ZOE: You better have my car.
ME: I’ll drive it over later. Go back to bed, Sleeping Beauty.
When I left her at home last night she passed out easily on her bed. Her mom would be in for a very un-Zoe-like reception this morning. At the time of the party it didn’t seem like Zoe drank much, but she’s a tiny person—like barely five feet tall. I’m pretty sure even a couple ounces of alcohol could put her over. I wondered if I even consumed close to an ounce with my watered-down concoction. I tried to make it completely water, but the beery residue still sloshed around in there, making it probably even more disgusting than straight beer. Luke had laughed at me about my improvisation.
Luke. Did he know who I was by now? Or did I make a complete fool of myself for assuming that he’d finally gotten it? It wasn’t like I hadn’t made a fool out of myself in front of Luke before. When we used to be neighbors, his little sister, Olivia, and I were best friends. We played dolls in her backyard for as long as I could remember—until it wasn’t cool anymore. Luke had been twelve at the time and really into scaring us girls. One afternoon when I went over to visit Olivia, he’d been in the backyard by himself.
“Is Liv here?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nope. But I’m glad you’re here. Let me show you something.”
My heart skipped a beat, and I tried to hide my blush. Luke wanted to show me something without Olivia around. The only time we talked without her was when Olivia would walk inside to get Popsicles or go to the bathroom while we played together. The girls at my school declared him the dreamiest boy in the sixth grade, and we all agreed that whoever kissed him first would have eternal bragging rights. Now was as good a chance as any.
He tromped through the tall grass lining the fence, and I followed dutifully. We crouched around a pile of rocks at the far end of the backyard, and I looked for what he wanted to show me.
“What is it?” I asked.
He pointed to the middle of the rocks. “Can’t you see it? I trapped a toad.”
“Ew!” I shrieked.
His face turned up into a side smirk. “What, you don’t like toads, Danielle?”
“Dani,” I hissed. My face turned red, and I spun on my heel away from him. I hated my full name back then, and he knew it. I heard him giggling, and I stomped back toward my house.
“Dani, wait,” he said, running up to my side. My stomach flip-flopped again, and I faced him, feeling tears stinging my eyes. “Are you crying?”
“No.”
“I didn’t mean to make you mad—”
“You didn’t,” I said, and turned around again. I couldn’t stay here anymore, not if the dreamiest boy in the sixth grade saw me cry. No reputation could rebound from that.
“Liv went with my dad to go look at new houses,” he said. I stopped dead in my tracks, and my heart dropped. “We have to move soon.”
Real tears started to roll down my cheeks, and I knew that sounds were about to come with them. I needed to run away and not let Luke see me upset. His face scrunched up a little bit, and I could tell that he was sad too. He’d lived here his whole life, even before my family moved in. Luke awkwardly patted my shoulder, and a tiny sob escaped my lips.
“We’ll come back to visit a lot,” he said.
I stared straight into his eyes, not caring anymore that a combination of snot and tears ran down my face. “You promise?”
“I promise,” he said.
And they kept that promise for a while. For two years after the big move Olivia and Luke visited the neighborhood during the summer. One summer Liv came back by herself, since Luke was starting football practice and couldn’t leave home for that long. After that summer they both became busy with high school and activities and never made it back to Denton to their barn-red house with the Toad Motel still built in the far corner of the backyard.
As I piled my rejected dorm accessories into two carts, I felt the judgment of other shoppers coming my way. First, they would judge me for the sheer number of things that were embellished with the Ohio State logo, next for the rainbow colors of everything else that clashed terribly. But the final thing they would judge me for would be bringing it all back. I should have made copies of my rejection letter to hand out to bystanders to explain my situation. It would probably save some confusion on their part and some sanity on mine.
The teenager at the return desk was less than pleased. She smacked her gum and sighed when she saw my two carts.
“You probably won’t get a full refund on this” was the first thing she said to me. Like that would change my mind and make me pack the two cartloads back into the Jankmobile. I nodded, and she slowly checked out every item, gradually putting the Ohio State furniture fortune back onto Mom’s credit card. At least this would save them money in the long run. The teenager picked up an OSU-embellished toilet seat cover I’d become rather attached to, and I reached out to grab it.
“Actually, I still want that,” I said.
She raised her eyebrows and said, “Okaaay,” in the most disturbed way. What? A girl can’t get sentimental about toilet seat covers?
As she scanned the last of my Ohio State mugs, she printed out the receipt and blew a giant bubble with her gum. “Thank you for shopping with us.”
“Oh, it was truly a pleasure,” I said. The teenager rolled her eyes as I left the store.
I flung the toilet seat cover into the back of the Jankmobile, and the car started without much of a problem. Now that the barrier between my Ohio State past and my future was gone, I felt ready to conquer whatever Denton Community College had to offer me. I researched a bit about classes and signing up for DCC and found out that I only had to go into the school’s admissions office to sign up with all my information. I didn’t have to be accepted through a process—I was a student if I showed interest. This kind of empowered me, knowing that I was the one who dictated my future, not an unforgiving English teacher or a hundred-and-fifty-word rejection letter.
The parking lot to the DCC admissions building was pretty bare. Only a few cars dotted the edges of the lot, most likely the secretary and the counselors here to help. I reached for my transcript and diploma and headed inside. The bricks of the building looked worn down from the heavy snow during the wintertime. Ohio usually had the most brutal of weather changes, ranging from hot and humid in the summer to bitter cold and snowing in the winter. Thankfully the campus size wouldn’t be much to tackle in the horrible weather when walking from class to class.
A woman with a tight blond bun on the top of her head waited at the front desk. She was engrossed in a cheesy romance novel with Fabio on the cover. His hair blew in the wind while his arm muscles flexed, holding a half-naked woman in a dramatic dip. At least she was enjoying herself. It took a small cough from me to get the woman’s eyes peeled away from the book and onto mine. She blushed and dog-eared the page of her book.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, actually,” I said, handing her my paperwork. “I’m interested in registering.”
“Of course.” She took my papers and clicked a few buttons on the computer before reaching for the phone. “Mr. Ollenburg? I have a student out here who would like to register. Are you available?”
She put down the phone and handed my paperwork back to me. “Just go down this hall, and his office is the second on the left.”
Walking down the stark white hallway depressed me a bit. The outside looked so old but had character, while the inside had been completely redone with plain white walls and little decoration. I turned to the second room on the left and saw the first evidence of personalization on the outside of Mr. Ollenburg’s office—a wire star that hung off his doorknob. The glass window on the door was blocked with dark paper that had glow-in-the-dark stars glued on. I knocked on the glass window and waited in silence until the door swung open quickly.
“Oh my God!” I yelped in surprise.
Mr. Ollenburg laughed. “Sorry, did
n’t mean to frighten you there. Come in! Come in!”
The inside was nothing like I expected. He had the planets in orbit on his ceiling with every type of Star Wars and Star Trek paraphernalia scattered around the office. More of the plastic stars were stuck haphazardly around the room—I’m talking everywhere. Even the pictures of his family had the little plastic stars on the frames.
“My name is Mr. Ollenburg, but you can call me Jeff,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Danielle Cavanaugh,” I replied. He motioned for me to sit down.
“So, a last-minute registration, Danielle?” he asked.
“Time just sort of got away from me,” I said. I didn’t want or need to delve into my reasoning behind the late registration, I just needed to get registered.
“All right then. Do you have your transcript?” I handed my paperwork over to him, and he eyed my grades. He set them down and started to type things into the computer, much like the receptionist had. “What’s your area of interest?”
“I want to major in communications,” I said. He nodded and typed some more. “But I also have to make up an AP English class from high school. Also, I might as well get some math out of the way while I’m here.”
He studied my transcript for a few seconds before looking back up at me.
“AP Literature? Well, we don’t have that specific class, but we have one that’s close and would probably count for the same credit. It’s called Literature Theory. This semester it has a focus on American literature. A lot of freshmen take the class,” he said. “Are you planning on transferring the credits?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Eventually to Ohio State.”
“Wonderful, wonderful!” he said. “I love a student with a plan.”
If only he knew that the plan had been concocted less than twenty-four hours ago. Mr. Ollenburg shuffled around in a file drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper, filling out the same information that he typed into the computer. I took the time to gaze back up at the solar system on his ceiling. I had to admit it was pretty impressive.
“Are you a fan of space?” he asked. I tore my eyes away from the ceiling.
“Do star signs and horoscopes count?” I asked.
“I suppose so. Space has always fascinated me. Something that can exist billions of years before you and will exist for billions after you—that’s just incredible. It can make you seem pretty insignificant,” he said. “But it also makes you want to leave something to be remembered for as long as the planets will be, you know?”
I nodded. Because I did. Isn’t that what all humans wanted? To be remembered for something? To believe that the cosmos or God or something greater than ourselves has a plan for us? When I was little I really wanted to write comic books. Noah and I would sit in the living room together while I wrote the pages and he illustrated them. I thought that my comic books would be my big accomplishment, but as I got older, things became harder. Our comic books were rough, to say the least. Now Noah was off becoming an actor, Claire was off living her dream as a writer for Teen Gleam—they were leaving their mark. How was I supposed to leave my mark if I lived in Denton, Ohio, for the rest of my life?
“Well, Danielle, I have you signed up for two computer science courses, a calculus course, and the Lit Theory course. Is there anything else you were interested in?”
“A job,” I blurted. “Do you offer any work-study programs?”
Mr. Ollenburg nodded and clicked the mouse again. “Most kids already applied months ago for campus-based jobs, but I can see if there’s anything left.”
At this point I would take working as a lunch lady or cleaning the bathrooms during my off period. I needed the excuse to leave the house … and to help my parents pay, of course. His eyebrows rose, and a small smile crept onto his face.
“There’s actually an opening at the Denton Bookstore. Someone must have quit this week—those spots always fill up quickly,” he said. He scribbled something on a scrap of paper and handed it to me. “Either try going over there now or call later to see if you can apply for the job. They’ll need the help as soon as possible when students start getting their books next week before classes.”
I grabbed the piece of paper with the bookstore’s phone number on it and thanked Mr. Ollenburg again for everything. He had also written down my DCC online information so I could print off my schedule and so I could send in tuition. The bookstore was just down the street from the admissions building, and I could walk there easily. No need to start up the Jankmobile twice before going home. The Denton Bookstore was in the strip mall that still had all the original building intact without a refurbished inside. Walking into the shop almost smelled like walking into an antique store with the musty smell of old books and moldy water stains dotting the ceiling. A bell chimed as I entered the relatively empty bookstore, aside from the middle-aged woman restocking shelves in the back. She popped up from the ladder she sat on and came to the front when she heard me enter.
“Hi there!” she said. Her sweaty hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and I didn’t blame her—the lack of air-conditioning really made me sweat. There was an oscillating fan propped up on the front desk, but it hardly did anything. August in Ohio was unforgiving. “How can I help ya?”
“My counselor told me that there was a job opening?”
“Oh right,” she said, coming back around to the outside of the counter. “Let’s walk and talk. I really have to get these books finished back here.”
I followed her to the back bookshelves as she filled out inventory sheets and restocked shelves. I would occasionally hand her the books out of boxes when she asked me as we talked.
“My name’s Misty, by the way,” she said over her shoulder.
“Danielle Cavanaugh,” I replied. I’d been saying it so many times today I should have been wearing a name tag.
“You a freshman?” Misty asked. I replied with an all-too-teenager-y “Um-hmm!”
She asked for more books, and I handed them to her quickly. “I’m going to be straight with you, Danielle. We really need the help, and I’m no good at interviews. You can come back tomorrow at noon, and I’ll show you the ropes. Mostly you’ll just work inventory so my old back doesn’t wear out doing it by myself.”
“Really?” I smiled. “Thank you so much!”
“No problem,” she said. The bell chimed again, and Misty hopped down from the ladder. She made her way to the front of the store as I glanced around at the stacks of boxes.
“Oh good, you’re here,” Misty said to the person who walked in. They both headed back. A guy my age, maybe a little older, with a dramatic T-shirt featuring a band I didn’t recognize, stood next to Misty. His hair seemed to be perfectly messy, and he had eyelashes that were longer than mine. We looked each other up and down. “Porter, this is Danielle. She’s taking Freddie’s spot. Damn kid quit yesterday.”
“Porter Kohl,” he said, holding his hand out. I took it as firmly as I could manage and waited for either of them to say something else.
“I’m teaching Danielle inventory tomorrow, so I’ll need you on the register,” Misty said.
“Sounds great,” he said. His sarcasm kind of impressed me. It actually sounded sincere—only the kings and queens of cynical could pick up on it. The doorbell rang again, and Misty left us standing alone.
Porter and I stared at each other. “So, are you from around here?” I asked. He seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place where I’d seen him before.
“I’m from Valley View,” he replied. So about thirty minutes away. I must have recognized him from one of the sporting events I had been dragged along to, with dates who thought I enjoyed watching my classmates tackle each other. He wiped his palms on his pants, and I silently willed Misty to come back here and relieve us from our mutual awkwardness.
“Cool,” I replied. I figured cool was the most uncool thing to say in this moment and regretted it. My goal was to make my coworkers believe I wasn’t a socially a
wkward shut-in, but I was epically failing to prove that now.
“So, are you a student?” he asked.
“Yes!” I said. “Actually just enrolled about twenty minutes ago.”
“Cool,” he replied, smirking at his use of my phrase.
“Ah, okay, I’d better go,” I said, scrambling for the bag I’d left near the bookshelf. “It was nice to meet you, and I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
To say I hightailed it out of there is an understatement. I saw the door ahead of me, beckoning me to the freedom of the Jankmobile, but he called after me just before my fingers touched the handle.
“Wait, Danielle,” he said. I turned around, red-faced, and he came up to my side with my transcripts in hand. “You forgot these.”
I swiped my report with the big F in the middle of the page and blushed deeper. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it, Freddie 2.0,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. “See you tomorrow.”
FRIENDSHIP:
a relationship between two or more people who are friends.
Some of the books I reshelved were older than my parents and smelled like they’d rolled around in disgusting amounts of soda and tobacco over their lifetime. They also wore the classy names of the previous owners, like “Mike Hawk” or “Ben Dover.” I didn’t quite know whether to find comfort in the low maturity of my college classmates or feel ashamed. For the sake of my sanity I decided to laugh. Pretty timeless jokes there.
Inventory proved to be as fun as I’d imagined. Misty’s scattered set of records and last-minute restocking of last year’s books made it more challenging to complete the monotonous task. But hey, I could be scooping out lunch to my fellow classmates or scrubbing their toilets, so I’ll take monotony any day.
“Sweating yet, Danielle?” Misty asked. She reappeared from the back room with two bottles of water in hand. I gladly gulped the bottle until only half of it remained. My hair had stayed down for a grand total of five minutes before being thrown into a ponytail, and I could feel the humidity soaking in, bound to turn my hair into a giant frizzball. Thankfully, jeans and a T-shirt were acceptable in their dress code. I’d perfected the art of hiding sweat stains in this outfit. The key was dark colors and, if things got really dire, extra sticks of deodorant or body spray at an arm’s reach.
The Big F Page 4