This Girl Is Different

by J. J. Johnson

  “That’s Ferocious Tiger.”

  “For the stripes?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  She presses the pads of his paws and inspects his claws. She touches their points, lets them retract. She runs her hand down his back. Ferocious Tiger purrs and pushes his cheek into Jacinda’s hand.

  I know how Ferocious Tiger feels. It’s how I feel about Rajas’s touch: I rush to meet it, press myself into him.

  Oh man, please do not tell me that’s how Jacinda feels about Brookner.

  And please, please do not tell me that’s how Brookner feels about Jacinda! I’m all for following your heart, but not if your heart is a nasty old wolf trying to seduce an innocent puppy.

  “So. That was kind of weird, at Brookner’s,” I say. Sitting on the milking stool, higher than Jacinda, feels too cross-examiny. I plop down on the straw.

  Jacinda keeps her eyes on the kitten in her lap. “Yeah. I am really not liking snakes right now. Not liking snakes at all.”

  I readjust my ponytail. “You and Brookner seemed very…comfortable together.”

  Her head snaps up so fast that Ferocious Tiger mewls. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean”—I select my words with care—“he seems quite…familiar with you. And you with him.”

  She smiles down at Ferocious Tiger. Her cheeks darken. “You think so?” She asks it the same way I talk about Rajas. This is not good.

  “Uh-huh.” I undo my ponytail and twist it into a bun.

  She doesn’t look up. “Like what, for instance?”

  Oh no. The girl wants to bask in the details. I need to change the course of this conversation. “Don’t get mad—but when I was upstairs looking for Javier, I overheard something.”

  Her eyes get wide. “What do you mean?”

  “The baby monitor was on in his office.”

  All color leaves her face.

  “The transmitter part is in the kitchen, next to Booker’s door,” I continue.

  Her hand is poised, motionless, over Ferocious Tiger.

  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But it was on while I was catching Javier.”

  “What did you hear?” On the blanket, her foot starts wiggling. She sets her hand on the kitten but forgets to stroke him.

  “It kind of sounded like something is going on.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She’s not making this easy. Fine. I’ll just put it out there: “Is Brookner crossing the line with you? Are you two—” What are the right words? “Uh, involved? Romantically?”

  Her face becomes ashen. “I don’t think that’s, like, any of your business.”

  “I don’t mean to be nosy. But I’m concerned. You can talk to me.”

  She pats Ferocious Tiger’s head. She seems deep in thought. She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it again.

  I wait.

  “Ohmigod, I’m so fricking tired,” she finally says, stretching and yawning for emphasis.

  Okay, she needs more time. Press gently, ask the questions, wait. Let the person come to you, let it be their own idea.

  “Come on.” I offer my hand. “Let’s get some sleep. You can bring Ferocious Tiger in, if you want.”

  “Martha won’t mind?”

  “We usually don’t because of fleas and ticks in summer. But you may have noticed we’re not real sticklers for rules around here. Besides, it’s cooling off, so it’ll be fine. He seems to really like you.”

  In the morning we pull on sweatshirts and thick socks and jam our feet into rubber chore boots. Jacinda follows me to the henhouse. She tips her mug to her lips—real coffee instead of yerba maté to ease her introduction to hippie farm life. “Do you always get up this early?” she asks, cupping her mug for warmth. “It’s fricking freezing.”

  “Hannah Bramble and the piranha chickens wait for no one. We usually take turns, but Martha had to do it the whole time my ankle was hurting, so I owe her.” I open the door of the chicken coop and shift the hens to gather eggs.

  “Ew! Those eggs are all covered with dirt.”

  It’s not dirt, it’s chicken poop, but I’ll keep that tidbit of information to myself for now.

  “We’re going to eat those?” she asks.

  I laugh. “Where do you think eggs come from, exactly?”

  “The grocery store, exactly?” She shivers.

  “The barn will be warmer. Go on in. I’ll be there in a sec.”

  “Okay.”

  She’s already settled on the blanket when I come in. I scootch up the milking stool, wash Hannah Bramble’s teats, grab the cats’ bowl. Kittens and cats come tumbling out from the nether reaches of the barn.

  “Ferocious Tiger!” Jacinda squeals. “There you are!” He disappeared at some point last night. Martha must have let him out.

  We are quiet. Jacinda drinks her coffee, the cats mewl until I give them their bowl of steamy cream.

  Breathing in Hannah Bramble’s warm, honest scent, I plunk down a clean milk pail and milk her in earnest.

  After an interval of quiet, Jacinda’s foot starts wiggling. “Can you keep a secret?”

  I laugh without breaking my milking rhythm. “Maybe you should have asked me that before we started PLUTOs.” Hannah Bramble’s tail swishes. “You better hope I can, or you’re not getting in to Cornell.”

  She gives a wry smile. “I think you mean that you won’t be getting in. Blackmail works both ways.” She sighs, changing the subject. “Okay. You know how you eavesdropped on me and Brookner last night?”

  “Overheard. Eavesdropping implies intent.”

  “Whatever.” She reaches for Ferocious Tiger, lifts him onto her lap. “So, yeah. Brookner and I have been, like, talking. On the internet.”

  “You’ve been talking on the internet, as in e-mailing about assignments? Or talking on the internet, as in—” Oh no. I flash back to her checking e-mail on her phone, saving herself for…Please no. “Is Brookner your InterWeb Lover?”

  “Shut up!” She sounds almost pleased. “He’s not my lover. But, yeah, he’s, like, the one I’ve been sort of…seeing…online.”

  “Jacinda. That is so not okay.” Hannah Bramble lows a complaint about my tone. Deep yoga breath. Rein it in. Managing to sound a bit calmer, I say, “It’s not okay, you know that, right?” I pat Hannah Bramble to let her know we’re done milking. “He’s a cool teacher. But he’s our teacher.”

  “It’s not like that! He knows I’m young—”

  I can’t hold back my snort. I regret it right away.

  “I am really not appreciating your judgmentalness right now.” Ferocious Tiger jumps off her lap and prances out of the barn.

  “I’m sorry. I am. But—”

  “We don’t do anything.” She picks at the blanket. “Even though I want to. Last week at his place I told him I’m ready to—”

  “Last week! You’ve been getting together with him? In person?” I can’t believe this.

  She sighs like I’m slow. “Just once. Before last night’s baby-sitting, I mean.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Wait. Does Rajas know?”

  She levels a stare. Right. Of course he doesn’t know. He would burst into flames.

  “You have to stop. It’s not okay. He’s our teacher, for crying out loud.”

  “It’s platonic!” She hits the blanket, releasing straw dust into the chilly air. “He says we have to wait until I graduate before we can do anything.”

  I stare at Hannah Bramble without really seeing her. “Jacinda. Any way you look at it, this crosses the line. There are boundaries.”

  Jacinda pops up from the blanket. “He told me this would happen! That in the end you’d be just the same as everyone else. I stuck up for you!”

  “You talk about me?”

  “No! Just that he said you might not be as cool as you appear.” She blows out a big breath. “I don’t know, Evie. This, like, sucks. I expected more from you.”

  Her disappointment confuses my heart. />
  Agitated, her body is quivering. “You’re the one who’s into questioning authority. ‘Fight the power’ and all? But you’re judging us because he’s older. That’s, like, ageism. I thought you were supposed to be different.”

  Damn. A punch to the gut. This girl is different. Am I being hasty and judgmental? Or has Brookner already anticipated my disapproval and done some masterful manipulation? “Jacinda, don’t you see? He wants to turn us against each other. Divide and conquer.”

  She looks frantic, like an animal that’s been spooked.

  I calm my voice again. “For a teacher to be with his student is an abuse of power. Do any of your other friends know about this?”

  “No!” Jacinda uncrosses her arms, recrosses them. She starts to pace, so distraught that she doesn’t seem to mind tromping through dirty straw. “It’s not abusing power! Abusing power is like Ms. Gliss telling Marcie that she is fat. That is an abuse of power. John would never do something like that.”

  “John?” First names now? I swallow to tamp down my emotions. “Jacinda, it is not okay.” Maybe repetition will get through to her. “This is as bad as Ms. Gliss, in a different way.” Something else is nagging at me, something about how Rajas warns us about Brookner, how Rajas is always alluding to rumors and what Nishi said, how he calls Brookner sketchy. “Hold on. Has Brookner done this before, with other girls?”

  It’s like pushing a button. Jacinda’s eyes go wild. She yells, “You don’t know anything about any of this! You’re a virgin! You just started school!” She whips out her phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  She turns her back.

  I can tell she’s tapping the screen. She brings the phone to her ear and shakes her head. No answer? She taps the screen again, holds it to her ear. “Hi,” she says in an unconvincing perky voice. “I’m sorry to bother you so early, but can you do me, like, a huge favor? I need a ride? Can you get your mom’s car?” She pauses. “Okay. Thanks anyway.” Pause. “No, I’m fine. It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Who are you talking to?” I ask.

  She ignores me. More tapping; she’s calling someone else. “It’s me. I need you to come pick me up.” Pause. “No, I’m still at Evie’s. How soon can you get here?”

  It’s Rajas. It has to be. Who else knows where I live? She must have tried other friends first…but how would they have found their way here? The Dome Home is not a main feature on Google maps.

  She’s listening to her phone, nodding. “Okay. And also? I am so sure that Evie’s going to try to tell you some things? You shouldn’t believe her. Seriously, it’s bullshit.” She glares at me, distant and cold. “Let’s just put it this way: Evie’s not as cool as we thought she was.”

  16

  The attempt to combine wisdom and power has only rarely been successful and then only for a short while.

  —ALBERT EINSTEIN, PHYSICIST AND NOBEL PRIZE WINNER, 1879–1955

  Monday’s drive to school feels especially long. Martha is sulking in the passenger seat, taking it as a personal affront that I’m withholding information. After Jacinda left in her huff, Martha demanded details. I said we had a disagreement about a guy she’s seeing—someone at school who is not good for her. Which is the truth, as far as it goes. But Martha can tell it isn’t the whole truth. It’s the first time in history that she hasn’t been privy to every last drop of information about my life. I hate holding back, but I can’t tell her. Not until I have more time to think, talk to Rajas, talk to Jacinda. I have to figure out what to do, because if Martha found out it was a teacher, she’d tar and feather Brookner, whether I wanted her to or not. A man abusing his authority with one of her daughter’s friends? Good luck, Brookner. You’d need it.

  Jacinda and I haven’t talked since she left my house. She won’t answer my calls or respond to my texts. She made Rajas take her home before I could even kiss him hello or goodbye. Later, when I called him, Rajas was brusque and aloof: “I should go. I have to help my mom seal the driveway.”

  Seal the driveway? I sat on my hands for twenty minutes and then finally texted him. R U OK?

  Late that afternoon, he responded. WNTT. Mon lunch.

  WNTT? I didn’t know that one. My mind flipped through the possibilities until it came to me: We need to talk. My stomach fell to my feet.

  I wrote, Y?

  There was no response. An entire weekend of total radio silence.

  Now it’s time for school. As I bump The Clunker onto the paved road, I ask Martha to check my phone for the millionth time.

  “Anything?” I ask.

  “No. Sorry, darling.” She reaches for my hair. “Everything will be okay. Be strong.” Martha strokes my hair until we get to Walmart. She’s got a bag of peace symbols we made, to paste onto the toy guns. It’s her turn to stock the toy section. She kisses me on the cheek. “Call if you need me.” She wrestles with the door handle. “But don’t let The Man catch you with your phone.”

  I arrive at school in a daze. It’s hard to move with my insides tied in knots, but I cruise the halls looking for Rajas before first bell.

  He’s nowhere to be seen.

  I take my seat in Global View. Jacinda stops talking to Marcie when I walk into the room. She sits, arms crossed, foot waggling. Brookner’s not here yet.

  “Hi, Jacinda.” Can she tell I’m freaking out? About our fight? About her silence? About Rajas? About her freaking love affair with the teacher who is about to walk in? “Um. How was the rest of your weekend?”

  Jacinda won’t look at me.

  I try again. “Did you do anything fun?”

  She hugs her arms tighter across her chest. “No.”

  Well, at least she said something. More of this silence would be unbearable. “Do you know—is Rajas mad?”

  “How would I know?”

  “He didn’t call or text much, and I was so worried when you didn’t call back, either. Hey, do you want to get together after school? I have an extra hour until I pick up Martha.”

  She keeps her eyes on the doorway, as if she’s dying to see Brookner. “No. I’ve got Cheer Squad.” She sits bolt upright and her cheeks go red; Brookner’s here. She whispers, so faint I almost can’t hear, “And don’t you dare say anything about the quote.” She nods toward the board, the words about power and wisdom.

  But Jacinda used to love that I respond to quotes. Now I’m supposed to keep quiet?

  Brookner flicks his gaze at Jacinda but his expression doesn’t change. He stands in front of the board, rocks on his heels, claps his hands, rocks back. Blech. I’ve been so preoccupied with Jacinda and Rajas, I hadn’t thought about how it would be to see Brookner again. I don’t want to look at him. I’m overflowing with disgust. What kind of teacher thinks it’s okay to have a relationship with a student? Revolting.

  “Class, settle,” Brookner says. “Good morning. Today’s quote is from Einstein, about power, hmm? Comments? Reactions?”

  Of course no one responds.

  Brookner adjusts his glasses. “Evie? How about it?”

  He seems vile to me now, like he has an affliction. His lack of boundaries is a pus oozing from his pores.

  “Evie?” he repeats.

  Jacinda’s whispered warning echoes in my brain. My throat stings as I hear myself say, “No.”

  “You don’t wish to respond?” Brookner seems genuinely surprised.

  I stare at my desk. My stomach is wringing itself— and I realize that I am furious. Yes, Jacinda is my friend. But she’s not my keeper. I don’t take orders from anyone. Why should I feel sheepish about speaking up now? That’s not who I am. Or who I want to be. This girl is different.

  “Well. I guess we’ll get started. If you will all turn to page—”

  I raise my hand. “Actually, I do have something to say.”

  Jacinda takes a sharp breath. Her foot stops wiggling.

  “I agree with Einstein,” I say, steeling myself against Jacinda. Will she go ballistic? “Wis
dom and power rarely go together. If at all.”

  Brookner smiles. “Yes, well. Wisdom is a fairly rare commodity, isn’t it?”

  I hold his stare without blinking. “That’s beside the point.”

  “How so?”

  “The point of the quote is that wisdom only really matters when someone has power over someone else. A doctor and a patient, for example. It wouldn’t matter much if a patient was wise. She—or he—doesn’t have the power in the situation.” I straighten my shoulders. “What’s not okay is when the person with power does not have wisdom.”

  Jacinda’s foot is wiggling again, hard—like a rattlesnake shaking its warning. Tense, coiled, ready to strike. Brookner, on the other hand, seems relaxed. He smoothes his tie and waits.

  “A doctor,” I continue, biting my tongue to keep from adding or a teacher, “should be wise. Should observe boundaries. Or he should relinquish his power. One or the other. Power without wisdom is the definition of arrogance.”

  “Well put. Thank you, Evie.”

  Does he not see the irony? Or is this fun for him?

  I peek at Jacinda. Her expression is a cascade of animosity.

  The class period sloshes by. As soon as the bell drones, I turn to Jacinda. “Please just listen. I—”

  “Do not talk to me. Ohmigod, I cannot even believe that you—” She lowers her voice to a contemptuous whisper. “It’s like you wanted to tell the whole class!”

  “Jacinda, no! That’s not—”

  “Do not talk to me.”

  Bad. This is bad. I search for Rajas between classes. He is in none of his usual places. Is he avoiding me or what? By lunch, my nerves and stomach are completely frazzled. I’m at the shop room door, scared out of my mind. What if it’s locked? Are the clandestine make-out lunches history? Head dreading, heart hoping, I try the knob. It turns, the door opens. I breathe deep relief. Rajas is waiting for me.

  But something’s wrong. Instead of greeting me with a long kiss, he is standing stock-still. His face is serious, fixed.