by Ruby Cruz
Bernie Kasilag, one of my good friends from the bowling team, slid into the chair next to mine. “Shelly strikes again, I see,” she said wryly as she examined me beadily. “Why does she insist on playing Pretty Pretty Princess with you?”
I raised a self-conscious hand to my hair. “You don’t like it?”
She rolled her eyes at me. “You know you look great. I just think you look more Taylor the other way.” She shrugged. She’d never been one to follow the masses.
Bernie was the anti-Shelly. Even though she and I hadn’t been friends as long as Shelly and me, we ultimately had more in common: we both liked comics and superhero movies, and we were both tomboys on the bowling team with a healthy appreciation for football. While Shelly was always dressed like she’d walked off the cover of Teen Vogue, Bernie was more than comfortable pulling on a Yankees cap over her straight, black hair and wearing a snug T-shirt, jeans and flip-flops. Shelly was ever the girly girl, prone to getting pedicures and watching romantic comedies. Meanwhile, Bernie belched and cursed as floridly as the guys on our bowling team, a fact that might have made me envious if I didn’t think it somewhat disgusting.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder from behind. “Taylor? Wow, I like the hair. You look good.” Josh Rosenberg had leaned forward in his chair and stared intently enough to make me blush.
“Thanks.”
I’d known Josh since freshman year, when he and I had been paired together for a history project on Gerald Ford. That had been an awkward experience. Josh had been so shy and reticent, even more so than me in my worst moments, it was a wonder we’d finished the project at all.
I smiled politely at him and turned back to continue my conversation with Bernie. She had watched our exchange with a smirk on her face, and I hoped she wasn’t going to make an issue of it. Knowing Bernie, though, I was going to hear an earful later on about why I was wasting my time talking to him.
Trevor and Kimberly entered the classroom together. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but it was more than the cold shoulder he doled out as he ignored me to find a seat near the back of the classroom. I shouldn’t have been surprised; just because we were lab partners didn’t mean he had to acknowledge me outside of biology lab.
Ignoring the snub, my mind became mired in thoughts about the coming year. Maybe Shelly had been right and I would have a date for homecoming after all.
I began to list the prospects in my mind, guys who had been nice enough to me in the past that I wouldn’t feel too awkward striking up a conversation with any of them. I was so engrossed in my thoughts that when Mrs. Snyder called on me in class, I wasn’t prepared.
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry to interrupt your little daydream, Taylor.”
A few people snickered and I flushed with embarrassment.
“I was just wondering if you would care to share your thoughts on Emma and whether it could be considered a feminist novel.”
I tried to gather my thoughts. “Well, this is the first of Jane Austen’s heroines to be financially independent. Austen depicts the strictures that society imposed on women at the time in a negative light. Usually the only way for women to gain any type of independence was by marriage to a man. By making Emma independently wealthy, Austen released her from that burden. In fact, because she wasn’t burdened by the need to find a husband, she never felt the pressure to marry and almost saw herself above the institution of marriage.”
“Oh, please,” a sardonic voice called out.
Mrs. Snyder turned towards Trevor. “Do you have a different opinion, Mr. Morris? By all means, share it with us.”
I turned around to face my nemesis. He leaned back imperiously in his seat, and I could feel the familiar resentment begin to build inside me.
“Emma was a spoiled, manipulative brat whose only saving grace was the fact that she was rich. She used her influence to brainwash that poor Harriet girl, and when she began to take an interest in Mr. Knightley, she took it all back and essentially backstabbed her because she couldn’t get what she wanted. She’s exactly the type an independent, feminist woman doesn’t want to be. Not to mention that in the end, she gets married just like all the other female characters. Not exactly a feminist move.”
He wasn’t going to do it to me again. Not today. “But Emma grew as a person and as a character. She was contrite for her actions, and it’s that shift in character that allowed Mr. Knightley to act on his feelings for her and propose, not because she was bowing to societal pressure. She married out of love, not practicality, like other women in her era were forced to do.”
“I still don’t think her actions in the book warranted any type of romantic overture. It’s the product of an overly romantic woman playacting her fantasies and wanting to find romance where there is none to be found, not for a self-serving wench who thinks only of herself.”
“That’s why it’s called fiction. If people started reading about real life, they’d be bored. Emma is the story of one woman’s redemption. If you’d actually read the novel, you would’ve seen that she’s changed by the end, that she matures into a strong and intelligent woman worthy of love and respect. The creation of that character and the style with which Austen writes her journey, that is why we’re studying the book. The novel’s been around for nearly two hundred years. Two hundred years’ worth of critics would disagree with your assessment.”
“Yeah, and some critics also thought that Austen’s conclusion was too weak to be the scion of literary work that the novel has turned out to be. Emma’s father is still stuck in his house, Knightley proposes to Emma with no real reason except that he thinks he should, Harriet and Mr. Martin end up together, Frank and Jane elope…does everyone really live happily ever after? In the end, your little feminist heroine ends up just like all the other women in the novel – shackled to a man who ultimately gets to make all the decisions. If you’d spent less time getting your hair done and more time doing your homework, you might have realized that your satisfying conclusion is actually the weakest point of the novel.”
Kimberly and a couple of Trevor’s buddies didn’t even attempt to conceal laughter as Mrs. Snyder interjected, “Okay, Trevor, that’s quite enough. Taylor and Trevor both brought up excellent points about the novel. Since we only have a few minutes left, I’ll have to end the discussion here. I want everyone to write thousand word essays on the feminist and anti-feminist themes of the novel. Don’t forget to provide citations of any passages you include for supporting evidence.”
I still seethed from Trevor’s attack as I gathered my books. Now that we were lab partners, couldn’t he have tried to refrain from the attack on me and my opinion? Of course, he didn’t bother to stick around after class to tell me that it was all in good fun or that everyone had a right to their own opinions. Instead, he and Kimberly were out the door before I’d gotten a chance to shut my notebook.
As they left, I indulged in a daydream of me as Wonder Woman punching Trevor, dressed as Sinestro, in the jaw and then single-handedly leveling his group of minions in a matter of minutes.
I was smiling at that scene unfolding in my mind when Josh approached me. “Hey, Taylor.”
“Oh, hey.” I finished gathering my books and started towards the door.
“I thought you had a pretty good point there. The conclusion may not be the most logical one, but it is the most satisfying. And emotions aren’t always about making the logical choice, right?”
“See, you get what I was saying. I think half the class thought I was nuts.” And Trevor was the first in line to send me off to the loony bin.
“No, you’re right. I mean, we’re not studying Emma for the entertainment value.”
I raised an eyebrow, and he quickly added, “I mean, not that it’s not entertaining. I mean, like you said, it’s been around for nearly two hundred years for a reason.”
“Thanks. It’s nice to know that someone else here shares my opinion on somethi
ng.”
“And he was way out of line when he made that crack at your hair. Like I said before, I think it looks nice.” The way his eyes were bored into mine made me blush again. “Well, I’d better run. I’m gonna be late for drama class if I don’t hurry. I guess I’ll see ya around.”
After saying our goodbyes, I watched him continue down the hallway. It looked like all those drama classes had helped Josh grow out of his shyness.
I was contemplating my conversation with him when Bernie tapped me on the shoulder as she lowered herself into the desk next to mine in history class. “So, Josh Rosenberg, huh? He’s not exactly your type.”
I rolled my eyes. “Now you’re starting to sound like Shelly. We were just talking. Having a conversation with a guy doesn’t necessarily mean I want him to stick his tongue or various other body parts down my throat.”
“Ugh, didn’t need the image. Blech.” She shivered dramatically for effect. “Hey, you’re not working tonight, right? Karl and the guys want to grab a bite after practice, sort of initiate the newbies on the team.”
“I can’t tonight. Mom’s actually coming home before midnight, so she wants to have a nice, normal dinner with the family.”
~
When I arrived home after bowling practice that afternoon, Mom had changed out of her nurse’s scrubs and was standing at the kitchen counter chopping vegetables for what looked like a pot roast. I pecked her cheek and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.
“How’d your day go, sweetie? Any comments on your new haircut?”
I thought of Josh and the positive feedback he’d given me on my hair and smiled. “There were some good comments.”
There must have been something in my voice because Mom paused long enough from her chopping to cock an eyebrow. “Hmm, I take it that one of those comments came from a cute boy. You better spill it before I ground you for insubordination.” She wagged the knife at me and resumed chopping.
“It was nothing, Mom. Josh Rosenberg thought I looked nice.”
“Rosenberg…how do I know that name?”
“Freshman year history project on Gerald Ford.”
“Oh, yes. The boy who wouldn’t talk. He actually spoke to you?”
“Yes, and we had a social conversation. Turns out there’s actually a brain in there.” Since I thought it best to steer the discussion away from Josh and boys, I changed the subject. “When’s Dad coming home?”
“In an hour. He had a last minute meeting in Bridgewater at six.”
“Good. That gives me time to work on my essay for AP English.” The debate I’d had with Trevor flashed in my mind.
“Essay? What about?”
“Emma. Trevor and I had sort of an in-class debate today and Mrs. Snyder thought it would be a good idea to turn our debate into an essay assignment.”
“That Trevor. He’s not happy unless he’s making your life miserable, is he?”
“Tell me about it. And get this - the other day, Ms. Pulaski made him my lab partner for AP Bio.”
“What? Why would she do something like that? The problems with Trevor and you date back to grade school. Maybe I should talk with her.”
I had a nightmarish image of Mom charging into Ms. Pulaski’s classroom and demanding I be placed with Ronnie Jackson. “No, Mom, no. It’s okay. I’m not eight years old anymore. I can handle this.”
“Taylor, I don’t want you failing AP Bio because of your problems with this boy.”
“I won’t. He and I don’t exactly get along, that’s true, but we’ve both agreed to be adults about this. It’ll be fine.” I just hoped my words convinced Mom more than they convinced me.
~