by JD Glass
In the silence, Samantha had picked up one of my notebooks and ß ipped through it. She was about to close it, but something caught her eye—she opened it again. She stared for a long, long while and I sat very still, staring at that frozen, reaching tree. I think it was a maple.
“Friends of yours?” she asked Þ nally, and I saw what she was pointing at—the “Hopey ’n’ Maggie” written inside the back cover.
I swallowed—hard—and almost choked on my cigarette. Samantha pounded on my back a few times. Well, there went no touching each other out the door. At least there were no explosions, either. “Dude, you okay? You sure?” she asked in between poundings. That for sure was going to hurt later.
“Oh, Þ ne, just—gak—Þ ne.”
I Þ nally answered her earlier question, now that I was able to breathe again. “Um, no, they’re not friends of mine,” I told her, taking my notebook from her hands and sliding it and the rest Þ rmly back into my bag. “It’s a comic book thing. They’re characters in a story line I’m following.”
“It’s that one you’re always reading, right, Love and Rockets?” she asked me, nodding her head in understanding. “So, it’s good, then?”
“Oh yeah,” I answered enthusiastically, self-consciousness momentarily forgotten. “It’s not like superpowers save the world from aliens or that sort of bullshit. It’s got, like, real people, like, all kinds, you know—black, white, Asian, Hispanic.” I turned my head back to the window and took a drag on my cigarette. “Some different religions, and the people are gay, straight, whatever. You know, real-world stuff.” I glanced at her as I said it, trying not to put any special emphasis on it, just, you know, it was no big deal. “Cool music stuff that the characters are into, the punk scene.”
Samantha looked down at my bag and twisted her lips again in thought. “I’ll have to check it out sometime,” she said Þ nally, and took another drag.
The silence hung on and on. Honestly, if I had to conÞ de in someone, besides Nicky that is, it would have been Samantha. While
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Kitt passed around the shaving tip, or other swim-related esoterica, Samantha pulled me aside to tell me to just trim and avoid side effects, or how to do other things Kitt suggested without doing permanent damage to my skeletal system.
“Let her shave it, she’s not gonna use it for anything else, anyway,” Samantha had said, her eyes dark and stormy, her mouth a hard line.
She’d been silent, considering an answer, I guess, then smiled, and it was like the sun had come out. “Other people like to be comfortable the rest of the time. Besides, who wants to be that fuckin’ crazy about it?” When looking for loopholes or inconsistencies in the student handbook, she laughed with me and found some more, or pointed out others; she snuck out with me from school, from practice, and from meets for cigarettes, or we’d Þ nd the most obscure places to hang out on the grounds and just shoot the shit, bitching about parents, school, life, school, death, school, you get the picture. She was one person I wanted to talk with, who’d help me get my head on straight, so to speak. The one real friend I had outside of Nicky and Kerry, and I wasn’t sure I could call what Kerry and I were friends either.
And we looked a lot alike too, Samantha and I, same sort of blue eyes and same color hair, same way of standing, walking, even talking.
Except for the height difference, everyone joked we could be twins, we’d been mistaken for one another so often. I didn’t want her to regret our resemblance or come to despise it.
We smoked on until Samantha broke the silence. “Nina, we haven’t really hung out this year, have we,” she stated more than asked.
“No, not really,” I answered her, and it was true. After the party, we hadn’t really spoken much, and during the year so far, I’d been too busy studying to get into much trouble. Mostly we’d been together at practice, and while we spent less time together than usual, when we did it had seemed more intense, more connected somehow. But still, it seemed like we were avoiding each other, too.
“I really wanted to hang out with you this summer, you know, but things were crazy, with, like, all this insurance crap from my dad and all…”
“Yeah, I remember,” I said, “and it’s totally cool, you know. I understand that.” Please, I thought, please don’t talk about the beach.
I peeked at her Þ nally, and Samantha was staring down at the space between us on the seat. “I’m really, really sorry about your dad,” I added sincerely, from the heart. Samantha was ofÞ cially an orphan
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now that her father had died, her mother having died before she was two years old, and she had no brothers or sisters. Apparently, neither did her parents, and her grandparents were very, very old and living somewhere in Arizona or someplace.
There had been a lot of concern as to what would happen to her, where she’d live, go to school, all of that, and I knew, because Samantha had told me, that the school had gotten directly involved in trying to make sure she could stay, both in her home and in her classes.
“Me too.” She sighed. “I spent all my free time working on this car, trying to Þ nish what he started, I guess, just be near him, somehow, you know?” And she looked up at me for a second with full eyes and a lopsided grin, then dropped her gaze. “Your birthday present was the nicest thing that happened all summer, and I should have called you more—I’m sorry.”
“’S all right, Sam,” I said. “I Þ gured you needed the space, you know? Room in your head, like.” Ohplease ohplease ohplease let’s not talk any more about the beach, I mentally begged, because as much as I was really listening to Samantha and sincerely cared about what she felt, I was feeling very uncomfortable and a little embarrassed, too.
Samantha sighed again. “I guess I did, maybe. Hey.” She looked up with a forced bright smile. “I got a legal guardian over the summer.” ESP worked! Thank you! “Yeah?” I asked with interest. This had been a crucial part of Samantha’s continued attendance and ability to live in the house her father had helped build.
“Yeah, turns out, he’s, like, an old friend of my dad’s, or a really distant relative, or something like that. Anyhow, legally, he’s my uncle Cort, or some such thing—the uncle part, not the name, I mean,” she added hastily.
“Hey, cool!” I was enthusiastic, then sobered instantly. “Do you like him? Is he, like, decent?”
“He’s, um, actually he’s pretty okay,” Samantha answered, considering. “I don’t know him that well yet, but we’ll see. I think I do remember him from when I was really small, I’m not sure. He calls me ‘Sammy Blade.’” She smiled a little shyly, but at least a real smile this time. “And he registered the car and got the custom plate for me, in August, when I was Þ nally done with the chrome work.”
“Cool.” I nodded. “Very cool.”
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“So, how about you? Anything interesting going on, besides Joey, I mean?” she asked.
I almost choked again. I’d forgotten all about Joey. Jerk. Him, not me. I mean, sometimes he could really get on my nerves. What the hell was I going to do about him? I had to end that—soon, really really soon. It had already gone on longer than I would have normally allowed it.
“Remember how I told you about my brother Nicky’s former classmate, how we’d become buds, you know, Kerry?” I asked, and Samantha nodded. “Well, we’ve just been getting closer, hanging out and stuff, you know, that’s all,” I answered as blandly as I could.
“Nothing, really.”
It stuck in my throat, and I hated myself for saying it. It most certainly wasn’t nothing; it was something, really, truly something, and I crossed my Þ ngers as I’d said it, hoping to somehow negate it. I just didn’t know what else to do or say—I mean, I wasn’t going to tell her exactly just how close we’d been in the last twenty-four hours. I mean, it was still so fresh and new and still mine somehow, we
ll, mine and Kerry’s—ours alone. At least, though, if Samantha heard me talk about Kerry, she’d know it was because we were close.
Maybe someday I could ease it into conversation, feel Samantha out about the whole thing, and tell her. Someday, but deÞ nitely not today. God, if Samantha had stayed at the party, I would have introduced them…
Samantha digested my words in silence, and I was now distinctly uncomfortable again, because I didn’t want to talk about how close Kerry and I had become so very recently, and that made me think of her mouth, which made me think about her body and how it felt to touch her, and the incredible feeling of being so close and, gosh, it was getting warm in that car.
I had to get air. “Hey, what time is it? We have to get in before—” I’d just started to speak when the school bell rang out, letting us know we were now ofÞ cially late for homeroom, and my heart sank a notch.
“Fuck. Well, that’s that,” Samantha said matter-of-factly. “Shall we?” She opened her door.
“Surely. Let’s,” I replied with a smile, opening my own, grabbing my books, and getting out. Samantha snatched her books and gym bag
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out of the trunk, slammed it shut, and we started to make our way to the building.
“Hey, Sam?” I asked as we walked, “where’s your uniform?”
“Oh, heh.” She laughed lowly. “Um, one of those loopholes you found, actually. You know, the one that says you have to wear the uniform in school unless you have exception days, but it doesn’t really say anything about outside the building, except for the sweater versus the blazer thing, especially if it’s cold out. You just have to have it on by the time you walk into homeroom, or a classroom, if you’re late.
So…it’s in my locker.” She paused. “I did it yesterday, too.” She grinned at me slyly, and I grinned back. Another stupidity smashed, courtesy of Samantha and Nina. Very cool, very cool. We kept walking.
“By the way, Nina, you still playing guitar?” I’d picked it up, guitar I mean, the year before, and it had taken me the better part of a year to Þ nd and buy the one I was learning on. It was challenging, but I really loved it (and obviously still do), and I had Þ nally started to progress beyond “Mary Had A Little Lamb.”
“Oh yeah, I’m still playing. Still learning, though,” I cautioned,
“so it’s nothing great.”
“Yeah, right.” Samantha smiled at me. “Like I’d ever believe that.
We should jam sometime, you know?”
“Hey, that would be cool. Yeah, sure.” I grinned back.
We both reached the door, but Samantha grabbed it and held it for me. “No, go ahead. You were sick, so you need all the rest you can get,” she teased.
“Hey, you’re right!” I smilingly agreed and went through.
We got in the building, and I led the way up the landing to the Þ rst ß oor where all the upperclassmen homerooms were. As I pulled open that door, I ran straight into Attila the Nun herself. Shit, I groaned inside, and my heart stopped dead, then fell another notch. Samantha was just a step or two behind me and coming up fast.
“Well, well, well, Boyd. Absent yesterday, late today, I see,” and she peeked over my shoulder at Samantha as she walked right behind me. “Oh, and who is this? Cray? What a surprise to see the two of you, late, together. Come in, girls, please, by all means, come in. Welcome to school,” and she held the door wide open so we could fully enter the hallway. We stood side by side before the good sister.
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“Would you like breakfast? Slippers? Clean blankie?” she asked caustically. “Are we sleepies this morning, girls? Should I send you poor dears home to bed, tuck you in? It seems Razor and Blade aren’t particularly sharp this morning, seeing as Boyd can’t tell solid black or navy from green and black checks, and Cray here forgot to wear her uniform!” She was almost yelling by the time she got to the last part, and I can’t speak for Samantha, but I could feel myself shrink in my coat.
Soon, I’d be so small I’d be invisible, and all my stuff would fall to the ß oor, and I could run away unnoticed by all except quantum physicists. I wished. Boy, did I wish. I wished so hard I’m surprised I didn’t rupture something. Instead of shrinking, though, I stood up straight. If I was going to be in trouble, I’d take it head up and on the chin at least.
“So how about it, Blade?” Sister stretched the word out to sound like a curse. “Where’s your uniform? Co-captain of the swim team,” she added, twisting her mouth in scorn. It was amazing to me that someone as small as Attila the Nun could radiate such malice.
“It’s in my locker, Sister,” Samantha answered evenly, though out of the corner of my eye, I could see the stress on her face. “I was going to get it and put it on now.”
“You’ll be doing some gardening after swim practice this Saturday here at the convent, it would seem,” Sister informed her silkily, watching for her reaction.
I set my shoulders straight. “In the handbook, Sister,” I quickly interrupted, “it says that the student must appear in homeroom in full uniform or their class instead, if they’re late. I believe that speciÞ city is to give us leeway in wearing such things as leg warmers or even pants should the weather require it, in the same way that we’re permitted to wear boots and change into our shoes once we arrive,” I concluded hastily. Samantha shot me the merest ß ash of a grin and a look of gratitude.
Sister turned on me like lightning. Samantha rolled her eyes behind her back. “Shut up, Boyd. I haven’t even started with you yet.” Sister came and sneered up into my face, Þ nger in my chest. “I’ll be seeing you after school today.”
Fuck. The meet! Kerry! My parents! I was fuckin’ dead all around.
Why Sister didn’t just kill me and get it over with, I didn’t know. It
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seemed that she absolutely delighted in torturing and terrifying us. If they had at least brought back corporal punishment, the pain would end eventually, I think, but this, the viciousness of it, it lasted forever, and it’s not something I’ve ever really gotten over. I don’t think anyone who has dealt with something like it has, either.
“Excuse me, Sister.” Samantha stood very straight and squared her shoulders smartly. “I’m sure as moderator of the swim team, you are aware that we have a major meet tonight, one that requires a win.
Nina is the anchor on the relays, and one of our best freestylers, and as such, she cannot be absent from the roster tonight.”
“I don’t care if she’s the King of Prussia and tonight she has to disarm all the nuclear bombs and bring down heaven on earth—” Sister said, but Samantha interrupted her again.
“Tonight, she does her Þ rst endurance race, Sister, and I offered her a ride to school this morning. As co-captain of the team, I asked her to review some strategies with me that would help her performance.
It’s my fault she’s late, Sister,” Samantha continued. “She shouldn’t be punished for following the direct request of a team captain.”
“Sam, don’t…” I said. I was going to open my mouth to say something, and I tried, but the ß ash in Samantha’s eyes and the quick negative shake of her head stopped me.
“No, no, Boyd, don’t interrupt. I want to hear what else Cray has to say.”
“Succinctly, Sister, I am both a senior within the school and a team leader. ‘Behavior of any classmen under any upperclassmen is the upperclassman’s responsibility, for sophomores and above,’” Samantha quoted to her straight from the handbook. “Therefore, a junior is a senior’s responsibility, and as both an upperclassman and Nina’s captain, I requested that she speak with me, and I should have paid attention to the time. This is very obviously my responsibility, and neither Nina nor the team should suffer for it.” Samantha concluded and stood stock-still, her eyes steady on Sister Attila’s.
I never respected Kitt as much as I respected Samanth
a at that moment.
Sister took a step back, crossed one arm across her chest, and leaned the other elbow on it, resting her chin on her palm, as if logically Þ guring out astronomy equations. Of course, that was very possible—
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she was the math teacher, after all.
“Okay, then.” Sister straightened and placed her hands on her hips. “You,” and she pointed at Samantha, “have Saturday detention after swim practice as we have already discussed, and you,” she pointed to me, “will help with the garden on Saturday as well, instead of staying after today. Since the two of you insist on sticking together and being a team, then as a team you’ll work on Saturday, and as team captain, Ms.
Cray, you will spend the rest of the week as of tomorrow instructing Ms. Boyd as well as yourself in the lovely intricacies of differential equations and artiÞ cial division, since I am lucky enough to have you both on the math team as well.”
She observed us, making sure the impact of her words had sunk in, then glanced at her watch. “Cray, you have four minutes before homeroom is over. I suggest you put your uniform on,” and her gaze ripped across Samantha with venom, “so that you may be within handbook guidelines,” she grimaced, “and attempt to be both not late for Þ rst period and enter the classroom in appropriate attire. I shall inform your homeroom teacher as to your whereabouts. And you, Boyd,” she focused on me next, “have assignments to make up. I suggest you spend the next four minutes discovering what they are. Dismissed, girls,” and she turned on her heel to stalk down the corridor, hands now clasped behind her back, and Samantha and I started to relax.
“Oh, and one last thing?” Sister turned back, and Samantha and I both straightened up. Sister gave us a hard, evaluating glance, then nodded with a satisÞ ed expression on her face, as if we had passed some sort of inspection or test. “I’ll see you in the water, Razor, Captain.” She nodded at us each and turned again to stride off—probably to not only speak with Samantha’s homeroom teacher, but also to commune with God or something.