by Alyson Noel
“AP History,” I say. “But I’m not ditching. I just had to use the bathroom.”
She takes a drag on her cigarette. “AP? Really?” She squints at me through the smoke.
“Yeah really. Why?” I ask, somewhat defensively.
She shrugs, “I just didn’t picture you as the type.”
I just look at her for a moment and I wonder what she means by that. “What year are you?” I ask.
“Sophomore.”
Well that explains it. She doesn’t know my history. She didn’t know me in my glory days. “I used to be involved,” I tell her. “I used to win contests, and elections. I used to care about things. I wasn’t always like this,” I say.
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes and takes another drag.
And I’m left standing there feeling like a loser for going on like that. Because the truth is, it doesn’t really matter who I used to be. It’s all about who I’ve become.
“Well anyway,” I say, turning to leave.
“Hey do you have a breath mint so I won’t reek when I go to my next class?” she asks.
“No,” I tell her, shaking my head. “You’re on your own.”
When I walk back in the classroom my teacher totally ignores me. I mean, his lecture doesn’t miss a beat, and I’m wondering if I’m invisible to people now. Like I’m so pathetic that people just refuse to see me. I sit at my desk and realize I have no idea what this lecture is about, or even what we are supposed to be studying. A couple of students raise their hands to ask questions, and I am amazed at their powers of concentration. I wonder if they really care about the answers or if they’ve just figured out that he likes it when you show interest.
After thirty minutes of doodling on a piece of notebook paper, pretending I’m taking notes, the bell finally rings and I gather my things and get up to leave when my teacher asks me if I could stay a minute. I don’t really want to but I realize it’s what you call a rhetorical question. I slowly sink back into my chair and try to ignore the smirks of my fellow AP students as they leave the room. When the last one is gone, he gets up and shuts the door and takes a seat at the desk next to mine. I’m sweating big time and don’t care for the proximity, but I remain silent, I mean, I just sit there.
“Are you aware that you’re failing this class?” he says.
I nod.
“Well, I’m wondering what we are going to do about it.”
I’m thinking, “We?” but I just shrug.
“I’m wondering why I can’t seem to reach you.” He leans toward me and it’s creeping me out. “I take it somewhat personally when a bright student like you fails. It makes me feel as though I’m also failing, by not being able to reach you, by not being able to inspire you.”
And then I get it. What he really wants is for me to confirm what a great teacher he is. For me to take full responsibility for my sorry performance. To let him off the hook. I’m more than willing to do this. If it means cutting this short, I’ll say just about anything. So I clear my throat and say, “I’ve been having a rough year at home. I have to work. I mean, I’m working a lot, and sometimes I have trouble concentrating, but it’s absolutely, entirely, one hundred percent my fault. You are a wonderful teacher, really inspiring, it’s just me, it’s all me, the problem is mine.” This seems to satisfy him. Adults are no different from us. They’re all ego and insecurity.
I bolt out of class, I mean, I really run. I don’t stop until I get to the parking lot and see M waiting in her car. I jump in without opening the door, and M goes, “Wow, that’s what Brandon used to do on 90210.” I throw my books on the floor and crank the volume on her car stereo. I put on my sunglasses and sit back and decide to just let go of it all, to just be in the moment. To locate my Zen spot. Some students wave at us as we pull out of the parking lot, but we just totally ignore them. We get on the freeway and head to LA.
“Where should we go?” M asks.
That’s kind of a weird question because we always just do the same old stuff. Veggie rolls, shopping, coffee, drinking, meeting people, then singing to some CD all the way home. I just look at her and shrug, “I don’t know, the usual I guess.” And then I go, “No, you know what? Let’s do something different. I’m really up for something new, aren’t you?” And I think I am. I mean, the last person I want to run into is the Iguana Man. Well, the Iguana Man and Connor.
Chapter 21
We decide to go to Griffith Park Observatory and check out the telescopes. I haven’t been there since a class trip in sixth grade when we briefly studied the solar system, and all the planets and stuff, and I dreamed, (for a short time) about being an astronomer.
I had the biggest crush ever on the second cutest boy in the class. His name was Bobby and M had a crush on the first cutest boy in the class, Bobby’s best friend Wes.
So that day we were all nervous about who we were going to sit with on the bus and who we were going to sit with in the dark during the laser show. I remember some notes being exchanged and some whispering going on for days beforehand and even though we didn’t sit next to them on the bus, we definitely sat next to them during the show. And since it was dark and the teachers and chaperones were all in another row, Bobby reached over and held my hand. And at one point, while the laser lights were all dancing to that Rolling Stones song, “Angie,” he kissed me on the lips. It was the kind of kiss we used to call a “romantic kiss,” which meant it wasn’t from a relative, it lasted more than ten seconds, and it involved two tongues. I remember feeling so great about it, and being so happy. And to this day I cannot listen to that song without thinking of Bobby holding my hand and kissing me.
We’re driving up the long, winding road that leads to the Observatory when M blurts out, “My dad is having an affair.” The statement just sort of hangs in the air, taking shape. And I’m really surprised, though I’m not sure why. I guess I just always thought M would be protected from all that.
Not knowing what else to say, I ask, “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure.” She turns to look at me briefly. “I saw him with another woman. Remember that medical conference he was supposed to be at? Well he wasn’t. He was in LA shacking up with his girlfriend at the Hotel Bel Air. Trevor and I went there for lunch on Sunday and I saw them at the bar. They were holding hands but they may as well have been fucking.”
I just sit there, looking at her.
Then she shakes her head and says, “And do you know what the worst part is, the really fucking sick part? My mom knows. I know she knows. I can tell. She’s known all along. And it’s not like she’s taking some liberal, European view of these things. Oh no. She just looks the other way because she’s enjoying the cars, and vacations, and credit cards so damn much. Just can’t bear to give all that up. She has no intention of going to work, or even setting a goddamn alarm clock for that matter. It’s probably been going on for years. But she’d rather be well dressed and in denial, than grab hold of her life and not be two-timed like that. You should have seen them together, they looked really happy.”
“Did he see you?” I ask.
She sighs, “No, and that’s the good thing because I wasn’t where I said I would be, but then again, neither was he.”
“So what happens now? Do you think they’ll get divorced?”
She looks in her rearview mirror and changes lanes. “Not a chance. My mom would never allow it, and my dad’s got the best of both worlds, why would he mess with that? God, the least she could do is screw the pool boy, I might have more respect for her if she did that.”
M says that, but I know she doesn’t mean it.
“Do you realize how important it is to be independent? To be able to take care of yourself? To not rely on someone else for your most basic needs? And to not get so damn attached to stuff that you’d rather demean yourself than live without it?” She grips the steering wheel and looks at me and I tell her I’m pretty well versed in all of that.
She parks the car and w
e walk toward the building. Night is falling quickly and I run over to the nearest telescope, insert a quarter, and look at all the big houses until the sun disappears. Then we go inside and walk around reading the exhibits and looking at the people. There’s a pretty big crowd here for the laser show, and they’re not all stoners either.
M buys me a ticket and we grab two seats and wait for the show to start. I feel sorry for M, I really do. I’ve been where she is. I know what it’s like to have your parents play Russian Roulette with your future.
The lights go out and I lay my head back on the padded neck rest. I watch the ceiling light up in a riot of color and sound as the squiggly stars and lights dance to seventies glam rock, David Bowie, Lou Reed, Iggy Pop. I love all that old music. I look over at M and see that she’s crying so I look away, giving her some privacy.
Chapter 22
After the show we end up at this little sushi joint that unfortunately is not far from Connor’s house. And I’m sitting here feeling really nervous, and wishing I was somewhere else, because I don’t want to see him. But I couldn’t tell M that, because she’s so upset about her dad, and she really wanted sushi, and it’s almost like if I don’t talk about it, then I can pretend it didn’t really happen. Which is probably a sign of mental instability, but I can’t help it, I’m just not ready to face it.
M orders two big hot sakes and nearly one of everything on the menu. But I just stick with the California rolls. I like my fish cooked. I’m making a humiliating attempt to eat with my chopsticks when she goes, “So what really happened to you yesterday and this morning?”
I look at her and I know I should tell the truth, that my lying is really getting out of control, but I don’t want to talk about the bad stuff so I go, “I hung out with Connor.” Then I look down at my plate, determined to secure my California roll between those stupid chopsticks.
“Really?” she asks.
“Really,” I tell her. Then I plop the roll into my mouth and when I’m done chewing I go, “And we slept together.”
“No way!”
“Way.” I look at her and nod my head affirmatively.
“And? Come on, you have to tell me,” she pleads.
“And . . . it was . . . good,” I say, suddenly wishing I hadn’t mentioned it.
But she nods her head eagerly, waiting for something more, so I lean in and go, “We did it like, three times.”
“Really?” she says.
Her eyes are wide and she’s looking right at me, and I hate to lie but so far, technically, everything I said is true. “Really . . . it was really . . . nice,” I say.
“Wow. Are you guys like, in love now?”
I look down at my plate and shrug.
“Come on, give it up. I can tell you’re totally into him.”
I just shrug, and when I look at her I try to smile but it feels false on my face.
“You know Alex, I can’t believe how lucky we are right now. I mean, I have Trevor, you have Connor, and it’s like, so big time, you know?”
“Yeah,” I say, and then I look over at the door and freeze.
M sees me looking and goes, “Oh my god! Isn’t that Connor?”
I look down at my plate because I don’t want him to see me looking at him. “Who’s he with?” I whisper.
She squints toward the door. “Some strange-looking guy I don’t know and some blond chick.”
“Does she look like Madonna?” I hold my breath.
“No, more like Heather Graham.”
“That’s what I mean,” I say. “Ray of Light Madonna.” And then I look up again, just in time to see Connor, James, and that girl Sam leaving the restaurant.
“They’re leaving! Aren’t you gonna say hi?” M looks at me in disbelief.
“No.” I shake my head, but my eyes are glued to the door.
“You’re such a chicken!”
She starts to get up from the table to do it for me, when I go, “M, no!”
But she ignores me and stands up and goes, “Connor! Hey!”
And while she’s waving her arms around, I’m sinking lower in my chair. I see Sam look back at me and roll her eyes. But James doesn’t see me because he’s already out the door. Then Connor stops and turns and looks right at me and I feel my stomach go all weird, and I’m hoping that he’ll smile and come over and tell me he’s sorry, and he misses me, and he wants me back. But instead he just hesitates at the door, gives me a sort of half wave, and then follows his friends outside.
M stares after him and goes, “What was that about? Why did he leave?”
I just shake my head and go, “There’s something I didn’t tell you.” And I feel like a total loser for having to say what I’m about to.
And then I tell her everything.
When I’m finished she just looks at me and goes, “You kept this in all day? Until now?”
I nod.
“Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t.” I look down at my chopsticks and tap them against the side of my plate.
“Oh man. I don’t even know what to say.”
“Well that’s a first.” I try to laugh but it feels like the end of the world.
“God, I’m so sorry. Connor’s a jerk. I can’t believe he just walked out like that, without saying anything. What an ass.”
I shake my head. “No, he’s not. He’s just a guy. And I lied to him.” I bite down on my lower lip and try to keep from crying.
“Oh my god, do you think he’s doing it with that Sam chick?” M asks, her eyes wide.
“I can’t even think about that,” I say.
She looks at me for a long time then she goes, “I’m really sorry.”
I just shrug.
“Well, at least you’re not a virgin anymore.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“Well, it’s just that it’s out of the way now. You can just move on. It’s like, now it won’t be such a big deal to you.”
I run my finger along the rim of my empty sake cup and say, “Well, I don’t know about that. I mean, it kind of is a big deal and I can’t imagine it ever not being a big deal.” I shake my head. “Do you remember that time we got really tanked on vodka, and watched your dad’s porno tapes?”
M starts laughing, “Yeah, we were sophomores, right?”
“Yeah. Well, when we were watching those, I remember thinking that there was no way that all that suntanned, silicone, video stuff really represented the real thing. I just couldn’t believe it could be that detached when you let some other person inside your body. Do you remember how in that one movie, the star, right in the middle of some heavy thrusting, checked out the time on her watch?”
M laughs. “Yeah, I guess they missed that in the editing room.”
“Well, when I first woke up I felt so happy and special. You know, like I had something really good in my life. But later, when it was over and I was out on the street, I felt like the girl with the watch. I felt disposable.”
“Don’t say that.” M looks at me, alarmed.
“It’s true. That’s how I feel. And I’ll probably never see him again, since it’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to see me.” I push my sake cup away and fold my napkin.
M looks at me and grabs my hand from across the table. “You know what?” she says. “Most of the time it doesn’t work out. That’s just the way it is.”
Then she pays the bill with her dad’s credit card and we go home.
Chapter 23
When I walked in the door I found my mom sitting at the kitchen table, apparently waiting up for me. Something about the look on her face told me I was in big trouble. “Alexandra, where have you been?” she asks.
Okay, she hasn’t done this to me, like, ever. And it’s making me nervous but I just go, “At school, and then I went shopping with M.”
“And yesterday?”
And I go, “Yeah, and yesterday too.” Because it’s not really a lie if you think about it. I
mean, I did start my day at school and I did go shopping.
“That’s not what the school says.”
“What do you mean?” I nervously shift my purse to my other shoulder and wait.
“They called me at work to say that you had an unexcused absence yesterday, and that you missed your first three classes this morning. They say you weren’t there, you say you were. Who’s right?”
She’s not fooling around and I know I can’t lie anymore. I mean, all these lies are just making everything worse. So I take a deep breath and go, “Um, they are?”
She nods her head and drums her fingers on the table. After a moment she asks, “And where were you if you weren’t at school?”
I rub the toe of my shoe against the linoleum floor and say, “With a friend.” And I feel like the world’s biggest loser.
“Which friend? M?”
I take a deep breath, “No.”
My mom just looks at me and shakes her head and says, “I don’t know what to do with you anymore. But you cannot go on like this. Not under my roof. You’ve completely abused the freedom I gave you so now I’m going to take it away. You’re grounded.”
“What?”
“Until further notice.”
“You can’t ground me!” I say.
“I just did. I want you in school every day, and on the nights you’re not working I want you home doing your homework.”
“Like it matters,” I mumble under my breath and start to leave the room.
“What did you say to me?”
“I said, what does it matter?” I turn around and face her and I’m screaming but I don’t care. “I told you the truth, but you punish me anyway! It’s like I can’t win no matter what I do!”
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you won’t let yourself win?”
I stand in front of her and roll my eyes, but I don’t say anything.
“Alex, you have to apply yourself to something! You cannot continue like this.”