Normal

by Jason Conley

  Casey grabbed the plate off the floor. “I have enough shit to do without her throwing her food in the fucking floor. I’m calling the police next time.”

  “You hit her.”

  “Well, what the fuck can we do then?”

  “You always start the shit. You sucker punched her. What kind of reaction do you expect? ‘Oh, I’m sorry Casey.’ No. She’s not going to sit and take it forever. Frankly, I think she should have hit you back.” Randy walked over to Casey. “You don’t touch her again.” He stepped on the eggs as he walked out of the room.

  “Why don’t you back me up?” Casey said as she started to cry.

  “I like burnt eggs,” Lea said as she reached for Randy’s breakfast.

  Carissa sat on her bed crying as the inaudible murmurs filtered through the walls. She looked up at her fluorescent stars and wanted to be with her mother, her real mother. She was sure that if Jen were alive, that Casey wouldn’t be here. Casey’s missed placed anger and insinuations were taking their toll. Why does Casey think I am such a whore? She knows it’s not true. Carissa did want to get along with Casey, but now it was impossible.

  The door creaked open. Randy poked in his head, apologetic guilt creased his face. Carissa offered an accusing glare. She did not want Randy but pined for Daddy to come to her rescue.

  Randy sat down beside Carissa. He put his arm around her. He said nothing. Like a loving father, he sat quiet not pushing the issue. Carissa reluctantly embraced him. Her tears fell, without any hopes of her controlling herself. “Daddy,” she whispered squeezing tighter.

  After a few minutes, Carissa’s loosened her hold, took two deep breathes, and reapplied her vail, masking the pain once again. Randy let go. He placed his massive palms over both her cheeks, kissed her forehead, and smiled.

  “She didn’t mean it, baby,” Randy said.

  “Yes she did. She is always on my ass.”

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  “You always say that. It doesn’t help.”

  “I’m sorry, baby,” Randy said as he clinched her once again.

  “I have to change my clothes,” Carissa said as she pulled from his loving arms. She felt too safe there, and that was more uncomfortable than thinking of her father as a monster. She loved him though, as every little girl loves their father.

  “Okay, baby.”

  3

  Rob and Scott stood at the bus stop as they had every morning for the last twelve. The only thing that had changed over the course of time were the clothes that they wore and the bus they rode. Rob, Scott, and Carissa had been friends since meeting at this corner in kindergarten. Now juniors in high school, they still stood at the same stop, with the same friends, and going to the same school. It was normal.

  Carissa saw the boys standing and waiting. She remembered the first day she had ridden the bus. They were all five, and it was the first day of kindergarten. Carissa had just moved back in with her father and his new wife. She had stayed with her grandmother for almost two years, starting shortly after her mother passed.

  Carissa’s nervous nature had almost taken her out of the school thing all together. Her grandmother had played with the idea of starting her a year later but brushed it off. Carissa needed to start school. She needed to meet kids. She needed to grow.

  Carissa wanted to go back, go home, and listen to her grandmother have coffee with the neighbor. Carissa really did not know what they were talking about she just knew it was comforting to smell the grounds steeping in the percolator. Yes, Carissa’s grandmother still made coffee on a stovetop percolator.

  However, Six months before Carissa was to start school, Randy wanted her to move back in with him. Since there was no legal precedent in place for Carissa’s living situation, Randy brought her home. Carissa’s grandmother wanted her to stay but there was not enough money to get a lawyer and fight for custody. Custody would not have mattered anyway. Two months later, Grandma’s neighbor came for coffee and fond her lying breathless on the couch. She had been watching T.V. and fell asleep never to wake again. Carissa could not even remember her grandmother’s name anymore and she never asked. It hurt too much.

  When Carissa made it to the bus stop that first kindergarten morning, there stood two boys waiting. The curb was crowded with parents but these three were alone. Just three kids standing at the stop with no one to tell them to have a good day, kiss them for luck, or hug them before they got on the bus. Mustering all the courage young Carissa had, she walked up to them and the rest, well, was history. The three “parentless” children became what they needed to get to school. They had been friends ever since.

  “Hey, Carissa,” Rob said as she walked up.

  “Oh Shit, you scared the piss out of me, freak,” Scott said.

  “Hey, Rob.” She turned, “Fuck you, Scott.”

  “So where is the grass, Scott?” Rob poked because he knew what had happened. Scott had told him only moments before Carissa came.

  “Yeah, where is it?” Carissa said, eager.

  “Fuck, Rob,” Scott said as if Rob had made this all happen, which he had.

  “His mom found it and flushed it. That stupid ass,” Rob laughed as Carissa pushed Scott.

  “Shit, dick. That’s three fucking times that’s happened. Don’t you know how to hide shit?” Carissa seemed to be the expert but she had no idea either. Lea was always into everything so hiding it at Carissa’s house was not an option. Plus, everyone liked giving Scott a hard time. He was easy.

  “It’s not my fault my mom looks through my pants.”

  “Well put it somewhere else,” Carissa said.

  The first time they had smoked pot, they were at this bus stop, all together. They had always gone thirds on their grass and Scott was always loosing it. He had was always leaving somewhere his mother would find it. The time before this, he had left it in his sock drawer and just so happen it was laundry day. Scott’s mother was putting up the clothes and there it is, not even tucked away.

  “So Carissa, when are you gonna go out with me and yow know?” Scott said trying to turn the subject. He had had a crush on Carissa since the dawn of his pubescent development. He was just too shy to tell and too nervous to subtlety let her in on his affection so stupid shit that vaguely satisfied his need to tell her was all he would allow to come to the surface. She was not impressed.

  “You wanna see how crazy I can be?” Carissa said as she grabbed the bottom of her shirt.

  “Oh, yeah,” Scott said as he stepped forward.

  “No, step back and I’ll show you something you want to see.” She batted her eyes and lifted her shirt so Scott could see just above her belly button. Scott’s moment of adolescent truth was about to ascend and he would die a happy teen boy. Scott stepped back and licked his lips just as Carissa buried her foot into his crotch. The pain erupted after a couple seconds then turned into a steady dull pain. His breath stopped, his ear twinge. He fell to the ground.

  “Jesus Rob, I don’t know how you hang out with this guy.” Carissa smirked looking at the crumple mess of teen rejection squirming on the ground.

  “Bitch,” Scott choked out from his new perch spot on the pavement. He rolled to his side, his face glowing red.

  Rob laughed looking to Carissa. Carissa was looking down enjoying Scott’s well deserved shot in the nuts. Rob’s laugh faded when he noticed the morning light cast a slight shadow across Carissa’s face. The dark line brought out the gold flecks in her unusually green eyes. He knew she was beautiful. He knew it was not some passing infatuation, but his tragic flaw was their emotional standing.

  Rob’s departure had happened the same morning they had met twelve years before. His tiny heart had swelled when she appeared at that bus stop. Even then Rob knew the unfortunate fact they probably would not always go to school together. He just knew one day Carissa would move. At five, Rob’s paranoid but real look at the world gave way to an unusual caustic truth. As luck would go, Rob’s had never been a trustworthy comp
anion. He knew the young girl would be taken from him. But, it had never happened, and he was finding it harder and harder to keep how he felt secret. I am such a fucking cliché. Pessimism was Rob’s constant mistress.

  In reality, Carissa was caught in this strange love triangle with two boys, her best friends, and never knew she was the acute. If she had to decide between them, it would tear them all apart. Although she had no idea about Rob’s desire, she knew that Scott was slightly interested but knew he would never step to more than dirty jokes and the occasional “accidental” brush. She was ok with that but thought of Scott making a serious attempt made her nervous. She hoped he would never put her into a position to hurt him.

  The sound of the bus’s engine snapped the moment back to the present bus stop shenanigans. Rob could see the yellow beast rounding the corner two blocks away. “Get up, man. The bus is here.”

  Scott groaned as he peeled off the ground. “Man, I think that one made me sterile.” All three laughed as Scott stood with his hands on his knees, the pain still running sharp into his stomach.

  Carissa’s morning strike was not the first assault on Scott’s advance. In fact, this was probably closer to the tenth time. Sometimes she would grab her breasts, lick her lips, she had even rubbed Scott’s stomach a time or two. However, the result always ended with Scott in pain and Carissa laughing. He could not believe she had done it again. He could not recall how many times she kicked him in the balls but he knew this probably would not be the last.

  The three climbed onto the bus. The seats were packed, like every other morning, but immediately they noticed that there was one full seat and half a seat available. Usually at this stop, there were two full seats vacant. They would sit by each other and bullshit all the way to school. Scott and Rob made their way to the open seat leaving Carissa on her own. “Later,” Scott said.

  Ah, fuck! Now, I gotta sit with someone I don’t even like. Truthfully, she did not really like anybody especially people she had never met. “Sit down!” Irritated, the driver stared at her through the mirror. The air brake brakes hissed as Carissa leaned into the one empty seat.

  David did not speak to Carissa. No grunt. No snort. He gave no audible evidence of his rejective content. He wanted her to move. He was uncomfortable in the presence of, who he thought, was “undesirable” in God’s eyes. She could not be trusted. He noticed the red lipstick and immediately designated her as a “Devil Worshiper” (a phrase he really did not know the meaning of but had heard his mother use frequently). Her clothes are so tight she must be a harlot (another term he did not know the meaning). He wrapped tighter around his books as if to protect himself from, well, whatever devil worshiping harlots do.

  Carissa, on the other hand, felt unnaturally comfortable next to the unknown figure. She could see a sense of wondering in his strange but fluid movements. She could only imagine what he thought, seeing as she did not notice his fingers tensing. If she knew what he had just mentally labeled her, she would probably slap him. But there was something about him that screamed at Carissa’s curiosity. She could see he was a good looking young man, but not knowing anything about him and her feeling of mal-constituted calm made her uneasy. “Hey, you new here?” She asked with a crack of uncertainty.

  “No,” David answered, cold and unwelcoming.

  “I’ve never seen you on the bus,” Carissa said as they bounced heavy on a pothole. David winced.

  “I don’t usually ride the bus. My mother had to go to work early.”

  “So, you gonna start?” Carissa said slow and sarcastic.

  “No. Could you please not talk to me?” David said as he turned back to the window.

  “Excuse the fuck out of me,” Carissa said soft turning away. I was trying to be nice. Fuck you.

  The bus hit another bump and David winced again. Carissa took it as a mock now, and she was pissed. She turned to David with every intention telling him to fuck off. With finger pointed and mental hammer cocked, she turned, breathed deep, and then noticed a spot spreading on the back of his white cotton button-up shirt. It was red. “Oh my God, you’re bleeding.”

  David turned back to Carissa. There was no word for the look on his face. All Carissa knew was this was the look of someone had been caught, embarrassed, and outed all at the same time. He touched the crimson spot. “Oh, no. It’s going to stain,” David said with a soft but heavy breath.

  Taken back, Carissa was overcome with an immediate and deep concern for this boy. Carissa looked at him the same as she looked at Lea when she would scrape her knees. Why do I even give a shit? All she knew was a boy was bleeding and that she needed to help him.

  David rubbed his thumb and index finger together, smearing the blood across his prints. “Driver, stop the bus.”

  “Boy, you gotta be out of your mind,” the driver laughed.

  “Please, stop the bus,” he pleaded.

  “No way. I like my job.”

  “Please,” David said one last time. The tone of his voice echoed desperation and fear. The minute grinding of applied brakes filled the air. The bus came to a slow halt. David rushed between the seat and Carissa’s knees without giving her a chance to move. The spot had grown to the size of a potato and his shirt, obviously, was ruined.

  Carissa watched the boy she had just met trot then sprint back toward the last stop. The look in his eyes, heated, depressed, scared, and despaired. How could she see so much from a two second dead eyed pass? The look stuck with her. She brushed her fingers through her hair.

  “What a Fucktard!” Scott’s voice broke.

  “Shut up, asshole!” She said. Scott giggled a little but said nothing more.

  The bus pulled back onto the street, gaining speed with the increasing whine of the engine. David’s face fixated her. Carissa wanted to know why.

  The bus pulled into the Millard Johnston High School parking lot. There were designated bus lanes. However, the lanes were filled with the SUV’s and hybrids of the rich kids who had not been old enough to drive but too good to take the school bus and not cool enough to hitch a ride with an upper classman. Losers until their parents bought them a car. The brakes squealed as the tires discontinued their retarded rotation. The children poured off as if being released from jail only to move onto the maximum security facility. Carissa got off and waited for Rob and Scott.

  “What did you do to him?” Scott said as his right foot hit the ground.

  “Nothing,” Carissa said defensively.

  “Bull shit. I’ll bet you hit him in the balls,” Scott said as they began walking to the school.

  “No, I didn’t hit him in the balls, ass hole. He was bleeding.”

  “Did you cut him?”

  “No!” She laughed.

  “Then, what did you do?” Scott asked.

  “Shut up.” Carissa’s snapped. Scott got to her. He felt his work was done.

  “So what are you going to do about the grass?” Rob said being attentive to more pressing matters.

  “Yeah, I had my money on it too,” Carissa shoved Scott.

  “What do you want me to do? I can’t crawl into the fucking sewer and fish it out.”

  “You gotta job. I’m sure you can spare a hundo to make up for the bag you lost,” Rob said.

  “What do think I am made of money?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry dad,” Carissa said, “but you lost it. Again. You gotta get some more.”

  “Yeah, you better get me some smoke, or else.”

  “Or else what, Rob?” Scott said with confidence.

  “Well, I haven’t thought that far.”

  They stopped for a moment at the brick steps leading to the front door of the school. Maybe they were thinking about skipping, but the temptation was not great enough so they all walked up to the metal detectors and set their bags on the conveyor belt.

  A trophy case stood just beyond the threshold. They did not notice it every day but a glint caught Carissa’s eye as she walked passed. Once before, she had stopp
ed to look at the relics of former glories. She found that the school had once had a great football team (which in this part of Texas was a must). But the dates on the trophies had run out about ‘92 and they had not made it to the playoffs ever since.

  Carissa had also seen a memorial plaque to a boy that had died when he was fourteen. He had the same last name as Rob. She had wondered if they were related but never asked. Carissa had her own old memories she did not want to drudge so she left this one alone just in case this was one of Rob’s skeletons that was better left alone. The plaque read “Steven Welch 1980-1994. Our hearts are broken with the loss of our son.” The boy in the picture resembled Rob slightly but not enough to tell if they were family.

  The main hallway, claustrophobic with the hundreds of faceless students lining the walls, spread in front of them. Lockers imbedded on each side. “See you, later,” Carissa said touching Rob’s arm as he and Scott peeled away down an adjacent hall.

  “What about me?” Scott said.

  Carissa threw up a quick middle finger as she walked away.

  Carissa made her way through the maze of people. She stepped sideways to keep from running into the group of kids that blocked the long corridor. The school had once thought about expanding the hall but with the cost of books on the rise, the decreasing budget, and all the teachers wanting hire salaries, there was no money to make the changes. It was always in the future budget but the future has a way not becoming priority.

  Carissa snaked through the people, perfume, and body odor finally arriving at locker 553. It was across from the cheerleaders lockers. For some reason, Carissa was sure it was not coincidence that all the “oh my gosh” and “woo” girls had been placed together. They huddled by their lockers discussing boys and hair and who just got cars; they clearly had no idea that they were dense. Carissa had been friends once with Destiny, the head cheerleader. But when Carissa began to think for herself, Destiny could not stand the defiance, exiling Carissa to the lowly existence of a social irrelevant. Needless to say, there was a slight animosity between Carissa and Destiny.