Pedersen, Sven.”
“Here,” says a voice in a lovely foreign accent.
Everyone turns around to see the unfamiliar student. On the bleachers sit three extremely huge and handsome guys, and we’re not talking guy-next-door handsome. I don’t even know if handsome is the right word. They are so very beautiful that I have to force myself to breathe, and I’m totally not into dating anyone. The one who answered is also the largest. He has dark brown hair and a barrel chest. On the other end of the bench is another brown haired beauty. He isn’t as large as Sven, but he’s bigger than any of the other guys in the school. Regardless of how beautiful the first two are, my eyes go straight to the guy in the middle. He has silvery blond hair and bright blue eyes. His skin glows with a healthy tan. He’s muscular like his cousins and undeniably the most handsome guy I have seen ever … even counting television. All the other girls must think the same thing because the entire class stares at him and his cousins. I barely notice that the three are dressed in old fashioned clothes: long pants and stiff sleeves, and wear white dress gloves on their hands.
“Pedersen, Christian,” Coach continues to call roll, and everyone continues to unashamedly stare at the new students.
“Here,” says the blond boy with a voice is as silvery as his hair.
“Pedersen, Henrik,” Coach calls the last exchange student’s name.
“Here,” says the other brown-haired teen.
Hypothesis #5 – Jen’s right, the Danes are hot!
I tear my eyes from the exchange students. My life is complicated enough. The other girls can fight over them.
Coach Jones finishes the roll and pulls out the dodge balls. “Sven, Henrik, Christian, and Alex, I would like to speak with you. The rest of you, let’s play some dodge ball!” He throws the balls in the air and the game begins. I watch Jen in the mix, smacking butt after butt with balls as I walk to Coach.
“Boys, I don’t know why you’re in this class,” he says to the Pedersen cousins. “Your doctor’s notes make it very clear you can’t participate in the activities.”
“We’re sorry,” says Sven. “We have severe psoriases. All the other electives were full, so they said to take gym until something opens up.”
“I’ll talk to the principal after school to see what we can do about getting you into art. For the time being, you can keep score.” He hands them a clipboard.
“Yes, Coach Jones.” They return to the bleachers.
He turns to me. “Alex, let’s have a look at the hand.” I lift it, and he shakes his head when he sees the length of the scar. “You were lucky you didn’t cut off any of your fingers.”
“Yeah, Gramps is still mad,” I say.
“He’s not the only one. As you have a couple more days until you can return to practice, you’re on the bench in gym, also.”
“But Coach,” I try to complain.
“You heard me, Singer.” He points to the bleachers.
I angrily cross my arms and take my seat. I watch the dodge ball game in silence, listening to the exchange students jabbering in Danish.
“Excuse me,” Sven speaks to me with his beautiful accent. “How do you score dodge ball? We don’t play this game where we’re from.”
I don’t bother to look at them. There is no use in torturing myself. “Dodge ball’s a pointless game to score because if someone’s hits you, you’re out. If someone catches your ball, you’re out. The team that loses is the one with all their players out.”
“That is pretty pointless,” one of them laughs. I know it is Christian from his mesmerizing voice.
I nod my head but refuse to engage further. I am so not into dating anyone right now. When the shower bell rings, I sprint to the locker room to get changed for my next class.
“They are so hot!” Jen exclaims as she showers. “Maybe I’ll offer to teach them English?”
“They speak better English than we do,” I say as I change my clothes.
“Yeah and their accents are hot!”
“Jen, we’ve only got five minutes until the bell rings. Can we save the Dane worship for later?”
We have French together for fourth period. Because we’re running late, we quickly take seats in the front row.
“Class, we are so fortunate to have fluent French speakers with us this term!” Old Miss Lafayette excitedly claps her wrinkled hands together at the front of the room. “Sven, Henrik, and Christian Pedersen have spoken French since they were very young, and they have agreed to serve as tutors for this class.”
Christian stands up. He rambles off a long stream of words in perfect French. Miss Lafayette squeals
and claps her hands, again, in sheer delight. “Please translate for the class,” she tells him.
“I said that it has been a pleasure to be in Maine where the people are nice, and the scenery is beautiful,” he translates.
Hypothesis # 5 has been upgraded to Theory #3 – The Danes are hot.
Observations – They are tall, muscular, handsome, have sexy accents, and speak French.
I look up and find him staring at me. His spellbinding blue eyes are locked to mine as the class claps. I quickly turn my head and pull the elastic out of my hair, covering my face with my long locks.
Hypothesis # 6 – I must avoid the Danes. Refer to Theory #1 – Boys are insane.
“Wonderful, absolutely wonderful,” exclaims Miss Lafayette.
“Merci, Susana,” Christian says, and everyone would be totally shocked that he just called our teacher by her first name if she weren’t fanning herself with a stack of papers while smiling dreamily at him. She doesn’t bother to correct him.
I endure a torturous class of Miss Lafayette reviewing French with the class, all the while worshiping the French-speaking Danes. When the bell rings, I grab Jen’s arm and escape to lunch, hoping to avoid Jackson, Vanessa, and the Danes.
“They’re so hot!” Jen gazes over her shoulder as I pull her along. “Maybe I’ll ask Sven out? Big, handsome Danes are totally my type. ”
“You’ll have to get in line,” I put a salad, carton of milk, and apple on my tray. “They probably already have had other offers.”
“Do you think so?” she asks.
I prod her shoulder and point to the Pedersens at the end of the lunch line. Vanessa is batting her eyes at them.
“That vixen!” says Jen as she piles food on her tray. “Just the thought of her touching one of them makes me lose my appetite!”
We make our way to our usual table. Our friends are already there.
“Alex, Jen, we saved places for you.” Kyle pulls out our chairs for us.
“Kyle, you’re a lifesaver.” Jen pats his pocket protector as she sits.
“What have you been doing all summer?” Dan asks us.
“Swimming,” I answer, picking at my salad. “How was space camp?”