No Small Thing

by Natale Ghent

  “It’s so cruel! I can’t stand it!”

  The tears well in Cheryl’s eyes.

  “We feed and water him,” I reassure her. “I’d clean out his stall and brush him too, but he’s wild. He won’t let me near him.”

  This seems to make her feel better. She wipes her tears away and you can barely tell she’s been crying. Then she slips her small, warm hand in mine.

  “You’re really nice, Nat.”

  I can feel my heart beating in my throat and in my ears. My face is hot and my hands are all sweaty. I hope she can’t tell these changes are happening to me. I hope I just seem normal and that I don’t look like I’m going to explode, which is how I feel. She moves closer to me. I can’t even hear what I’m saying, but the next thing I know her mouth is against mine. Her lips are firm and warmand taste like strawberries. I kiss her back and she laughs, which makes me wonder if I’m doing it right or not. I’ve never kissed a girl before—other than Ma and my sisters, but that doesn’t count. This is entirely different—like electricity arcing, or lightning shooting between us. This kissing feels dangerous and I want it to go on all night….

  And then we’re walking hand in hand through the snow to the road. Somehow I managed to turn out the lights in the barn and close the door, but I can’t really remember doing any of it. Cheryl starts to run, pulling me along by the hand through the drifts. We run like this, laughing wildly, and then we stumble and fall into the snow. She leans over and kisses me again, only this time softly and more slowly.

  “Close your eyes,” she says.

  I close my eyes and feel her lips against my mouth. Then she pushes a handful of cold snow in my face.

  “Hey! You little brat!”

  Cheryl jumps up and runs. I chase her, letting her stay just an arm’s length away, even though I could catch her in a second. She screams and throws snowballs at me, which I easily dodge, and then I tackle her and knock her into a big drift. I hold a handful of snow over her head.

  “Say uncle!”

  “No!”

  “Say uncle!” I hold the snow higher like I’m going to slam it in her face.

  “You wouldn’t dare, Nathaniel!”

  She looks at me so innocently with those blue eyes of hers that my heart melts all inside my chest. I drop the snow and lean over to kiss her some more, but she pushes me away and jumps to her feet. I jump up after her and grab her hand, and we walk in the falling snow, all the way through town and to her street. It’s strange, but everything seems different and new to me. The street lamps glow peacefully. The windows of the houses cast a warm amber light. I want to turn and look at Cheryl a million times while we’re walking, but I stop myself in case I break whatever spell the night is under. I just love her smile and, what’s more, I can’t believe she’s smiling at me.

  When we reach the corner of her street, she pulls me to an abrupt stop.

  “I’d better say goodbye here. My folks are kind of crazy about who I hang around with.”

  She sees my expression and starts to apologize.

  “It’s not that … It’s just … they don’t know you.”

  “Sure. I understand.”

  I understand all too well. They don’t want their princess daughter being seen with the likes of me. But I can’t hold her responsible for the way her parents feel. It’s not fair to her. I lean towards her to give her a kiss, but she puts her hand on my chest and pats my coat.

  “Thanks again for the nice time. I had fun.”

  And then she turns and walks down the street. She walks through the falling snow, past the expensive homes and the four-car garages. She walks in and out of the street lights like an angel appearing and disappearing before me. I watch her grow smaller and smaller, until she slips into a shadow and is gone.

  I stand there for a long time, wishing the night wasn’t over. I want to turn back the clock and stay with Cheryl and Smokey in the barn forever. I go on thinking like this, my eyes closed, imagining the touch and the taste of her lips against my mouth. I do this until my feet get so cold I can’t feel my toes any more. And then I turn and run home. I don’t mind the cold biting at my lungs and face. I run so fast I can’t even feel my feet touch the ground. When I get in front of the house I can see our Christmas tree twinkling through the living room window.

  “You were gone a long while,” Ma says when I puff into the house. “I thought we were going to have to go out looking for you.”

  “I just took my time is all.”

  I can feel Ma looking at me kind of funny. I bet she knows something is up. I take my boots off and hang up my coat slower than usual so I have time to settle down.

  “Come and look at Douglas!” Queenie shouts from the living room. “He’s the best tree ever.”

  Cid, Queenie and Ma are gathered around the fire admiring the tree. It looks beautiful, despite our mishmash of old ornaments. Somehow Ma always manages to make everything look good.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say, and I mean it, although it could have looked like anything and I would have said the same thing. I can’t stop thinking about Cheryl and the night. The whole thing seems like a dream.

  “How’s Smokey?” Cid asks.

  “He’s great. He’s really good.” I guess I answer too enthusiastically because she turns and looks at me kind of funny too. Our eyes meet and I can’t stop the happiness from showing on my face. Cid and I just look at each other long and hard, and then she raises her eyebrows and turns away.

  “I saved you some hot chocolate,” she says, getting up and going towards the kitchen.

  I follow her and stand next to the stove as she ladles the hot chocolate into a mug. “I won’t ask,” she says, handing me the mug. “Be careful. It’s hot.”

  “I’ll tell you sometime. I promise.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sure I’ll find out sooner or later.”

  Normally I would take this as a threat, but I can tell by Cid’s voice that she is letting me off the hook. I’m tempted to tell her all about Cheryl—about how nice she is and everything—but part of me wants to keep the night to myself, to hold on to the magic as long as I can and not spoil it with words.

  “Thanks, Cid. I mean it.”

  We walk back into the living room and join Queenie and Ma on the couch by the fire. I drink my hot chocolate quickly, then sneak up to my bed because I’m restless and I want to be alone. Tomorrow is Friday, the last day of school before Christmas, and the sooner I get to sleep, the sooner I see Cheryl in the morning. But I end up lying in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the evening with Cheryl over and over. I know this sounds stupid, but I imagine all kinds of things—like me and Cheryl going steady and even gettingmarried and having kids. I imagine everything, like what kind of dog we’ll have and even what kind of car we’ll drive. I’m still thinking about this by the time Queenie and Cid rustle up the stairs to bed.

  chapter 12

  the spell breaks

  I get up earlier than usual the next day because I want to look as good as I can for school. Earlier than usual means half an hour before school, which means I’ll be late for the bell all the same. My heart is still skipping beats from the night before. But when I go to use the bathroom, Cid has already beaten me to it and I know I’m sunk. It takes her hours to get ready just to go to the corner store. Now I can’t even grab my comb or brush my teeth. I bang on the door with my fist.

  “Hurry up, disco queen! You’ve been in there for hours.” Cid hates disco. She’s a David Bowie fan.

  “I just got in here. You can wait.”

  “I have to get ready for school!”

  “So do I! I’ll be out when I’m ready.”

  I pace back and forth in front of the door, hating Cid’s guts again. How can she do this to me? I feel like I’m going to scream. “Hurry up! I have to get in there!”

  Silence. Cid doesn’t even grace me with an answer this time.

  “Fine! I’ll remember this, Cid!” I kick the door with my sock
foot, cursing the day she was born. I crash back to my room and dig through a pile of dirty clothes on the floor at the foot of my bed, trying to find my good velour shirt—the one Ma embroidered with my initials. I can hear Ma’s words running through my head about how I should keep my room clean and how I’m old enough to do my own laundry. Now I understand why she says these things to me. I dig and dig but I can’t find my shirt. “Aaaaahhhhhhh!”

  I kick my pile of old Spider-man comics across the room in frustration. I can hear the time ticking away on my bedside alarm clock. I find my best pair of jeans, shake them out and jump into them. I sift through the clothes and find a pair of matching socks. I check my hair in the mirror and realize I’m screwed. My hair looks like a chicken tail, sticking every which way. And to make matters worse, I have a big pimple forming on my upper lip. I hate those ones. They hurt so much. At least it isn’t on my nose, I think, knock on wood.

  Just then, the door to the bathroom smashes open. Cid tries to sneak past me and tear down the stairs—because she’s wearing my velour shirt!

  “Hey! Take it off!”

  Cid grabs her coat and flies out the door. She has her boots on already so she leaves me standing there, screaming like an idiot through the front door.

  “You stupid jerk! I’m going to wreck all your stuff!”

  Ma would kill me if she heard me yelling out the door like some hooligan, but she’s already at work, so she won’t know. It’d be no use trying to explain to Ma that Cid took my best shirt anyway. She’d just tell me to go put on something else and get on with it. There isn’t much justice in our house. Not the right kind, at least. But I’ll get Cid back….

  I run up the stairs and jump into the bathroom. Queenie is in there sitting on the toilet, still in her pajamas. She doesn’t mind if I come in and brush my teeth.

  “What’s all the yelling about?” she asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  “Oh, nothing. Just Cid. I’m going to break her neck. Hurry up, Queenie, or we’re going to be late.” I splash water on my hair and try to get it to sit down. Then I revisit my pile of dirty clothes and look for the next best thing to wear. Everything is either full of holes or wrinkled beyond recognition. I pick a dress shirt with sleeves tooshort and roll them up to my elbows. I throw a shrunken green wool vest over top of this and check myself in the mirror. Terrible. But it will have to do.

  By the time I’m finished primping, Queenie is still moping about in her pink fuzzies. “Come on, Queenie, let’s go.”

  “I don’t have anything to wear.”

  “Just throw on anything. Wear what you wore yesterday.”

  “I wore what I wore yesterday for three days already.”

  “Well, wear it again!”

  I leave her to get ready while I smooth more water on my hair and check my teeth. At last Queenie’s ready. We bundle up and fly out the door. I all but drag her down the street to school. Queenie starts to dip and skip like she’s going to dance, and I yank her arm a bit.

  “You’re hurting my hand, Nat!”

  “There’s no time for dancing!”

  Queenie looks betrayed. I feel like a big jerk but I can’t help it. I hear the bell from across the park.

  “Jeez. Come on, Queenie!”

  I make Queenie trot to her schoolyard and push her through the gate. Then I run across the street to my own school. The national anthem isalready playing as I skid up to my homeroom door. The teacher gives me a dirty look, so I stand to one side of the door, out of her field of vision. When the anthem stops, I slip into the class and try to take my seat unnoticed. The teacher doesn’t even say my name, she just points at me.

  “Office.”

  “But …”

  “Go.”

  I groan, then get up to go.

  “Take your books with you. Homeroom will be over before you get back.”

  Right. I grab my books and hurry down the hall. The last person I want to see is old Turtle Neck, our principal. We call him that because his head melts right into his neck, and it’s all wrinkled, like a turtle’s. On top of that he’s slow. He couldn’t move fast if someone lit his pants on fire, which I’ve thought of doing more than once….

  Anyway, I want to get to history class early to talk to Cheryl alone before all the other kids show up. But Turtle Neck keeps me waiting, asking all kinds of stupid questions that nobody needs answers to, like how many times was I late this semester, and doesn’t my mother work over at such-and-such law firm. I can feel myself growing old in Turtle Neck’s office. I feel like I’m going tostart smashing things as I watch the minute hand on the clock practically spin around its face.

  At last he lets me go, and I run to class. I’m sure my hair is a mess again and I can feel the sweat under my arms. Mrs. Malanus shoots me a look as I flip the late slip on her desk and take my seat without looking at the rest of the class. The kids snicker. I check the fly of my jeans just to be sure. It’s closed.

  I take the time to collect myself and organize my books. I look over the shoulder of the kid in front of me to see what page we’re on, then settle in. When enough time has passed for the class to forget about my late entry, I turn slightly in my chair to look over at Cheryl. I have to do it casually so she doesn’t think I’m a weirdo. I decide to use the old pencil-drop distraction to accomplish my mission. The pencil hits the floor as planned, but bounces funny on its eraser and flips up to the front of the class, rolling to a stop in front of Mrs. Malanus’s desk. She sneers over top of her bifocals like she just ate a piece of bad cheese.

  “When you’re ready, Mr. Estabrooks….”

  The class snickers again and I can feel my face turn red. I retrieve my pencil and slink back to my seat. I sit staring straight ahead until I can’t stand it any more, and finally decide to just turn aroundand look at Cheryl in her seat at the back of the class. Will she be wearing her tight blue sweater? Will her hair be up in a ponytail, or down around her face? I run my hand through my hair, then slowly turn in my seat. But she’s not there! My heart sinks as I sit there staring at her empty desk.

  “Did you lose something, Mr. Estabrooks?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  I turn forward in my seat, my hopes dashed. Where could she be? Why didn’t she come to school today?

  The rest of the morning drags on and on until I think I’m going to go crazy. I don’t even want to watch the special film the teachers rented for us as a Christmas treat. I bide my time just long enough, then slip through the school doors and run to the park. I feel so disappointed about Cheryl that I don’t even care if I get in trouble. I don’t care if Turtle Neck himself comes looking for me. I kick my way along the path towards home, scheming ways to meet up with Cheryl over the Christmas holidays. I think about delivering something to her house, or walking past her place over and over, or even bringing Smokey downtown and right to her doorstep to take her for a ride. I laugh at this idea, then think it may not be a bad one at all….

  That’s when I notice two figures bundled close together, sitting on the old cannons at the gate to the park. Two kids playing hooky, I tell myself. Guess they didn’t want to watch some stupid Christmas film either. But when I get closer to the cannons I can see that it’s Cheryl and Tyler. There’s no mistaking that they’re together. Cheryl doesn’t even see me because she’s got her mouth planted right on Tyler’s lips.

  In an instant, the thin web connecting our worlds is broken and I can feel the rage filling up inside me. I want to knock them both off the cannons. I want to call Cheryl every bad name I can think of. I want to beat Tyler to a pulp so that he can never kiss another girl again.

  But all I do is walk past them, staring like a helpless fool. I think Cheryl sees me, because our eyes meet for a second. She pretends not to notice me and goes on kissing Tyler. I keep on walking until I’m at least two blocks beyond the park. And then I run. I run as hard and as fast as I’ve ever run in my life. I want to keep running until I can’t breathe any more, until I’m b
lind and deaf and never want to love anyone ever again. I can feel my heart bursting inside my chest and I’m sure I’m going to die. That will show her! I imagine myself dead and stretched out in the street, thepolice cars blocking the road, and Cheryl crying hysterically at my feet because it’s her fault that I’m gone.

  When I get home, I barely kick my boots off before stumbling up the stairs to my room. I slam my door, throw myself on my bed and bury my face in my pillow. I try to be strong and not care, but it doesn’t work. I can feel the tears running down my face. “That witch. That little witch!”

  It’s all I can do to keep from sobbing like a girl. But it’s my fault, really. Why would someone like Cheryl Hanson have anything to do with a guy like me? I must have been out of my skull to think that she would like me, let alone want to be my girlfriend. But why did she kiss me then? My heart feels like it’s ripped in half. I glare at the yellowed ceiling in my room. It’s nothing like the colour of daffodils, I think. It’s the colour of neglect. The fist hits me in the stomach again and the whole room seems to breathe in and out around me. I lie like this for hours, until Ma comes and taps on my door.

  “Nathaniel, are you all right? Your people are calling wondering where their papers are.”

  That’s what Ma calls my paper route customers—my people. Of course they want to know where their stupid papers are, I think.

  Heaven forbid they should miss a day of breaking news in this stupid town. If “my people” had real lives, they wouldn’t be so concerned about their damn papers. “I’m sick,” I call out.

  Ma opens the door and peers in. “What’s the matter?”

  I turn my face to the wall so she won’t see that I’ve been crying. “I don’t know. A cold or something, I think.” I sniff a couple of times as proof.

  “You sound all stuffed up.” Ma comes across the room and puts her cool hand on my head. “You feel kind of hot. I’d better take your temperature.”

  “I’m fine, Ma. I just need some rest.”

  “How about a bath and a cup of tea? That’ll make you feel better.”