Niko gets tense. “No, I didn’t.”
“Don’t lie!”
Niko shouts, then follows, after her. “Look, I can fix this.”
“I don’t want it fixed. I never wanted it done.”
“I swear, I thought you did.”
“I told you I didn’t want a target put on me.”
“I didn’t put a target on you.”
She turns around. Niko’s face looks innocent, but she’s seen that face on Niko before. Fortunately, they’re right at the main entrance, and it’s also fortunate that the doors are still out. It’d be hard to make a dramatic exit otherwise. They’re large, heavy, and the effort it takes to open them is unreal.
“Yes, you did. They can’t touch you, so they came after me.”
2.
It’s wet in the pool, it’s wet in the showers, her clothes are soaked and it’s raining from the sky. Oh, how water sucks and Seattle sucks with it. And her splash-tastic shoes, in synch with Niko’s, hurry down several plains of steps and across the blacktop to her family sedan whose floor is wet from her dropped book bag. (Water resistant book bag, and thank God for that. Her mother woulda freaked had her books wilted). She sits in the seat, which seals her chilly clothes against her backside. It knocks her knees, then jars her elbows. Hypothermia has its benefits, however. She’s half sure the downpour has fooled her mother.
Nothing fools her mother.
“Did you swim in your uniform?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Did you make the team?”
“Of course, she made it!” Niko catches herself, her big mouth aware this statement wasn’t kosher, so she slings into her seatbelt, then fumbles over a retraction. “I mean, I think so.”
Her mother is impatient. “Did you make it?”
“Yes, but don’t get too happy.”
“Why?”
Her hands redirect all the hot air vents her way. “I was really bad, and I don’t know if they’ll keep me.”
That was a lie. They’re keeping her.
Her mother doesn’t know that. “What do you mean?”
“Niko got me on the team.”
Niko chuckles, then bites on her hair. By no surprise, this story is eagerly awaited, and Niko’s eager to tell it. As soon as she knows what it is! “Well, um, I knew she was struggling—cause she hasn’t practiced! So I reminded Mackenzie of what good swimmwers we were as kids.
Her mother is impressed. “That was very clever, Niko.”
“Thank you!”
Her mother agreed with Niko.
It’s official, everyone’s retarded. Or perhaps it’s her.
When Niko orchestrated this plan, she assumed Niko could not strong arm Donna like this. (Niko isn’t even affiliated with swim!) This is real life, where hard workers get rewarded and non-hard workers don’t get on swim. Which means I’d lose valedictorian…permanently. That was her orchestrated plan. As Mother Superior has, over the years and in a manner that suggested her dog just died, informed her of her oft second place grades and what should be done to address them. It’s been a waste. For as much as it stings to concede, Mackenzie’s smarter than her.
And dryer.
She needs to change the topic.
Also, the hot air vents are pumping cold air, so she turns them all away faster than she turned them toward. “I’m sorry we’re late. Tryouts went over.”
“I was about to come in and find you.”
“I’ve got news about that!” Niko jumps at her bag book, ripping at the Velcro, then yanking back the zippers and reshuffling shit until she produces a thin plastic hanger like the “Do Not Disturb” signs at motels. “It’s my parking pass! It’s effective next week!”
Let’s do this quick.
Last month, Niko turned sixteen.
As Niko was still dating Hazu, she asked for, then received, an RX7 for her birthday. It’s a super-sexy, fire engine red sports coupe Niko’s already spent a fortune “modding” so it’s as fast and fancy as Hazu’s own. Sadly, Niko also adopted Hazu’s devil-may-care driving style. Even sadder, Niko got a speeding ticket. And my mom found out about it. Since then, there’s been an unspoken embargo on driving with Niko. Mostly, it’s a non-issue. The Academy, being the Academy, took weeks to process Niko’s parking forms, and Niko, being Niko2.0, was too busy with the Bitches anyhow.
But, now…
She sits up! No longer caring for the treatment of her frozen body. “Mom, that’s fantastic, right? You won’t have to make so many long trips out here now!”
Her mother struggles. “I don’t mind the trips.”
“Really? You complain about them all the time.”
Let’s do this quicker.
Her mother pulls double-duty on rides. It sounds cool, but it adds an hour in both the morning and afternoon. It’s left her mother so rushed that, one day, she drove them in curlers and a bathrobe. My mom doesn’t leave the house unless she looks ready to go to mass. The time sacrifice has been unavoidable. At the beginning of the school year, Niko’s mother, Kana, got in some serious trouble and had to, for lack of a better term, leave Seattle. No one asked her mom to do it. And no one had to. Cause there was no one. Nana doesn’t drive anymore and…
We always get the slack.
Either way, that’s over. Tomorrow, Kana returns.
It’s the biggest of big news in these parts.
Her mother mentions it. “Niko, are you excited?”
Niko is! “Of course! My mom called last night, and she says she is so much happier, she can’t believe it! And she said she wants to stay in Seattle, so she won’t work overseas, and, like, I mean, I hear it in her voice! She’s better this time!”
Her mother beams. “That’s fantastic, Niko.”
It is fantastic. If it actually happens.
Here’s the thing: this isn’t Kana’s first attempt to come home. It isn’t even the first time Kana’s been in trouble, so she puts a lid on the outright joy, and gets back to her efforts to reheat. She turns the dials all the way to red, then the fan to 4. The air stays cold. I hate technology. “It’ll be great to see her.”
Kana’s picking them up from school tomorrow.
It reminds Niko of something. “Hey, remember you guys don’t have to get me tomorrow morning! I have my appeal!”
While we’re doing things quickly.
Last weekend, Niko cut her long hair short, then dyed the tips blond. Niko saw it as a bold statement of individuality. Her mother saw it as a cry for help. The Bitches saw it as a violation of the Rules. The vice-principal also saw it that way, but per the Academy’s rules. On first sight, the little baldy ordered the blond severed. In response, Niko invoked, from the student charter, an appeal clause that allows Personal Code infractions to be reviewed by three teachers instead of one. It’s a bullshit technicality and it’s “known” not to challenge the faculty in such a manner.
Since Niko has anyway, she hopes Niko wins.
“They should let you keep your tips! They’re so pretty!”
“I want to keep them, too.”
Her mother doesn’t. “How about you get your hair cut now? That way, Mother Superior can see how serious you are.”
“No, I’m gonna wait. I want my mom to see it.”
If her mother were recorded on an audio tape, it’d be playing right now. “Niko, you’re in a time of your life where you want to express yourself, and that feels more important than more important things, but you focus on making a good impression.”
If she were recorded on an audio tape, she’d be playing right now. “Are you kidding? You’re getting Niko a haircut?”
Niko talks over that. Beforehand, she held her gum in her teeth, stretching it with her fingers. “I’m making a fantastic impression, by showing how well I know the Personal Code.”
Pop!
(That was Niko’s gum, too).
“When you say that you come off as being smart.”
“Thank you!”
>
“That’s not what I mean. I mean you come off as being, what it is?” No one knows. And no one answers. Her mother’s not aware. When driving, her mom’s concentration is absolute, her hands glued to the wheel, and her eyes in a constant squint. “A know-it-all. Mother Superior won’t like that, and after what she’s done for you this year.”
And quickest.
Mother Superior has done a lot for Niko, this year and in years past. Niko’s special circumstances require discretion, or “secrets,” and Niko, being Niko, requires individual counseling, where things (like how Niko needs to listen to adults) are explained in ways that Niko understands. For Mother Superior, it’s a delicate balance between educator and pseudo-parent. It requires an effort and a love that Niko has never fully appreciated, as it’s unlike Niko to ponder a life at the mercy of the vice-principal.
Not that I care, I want a haircut!
Until this weekend, she liked her ass-length hair, but if Niko can get her hair dyed, then she wants her hair dyed, too! Or at least styled. Her mother said no—like her mother always does! To anything and everything! For example, every morning she prepares one way for her mother, then in the school bathroom, she rolls her skirt, pulls her blouse—you know, those “cool” Rules—applies her makeup and ear rings. While that sounds doable—like her mom’s double-duty rides—try doing it daily, it’s annoying. Plus, it’s only the surface of her mother’s denial.
My mom is convinced my pillowcases wear themselves out.
Go ahead and laugh. She might, too. It sounds harmless, but masturbation is the reason for these big arguments that go on and on and it’s…
Not worth it.
Also not worth it is this stupid heating system. She turns a few more knobs, then gets knocked out of the way by Niko, who forces herself between the chairs to fiddle with the buttons.
The air is hot now.
“Mom, that’s unreal! You’re taking Niko to get a haircut?”
Niko talks over her, adjusting her chest during it. When she stretched, one of her boobs was knocked out. “Mother Superior knows that my hair isn’t meant to upset her.”
“All the same, Niko. Show some loyalty.”
She repeats herself. “Don’t ignore me!”
Her mother sounds trapped. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“But you offered to take Niko!”
“It’s different.”
“How so?”
“Niko needs it done.”
Ugh! She hates how Niko gets special treatment. She throws out, then crosses her arms. “I’ll dye my hair too if that what it takes!”
“You will not do that.”
She knows she won’t. “What’s it gonna take, then?”
Her mother blinks like a migraine. “There’s not enough time to visit your Aunt.”
Auntie lives in Tacoma.
“What if we didn’t see Auntie, could we do it sooner?”
“She has cut your hair since you were little.”
Tradition, to her mother, is like sentimentality to emo girls. It somehow applies to everything. “Can Niko drive me?”
Niko’s stretched between the chairs again. “Yes, I can!”
Her mother stalls. “I’m not saying yes to that.”
“Well, when can we go see Auntie then?”
“I said we’ll talk about it later.”
She backs off.
Things could go postal quick, as it seems to do almost daily. All her mother and her do is fight and… It’s worth it now. Her mother and her have had issues for two years. Wait, strike that. Issues ever since she met Niko. If it’s not about Model UN or masturbation, it’s Kana asking me to keep “secrets.” All that aside, on Monday, Mother Superior asked her to forgive her mother, for present sins and past. Lord knows she tries, but her mother always shoves it in her face.
She tells herself not to lose it.
She dislikes arguing with her mother around Niko since Niko would love for Kana to be involved in her life. But if it bothers Niko, Niko keeps it hidden, as Niko goes for her own agenda, holding herself against her mother’s chair, and pressing her boobs into it, so she can better talk into the front, and feel their weight on her chest. “Tonight I’m having a party for the girls on Prom Committee. Next week, next year’s Committee gonna be selected, and we both want to make an impression, you know, so they know us a bit.”
Her mother verifies everything Niko says. “Is that true?”
Here we go.
“Um, yeah.”
Niko jumps in. “And you know what?”
Her mother wants to know what. “What?”
“Prom Committee applies to, like, valedictorian and stuff!”
Her mother verifies everything Niko says. “Is that true?”
“Um, yeah.”
Niko jumps bigger. “And there’s more!”
Her mother wants to know more. “What?”
“Donna Harly, the swim captain, is also Prom Committee President! It gets us in good for both.”
Her mother verifies everything Niko says. “Is that true?”
“Um, yeah.”
The time is now. The air is ripe. Gonna bring it down and give Donna Harly the long kiss goodnight. Or so Niko thought, and her anticipation has left her seething. “Um, yeah?” What betrayal! Of all the things that perplex Niko, shit like this is #1. She falls off the chair, then sulks into the backseat with her arms crossed as well. “I’m trying to participate. I want you to be valedictorian, too!”
She tries to be polite. “Thank you.”
Her mother agrees. “Yes, thank you—how thoughtful.”
Niko’s back on it. She missed feeling boobs against her. “What do you think? Can we go?”
“Is your nana going to be there?”
“Yes! It was a rumor that we were alone this weekend.”
Her mother hesitates.
It isn’t only due to this Coeur d’Alene party.
(We’ll do this one quick, too).
When Kana left, and Niko became Niko2.0, her mom, like the Academy, reassessed Niko in full. Before this, asking to go to Niko’s parties or sleepovers was a formality, and at school, teachers overlooked their verbatim answers and note passing. Now, this stuff requires intense scrutinizing, as if it were part of some grand metaphor. It’s also subconscious. Her mother, and the Academy, know to ignore the exaggerated stories about Kana, but said stories are in such prominent repetition that her mother has, with the Academy, applied Kana’s sins to Niko.
Crap like that made Niko1.0 feel responsible for Kana.
Crap like that makes Niko2.0 rebel and go crazy.
When Niko2.0 does just that, it verifies, for her mother and the Academy, that Niko requires intense scrutinizing. It’s why, be it swim team, Model UN, haircuts, or car rides—all aspects of her life are Niko vs. [enter person or organization here]. Typically, this happens incidentally, save this time. Purposely, Niko used her as a battering ram against Donna Harly’s oppressive rule, then, just now, failed to apologize for it.
It makes her irrational, so when her mother asks about her homework tonight, she forgets she finished most of it in study hall and lies to hurt Niko back. “I’ve got a lot to do.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
Niko grumbles. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Because it could get us on Prom Committee.”
“I wish I could, but I just can’t.”
She regrets it seconds later. She stands by it anyway.
Goodbyes are awkward, but extended as Niko says, “I’ve got some stuff of yours.” A minute later, Niko’s back, out of breath from running with a duffle bag hung from her shoulder like a guitar. Then the real goodbyes happened. It was less awkward, since they’re not things of hers, but things of Niko’s, or as Niko refers to it, a “Care Package.” As she said, her mother views all womanly indulgences as contraband, so from time to time she borrows Niko’s clothes, jewelry, money, and dirty litera
ture. This individual package is clearly an apology, seeing as care packages, like a lot of things, had fallen wayside to Niko2.0.
Hell, Niko fell wayside to Niko2.0.
It happened at dinnertime. Her mother had left the kitchen TV on by accident. The volume was low. The words were clear. At first, no one responded. Maybe cause no one was surprised. Later, on the telephone, Niko was introspective and sad. She said, “I’m in a weird place,” followed by, “I want to change everything.” For as Kana spiraled out of control, so did Niko, and when Kana crashed into the ground, Niko dove after her, but when Kana emerged from her madness full of promises to fix it, she discovered a hard truth.
Niko was damaged. And it was in the way that can’t be fixed.
Detour One: The Past.
This weekend sucked, and she knew it from the start.
On Friday night, she was moody over that, and spent the time watching TV and staring at the phone. She even tried to pen the great American novel. She failed. On Saturday, she perked up. She took a too-long shower, mixed old outfits into new, then in the mirror, forced her granny panties up her crack with her taut fist. On Sunday, she freaked out. Soon, her mother will find out she quit Model UN. And that I quit in an awful way. To distract herself, she flipped through childhood photo albums, then from her closet, gathered various leftover school supplies that, for the chosen pics of Niko and herself, became a corkboard she had her father nail above her desk.
It was meant to be a happy monument to their friendship.
Instead, she cried. It wasn’t sad crying. Okay, it was sad crying. Over how Niko used to be a fun, cool person who did fun, cool shit, but when Kana left, Niko was left to discover, before the public en masse, that her life was a lie, and that people thought her spoiled ass deserved it. Tickets to that show sold fast. And the Bitches bought out the house. Evil notes were put in Niko’s locker, insults were written in bathroom stalls, the prank calls were constant, and when it seemed like it couldn’t get any worse, it stopped. In what amounted to the “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” mentality, Niko—with zero forewarning—joined the Bitches, becoming Niko2.0, or Donna’s sock puppet.
Sykosa, Part I: Junior Year Page 12