Sykosa, Part I: Junior Year

by Justin Ordoñez

“Congratulations.”

  Her father was once a competitive swimmer, and in what she understands from his infrequent visits to the gym, he is, despite his BMI, still faster than his skinnier, stronger counterparts. Her father is overweight like a football player is overweight. He looks athletic. She was proud of him as a kid and decided to emulate him. Along with Niko and Mackenzie, she swam for a local team, but quit after eighth grade since, according to her own observations, her butt wasn’t big enough to be elite.

  “It was a big surprise. I’m so slow.”

  Her father is confident. “It will come back to you.”

  “I don’t know, Dad!”

  Like a reflex, he fixes it. “Should you take lessons again?”

  Didn’t expect that. “Not really.”

  Her mother likes the idea. “Yes, lessons! You’ll see, you’re still a good swimmer.”

  But, I hate swimming! “Let’s talk about this later, please!”

  Talking about it later = Bad attitude. At least it means such to her batshit crazy mother. “The team is important. It’s how you’re going to become valedictorian.”

  “Please not this, not now!”

  “You did this to yourself. Don’t blame—”

  She interrupts. “I know! Everything’s my fault!”

  “You quit Model UN and never chose anything else, so this got picked for you. Don’t complain.”

  Beyond grades and church, the Academy holds students to a Student Value System. Essentially, it’s an Honor Code, and it puts big emphasis on participation in the student community. Essentially, that’s extra-circular activities, and prior to this semester, she was in Model UN, which, being an academic club, contributed towards valedictorian; whereas, her true interest, Glee, where slackers like Niko go to fuck around after dismissal, does not. Her mother, who views valedictorian as a gateway to scholarships, cares about it more than school.

  That’s why, when she quit, she kept it a secret.

  She talks while chewing. “I’m not complaining. I don’t want to talk about it is all.”

  Her father folds over the paper. “You didn’t want to swim?”

  She mumbles. “I wasn’t that excited about it.”

  “Why not?”

  Because I hate swimming! “It’s not my thing, I guess.”

  Her father’s also interested in reduced college costs, so even though he disagrees with her being forced to swim or being forced to overachieve to standards outside her own, he sorta pretends like it’s no big deal. “It will come back to you.”

  Well, when all else fails… Try, try again!

  She whines! “I don’t know, Dad!”

  It changes his opinion. “Is there nothing else you can do?”

  She spits it out. If she weren’t such a shill for Niko, it might have surprised her. “Actually, Niko had a good idea.”

  “What was that?”

  “Prom Committee.”

  He eats over his words. “How do you get on that?”

  “Niko had an idea about that, too.”

  “What was it?”

  “I need to go to a party tonight and meet them.”

  Her mother is confused. “You said you have homework.”

  “I finished early. I want to show my interest and relax with my friends. Besides, you liked how Niko talked to Mackenzie about swim. Isn’t this the same?”

  Throwing her mother’s logic back in her mother’s face, to her mother, is the male-equivalent of a sucker-punch. It’s a great way to put her mom on the prowl, which’s exactly what it does. Her mother sits straighter, then talks higher. “By the time I drop you off, I’d have to turn around and get you.”

  “Actually, Niko can drive me back.”

  Another totally counterproductive sucker-punch!

  I can’t help it. I like hurting her.

  Her mother shows none of her singed pride. She just moves about food around her plate, acting like the answer should be obvious. “It’s too late by then for Niko to be driving.”

  Her arm extends to her father. “You know Dad’s right, right? I wasn’t ready to tryout for swim. Do you even care how much pain I felt trying to do it?”

  Her mother struggles. “I will decide soon.”

  “But, Mom, look at the time!”

  “I said I will decide soon.”

  In mild protest, she pouts, then thanks to some thigh-high generated static cling, shocks herself when she touches her fork. Her mother wants her to eat vegetables. The reds, greens, and occasional yellow are in a plastic container that farts when it’s opened. She giggles. “What’s so funny?” “Nothing!” It’s her chore to clear the table. She stacks plates, silverware, and cups inside cups like servers do. The sink is two halves. One side is filled with soapy water. The other rinses the bubbles down the drain. At the dishwater, she receives what her mother has scrubbed to a spotless shine.

  “Have you thought about the party?”

  “The dishes aren’t even done.”

  “Can I get ready at least? So if you decide yes, I’m ready.”

  “You know I don’t like you going out on school nights.”

  She needs to find a way around that. Cause Niko is right. If my mom gets valedictorian, I should get something, too. Like a Popsicle or a Fudgsicle. Her head is in the freezer while the flatware soaks the dish rag beneath it. She breaks the plastic seal, then holds it against her tongue until it’s stuck. It’s the smart thing to do. She’s been handed a pot which won’t fit. She dries it manually, returning to her point—if she got more stuff, she might want to be valedictorian.

  “I was thinking, I need to get my hair cut this weekend.”

  Her mother is exhausted by the thought. “You do?”

  “I can’t have hair this long and be on swim team.”

  Her mother no longer scrubs, shocked to hear a legitimate reason. “I will call your aunt and we’ll go on Saturday.”

  Hm, she should be humble and appreciative.

  Screw it.

  “Can we can go shopping too? I want to get new clothes for spring and summer.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I want a bikini this year.”

  Unlike before, her mother washes uninterrupted. A sure fire sign of failure. That assumption overlooks how, having already been on swim, her mother is well versed in team customs. “This is for the get-togethers at Mackenzie’s?”

  “Exactly, I want to fit in with the girls on the team.”

  Her mother looks relieved again. “We will buy you one.”

  Okay, now she should be humble and appreciative.

  Or go for the ultimate score: A boy.

  It’s another thing she debates confiding.

  “Mom, after Sadie Hawkins, I sorta… Well, long story short, I overheard Niko, uh, doing stuff, and, okay, odd to say, but my date made it to second base. Mom, ‘second base’ means he felt my boobs. Calm down, it’s never happened before, and it was fine, but a few days later, we found out we’re just friends. That part sucked. My point is that I need a boyfriend. And not so I can sneak around, but so I don’t. If I have a boyfriend, I can go on fun dates and stuff, but that can’t happen when you force me to lie to you.”

  Yeah, not gonna happen—tonight or anytime soon. Besides, she has other business. Her voice is muffled by Fudgsicle. “I might be late coming home tomorrow.”

  Her mother anticipated this one. She speaks into the doors below the sink. She’s trying to find cleaning pads. “I would think Niko wants to spend time with her mother alone.”

  “Mom, it’s me.”

  Her mom stops searching and sounds stressed. “Okay, but be home for dinner.”

  “What if Niko invites me to sleepover?”

  “Are you still sleeping over with Niko on Saturday?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can’t spend the whole weekend there. Pick a night.”

  Then she picks Saturday. Post-Prom is a part of Niko’s plan.

  “Okay, I want to do it Sa
turday because of the party.”

  Her mother seems okay with the decision. It’s tomorrow that worries her. She is up from the sink and making eye contact. “I want you to call me if anything funny happens with Kana, and if she is drinking or anything, I’ll drive you home.”

  Disrespecting Kana usually sparks a fight.

  She hesitates since, especially lately, it’s been impossible to defend Kana. In truth, Kana’s never had exemplary behavior. While my mom does nothing but. For years, it’s put significant friction between her mother and herself. It began when, as a kid, Kana asked her to keep “secrets.” It hit a low when, as a slightly older kid, she was caught masturbating, then confessed to “rubbing” with Niko. Things were okay, but in eighth grade, her mother, with minimal explanation, told her it didn’t matter what high school Niko attended, cause she wouldn’t be.

  The fight that started that day never ended.

  And each fight thereafter, including Model UN, is part of it.

  Every time, Mother Superior’s intervened on her behalf. And for Model UN, it was no different. It’s nice because I don’t have to keep “secrets” from Mother Superior. And earlier this week, like when she was little, Mother Superior accompanied her to the chapel, where they prayed, then, also like when she was little, they talked about the things God would want, like all the information on Niko’s Coeur d’Alene party.

  She was (half) kidding.

  She knows what God wants; Mother Superior, too. To maybe hug her mother, maybe cry, then say it. “Mom, I forgive you.” Like in the car, it’s messed up. Either because of Kana coming home or the Fudgsicle or just being too happy, she forgot what she’s got on underneath her PJs, so when she bends to squeeze in a bowl, it tugs, then separates, the overlap of her pants and top, putting on full display the black fabric coming out of her ass and stretching to her waistline, which’s covered by her garter—whose straps can be seen shaped along the outsides of her butt cheeks.

  It’s a bit of shock for her mom. “What are you wearing?”

  She loses her breath and can’t catch it. Or think.

  She blurts out. “My PJs.”

  “No, what’re you wearing underneath them?”

  She’s stood up and pulled down her top. “Ugh, underwear?”

  “Niko gave that to you, didn’t she?”

  Oh, time to use the team excuse again!

  “I got it from a girl on the team. We traded some clothes.”

  Her mother shakes her head. “It’s Niko’s. Why do you need that thing—for this party tonight?”

  Is that why Niko gave it to me? No. Even Niko wouldn’t be that shitty. “It’s not for the party. It’s a total coincidence.”

  “What does Niko have planned for tonight? Another party with no grownups before her mom comes home?”

  She rolls her eyes, then tosses her hair. “That was a rumor! Nana was there last weekend, and she’ll be there tonight!”

  “Lie to me again and you won’t leave that room.”

  I’m not lying!

  Okay, she’s lying, but the accusation is out of line. Her mom has zero proof! Other than previous proof of similar indiscretions. To simplify: thongs, boyfriends, whatever, cause a hysterical reaction in her mother which echoes another reaction her mother gave. When she caught me masturbating. She had no idea it was bad, but once she learned it was, she expressed regret, then swore to stop (2,000 orgasms later, she intends to still do that); however, she never understood it. Sure, she was a wee bit young, but…

  Niko taught me about my vagina, so what?

  “Excuse me for making new friends!”

  “You don’t need that to make friends. Now take it off and bring it to me.”

  “Okay.”

  “And tell Niko she’s not to give you that stuff.”

  “But, Niko didn’t—”

  Her mother interrupts. “But, nothing. One day, you’ll run out of excuses and I fear that, instead of learning anything, you’ll just say the same ones again.”

  That hurt. She’s gonna cry about it later.

  Her feet pound away. “Okay, I’m sorry!”

  Her mother pounds, too. “Don’t take that tone with me!”

  “Mom, you’re crazy! Not everything is about Niko!”

  “Then why did you stop going to Model UN?”

  If not obvious, her mother’s arguments are often circular. It’s because they’re often the same. Since the masturbation thing, her mother’s had this theory that Niko brainwashes her into being a compliant zombie. Which is impossible. Unless it’s Donna doing it to Niko and Niko doing it to her. They’re different! Except, they’re not. Way back when, Niko had an unquantifiable hold on her. Sure, it became sexual, and while that’s what concerned her mother, and it concerned Mother Superior, too, Mother Superior recognized it wasn’t lesbianism driving Niko and her, but innocence.

  Niko didn’t originally conceive sex as being about gender.

  And I couldn’t say “no” to Niko. Or rather, I didn’t want to.

  Her mother, Mother Superior, even Kana—no one sees how the universe conspires for Niko. It’s why Mother Superior saw it fit to suggest that separation from Niko was the key. Her mother agreed. She and Niko were put in different classes, lunches, and recesses. Years later, after these efforts failed, her mother tried to send her to a different high school. If only her mother knew she only needed patience. One day, Niko would join the Bitches, thus forcing the separation her mother was artificially trying to produce. Months after Niko actually did so, Niko rescinded it. And as my mother would’ve wanted, I hesitated. Specifically, she said, “Don’t put a target on me.” Turns out it was a cosmic joke. All the cogs, as she suspected, were working individually against Niko, but as a unit, each gave Niko exactly what Niko wanted.

  She ended up at swim tryouts.

  And it was my mom and Mother Superior who put me there.

  Detour Two: Mother Superior.

  Mother Superior’s office is a square without excess. One wall bears a cross with Jesus attached to it and a circular print of the Virgin Mary, like a yearbook cutout, is stuck to a yellow-tinted computer monitor. The furniture is forgettable slabs of wood covered for the butt, the back, and for the elbows on the arms. Being elderly, Mother Superior struggles to sit, but she does sit and then stares nostalgically with her hands folded together, as if she were in a lazy prayer. Before she can speak, she hears a gulp of air, then the agony of withheld tears, and Mother Superior stands once again to retrieve tissue which she sets on the table.

  “My dear, I’m not angry.”

  It’s not that.

  Everyone really respects Mother Superior, so when Mother Superior fetched her from class, an “oh, shit” ripple washed through the room, and since she too respects Mother Superior, after she set down her book bag and pulled on her sleeves, the tears came full force. I messed up bad. Well, not “bad” bad, but it feels that way. As a kid, Mother Superior was principal of the Academy’s primary school. So we’ve got a long history. Now that she’s caught, which she knew she would be all weekend, she feels an embarrassment that seems to subtract seven or eight years from her life.

  Her voice even sounds like a second grader. “I swear it’s not happening anywhere else.”

  Mother Superior sounds the same, second grade or not. “Not with your grades, but I met with your instructors.”

  For being such androids, her teachers perceive a lot.

  She thinks the technical term is to “coast”—if a 3.98 GPA can be called coasting. And while it’s true, she watches the clock more than the board, she also knows enough to know when

  she’s known enough to shut down. She wasn’t escorted here for her faraway brain. It’s for Model UN. Her behavior there is inexcusable. She was not wronged, nor ignored. Actually, lots of cool people are in Model UN. They work hard and they believe in things and in themselves.

  And I abandoned them.

  “I know what you’re thinking…”

  He
r voice trails off. Mother Superior is interested.

  “What am I thinking?”

  “I say ‘no’ to Niko now, I know no one believes it, but I do. It’s not like when I was a kid—I get what people are saying.”

  “What made you think I was going to bring up Niko?”

  “Because she told me you talked to her this morning.”

  To that there were few alternatives, as Niko strolled into the chapel for Monday mass with blond abominations at the tips of her hair. Niko was allowed to remain for the service, but found the vice-principal waiting at the Academy doors. And that wasn’t all. Word has spread of Niko’s unsupervised Coeur d’Alene party. As of yet, the vice-principal has been unable to comprise a guest list or confirm which overblown stories are true or false.

  He will find out, though. That’s what he does.

  Mother Superior handles it her own way.

  “I did talk with Niko about this party she had.”

  “I don’t know anything about it. I wasn’t there.”

  “Do you know who was?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know what happened?”

  “No.”

  Mother Superior sounds suspicious. “You don’t?”

  She snorts snot, then grabs a tissue. And contemplates how to ditch this topic. Lying for Niko used to be easy, but with the Model UN thing, she no longer looks angelic. “We all know things have been different since her mother left.”

  “I have seen that in my conversations with her. I’ve also seen that she has latched onto Donna Harly.”

  “She has.”

  Bet you think, for Mother Superior, that’s a bad thing. But, you forgot reputation. And all Donna’s done for one. It’s fooled Mother Superior good, as the poor dear has not a clue of the idiocy she implies when the words leave her throat. There’s also something about her posture. For a woman in that habit, its starkness and its implication, to be so uninformed—it about makes her question everything she’s ever believed in.

  “I had hoped new friends, who have their priorities straight, would’ve influenced Niko positively.”

  “New friends” implies old friends, whom Mother Superior implied were the Stars. But, not me, she’d love Niko to be like me. However, she wants the opposite, and she wants to know if Niko is being truthful. “They’ve not been together as much. Donna’s been busier. I heard she forgot major details about Prom, and that the dance is in jeopardy this year.”