My Future Ex-Girlfriend

by Jake Gerhardt

Maureen: No.

  Lutz: Russell Crowe?

  Maureen: No, the other guy. I’m sure you’ll remember.

  Lutz: Sean Penn?

  Maureen: No, he’s, like, in everything. I’m sure we’ll see him soon.

  (Silence)

  Lutz: Are you hungry?

  Maureen: No.

  Lutz: I’m sort of hungry.

  Maureen: We’ll have dinner soon. And you know how my mom gets when she’s cooking.

  Lutz: (disappointed) I thought your dad was manning the grill tonight.

  (At this point I have to do all I can not to yell at Lutz the Putz that he wasn’t invited.)

  Maureen: He has to work late.

  Lutz: That’s a bummer.

  (Sharon enters, her face in a book)

  Lutz: How’s the English professor?

  Sharon: I suppose you mean Duke.

  Lutz: Yeah, Mr. Let-Me-Correct-Your-English.

  Sharon: He’s a lot like Mr. Darcy. Very complicated.

  Maureen: Oh, here he is! What’s his name?

  Lutz: That’s right. He is in everything. I forget his name. Isn’t it, like, Henry Miller or something like that?

  Me: (I’ve lost control) Bradley Cooper, you morons!

  It was absolute torture watching and listening to those two. I don’t know how Lutz does it. And what does Maureen see in him?

  After dinner, a dinner in which Lutz had seconds and thirds and fourths until Dad said enough, I spied on my parents in the kitchen. My mother was on her computer and Dad was doing the dishes.

  Mom: Did you pay the plumber?

  Dad: Yeah.

  Mom: Thanks.

  Dad: (head in fridge) There’s nothing to eat.

  Mom: Have an apple.

  Dad: I’m not in the mood for an apple. I want something sweet.

  Mom: The apples are sweet.

  Dad: I’m sort of in the mood for a pear.

  Mom: I’ll look for pears at the store.

  (There’s a long pause here. Then Dad grabs an apple and bites into it.)

  Dad: Mmmmmm, this is sweet.

  Mom: I told you.

  (Another pause. I can’t believe they’re not talking about how much food Lutz ate.)

  Dad: Will you get that bread I like when you go to the store? I think it’s in a green bag.

  Mom: Write it down on my list.

  Dad writes SPECIAL BREAD on the shopping list and pats me on the head. How can he be in a good mood after Lutz has just eaten everything in the house? How can he be in a good mood with such a boring marriage?

  Before I even have a chance to review and contemplate what this all means, Maureen’s screams disrupt the peace of the house.

  “I never want to see you again!”

  Then the front door slams shut and we hear Maureen running up the steps.

  Sharon enters the kitchen.

  “What happened?” my mother asks.

  “Maureen and Lutz had a fight,” Sharon says.

  Pass the popcorn. It’s going to be fun watching Lutz try to get back in Maureen’s good graces.

  DUKE

  Ralph Waldo looked different this morning.

  “Good morning, Duke,” he said. “Isn’t it a lovely day?”

  “I’m too busy to take note of such things,” I replied, hoping he’d get the message I didn’t have time to chat.

  “Do you notice something different?” he asked.

  “I have remarkable powers of deduction, Ralph. You should know that,” I said, stalling for time, for though I knew something was different about him, I couldn’t discern what it was.

  Ralph did a little dance step and then it hit me. The cast on his leg was gone. His crutches were gone. Physically, he had been restored to his old self.

  “Ta-da!” he said, pretending he was taking off a top hat. “And I’m happy to report I’ll be ready to dance for the NYC Nights talent show!”

  “That’s very nice,” I said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m very busy.”

  As I was walking away, he added, “Of course, now I only need a dance partner.”

  I ignored Ralph, though I was dying to turn back and glare at him, thinking perhaps even an obscene gesture would be apt, for I knew who that partner would be. No doubt he, the snake, had been planning to do something with Sharon for the talent stage. I’m man enough to admit that Ralph is an accomplished dancer. He can’t sing, nor can he act, but he is a skilled dancer.

  Thinking the answer to my Ralph Waldo dilemma could be found in the dusty pages of classic literature, I went immediately to the library. I didn’t have to go past the letter A, and pulled from the shelf Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. It’s been years since I’ve read it, but I recall it was a pretty good love story, and unlike most of the classics, the hero was not planted in a pine box at the end.

  But then I spotted a copy of William Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar (God forbid the librarians put the books in alphabetical order), which reminded me of the speech I would be giving during commencement. And knowing I’d be speaking to a packed house and everyone would be waiting on the edge of their seats made me even more anxious. But Duke Vanderbilt Samagura is not one to wilt under pressure. In fact, I thrive on it. And, full disclosure, I have been mentally preparing to give this address since the day I first graced the halls of Penn Valley.

  I sat down to work in the library, but I hadn’t gotten far when Sharon walked in.

  Her eyes lit up as she approached me.

  “Guess what?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said, smiling because Sharon’s bright effervescence is so powerfully affecting.

  “Ralph and I are going to do a tap-dance duet for the talent stage.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  Then I said, “Ah.”

  “Oh,” I said once more.

  I gathered my strength, for this information was quite a blow. A lesser man, I’m certain, would’ve been knocked off his feet.

  “But what about us?” I asked. “I thought perhaps we could reprise our duet from the musical.”

  “Oh,” she said. “We could still do something. Ralph is just a friend, Duke.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I lied. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to work on my commencement speech.”

  “Of course,” she said, adding, “I’d love to read it over and help if you’d like.”

  For some reason I bit my bottom lip, smiled (I probably looked as if I were in pain), and left Sharon with a “good day.” I hurried away, knowing if I came across Ralph Waldo, he would surely end up using his crutches once again.

  CHOLLIE

  Billy’s in love. She works at the pizzeria and her name is Angela.

  “She’s really an angel, Chollie. Wait till you get a load of her.”

  As Billy’s talking about Angela, I’m thinking about my time with Miranda and it starts to make me really nervous. I realize that I’ve been losing that me-and-Miranda-dancing-in-the-moonlight feeling. Miranda is so busy planning all the end-of-the-year festivities, and baseball is really ramping up. So when we’re in the library for lunch, even though it’s just the two of us, we don’t seem to talk much.

  Like today we’re in the library. I’m eating my lunch (roast beef with Swiss cheese, chips, a pickle, tomato soup, carrots, and a slice of chocolate cake) and Miranda is working on student council stuff.

  “Do you have meat for lunch every day?” she asks.

  “It depends,” I say.

  “What does it depend on?” she asks.

  “I guess it depends on what’s in the fridge. My mom makes my lunch. I don’t ask for anything in particular; she just makes it.”

  “Interesting,” she says.

  But it’s weird how she says it. I can’t really explain
except to say I think she was maybe making fun of me.

  “And how’re things with your little lady?” Billy says after he’s done talking about Angela.

  “Oh, it’s all right,” I say.

  I think maybe it’s true. Maybe it is all right. But then I think it’s sort of like a math question, and it can go either way.

  12

  Freewriting

  Sam Dolan

  May 9th 2016

  English 8A

  Mr. Minkin

  Suggested Writing Prompt: What do you remember about your first day at Penn Valley Middle School? How did you feel at that time? How has your view of that first day changed? Explain.

  Hey Mr. Minkin,

  It’s crazy, really crazy, to think that was only two and a half years ago. The thing I remember most is how I thought Penn Valley was so big. I mean, I really didn’t think I would ever find my way around even though my sister Maureen said it wouldn’t be that hard at all. But coming from elementary school where everything is really small I guess it’s just a natural reaction.

  So there I was getting off the bus and now that makes me think how I was afraid of Ruben back then. Don’t get me wrong, he still drives like a maniac but at least now when he says, “I gotta go!” I know what he’s talking about.

  I hate to admit it, but my sister Maureen helped me find my homeroom that first day. Mr. Howe was and still is my homeroom teacher and he was all business and told us the rules and gave us our locker numbers with the combinations which I was more excited about than anything else about going to middle school. Believe me, when you’re coming from elementary school having a locker is a big deal. Then Mr. Howe gave us our schedules and I couldn’t believe I had seven different classes with seven different teachers. I really thought that was pretty awesome.

  Mr. Howe sent us off and I went to history class with Ms. Aguilar. I saw a lot of familiar faces as I walked to the back row and took a seat by the window. And then some dude comes along and takes the seat next to me and gives me a huge crazy smile. This dude just happened to be Jimmy Foxx, who quickly became my best buddy. Someone farted in class and Foxxy and I couldn’t stop laughing. Ms. Aguilar had us step outside until we calmed down. And honestly I can remember that she wasn’t really mad, she just wanted us to get a grip.

  Foxxy and I formally introduced ourselves to each other while we were out there.

  “Okay, ready to go back in?” Foxxy asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  But before we had a chance to enter the classroom this big, hairy, ugly, smelly dude came up to us and started asking us all kinds of questions.

  “What are you two doing out here?” he asks.

  It’s like the guy doesn’t know we’re in a school. He’s totally shocked to see kids.

  “My name is Lichtensteiner and I would suggest you two straighten up and fly right.”

  “Do we have a choice?” Foxxy asked.

  “Let me tell you something. I got two sides. A bad side and a badder side.”

  Foxxy and I lost it all over again and just couldn’t stop laughing.

  Lichtensteiner didn’t think it was funny at all. He took us down to his office and gave us a long lecture and a bunch of detentions. Oh, and his office smelled like a tuna sandwich.

  That’s pretty much my first impression of Penn Valley. And let me tell you by the time I left Lichtensteiner’s I felt like I’d been at Penn Valley forever.

  Duke Vanderbilt Samagura

  9 May 2016

  English 8A

  Mr. Minkin

  Suggested Writing Prompt: What do you remember about your first day at Penn Valley Middle School? How did you feel at that time? How has your view of that first day changed? Explain.

  Sir:

  When I was at Myers Elementary the teachers talked about Penn Valley as if it were some mecca of higher learning. Within minutes, however, it was grossly apparent I was lied to.

  I had my parents take me to school early since I did not want to rely on the shoddy school buses.

  I arrived at Penn Valley before the doors were unlocked. Some school, right? Neal and Cassandra offered to wait with me but I shooed them away.

  When the doors were finally opened I proceeded directly to the library, for I was in the midst of the final chapter of Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray. (I’m sure you haven’t heard of it, Mr. Minkin, but you might want to give it a try.) I was shocked to find the door to the library locked and lacking a sign indicating the library’s hours. I turned and marched directly to the main office. I had a bone to pick.

  The secretaries in the main office were shaking off the cobwebs from their undeserved summer slumber. A secretary greeted me.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Oh, really?” I replied with great asperity. She didn’t sense my outrage and anger and only seemed to be able to smile. Hopefully she could file papers as well or the taxpayers were getting ripped off.

  “How can I help you?” she asked.

  “You can help me by answering two questions. One, what time is the front door to the school unlocked in the morning? I had to wait at least fifteen minutes before I could enter the building. Two, why is the library not open prior to the start of classes? I should think many students would enjoy the peace and quiet of the library before they begin their toils at Penn Valley Middle School.”

  The secretary laughed and patted me on my head as if I were a mere child, as if I were cute instead of enraged.

  “That was quite a list for the first day of school,” she said.

  “My dear lady,” I replied. “I want answers.”

  That’s when a man entered the reception area from his office. He raised his bushy eyebrows and approached me.

  “What seems to be the matter, young man?”

  “Aren’t you curious whom you are addressing?” I asked him.

  “Okay, what is your name and what is the matter?”

  “My name is Duke Vanderbilt Samagura and according to your name tag, sir, you must be Mr. Lichtensteiner. I am here to get information and lodge two complaints. Firstly, what time can I enter the school? I am an early riser and have never slept past 7 A.M. in my life. And secondly, why is the library not open in the morning?”

  Mr. Lichtensteiner, to his credit, took my concerns seriously. He stood tall and did not bend down to address me, which I greatly appreciated.

  “The doors will generally be unlocked at 7:30. And the library is open before school but you must get a pass from Miss Rhoda, the librarian. We do this so that the library does not become a place for social gatherings.”

  I nodded slowly. I was beginning to like this Lichtensteiner but I didn’t want to give away my hand.

  “Now you’ll have to excuse me. However, let me give you this pass. If there are any other concerns you can come to my office at 9:30. How does that sound?”

  “Barely adequate,” I answered. “Good day, sir,” I added, turning on my heels to begin my career at Penn Valley Middle and my feeble attempt to make this school less of a laughingstock.

  Miranda Mullaly

  May 9, 2016

  English 8A

  Mr. Minkin

  Suggested Writing Prompt: What do you remember about your first day at Penn Valley Middle School? How did you feel at that time? How has your view of that first day changed? Explain.

  All we talked about in the fifth grade was how happy we’d be in middle school, with our own lockers and not being in the same building as kindergartners. But when I actually got here, I can remember being terribly nervous.

  My father dropped me off at the front entrance next to the office. It seems weird now, but I think my initial thought was how big Penn Valley was. And it’s funny because it seems so small to me now, almost cramped.

  I remember being struck by the fact that
I didn’t know anyone. There must have been hundreds of students milling about and all of them looked like they knew where they were going, while I was wondering how I was going to find my way around the building.

  There was a meeting for all the sixth graders in the auditorium. You could just feel the energy leaving the room. The principal (who I don’t think I’ve seen since that day) spoke about how important the sixth grade was and she said it in this accusatory tone, almost as if we were all rotten to the core. So much for a friendly transition from elementary school to middle school.

  After that we were sent to homeroom. My homeroom was with Mrs. Brown and even though I mapped it out the night before I just had no idea how I was going to find it. Should I make a left or right? Then I asked some boys walking by.

  “Excuse me, could you please tell me where Mrs. Brown’s room is?”

  “There’s no Mrs. Brown here,” the boy said, laughing with his friends and not even stopping.

  And his friend added, “You’re in the wrong school.”

  And another said, “There’s a Miss Scarlet and a Colonel Mustard and a Professor Plum, though.”

  Just thinking back on that makes me angry. I’m sure Charlie would never do something like that. He’s such a gentleman. I wonder how he felt on his first day. I can’t remember even seeing him in the sixth grade.

  I finally found my homeroom and took a seat toward the back. I looked over at my classmates to see who I knew from elementary school and couldn’t believe all the new faces. Then I looked at the girl next to me and smiled politely.

  “Hi, I’m Miranda,” I said.

  “I’m Erica,” she said.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said. “I had a hard time finding this room.”

  “Me too,” Erica said. “And the kids weren’t very friendly.”

  Erica and I had a laugh over that and have been good friends ever since.

  Erica Dickerson

  May 9, 2016

  English 8A

  Mr. Minkin

  Suggested Writing Prompt: What do you remember about your first day at Penn Valley Middle School? How did you feel at that time? How has your view of that first day changed? Explain.