The Bright Effect

by Autumn Doughton

  “Why not?”

  “Because.”

  It’s one thing to talk to Amelia when it’s just the two of us at the beach at night or to chat her up for a few minutes in the quad before the bell rings. But it’s a different thing to go sit down at her lunch table under the watch of a couple hundred classmates who seem to be able to see through my skin all the way to my bones.

  “She looks lonely,” he comments.

  Amelia is sandwiched between Audra Singer and her sister, Daphne, who is talking to them both animatedly. She looks about as lonely as a sardine crammed into a can and I tell Seth this.

  “I still think she could use the company,” he says, eyeing Daphne.

  “Is that what this is about? Her sister?”

  Seth smiles wolfishly.

  “You realize that Daphne Bright has a boyfriend? And that he plays on the football team and drives a BMW. You can’t compete with that, Seth.”

  “A man can still dream, can’t he? And I don’t see any sign of that douchebag right now, do you?”

  It’s true that Spencer McGovern is nowhere in sight. “It doesn’t matter. We still can’t just walk on over to their table.”

  “Why not? You said you were friends with her. Friends eat lunch together.

  “There’s a social order.”

  “Who are you—Miss Manners? Social order my ass,” he mutters, cutting across the tiled floor in the direction of Amelia’s table.

  “Don’t you fuc—” But it’s too late. Seth is already slamming his tray down on the table.

  The three girls jump in surprise.

  “Hello,” he says, leaning forward into their space.

  Audra looks vaguely annoyed by the interruption but Daphne is giggling. I’m not sure what the hell Amelia is thinking. Her face has gone a soft shade of pink and her eyes are downturned.

  Seth isn’t backing off. “Bash here was just talking about you and it became clear that he wanted to lunch with you but was too much of a pansy to ask himself.”

  Nice.

  “Don’t listen to anything he says,” I tell them as I start to lead Seth away by the collar of his t-shirt. “He’s recently checked himself out of a psych unit against doctor’s orders.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Amelia replies, scooting her chair over and nudging Daphne in the process. “You’re welcome to sit with us if you want to.”

  “Of course he wants to,” Seth answers, shoving me down into a seat and plunking himself next to Daphne.

  Before he can get too happy about this arrangement, Spencer McGovern, using pantomimes to keep us all quiet, sneaks up to the table and starts to tickle Daphne. She squeals with laughter and winds up in his lap with her arms draped over his shoulders. A couple of Spencer’s jock friends sit down as well. I don’t know their names so I decide to think of them as Dick #1 and Dick #2.

  Seth looks ready to stab someone between the eyes and I get it. Watching Daphne nuzzle into her boyfriend’s neck and listen to Dick #2 tell the story of how he ordered a gallon’s worth of lube and had it shipped to our principal’s condo, is not on either one of our bucket lists. But in terms of uncomfortable situations, I guess it could be worse. I could always be chosen by a gameshow host to sing a Journey song karaoke-style or forcibly strapped down to a table to have my testicles waxed.

  “Are you having fun yet?” Amelia asks quietly when Spencer starts to regale us with stories about the time he stole his dad’s yacht. Yep, this prick is actually using the word “yacht.”

  “Am I being that obvious?”

  “It’s the way you’re sitting kind of like this,” she says, hunching over and making a dejected face. “And how you seem to love that bagel so much.”

  I realize that she’s echoing what I said to her that night at Byron’s party and I start to laugh.

  This draws Daphne’s attention. She gets her face out of Spencer’s neck, untangles her fingers from his hair, and asks, “Bash, where all did you get that shirt? I love it.”

  I look down because I’ve forgotten what I’m wearing. It’s a dark blue shirt with a graphic that depicts a bunch of cell phones arranged into the shape of a massive chair. I remember that I drew it one night when I was in the middle of a Game of Thrones marathon. It was modeled after a marketing poster for the show and had been a play on the words. Get it—Game of Phones. Probably stupid, but it made me chuckle at the time.

  “He designed it,” Seth answers for me.

  I shoot him a look of irritation. He knows I don’t like to talk about this part of my life.

  “He did mine too,” he continues, pointing to his shirt with it’s a drawing of the earth wearing horn-rimmed glasses. Across the top in a chunky font, it says, World’s Okayest Student.

  “You drew these?” Amelia asks. Then she bends to get a better look at the design on my chest. I catch the smell of her shampoo and my head gets buzzy.

  “How did you do that?” Audra asks, leaning in as well.

  “I use paint or charcoal for the basic image and then a computer program to digitize it and finalize the design.”

  Amelia is still staring at my shirt. “Wow, you’re really talented.

  “You are!” Daphne gushes. Behind her, Spencer is glowering at me and I figure the guy is pissed that he’s lost the spotlight.

  “My boy has mad skills,” Seth says as he chews on a corn dog. “He’s got a whole closet full of designs.”

  Amelia blinks up at me. “Truly?”

  “It’s not a big deal,”I say. “Just a couple t-shirts.”

  I’m hoping the topic will die a quick death but Seth has other plans. Now he’s got his phone out and is showing pictures of designs I’ve done. “They’re categorized newest to oldest,” he tells them, smiling a little too long at Daphne.

  Amelia takes the phone from him and scrolls through the gallery, stopping occasionally to enlarge a design. “Is this what you want to do when you graduate?”

  I shrug. “Nah, it’s only for fun.”

  “You could probably get into a really good school with these designs,” she says.

  “See? Thank you, Amelia.” Seth is grinning. “I’ve been telling him for a while that he should try for art school.”

  “I’m not going to art school,” I say, annoyed.

  Amelia’s eyes narrow. “Why not?”

  “Because those are t-shirts, not actual art.”

  “You could always go to fashion school like a faggot,” Spencer mutters loudly.

  Dick #1 and Dick #2 think this is the funniest thing they’ve ever heard and start to guffaw uncontrollably, blowing potato chip crumbs and Mountain Dew through their lips.

  “You two are disgustin’!” Audra shouts, throwing down a couple of napkins to wipe up the mess.

  “She’s right. You’re worse than a litter of untrained puppies,” Amelia snaps. “And, Spencer, you can go to hell.”

  Spencer makes a fake pouty face at her. “Ooooh, did I offend your delicate sensibilities? Does that mean you’re a fashion lover or a fag lover?”

  “For your information, I’m both,” she retorts and I’m so impressed I want to reach over and slap her on the back.

  “Guys…” Daphne complains. “Please don’t fight again.”

  “We’re not fighting, babe,” Spencer says, patting her thigh. “Your sister and I are just poking a little fun at each other.”

  Audra rolls her eyes. “Yeah, if you call actin’ like a bigoted meathead fun.”

  Before Spencer or either of his friends can think of a worthy comeback to this, the warning bell rings, signaling it’s almost time for fifth period, and the cafeteria goes into cleanup mode.

  “I hope you don’t take them seriously,” Amelia says as we gather up our trash and take it to the nearest garbage can. “I’m not sure that any of them could even recite the alphabet all the way through let alone tell you anything about art.”

  “I learned a long time ago not to let assclowns like Spencer McGovern get to me. By the way,
do you always eat lunch with them?”

  “Not if I can help it. Tomorrow, I’m planning to fast and hunker down in the library during lunch so that I can study for that Spanish test. You’re welcome to join me.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, surprised at the invitation.

  “Sure. I’ll even share my index cards with you.”

  I laugh. “Index cards? Now you’re pulling out the big guns.”

  “I try,” she teases, smiling as she puts her lunch tray on a shelf above the trashcan. “But hey, earlier, you know that I was serious, right? You could do it.”

  “Do what?”

  She tugs at the bottom of my shirt. “Do this in college.”

  “College isn’t in the cards for some of us.”

  “You mean you haven’t thought about it?”

  “It’s not that I haven’t thought about it. But Carter is my top priority and I don’t see how me going off to school fits in with his life. Not to mention that tuition and books and rent aren’t exactly free.”

  “Crap—what am I trying to say? I know it’s not any of my business.” She shakes her head and bites down on her lip self-consciously. It’s damn cute. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

  “Don’t apologize,” I say. “If things were different, I don’t know, maybe I would want to look at schools. But with the way things are right now, I can’t. I have to take it one day at a time.”

  She nods then notices Seth waiting for me by the door to the stairwell.

  “We’ve got next period together,” I tell her.

  “Okay, well…” She backs away from me slowly and asks, “Will I see you this afternoon?”

  I’m confused, or maybe I’m distracted by the way her legs look in the skirt she’s wearing. She’s ditched the leggings and loafers in favor of simple leather sandals today and it’s the first time I’ve seen her toes in bright light. I can’t quite get over that they’re painted purple.

  “What?” I ask dumbly.

  “This afternoon? Carter and tutoring? Will I see you?”

  I was actually going to ask Seth to pick my brother up today so I could offer to stay late at work and earn another couple of hours, but now I’m trashing that plan and mentally rearranging my schedule.

  “You will definitely see me.”

  ***

  I’m not late for pick up.

  Actually, I get to the elementary school fifteen minutes early, and don’t think I miss the look of surprise on Mrs. Hopkins’ face when she sees me walk through the door.

  Carter and Amelia are sitting together at one of the back tables and I know the moment I register the off-kilter expression on his face that something isn’t right.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s had a bad day,” Amelia answers, rubbing his back.

  I sit down on the bench beside him and drop my keys onto the table. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  With a mournful sigh he says, “Brecken was mean to me at lunch today. He called me a stupid head because I’m in the last reading group and he told everyone that I don’t even know how to do multiplication.”

  “Bud, you’re in the first grade. I don’t think any of the kids in your class can multiply yet. Sounds to me like this Brecken kid was just messing with you.”

  “And you have to remember that with the all the hard work you’ve been doing lately, you’re going to be moving up to the next reading group very soon,” Amelia says.

  Carter sniffles. “It’s not just that! Brecken wouldn’t let me play on his team at recess because I’m too small. He said I’m a baby and I probably still wear diapers.”

  “Hey, hey,” I soothe. “You’re not a baby and I know for a fact that you don’t wear diapers.”

  “Then why would he say that?”

  “Because…” My eyes go to Amelia. I need help and I need it badly.

  “If you ask me,” she says confidently, “Brecken sounds like a bully and that means that for whatever reason it makes him feel better to make you feel bad.”

  “But that doesn’t make any sense,” he whines, shaking his head so hard that dark brown hair flops into his eyes.

  “I know it doesn’t, which is why you can’t let what he thinks bother you so much.”

  His little shoulders move up and down. “I guess.”

  “Amelia’s right. It’s tough but you’ve got to try to ignore this kid,” I tell him. “And forget about the baby comment. You’re going to grow up just like me and I don’t look like a baby, do I?”

  He tilts his head to the side and scrutinizes me. “Does that mean I’m gonna get hair on my face too?”

  I scratch my chin, feeling the prickly hairs on my fingertips. “Do you want hair on your face?”

  “Of course I want hair on my face. Then no one will call me a baby,” Carter answers seriously.

  “Why wait?” Amelia hands me a black marker and adds in a whisper that Carter can’t hear, “It’s washable.”

  I steady my brother’s head and draw a thick handlebar mustache above his upper lip, making sure to add dramatic fringed wingtips to the ends. He looks ridiculous, like a cartoon villain, and it takes everything I’ve got to keep a straight face when Amelia holds out a small mirror she’s pulled out of her purse and asks him, “Better?”

  Carter turns his head from side to side, carefully studying his reflection. Then his face explodes into a grin and he throws his arms around my waist. “You’re the best!”

  “You’re really going to love me when I tell you what else I have planned for today.”

  “What? Tell me! Tell me!”

  I put my hand on my head to make a fin. “Da-da-da-duh,” I sing out an off-key rendition of the Jaws theme song.

  “You’re taking me shark hunting!” He shouts, jumping to his feet and clapping his hands together.

  Amelia is appalled. “You guys are going to hunt sharks?”

  “No,” I say through my laughter. “We’re going to look for shark teeth.”

  Her expression calms. “Okay, that makes a little more sense. So you’re going out to the beach?”

  “Nope,” Carter says. “We go to look for them in the creeks near our house. You can find them anyplace that used to be underwater.”

  “We can do it as long as we hurry,” I tell him. “We still have to run home and grab your mud boots and make it out to Blackwater Creek before dark.”

  Pulling his twisted backpack straps over his shoulders, he says to Amelia, “One time Bash found a tooth this big in Blackwater Creek.” His arms go out as wide as they can go.

  “It was more like this,” I amend, holding my thumb and index finger about an inch and a half apart.

  She laughs. “You guys have a good time.”

  “You could come with us,” Carter says, his eyes squinting with hope. “I can show you exactly what to look for because I’m really good at it.”

  “I would love to but unfortunately I have to go to a banquet thingy for my student government group. Next time?”

  “Okay, maybe we could even take you to the beach. Bash says you can find the best ones at low tide.”

  Amelia tilts her face to me. I don’t know what’s going on in her head, but I’m thinking of our night together and of the way her skin smelled and how her soft brown eyes flickered with moonlight.

  “I’d like that,” she says, blinking and breaking our connection. “I’d like it a lot.”

  ***

  “Carter, you need to sit still,” I remind him. He’s so excited to go look for shark teeth that he’s bouncing in his booster chair and kicking the back of my seat.

  “How many do you think we’ll find today? Maybe a million!”

  “A million? You really think so?”

  “Yep! Do you know how many zeros are in one million?”

  “How many?” I ask.

  “Six!” he tells me proudly. “One, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero.”

  “Wow.” I shake my head back and forth.


  “I know! And I think I can even count the zeros in one billion.”

  “No way,” I say, glad that he seems to have forgotten all about the kid that was giving him shit today.

  He starts counting off on his fingers. “One, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero, zero. That’s nine!”

  “Good work.”

  “How big of a jar do you think we’d need to hold a billion shark teeth?”

  I chuckle. “I have no idea.”

  “Maybe as big as the car.”

  “I guess it would depend on the size of the teeth,” I say as we pull onto our street.

  Carter unbuckles his seatbelt and climbs over the console into the front seat. “If we found a billion megalodon teeth we’d probably need a jar the size of the house.”

  “Probably so.” I throw the car into park and see that there is a petite woman hovering near the front door of the house. Great, she’s probably here trying to sell us a vacuum or a Bible.

  Carter wrinkles his forehead. “Who’s that lady?”

  “I have no clue, bud, but we’d better go find out.”

  “She looks like a teacher.”

  Or a funeral director, I think, taking in her briefcase and serious pantsuit. She certainly seems out of place on this side of town where most everyone works with their hands and doesn’t have an extra pot to piss in.

  “Whatever it is you’re selling, lady,” I say as we crunch our way across the oyster shell driveway to the front porch. “Sorry for your trouble but we’re not buying.”

  The woman crooks her eyebrows and looks between my brother and I, her eyes lingering on the marker mustache on his face.

  “I’m not here looking for a sale. Can I ask if you always allow this child to ride in the front seat of your truck?”

  Carter tells her, “I’m only allowed when we’re on our street.”

  I place my hand on his shoulder and force him back a step. “Not to be rude, but this is none of your concern.”

  “Actually, it is,” she tells me with a reedy smile. “I’m with the Green Cove County Department of Children and Family Services.”

  What the hell?

  My guts turn over and I know Carter can’t be doing much better. Hell, I can feel the way he’s looking at me and the anxiety rolling off of his little body in waves.