Chop, Chop

by LN Cronk

  “Really?” Laci asked.

  “Yes, really,” I said. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I guess I just always thought that you were mad at me because we didn’t get to go skiing again.”

  I wondered if she really thought I was that shallow. Then I decided that since I’d always given her such a hard time about it, she probably did.

  “No, Laci,” I said, shaking my head. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been meaning to thank you for coming up with the idea. Going down there was really . . . it was really good.”

  “Do you mean that?” she asked, looking at me with bright eyes. I decided I needed to stop being mean to her.

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “And I also meant what I told you while we were down there . . . I’m not ever going to forget what it was like.”

  ~ ~ ~

  HONORS GEOMETRY WAS tough and Mom started to tutor me and Greg every Saturday afternoon. In addition to that, I found myself at lunch with Greg almost every day trying to work out problems or write a proof.

  One day I put my head down on the cafeteria table, tired of trying to figure out what a contrapositive statement was.

  “Why did I let you talk me into signing up for Honors?” I moaned.

  “Come on,” he said. “If you want to be an engineer you’re going to need to get an A in this class.”

  Actually, I wasn’t really sure that I wanted to be an engineer. I did want to go to State and I did want to room with him, but I had no idea what I truly wanted to do beyond that. Mom kept telling me not to worry about it . . . that lots of people didn’t decide what they wanted to do until years after they’d graduated from college.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I asked her, and she laughed.

  “I’m just saying that it’s okay not to know right now what you want to do. Do you like geometry?”

  “Yeah,” I admitted.

  “Well, then just keep going in the subjects that you really enjoy and keep doing the best you can. You might not understand now what you’re doing it for, but someday . . .”

  “Do you have a graphing calculator?” Mom asked Greg one day as we sat at the dining room table with our geometry books in front of us. He shook his head.

  “Hmmm,” she said, rubbing her chin. “This section is going to be a lot easier with one . . .”

  We had a class set at school, but we weren’t allowed to bring them home. Mom had bought me one when I was in the seventh grade, but until Algebra One the only thing I’d used it for was to play games and write notes to Tanner or Greg in class.

  As we sat at the kitchen table I found myself remembering the time that Mrs. Walsh had taken it away from us and Mom had to make a special trip to school to pick it up before Mrs. Walsh would give it back.

  I didn’t buy it for you to write notes! Mom had scolded on the way home. I was sulking in the seat next to her, mad at Tanner for getting us caught.

  If you’d get me a phone we could just text each other.

  You are not at school to socialize with your friends! she’d said, exasperated. You’re there to learn!

  “Dad can probably let me use one of the physics calculators,” Greg was saying, bringing my mind back to our tutoring session. The science classrooms each had full sets too, but most of the kids in physics already had their own.

  “One of the many benefits of having a parent who’s a teacher,” Mom said, raising an eyebrow at me.

  “Oh, yeah . . .” I said, rolling my eyes. “So many, many benefits!”

  Actually it wasn’t so bad having her for a teacher. Sam was in Honors Geometry too and Mom had figured out pretty quick that I liked her. She enjoyed giving me a hard time about it, but when she rearranged our assigned seats I found myself sitting next to Sam.

  “You’re welcome,” she said when we got into the car after school that day.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

  “Your grades had better not drop, young man,” she continued, “or I’m moving you front and center and putting her in the back.”

  “I told you,” I said, turning my head toward the window so that she wouldn’t see me smile, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Greg and I were both on the JV soccer team, but Tanner, (who was quickly turning into a hulk) made varsity football. Greg and Mike and I all went to the games every Friday night to cheer him on. Being a freshman, he pulled a lot of bench time, but it was evident to everyone that he was going to be good in the years to come and Mike could hardly wait to join him. Sam, too, had made varsity as a freshman and watching her cheer at the games was another good reason to attend. I thought she was the best cheerleader that there was and that her place on the squad was well deserved. (I may have been slightly biased.)

  Mrs. White taught our high school Sunday school class. Between her teaching Sunday school and Mr. White leading youth group, Mom complained that I was spending more time with Greg’s parents than my own.

  “Are they going to pay for your college tuition?” she wanted to know.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I told her.

  After Thanksgiving break, swim practice began. We didn’t have traditional “try-outs” like the other teams had. Instead, all the guys who wanted to swim trained together for over a month before swim meets started. Then – right before the first meet – Coach Covington would announce who’d made varsity.

  The morning that he was going to make the announcement, Mom asked me if I was nervous.

  “Not really,” I shrugged. Nick was the only person who could beat me in the 100 butterfly and the 200 individual medley, and on a good day I could almost beat him.

  “Well, good luck, honey,” she said as I headed out the door.

  That afternoon, when I came out of the locker room for practice to begin, I heard Charlotte’s voice call out, “Davey!”

  I looked up into the stands. There she was, with her parents and Greg and my parents and Tanner and Mike. They were all smiling and waving at me and when my name was announced for varsity they all clapped.

  Who says swimmers don’t have cheerleaders?

  Soon it was February and I was at a Valentine’s dance in the gymnasium. Greg had just finished dancing with Ashlyn when he walked up to me.

  “Did that girl just ask you to dance?” he wanted to know.

  I nodded.

  “And let me guess . . . you told her ‘no’.”

  I nodded again.

  “Have you suffered a recent head injury?” he asked.

  “I don’t even know her!” I protested.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and then rubbed his eyes.

  “Listen,” he finally said. “I’m sure that Sam finds it terribly attractive that you’re standing here against a wall and everything, but maybe it would be a good idea for you to actually dance with someone while you’re here. Whatdaya think?”

  I sighed.

  “If somebody else asks you to dance,” he said, “do me a favor and say yes. Okay?”

  I doubted that was going to happen so I nodded.

  “I’ll show ya how it’s done,” he grinned. He walked over to Laci, spoke to her, and then led her to the dance floor, looking over her head at me to smile. I rolled my eyes at him.

  After I’d watched them dance for a minute I looked around. Sam was dancing with about the fifth guy I’d seen her with that night and Tanner was dancing with some junior. I decided that Greg was probably right. Even if Sam had noticed that I was here, she probably wasn’t very impressed – I must have looked pretty pitiful. I made up my mind to dance with somebody before the night was over . . . even if I had to ask them myself.

  Laci made it easy on me. As soon as she finished dancing with Greg she came over to me and asked me if I wanted to dance. She might as well have said: Greg told me to come over here and ask you to dance because you’re so pathetic . . . but she didn’t.

  A
s I’ve said before, Laci is pretty and I didn’t figure it would hurt anything for Sam to see me dancing with her, so I said yes.

  It was a slow song and Laci put her arms around my neck and I put mine around her waist. I glanced around, looking for Sam, wanting to make sure that she knew I wasn’t standing against a wall anymore, but I couldn’t find her anywhere.

  That figured.

  “So how did Greg talk you into dancing with me?” I asked, turning my attention to Laci.

  “He didn’t,” she said. “I wanted to dance with you.”

  “For a Christian girl you sure do lie well,” I said, smiling.

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Right. You’re telling me that Greg had nothing to do with you coming over and asking me to dance?”

  “I didn’t say that,” she admitted. “I just said that I wanted to dance with you.”

  “Well, anyway,” I said, “thank you.”

  “Anytime.”

  “How’s volleyball going?” I asked her.

  “Not too great. We’re three and eight so far.”

  “Ouch . . .” That was pretty bad.

  “The swim team’s been doing good though . . .” she said. “And I heard you beat Nick in the 100 fly last weekend.”

  I nodded and couldn’t help but smile.

  “Mr. White’s helped me a lot,” I said. “He showed me some strength training to do and he and Greg run with me about three times a week. I can really tell a difference.”

  “That’s sweet of him,” she said, “he’s really nice. I hope I get him for chemistry.”

  “Jessica said he was really good,” I said. “Even if I don’t get him for chemistry next year I’m going to have him for physics in the eleventh grade and then for AP Physics when we’re seniors.”

  “Are you going to have your mom again next year?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “I’ve got to take Honors Algebra Two and she doesn’t usually teach that, so I’m probably going to have Mr. Hanover.”

  “So you’re really going to be an engineer, huh?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Mom told me not to worry about it too much right now and just take what I liked, so I guess that means math and science.”

  “I hate math,” she said.

  “You do?”

  “I’m barely passing algebra,” she said.

  “Oh, come on,” I said. “I don’t believe that.”

  “Well,” she admitted. “I’m passing, but it’s my worst class. I’m barely making a B.”

  “What are you doing in there right now?” I asked.

  “Slope-intercept or something like that,” she shook her head. “I really don’t have a clue.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, “we just did that again in geometry.”

  “You have to learn it again in geometry?” She looked panicked.

  “Well, yeah,” I said, nodding. “You kind of keep using it over and over.”

  She shook her head. “I’m doomed.”

  “It’s really not that hard . . . I bet I could explain it to you.”

  “I doubt it,” she said.

  “You’re in first lunch, right?” I asked her. She nodded.

  “Well, Greg and I are usually working on math all during lunch anyway. If you want I can try to show you on Monday.”

  “Really?” She sounded surprised – just like she had when I’d told her I was sorry we weren’t going to go to Mexico again.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I might do that.”

  The song was ending.

  “No, thank you,” I said. “It was nice dancing with you.”

  “Really?” she asked in that same tone.

  “Laci,” I said. “How come you always act like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you can’t believe I might actually say something nice and mean it?”

  “I don’t act like that,” she said.

  “Yes, you do!”

  “No, I don’t,” she argued.

  We still had our arms around each other and another song was starting.

  “You wanna keep dancing?” I asked. She nodded.

  “Anyway,” I continued, “have I really been that awful to you?”

  “I never said you were awful to me.”

  “I mean, I’ll admit that I might not have been real nice to you when we were kids, and I may not be the most . . . the most jovial person in the world, but–”

  She laughed.

  “But, I’ve always thought that we were friends.”

  “We are . . .” she said.

  “Remember how much fun we had ice fishing?”

  She nodded and smiled.

  “Come to think of it,” I said, “you lied pretty good back then too.”

  “I told you,” she said. “I wasn’t lying.”

  I ignored her.

  “And Mexico?” I said. “I mean, I would hope that after Mexico you would realize that I’m not so bad . . .”

  “I never said that you were . . .”

  “How’s Spanish going, anyway?” I asked.

  “¡Tres bien!”

  “Good,” I said, smiling and feeling forgiven for all the times I’d been mean to her.

  “Are you going to Chicago in April?” she asked and I nodded. Mr. White was driving our church group to a youth rally over spring break.

  “Skillet’s going to be there,” she said.

  “I know,” I nodded. “I can’t wait to see them.” I was excited about the hotel we would be staying at too because it had a heated pool and I was going to be able to work-out whenever I wanted – I didn’t want to get out of shape once swim season was over.

  We talked for a few more minutes until the song ended.

  “Thanks again for asking me to dance,” I said as we walked off the dance floor.

  “You’re welcome,” she said.

  “Don’t forget about lunch on Monday, okay?” I reminded her.

  “Okay.”

  I walked over to where Greg was standing, grinning at me.

  “Well,” he said, “you’re still alive . . .”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “TWO songs? What were you talking about?”

  “My hair,” I said. “She was convincing me to start growing it out.”

  “Really?”

  “No, not really, you dummy . . . we were talking about math. You and I are going to help her with algebra during lunch on Monday.”

  “You were talking about math?”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “Why would you talk to her about math?”

  “What were you expecting me to talk to her about?”

  “Well, Laci is a girl – in case you didn’t notice. You could try to be nice to her.”

  “I was very nice to her,” I said. “As a matter of fact, that’s one of the things we talked about – what a nice guy I am.”

  “So, you didn’t really just talk about math then?” he asked, looking pleased.

  “I guess not,” I said. “Why are you so concerned about what I was talking about with Laci, anyway? If you want to help me out, why don’t you go convince Sam to dance with me?”

  “Naw,” he said, shaking his head and scanning the crowd, looking for someone to dance with. “I’ve done my good deed for the day. You’re on your own now.”

  He loped off toward Natalie and I went back and leaned against my wall.

  The dance had been on a Friday night. Saturday night it started snowing so hard that the plows couldn’t keep up with it and by Sunday evening the announcement had been made that there would be no school on Monday. I called Greg.

  “Wanna come over tomorrow?” I asked him.

  “Um,” he said. “Maybe you’d better come over here . . . my grandma’s visiting.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I don’t want to intrude . . .”

  “No, really . . .” he said. “Come on o
ver. As a matter of fact . . . hang on for a second . . .”

  I could hear talking in the background and then Greg said, “Are you there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Grandma said if you get here early enough she’ll make you some of her famous waffles.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Sure, I’m sure,” he said.

  We usually had cold cereal at my house.

  “I’ll see you in the morning,” I told him.

  It was hard just walking the two blocks to Greg’s house. Every now and then I’d come to a stretch where someone had already shoveled, but mostly I was in up to my knees.

  “Come in, come in,” Greg’s mom said, pulling me in the door. “You must be freezing!”

  “It’s not that cold,” I said, “but it’s really deep.”

  “Will you help me build a snowman?” Charlotte asked, tugging on my arm.

  “Absolutely,” I said as Greg walked in the room. “A snow fort, too.” I looked at Greg. “You’ve got a really deep drift over by that spruce tree in the front!”

  “I know!” Greg said. “I’ve never seen this much snow before, have you?”

  “A couple of times,” I said, “but it’s been a while.”

  We walked into the kitchen where Greg’s dad and grandmother were.

  “Good morning, Dave,” Mr. White said. “You’ve met my mother before, right?”

  “Of course we’ve met,” she said, dismissing him with one hand.

  “How are you David?” she asked, engulfing me in a big hug.

  “Good,” I said. “Thank you for inviting me to breakfast.”

  “Oh,” she said. “You come over any time you want to!”

  “He pretty much does that already,” Greg’s dad said. I glanced at him.

  “Coffee?” he asked, grinning.

  “Now don’t you listen to him,” Greg’s grandmother said. “He’s being a bad boy. You sit down right here and get ready to eat.”

  After breakfast Greg and I helped Charlotte get into a little pink snowsuit, matching cap, gloves and scarf.

  “She looks like Ralphie’s little brother on A Christmas Story,” Greg commented and his mother and I laughed.

  We went outside and started rolling up the bottom ball for our snowman. We both got a little carried away and soon it was huge.

  “I want it over there,” Charlotte said, pointing across the yard.

  “I don’t think we can push it any farther, Charlotte,” I said. “It’s too big.”