This Girl Is Different

by J. J. Johnson

  My heart flops into my neck. What has Jacinda said to him? Is he giving me the silent treatment too? Or worse—worst of all—is he ending things? Damn it. Do we qualify for break-up status if we were never labeled in the first place? My heart, flopping around like a dying fish, seems to think so.

  I’ve lost my best girlfriend. And now I’m going to lose the boy I’m in love with. Both in one day.

  How can things have gone from status quo, to sprained ankle and ecstatic heart, to total train wreck, in such a short time?

  I open my mouth to talk—to say what, exactly?—but Rajas beats me to it.

  “I’m done with this.” His voice is steeped in hate. “It has to end.”

  17

  Well-behaved women seldom make history.

  —LAUREL THATCHER ULRICH, HISTORIAN, B. 1938

  My hands go to my stomach like I’ve been punched. He’s ending it. What did Jacinda say to make him hate me so much?

  Or have his feelings for me just…changed? Disappeared? As if they weren’t even that strong in the first place?

  I don’t know which is worse.

  I can’t speak.

  Rajas’s hands fly up. “Eve?” He takes my elbows.

  “Stop,” I say through gritted teeth. If he wants to end it, fine. I’ll survive. But to be so cold and cruel—it has to end—then flip a switch and act concerned? No. It’s humiliating. I wrench free of him. “So. That’s it.” I swipe at my tears and set my jaw.

  His forehead rumples in confusion. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d agree.”

  “Agree? Why on earth would I agree?”

  “Because Brookner’s sketch. It’s nasty.”

  “Because Brookner? What…?” I shake my head, trying to think.

  “Yes, Brookner and Jay,” he says. “It has to end.”

  “Wait.” Hope! Joy! My heart races. “We’re not breaking up?”

  His eyes widen. “Eve. Why would I do that? Not that I like the term breaking up. It’s such a label…” His complexion goes blotchy. “Why? Do you want to?”

  “No!”

  “Well, good.” He gives me his lopsided smile. “Holy crap. You freaked me out for a second.”

  “I freaked you out? You freaked me out. What was with the cold shoulder all weekend?”

  “There was no cold shoulder. My shoulders are very warm.”

  I give him a look that says answer the question.

  He says, “I had to seal the driveway, like I told you. And we had family stuff all weekend. Jacinda was there, so I couldn’t really talk.”

  “You couldn’t find one minute to call me?”

  “You’re right. I should have called,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

  “I was worried.”

  “Allow me to reassure you.”

  “With your warm shoulders?”

  “Exactly.” He wraps his arms around me. We kiss. I make it intense, backing him up against a workbench and pressing hard. It feels so good…so necessary. The world dissolves away.

  We are still kissing when the bell rings.

  “Damn, Eve,” he says, his voice hoarse, “I wish we weren’t in school right now.”

  “No kidding.” We kiss again. I can’t get enough of him.

  “Eve. We have to go.”

  With great reluctance, we pull ourselves apart and step into the hallway.

  “Like I was saying.” Rajas speaks only loud enough for me to hear, walking right next to him. “This thing with Jacinda and Brookner is nasty. Has to end.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. But how?”

  I meet Rajas in the parking lot after school. We duck into the back of The Clunker and evaporate into each other, kissing.

  After a while, I pry myself away from him. “Martha’s shift ends soon.”

  Rajas touches my cheek, his eyelids heavy. “We have a little more time.”

  “I know,” I mutter between kisses, “but we need to talk about Jacinda.”

  “Do we really?” His hands find their way under my shirt. He glides his fingertips along my ribs.

  “How did you find out about her and Brookner?” I persist. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”

  He sighs. “No. When I picked her up from your place, she said you were being mean.”

  I start to sink, thinking about Jacinda’s anger, but Rajas buoys me. His touch keeps me floating.

  “Seemed weird.” He shrugs. “Can’t see you being catty.”

  “Meow.” I claw his arm.

  Smiling, he runs his thumb over my waist. Can he feel my stomach somersault? “She’s been acting weird for a while. Then, on Friday—”

  “At Brookner’s?” His touch is so mesmerizing it’s a strain to concentrate.

  “Yeah. Jay seemed so out of it. I knew something was up. So I finally managed to drag it out of her yesterday. I told you he was a slimeball.” He makes an angry noise in the back of his throat. “Did she come right out and tell you? How did you find out?”

  “I overheard her and Brookner when I was looking for the snake.”

  He grimaces; his fingers stop moving for an excruciating moment. “There are rumors. That he’s hooked up with his students before.”

  “Wait, does this have to do with Nishi? You said something to Jacinda about ‘remember what Nishi said’?”

  He rolls onto his back, the moment officially ruined by our miserable conversation. “Yeah. Nishi told us Brookner hit on her friend.”

  “Nishi’s the older one, right?” He has two sisters, both at Boston University.

  He nods.

  “You could call her.” I sit up. “She could check with her friend and find out what really happened.”

  “But even if it isn’t true—”

  “There’s still Jacinda.”

  “Yeah.” He rubs his nose. “It’s like a bad ’80s song. ‘Hot for Teacher.’”

  “We could confront Brookner,” I say. “Tell him we know what’s up.”

  “I don’t see what good that would do. It wouldn’t stop him. And he’d tell Jay we talked to him. She’d probably stop talking to us.”

  “She’s already not talking to me.”

  Rajas looks surprised. “Really?”

  “As of Global View today.”

  He reaches for my hand, like he senses how painful her silence is for me. “I knew she was mad. But that sucks.”

  My throat gets dry and lumpy. “Brookner’s quote was about power today.”

  “What else is new?”

  “She didn’t want me to say anything. But I got stubborn, so I did say something.”

  “No! You? You got stubborn and spoke out?” He smiles. “That never happens.”

  “I know, I know. But you wouldn’t believe how upset Jacinda got. She told me not to talk to her.”

  Rajas blows out a big breath. “That’s what I’m saying. She’s not herself. She’s being unreasonable, and weird.”

  “Love can do that.” I lie down and nestle onto his shoulder. “It can make you insecure and irrational and…afraid. It makes you crazy.”

  “Love? Makes you crazy?”

  My heart thumps. I hold my breath.

  He shifts. “Are you talking about Jay? Or…us?”

  Deep yoga breath, courage. “Both.”

  He is silent and perfectly still for an agonizing moment. Then he wraps his arms around me. “Love, huh?” He nuzzles my neck. “I can deal with that label. For this, me and you. But not Hot for Teacher.”

  Even though my heart is leaping, dancing—love! He loves me!—I manage to adopt a serious tone. “Right. Love is a no-no for teachers and students. Love is a yesyes for boyfriends and—”

  Rajas groans.

  “Oh, my goodness.” I make my eyes wide to emphasize how very understanding I am. “What was I thinking? We are not boyfriend and girlfriend! We are…um…” I frown, serious now. “What are we?”

  “We’re this.” He kisses me. We lose ourselves again.

  In the distance, a phone r
ings.

  No, not in the distance. Right here in my bag.

  I sit up. “Oh no! I forgot Martha!” I find my phone, flip it open. “I’ll be there in two seconds!” I snap it shut to curtail her rant. “I have to go. Crap. When are we going to figure out what to do about—”

  “Brookner.” He scowls.

  Clambering over to the driver’s seat, I tell him, “I’ll drive you over to the Biohazard.”

  “Okay.” Rajas climbs into the passenger seat. “So Jay’s really that into him?”

  “She is really that into him.” I crank the key in The Clunker’s ignition.

  “How would you know how into someone you are without even kissing them?” His mouth drops open and he looks horrified. “Holy crap! Has he kissed her? I’ll clock that joker!”

  “No no no!” I wave my hands for emphasis. “No. According to Jacinda, Brookner says they have to wait until graduation.”

  Rajas’s eyes bug out. “Brookner says? Graduation! And then what?” The boy is going to explode.

  “Calm down! Breathe.”

  His breath comes out as a growl. “She did not tell me any of that.”

  “So I gathered.” Finally, The Clunker’s engine chuffs, sputters, starts. I roll the forty feet to Rajas’s parking space, thinking. “What if we tell Dr. Folger?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t think I could betray Jay like that. Not to mention, it’d be our word against Brookner’s and Jay’s, and they’d deny it.”

  “You’re right. And it would alienate her more. Push her further away.”

  “Yeah.” He rubs his face.

  Still trying to think, I stop next to the Biohazard. “Wait—I have it!” I slap the dashboard. “Lightning!”

  He looks puzzled, and then gives a slow grin. “Oh, nice! That’s perfect.”

  My mind races. “But she’d know it was us.”

  “Wouldn’t matter,” Rajas says, “because then the whole thing would be out in the open. And we don’t even need to name Jay, or mention her at all.”

  “Right. Right. It will shame Brookner into stopping.”

  “If he has any ounce of decency.”

  “Which is definitely not a foregone conclusion.”

  He runs his thumb along the dashboard as he thinks. “Jay could rat us out—”

  “To Dr. Folger?” I finish his thought. “But how would she explain she knewit was us? She’d have to admit her role in PLUTOs and the lightning against Ms. Gliss. Dr. Folger would drag a confession out of her.”

  “But she has the right to remain silent,” he counters.

  “I bet she’s not allowed to plead the Fifth. I mean, if First Amendment protections—free speech, freedom of the press—don’t apply in school, why would Fifth?”

  Rajas lifts an eyebrow at my mini-tirade.

  “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who brought up the Bill of Rights.”

  “The what? The swill of bites? Sounds vaguely familiar. Where have I heard that before?”

  “You, my friend, would be in grave danger of flunking homeschool.”

  “Oh, the shame!” He laughs. “Don’t worry. I know my AmHist.”

  “AmHist? That sounds like cough medicine.” He ignores me. “First Amendment is religion and speech and press. Second is arms. Third was anachronistic and therefore my brain does not care. Fourth, search and seizure. Fifth is ‘You have the right to remain silent’.” He looks very pleased with himself. “Do I get an A, teacher?”

  “I don’t believe in grades. They’re just a form of labels.”

  “Doh!” He laughs.

  I kiss him.

  “Uh-oh. Another teacher-student relationship.” He’s joking, but when his words sink in, we pull away. A scowl dampens his sepia features. We’re back to Jacinda and Brookner.

  “She’ll be incredibly furious at us if we strike Brookner,” I say. “Spitting mad. Hopping mad.”

  “She’s already spitting and hopping,” Rajas says.

  “True.” Just thinking about her silent treatment twists my insides. “But if we strike Brookner, she won’t speak to me for years.”

  “She’ll come around. Jay never holds a grudge for long. We’ll give it a few days before we do the lightning. Maybe next week.” He reaches out, takes my hand. “She’ll be talking to you by then. You’ll probably already be sick of all the yammering. Trust me.” He smiles his gorgeous crooked grin. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Uh, Cornell?”

  “Yeah. Okay. That would be bad,” he concedes. “But I meant with Jay. She can’t not talk to you more than she already is.”

  “Right. Right.” I hug my stomach. “Then why do I feel like horking?”

  “Look, even if everything else goes to crap…you have me. We’re in this together. All for one and one for all.”

  “Hmm. Sounds vaguely familiar,” I say.

  18

  Publicity is justly commended as a remedy for social and industrial diseases. Sunlight is said to be the best of disinfectants; electric light the most efficient policeman.

  —LOUIS BRANDEIS, AMERICAN SUPREME COURT JUSTICE, 1856–1941

  I sigh and run my hand along the cinder blocks as I make my way to first bell. Global View has become my own personal Ninth Circle of Hell. I can’t stand the sight of Brookner—I shudder to think of him letching after Jacinda or any other girls. I keep having images of him as a nasty, youth-sucking, power-hungry lamprey. Worse still is Jacinda’s ongoing silent treatment. How can wordlessness be so damned loud? Despite Rajas’s constant assurance that she’ll forgive me, right now she won’t even look at me. The last few days have been torture. In the movies, everyone hates high school, and I’m starting to comprehend why. It has nothing to do with pedagogy or educational philosophy. It’s the humans.

  Like Sartre said in No Exit, “Hell is other people.”

  Perfect quote for Brookner’s whiteboard.

  Crap. I’m getting more jaded by the minute. Martha would blame The Institution of School. And I must admit, I’d like nothing better than to be homeschooling right now, designing a community, pulling weeds, cloud watching, mucking out the barn, doing an on-line assignment, sketching wildlife. Actually, no: I’d like nothing better than to be with Rajas right now. Alone. Butterflies flutter in my stomach; my cheeks heat up just thinking about it.

  First things first: Global View. Jacinda and Brookner.

  But wait a minute. Everyone’s milling around the classroom door, students frothing in a small hubbub. Getting closer, I catch snippets of conversation:

  —What’s this one for?

  —Whoever it was…

  —I heard something was going on…

  Oh my God. Brookner’s door is emblazoned with a huge bolt of lightning. The PLUTOs website is written in drippy red paint, caking now, like dried blood.

  Rajas and I were going to strike next week! To give Jacinda time to cool down and come to her senses.

  So who did this?

  In uncanny unison, the crowd turns. And once again, it’s a wall of eyes.

  “Class. Settle.” Brookner’s here; he parts the crowd. Kids step back like no one wants to stand too close to him. Brookner unlocks the classroom, acting casual. “Please. After you.” He sweeps his arm magnanimously. He’s clutching a laptop.

  Everyone takes their seats. The board is blank—no quote, which could mean that Brookner isn’t as calm as he seems. Did he see the lightning strike and turn tail? Fleeing to…where? The men’s room? The teacher’s lounge?

  Jacinda’s not here. I say hi to Marcie; we’ve gotten friendlier since the lightning strike against Ms. Gliss.

  Whispers wheeze around the room while Brookner sets the computer on his desk. He wheels the TV cart out of its corner. No way. He’s going to display the PLUTOs site? How is that a good idea? Can he seriously be more interested in what is written about him than he is worried that anything is written about him in the first place?

  Well, good.
I want to know what it says.

  “Sorry, I, uh…” Brookner says, poking a button on the laptop, “…don’t have a quote up yet. It’s been quite an eventful morning, as you can see.” He smiles and looks up, fidgeting with his tie. Marcie titters, catches my eyes, and swings to look away. Brookner rocks onto his heels. “Hmm. Well.” He grabs a marker and twists the cap off, begins to write a quote on the board about sunlight being a good disinfectant. Sounds familiar. It’s the seed Martha planted in Dr. Folger’s ear. Maybe Dr. Folger passed that little gem on to Brookner.

  Around me, students are exchanging wide-eyed glances. Marcie and Matt and Stiv keep looking at me like maybe I know something about this. When the bell rings, Brookner jerks, messing up the S at the end of Brandeis. The mistake betrays his nervousness; clearly he’s not as composed as he wants us to think. He erases the mistake before snapping the cap onto his marker. Looking straight at me, he opens his mouth to speak. And then closes it again when Jacinda rushes past him, her head down. All eyes follow her—she’s never late— as she sets her books on her desk and smoothes her short skirt to sit down.

  I whip out my notebook and scribble a note to Jacinda: It wasn’t who you think it was! I stare at the paper, cross out the words, start over. I wish I could just write This wasn’t me and Rajas! Do you know who did it? but I can’t write our names, lest the note fall into enemy hands. I settle on We need to talk, please! and tear it quietly from the wire spiral. As soon as Brookner turns his back, I pass it to Jacinda.

  She lets it drop to the floor. In slow motion, she turns to lock me in a baleful stare.

  Brookner connects the computer to the television. “I chose today’s quote because…” His voice trails off. “Well. ‘Sunlight is the best disinfectant.’” He shifts his weight and leans against his desk. “Brandeis is saying that things are best put out there in the open, hmm? Rumors, accusations, the best thing is simply to air them.” He’s looking a little pale. “Just put it out there, and don’t let it fester. Light will shine. The notion of transparency, making things transparent.” Pulling his glasses off and inspecting them, he uses his tie to clean the lenses. It’s as though he’s trying to distract himself so he can keep from coming unglued. “Yes, well. Why not just go straight to the website? Anyone remember the blog address?”