Ordinary Me

by June Sproat

  I turned away from her to change for swimming. I had thought the attention was because my hair was wavy. I made a quick mental note to myself to ask my mom for more sweaters.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I wish I hadn’t broken my ankle the first week of basketball season. We would have had a much better record.” — Dan (the man) Anderson.

  We made chocolate chip muffins in cooking class which was kind of gross, because I wasn’t sure what the little black things in the mix were—chocolate chips or bugs. Ugh! This was the major drawback of cooking in a school. I mean, things just aren’t as clean as home. Of course, no one ever found bugs, but you can’t be too sure.

  I was in Becky’s group again, which was getting me really high marks for the cooking part of class. This was great because I still didn’t know how to cook. I was, however, still very suspicious of her motives. There hadn’t been another flour incident since that one day, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

  The rule in our cooking class is that whenever we make something someone from the group has to taste the finished product. I quickly volunteered to do the dishes; I thought this was a good move. That was until I was putting a pan away and accidentally slammed my index finger in the drawer. Yeah, I know, not too bright, but the drawer was stuck. I leaned against the drawer above, you know for leverage and then when I pushed the drawer shut—

  BAM!

  Of course when I yanked my finger from the drawer without opening it, I managed to rip open the skin doing more damage and causing a lot of blood to gush out. And let me tell you, that really, really, really hurt. I clutched my torn finger to my stomach and headed to the teacher.

  “Um, Mrs. Weaver, I had an accident,” I showed her my finger.

  “Yuck,” she said which did not reassure me. “You better go right down to the nurse. Do you need someone to go with you?” she asked.

  “Um, no, I’ll be fine” I grabbed my backpack and then cupped my finger in my other hand so that no one else had to see my gross finger. I also tried to catch the blood that was dripping down. EW, EW, EW! I left the classroom, headed around the corner and right into…yep, Steve. Why did I always seem to run into him when I’m in hurry and well, can’t fully appreciate physically running into him!

  “Whoa, what’s your hurry?” he put his hands on my shoulders.

  “Well, I had a little accident,” I opened my cupped hand and showed him my finger.

  “Wow, that looks nasty. You need to get to the nurse.”

  Duh, that’s why I barreled around the corner.

  “Um, that’s where I was headed.”

  “I’ll take you.” Steve took my backpack.

  “You really don’t have to,” I said.

  “I know, but I want to.” He put his hand on my back and guided me toward the stairway.

  My finger throbbed but I could barely feel it. Maybe it was because I couldn’t think about anything but the large warm hand on my back which was rubbing up and down as if to comfort me. Or maybe I’d lost so much blood that my finger was numb.

  I so hoped it was the first reason.

  “Oh my,” the nurse said as soon as we walked in and she saw my finger. She took us into the other room where they have a sink and all kinds of medical supplies.

  The nurse was an older woman who reminded me of someone’s grandmother. Not a grandmother of anyone I knew, I mean I’m sure she was someone’s grandmother. She just had that grandmotherly air about her.

  “Tsk, tsk,” she said when she got a good look at my finger.

  “I need to clean it,” she led us over to the sink. I followed, and to my surprise, so did Steve. I figured he would just drop me and my backpack off at the door, but he didn’t.

  “Have a seat,” she pointed to me, “I’m going to have to wash it.”

  “Um, why do I need to sit down?” I asked. “Because I don’t need you fainting from the blood,” she grabbed supplies from the cabinet above her head.

  “Excuse me, but I just walked all the way across the school holding the blood in my hand,” I wanted to say in my defense, but I didn’t.

  “I’m not going to faint.” I said instead.

  Not that there’s anything wrong with people who faint at the sight of blood, it’s just I am not one of them. I really did just walk across the whole school to get to the nurse. I would think if I was going to faint dead away, it would have happened about five minutes ago.

  “Here, lean on me,” Steve said, and putting his arm around my waist, pulled me toward him. He left his hand on my waist to support me.

  Okay, now I was going to faint, but it had nothing to do with the blood. Well, maybe the blood that was rushing to my face and throughout my entire body as he held me. I wanted to just go limp and let him hold me up, but I couldn’t. What would he think of me if I did?

  “Oh, it’s not too bad. You’re lucky,” she said and thoroughly cleaned my finger.

  “Not too much damage, just a lot of blood,” she chuckled and put some kind of tape on my finger.

  “I’m putting Steri-strips across the cut. That should hold it for a little bit. I’m still going to wrap it in gauze to keep you from bumping it, okay?” She taped my index finger and middle finger together so that I couldn’t bend my damaged index finger.

  “Leave it wrapped like this for about two days. If it starts bleeding again or you think it’s infected, go see your doctor.” The nurse instructed.

  “Um, I have a question. I’m left handed and it’s going to be very hard to write like this. Can’t I just unwrap them tomorrow?” I held up my hand in a Vulcan type sign.

  “No, you have to leave it alone until the Steri- strips fall off. That way your finger won’t open up again. Talk to your teachers tomorrow. I’m sure they can give you a couple extra days to finish your schoolwork. If not, maybe someone can help you.” She put extra stress on the help and looked at Steve with her eyebrows raised.

  “I’ll try that,” I said.

  “Good girl,” she said and patted my shoulder as we left. “Be careful now; don’t let your mother panic over the bandages. It’s really not as bad as it looks,” she said.

  “Yes, I mean, no, it’s not too bad,” I said as Steve and I walked out of the office.

  “I’ll give you a ride home,” Steve said as we walked out of the nurse’s office.

  “Thanks, but I’m fine, really,” I reached for my backpack.

  “You don’t understand. I didn’t ask you; I am telling you. I’ll take you home.” He held my backpack out of my reach.

  “Fine,” I said exhausted. Since I already missed the bus and really, really didn’t want to call mom to come and get me, this seemed like an offer I couldn’t refuse.

  Not that it mattered what I thought, because Steve took my arm and practically dragged me to the parking lot. Normally I would be pretty angry that Steve was being so bossy. I had to wonder what was up with that? I figured he was just trying to be nice. It didn’t matter. I was tired, in pain, and would let it go this time. Pick your battles my mom always said.

  In the parking lot, Steve led me to a black pickup. I pictured him as a sports car type of guy. Not that that mattered. What kind of car he drove, that is. And not to stereotype, but the other jocks all had these little sports cars. They always raced them out of the parking lot after school.

  He opened the door for me, because I only had one hand, and he held my arm to help me in. Since I’m so short, I kind of had to jump to get into the truck and with one hand that was a little hard. Inside I shut my eyes and waited for him to walk around the truck. I heard his door open, close and then nothing. I opened my eyes and Steve stared at me. “What?” I asked.

  “You know, you don’t have to be like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “So darn stubborn,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?” I was confused because after all, I was sitting in his truck. I was letting him take me home, wasn’t I?

  “You, I don’t k
now, you just get so upset about everything? And then when someone wants to help you, you push them away,” he said.

  Okay, it’s true, he wanted to help me the night of the party and I was just a jerk. Now he was being nice enough to give me a ride home and I was acting like it was a major difficulty for me.

  But really, I was afraid. Not like scared, but just concerned about what he would think of me. I know it didn’t really make any sense, but nothing was really making sense to me lately. Right now, I just wanted to go home.

  “Whatever,” I faced forward.

  “See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. Why do you do that?”

  “Um, because I just smashed my finger in a drawer and it really hurts. I just want to go home?” I managed to say over the huge lump that was forming in my throat.

  That was the last thing I could say, because that lump in my throat made it too hard to talk anymore. I knew I would start to cry, and I so did not want to do that. Not now, not here, maybe later in my own room, away from him.

  “Fine.” Steve started the truck and took off.

  I didn’t know what to think about his sudden interest in how I handled my feelings. Apparently, he was done trying to analyze me, so the only thing I had to say was turn here, left here etc. until we finally got to my house.

  I reached for the door handle. “Wait,” Steve turned off the engine.

  I sat back into the seat and looked over at him. “You know, that first day you came for tutoring you were really, you know, sweet, maybe even a little shy.” He looked at me and seemed a little sad, but I wasn’t sure. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I listened, as intently as I could with the throbbing finger and all.

  “But ever since the whole thing with Driver’s Ed you’ve, I don’t know, changed. I mean normally I wouldn’t say anything but I think of you as my friend. I would think you would appreciate someone telling you this, but well I think you’re becoming, well, a snob.”

  Okay, maybe it was the pain from my finger or just plain exhaustion from the day, but did he just call me a snob? He couldn’t have. I must have misheard. I mean, I was the last person on earth who would be considered a snob. I mean the whole sing-song pack—now they are snobs with their fashionable clothes and perfect hair. They were the ones who looked down their noses at the rest of us. I mean, how could I be a snob? I was an ordinary!

  “Um, what?” I said, pretty sure he could hear the surprise in my voice, because I know I was. Surprised I mean.

  “Yeah, it’s like nothing anyone does, especially me, is good enough for you.” He handed me my backpack. “I just thought you should know.”

  “Um, thanks.” I grabbed my stuff and opened the door. Again, I thought, who does he think he is? Was I just going to stand there and let him talk that way to me? No.

  “I really appreciate your concern, but in the future, don’t concern yourself.”

  “Fine,” he said and started the truck.

  I slammed the door, which really hurt because I was so angry that I forgot about my smashed finger and shut the door with my left hand.

  The tires of his truck spun. He couldn’t leave fast enough. I stood in the street and stared at the spot where his truck had been.

  Me, a snob. Can you believe he had the nerve to call me a snob?

  Seriously?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I wish we could end world hunger and everyone could just get along with everyone else. Have a totally awesome summer!” — Abby Sullivan

  “What happened to you?” Stacy asked when I walked in.

  “Oh, cooking class,” I dropped my bag and headed upstairs.

  “What did you do blow up the kitchen? I knew you weren’t very domestic, but jeez. Maybe you should just stick to driving!” she hollered after me and laughed herself into hysterics.

  “Bite me!” I hollered back and slammed my bedroom door.

  That was the last thing I needed—my little sister making fun of me! I threw myself on the bed and winced as my finger hit the mattress.

  Then I cried. I cried for what seemed like forever. The tears just rolled uncontrollably down my face. A snob! Could I be?

  No. I was just trying to fit in. I never found being me so difficult before. I didn’t like to be treated like I couldn’t take care of myself. That doesn’t make me a snob, does it? I couldn’t think anymore; his words whirled around in my head.

  ****

  When I woke up, it was dark outside. I looked at the clock, seven-thirty p.m. Mom and Dad must have come home already and got an earful from Stacy. I looked at myself in the mirror. Great—damaged hand and puffy face; boy, I look wonderful! I went downstairs.

  Mom was in the den reading the paper when I came down.

  “Hi honey, are you okay?” she asked. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said.

  “Let me see your finger. Stacy said you had an accident. I checked on you earlier but you were asleep,” she patted the seat next to her on the couch.

  “Um, it’s really nothing; I just kind of smashed it.” I closed my eyes to fight back the tears.

  Mom unwrapped the gauze and turned my hand in hers.

  “It doesn’t look too bad,” she looked but didn’t touch. “It looks like you’re going to have a pretty nasty bruise though. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  She knew there was something more; I swear my mom has a sixth sense about these things.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, just tired,” I knew she didn’t believe me, but that’s something else she’s good at, knowing when to leave me alone and let me deal.

  “Okay, but if you need me, I’ll be up for a while,” she gave me a hug.

  I hugged her back. I thought about how nice it would be if I never had to let go. But I did. I missed dinner so I made a quick sandwich and headed back to my room. I had to at least try to study some Chemistry, but I had so many other thoughts that were overwhelming me. I mean, I am so going to fail my test, which would mean Steve is a bad tutor. I really didn’t want that to happen. But more importantly, the one guy, or should I say only guy, who shows any interest in me thinks I’m a snob, and I treat him like a jerk!

  Oh yeah, things were really looking up for me!

  I had no idea what to do, so I did the only thing I could think of.

  I called Jodi.

  “What am I going to do?” I asked after I spilled my guts.

  Of course, I called her; that is what best friends are for.

  Well, at least I hoped she was still my best friend, but lately I really wasn’t too sure.

  “Um, well to be honest with you, Kate, you have been acting a little snobbish,” Jodi said.

  Okay, what was this, get Kate Sterns day? This is not what best friends say. She was supposed to say ‘oh you are so not a snob’ and make me feel better; she wasn’t supposed to agree with him!

  “Don’t get mad, Kate. I mean, you don’t have lunch with us anymore, you hang out with snobby people, and you know their attitude is bound to rub off on you. It seems like you don’t belong with us anymore. And honestly, Kate, I’m not sure we want you with us either.”

  I felt like I just ran into a cement wall. I mean, sure everyone at school seemed to like me, but they were superficial. The real people, the ones who mattered, they liked me, or at least they used to like me, but not anymore.

  “Well, thank you so much for your opinion, but what I meant was, how am I going to pass this Chemistry test.” I tried to change the subject. I mean, if she had agreed with me, I would have discussed the matter further, but I didn’t need Jodi’s opinions. Not right now, anyway.

  “Um, Kate, what’s the big deal?” She asked.

  “What’s the big deal? I’ll tell you what the big deal is. Steve has been tutoring me for a week. If I don’t pass this test, I will fail Chemistry and Steve will look like a rotten tutor!”

  “Kate, you are getting way too upset about this. I mean it’s not like you’re the only one he’s tutoring. Just because you don’t do we
ll on the test, doesn’t make him a bad tutor; it just makes you a bad student,” Jodi said.

  “It’s just; well I don’t want him to think he’s a failure as a tutor.” At least I didn’t want to be the one responsible for it, jeez, did I have to spell it out for her. Am I the only one who could see how damaging this could be to his self esteem?

  Wait, why did I care about his self-esteem after what he just did to mine? Oh yeah, because I am not a mean, vindictive person, that’s why.

  “Well, if your only concern is whether or not he believes he’s a failure, well then I guess that is up to you,” she said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, just a little angry because I mean why is it up to me? Why is everything coming back to be my fault?

  “Um, Kate, he’s tutoring you. If you do well, then he isn’t a failure, get it?” She said. “Well, duh, I know that.”

  “Kate, if you really want something to worry about, why don’t you worry about what’s going to happen to you if you don’t do well on the test,” she said.

  Leave it to Jodi to be the voice of reason. Which I may add was something I really didn’t need right now!

  “You’re right,” I said, but didn’t mean it. “I have to go, you know, study. Thanks for all your help.” I hung up the phone and thought she was really no help at all.

  I would have to handle this myself and after I thought about it for a little bit, I realized Jodi was right. Apparently Steve was right, too, but since I have known him like a week, and Jodi practically my whole life, her opinion held more weight with me.

  Even though I totally didn’t want to believe I was acting like a snob, facts were facts. I hadn’t spent much time with her and the guys, and I would take care of it tomorrow, or at least try.