Chasing Days

by Deirdre Riordan Hall

  I write a few useless words in the document, trying to formulate an essay that will convince Mrs. Sherlock that I actually read the material.

  A few minutes later, Joss passes in the adjacent hallway wearing red lipstick. It pops against her pale skin and newly bright red hair. She and Teddy must have had a hair coloring party. She doesn’t wave at me through the window, but stares me down then she presses her lips to the glass and lingers there long enough for me to wonder what they’d feel like against mine. Thoughts of our bodies pressing together in a slick and bubbly slip and slide ride into my mind like a wild stallion, mane and tail flying in the bubble-filled wind.

  I have the urge to run out there and ask what’s happening to me? I counted on Teddy to know me before and now, I'm not sure this Theo person and I are still friends, leaving me to figure everything out on my own.

  I blink my eyes and she’s gone, just the stain of her lips on the glass affirming the heat building between my legs.

  I lean back in my chair and spy a poster the LGBT student group hung up. There's a rainbow backing the words LGBT=OKAY. There's another one that says Love is Love with colorful outlines of a man and man, woman and woman, and man and woman. There are meetings here after school on Wednesdays. I’ve always wondered why Teddy didn’t join; he’d make a great spokesman, even though he won’t talk about the subject.

  I turn back to the computer. I type uninspired words into the document and send it to print. The poster practically blinks like a neon sign behind me. Then I have a light bulb moment.

  My grandfather always said, “To know something well, to become an expert, you have to immerse yourself in the opposite.”

  While chasing days during these final weeks and trying to jump over the moon, I’ll immerse myself in girls to get to know boys and I’ll immerse myself in boys to get to know girls. Or one particular boy and one particular girl. Kind of like a practical, hands on experiment, not meant to objectify or cheapen what it means to be homosexual or heterosexual, but to figure this out specifically, for myself. I swallow hard. I'm afraid that if I don't, I'll be cheating, lying, and denying an integral part of whom I am.

  I talk myself into believing it really just comes down to the lesson and above all else, untying the knots that kink my brain, boobs, and vagina. This isn’t about love or companionship, at least not yet. I just want to find my way around my newly refurbished inner landscape and that doesn’t make me a bad person or a slut. This is a study in being the unique and unusual unicorn named Willa.

  A bolt of lightning flashes and glowing spots fill my vision. Thunder cracks. There’s chatter and laughter by the outside windows in the library. Perhaps a tree came down from the storm. On my way out, the latest senior prank one-ups the Fork You Puckett message. Someone mowed a giant penis and testicles into the football field. Groups of students rush across the lot in the rain. An arm tugs me from behind. It’s Joss wearing an impish grin on her red lips.

  Without letting me argue, unlike the weather that debates over rain and sun, and now rain again, she pulls me outside.

  As we join the mutinous crowd, fat drops drench us, turning the ground beneath our feet slick. We run and slide and then handfuls of mud and grass sail through the air. Sherman has Heather on his back. The cheerleaders build a pyramid. Nina’s lavender blazer tints brown. Water and wet earth drip down my chest. Joss smiles at me.

  Epic.

  Chapter Nine

  ☾

  Thursday

  After dinner, I turn my closet inside out trying to find something to wear. I find myself defeated by too much denim and cotton and not enough of whatever it is girls wear when they’re not skateboarding or reading in trees.

  I flop onto my bed. With a strong exhale that lifts my bangs off my forehead, I opt not to go to the party Grady mentioned this morning. My excuse is that I have nothing to wear. My phone bleeps.

  It’s Heather. You’re coming with me to the dance tonight.

  Why? I reply. We stopped going to school dances two years ago. Except for the prom of course. The breakup with Lou crushed Heather so the three of us—Teddy too—went together.

  Nostalgic purposes. In case you weren’t aware, we only have a week left until school is ovah!

  Ten days I write, correcting her. Then I add The mud fight made for nostalgic.

  Don’t be a Debbie, she replies, referring to one of our favorite Saturday Night Live skits. You’re coming. Can you borrow the Bug?

  I answer I’m not being a downer and probably not. I’ll just meet you there.

  My mom is out of town, so that means I’ll have to get a ride. I wanted you and me to do this together. Remember how many dances we went to, hoping someone, anyone, would just ask us. Lol.

  Yeah, and each of those times convinced me what a mutant I am because duh, no one ever asked me. At least she had Lou. The air is thick in my room, and I don't want to hang out in the basement with the cats and stacks of boxes filled with beer.

  Okay, fine. I’ll ask to borrow the Bug.

  Promise? I can practically hear her squealing from across town.

  Promise.

  I could blame my parents because they grew up in an age of cynicism and may have imparted it to me in utero, but I have a resistance to things that are considered popular by the masses: books, movies, fashion, and music. It isn’t that I want to do things the hard way or be contrarian or an outcast, but I certainly don’t always make it easy for myself. During the dystopian craze, I read about fairies. When everyone got cars, I dusted off my skateboard. Now, I find that same push and pull as we near the end of this epoch. I don’t want to let go and yet I’m reluctant to participate. And it’s too hot to wear my favorite jeans. They make me look like I have a butt and that is yet another thing I do not possess.

  I convince my hair to defrizz and then clomp downstairs wearing a flouncy sundress and combat boots.

  “You look so pretty,” my dad says, sitting on the futon couch and setting aside a sales report.

  My mom has the guts of a guitar exploded on the kitchen table. “Hon, do you know where I put that spare humbucker?” The guitar occupies her attention until I’ve stood there long enough for my hair to frizz again. “Hon?” She looks up. “Oops. My mistake. I thought you were Kurt. Willa, you look lovely. Glad to see my boots still fit you. I remember when you were a baby; Guzzi gave us a teeny tiny pair of Doc Martens. I think they’re in the attic.”

  “Do you mind if I borrow Dolores?” I ask, using my code name for the VW to assure my parents I’ll follow the rules so they'll spare me a lecture about driving safely. It isn’t that they don’t trust me, but if given the opportunity, they'll remind me what they were like when they first had cars. It wasn’t so long ago that they’ve forgotten about their wild nights and close scrapes. I add, “End of school dance.”

  “Cool.”

  “Not really.”

  My mom motions to the chair next to her. “Sweetie, what’s on your mind?”

  I plop down and twist the machine head of the guitar. Then it all spills out of me. “It’s just going so fast. I hardly feel like I'm keeping up and then what?”

  She pats my hand. “You’ll figure it out.”

  “You guys had a plan.”

  She scoffs into the living room where my dad sits. “I’d say we had the opposite of a plan. There’s no manual for being eighteen with a toddler.”

  “Okay, but you had a purpose.”

  “That I won’t argue with, but so do you,” she says.

  But I don’t.

  “It’s all right that you haven’t figured it out yet, trust that you will.”

  My dad pops his head in. “In the meantime,” a grin spreads across his face, “have fun.”

  “No instructions for that either, but it’s a good time figuring it out.”

  “And letting it happen,” my dad adds.

  ☾

  I honk outside Heather’s house. She breezes toward me wearing short-shorts and a crop tank.
Her signature pixie cut is freshly trimmed.

  “You got dressed up,” she says when she notices my dress.

  “I thought we were going to the dance.”

  “We are,” she hedges.

  I get into gear and drive toward Puckett.

  “The mud,” she says. “That was crazy. It was everywhere. In my ears, my hair. It was awesome, but I’m guessing Grady didn’t give you a ride home. His car being new and all.”

  I shake my head. "I walked." I avoid telling her about him and Joss and my decision to go for it. Instead, I let her gush over Sherman. Two weeks ago, Teddy and I were besties with Heather as our dose of reality when we strayed too far into our own little world. We were all single and we all liked boys. I may as well burn the Teddy-Willa Manifesto for our friendship along with everything else I thought I knew. Maybe my parents were right about there not being a manual.

  The disco lights and streamers decorating the gymnasium welcome us back in time to any number of school dances as early as freshman year.

  “Time warp,” I say. “Minus Teddy.”

  "Yup," Heather agrees, but her eyes flit around distractedly.

  Clusters of our classmates dot the room and no one is on the dance floor. I feel sorry for the hired DJ spinning dated remixes.

  “Is this supposed to remind us how far we’ve come?” I ask.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t foretell where we’re going,” she adds.

  I wish I knew and yet at the same time I don’t want to think about that right now or ever.

  She turns to me and shrugs. “I guess the only thing to do is stand around and gossip, which brings me to Teddy. Where is he and what’s going on between the two of you?”

  I want to think about this even less. “I don’t know.” How do I explain the amorphous, uncomfortable sludge that dribbles between us when I hardly understand what’s happening to me.

  Thankfully, Annie and Rosa appear, chirping about the party at the Parker’s.

  “So when are we leaving?” Annie asks.

  “This dance is so lame,” Rosa adds.

  “Oh yeah, about that, um, did you want to go, Willa?”

  “Did you invite me here as ploy to get me to bring you to Augie's?”

  “I just didn’t think I could get you out of the house without Teddy.”

  “He’s not my chaperone.”

  She looks dubious.

  “Or my security blanket. I do plenty of things on my own.”

  “Such as?” she asks.

  My long-term memory fails to find an answer. Instead, I come up with countless occasions, dances like this, other parties, and day-to-day life with Teddy as my constant companion.

  “It’s just that, before it was like the two of you always did things together. I felt like the third wheel, when you included me. It’s like he guided you out and even then it wasn’t far from the familiar. We have,” she pauses dramatically, “ten days left of school. It’s time to let loose.”

  I think about my declaration earlier, the sign, just down the hall in the library, my grandfather’s words, and my oath to plunge into the unknown in order to know myself. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Okay? That’s it? For real?” She grins, not quite believing me.

  I nod and jingle the keys. “Let’s go.”

  Annie and Rosa relax with relief that no further persuasion is necessary.

  Even though I’ve never been to the Parker’s house, I know which streets, winding away from the coast, to take to get there.

  Over the years, Augustus Parker's older brothers, Fitzgerald and Harrison, paved the way with massive parties and the promise of a bottomless keg in the basement. The cloud-burdened sky isn’t completely dark, yet cars already pack the street. Invisible butterflies join me as we walk in the middle of the road toward the rumble of bass notes. It shouldn't be that big of a deal, but I haven’t been to a party like this before.

  Music vibrates the ground and laughter plays over the thick beats. We go around the back of the house and people spill out from the bulkhead opening to the basement. Tiki torches, stabbed into the ground in a reckless path, send smoke into the sky. Heather quickly abandons me for Sherman. Annie and Rosa beeline for the steps leading to the keg.

  I can name every single person here and yet I feel like an outsider with a spotlight shining on my stupid dress. No one bothered to tell me it was casual Thursday. Maybe I’m just a tourist, a visitor to this strange land of normal. I study my phone pretending to busy myself, but there are only old messages, other people’s social media accounts, and solitaire. A red cup presses against my hand.

  “Did I go too fast?”

  I look up. It’s Grady.

  “Glad you came. I was just wondering if I drove too fast this morning.”

  “I was muddy this afternoon. Didn’t want to ruin your car.”

  “I was muddy too.” He smirks and although his eyes look shy, his lips don’t. He leads me over to the side of the house where it’s quieter.

  I take a nervous sip from the beer, hoping this potion will erase the confusion plaguing me. I almost spit it out.

  “First time?” Grady asks. “Plug and chug.”

  First time. My cheeks blister as if along with the confirmation that Teddy and I weren’t together, also comes the news nugget that I’m a virgin. Not that it should matter. It shouldn’t. But geez, even my mom and dad had done it by now. A slippery thought enters my mind: is the pressure to have sex pushing my attraction to Grady?

  I take a second sip, prepared this time. No, it’s the way he leans and smiles. He’s an expert, top performer, in the art of the casual lean and the suggestive smile. Maybe I do spend too much time in my head or, until recently, with Teddy, which was virtually the same, or so I thought. I quickly follow up. “Sorry. That was rude. I’m not really a beer snob. My parents microbrew.”

  “Oh yeah, I heard about that. They tried to donate money to a school thing, but the administration wouldn’t let them because it involved alcohol.”

  “Yeah, that’s us.” I choke down another sip. “Beacon Brew,” I say, naming their craft beer company.

  “BYOB next time?” he jokes.

  I want to ask, will there be a next time? Instead, I say, “Ten days and counting.”

  “Then what?” he asks.

  “I’m wondering the same thing.” I’m about to go on and explain the density surrounding college and the future, like there are walls and obstructions preventing me from committing when Teddy walks by. He's wearing all denim and a trucker hat that says You wish you could do me. I’ve never seen the hat before. Possibly, he came out of the proverbial closet dressed like that. Perhaps that's what has been preoccupying him, but if so, I want to ignore the potential for ache at why he wouldn't share it with me. I glance around nervously for Jaze and his jork crew, suddenly afraid for Teddy. There's no sign of them, just the back of a person called Theo as he chats up Heather and Sherman.

  Grady and I fill the next few sentences with the mundane until Augie shouts something about firecrackers.

  “I’ll be right back. I’ll bring you a refill, something better. Promise,” Grady says, hurriedly getting up.

  I spot Teddy with a brown glass bottle in hand and trail him as he wanders past the empty swimming pool. I covet the sloping cement and the rises, wishing I’d brought my skateboard; the angles are perfect for dropping in. The beer erases the fact that I haven’t skated in a pool in ages. Teddy talks to Austin for a few minutes, like they’re old buddies. I guzzle the remaining contents of my cup.

  Firecrackers pop pop from the roof. Augie tosses them, lit, into the drained pool. Grady appears and passes me a bottle of Sierra. “He’s a wild man,” Grady says with a loud exhale. “Has the desire to surpass his brothers’ reputations for insanity. Wait’ll you see what we have planned for our Muck-Up.”

  I raise my eyebrows.

  “Tomorrow will be epic,” he says as if that is explanation enough. Then follows up, “If Augie makes it
to the morning.”

  After half my beer is empty and Grady has told me all the pranks they’d scrapped, I’m buzzed enough to ask, “Does anyone have a skateboard?”

  Grady grins big and says, “I imagine we can come up with one.” He takes my hand. I levitate as he leads me to the house. I may as well be walking through a fairytale, a warped one involving a second keg plopped right in the yard and the autumn smell of burning leaves in the bottom of an empty swimming pool in this almost-summer air, along with Teddy, red-haired, wearing all blue, and talking to dudes like he’s been one of them all along.

  Ten-minutes later, with a skateboard in hand, I edge toward the pool. The leaves are embers at the bottom. I position myself on the edge, and then slide down, four wheels burning, my hair flying, and not caring if anyone sees my underwear as I launch up the incline and down again. I should have asked Joss where she got her Wonder Woman undies. I whoop and sense a crowd gathering.

  I do a few ollies off the side and other simple tricks as the world blurs by. This feeling, freedom, this is what Teddy meant by riding a bicycle with wings. Except, I’m on four wheels instead of two.

  Then I bite it. There’s a collective gasp, but I get to my feet, lift two fingers high above my head in the peace symbol, and call out, “I’m alright.”

  I climb out of the pool and Augie grabs the board. “How have I not thought of this before?” He balances on the edge, shouts, “Yeehaw,” and takes off then promptly crashes. There’s laughter as he tries again. Apparently, my display, on top of the fireworks, and the free flowing beer launches this party into mayhem.

  Grady replaces my empty bottle of Sierra with a Corona.

  “Sorry I couldn’t find a lime.”

  “No worries,” I say, still exhilarated from my ride.

  “I knew you were cool, but didn’t know you skated.”

  Cool? “I rarely do these days. I did tons when I was a kid. Even competed. But I didn’t do it for that reason. More for the speeding feeling.”