Outcast

by Susan Oloier

  She swung her legs off the bed, assuming a defensive stance.

  “All right. You want advice? Call him. Find out if he’s still interested. If he’s happy with the other girl, then you know he doesn’t want to be with you anymore. And for the record, you rejected him. Guys don’t take too kindly to that.”

  Had she been delving into the self-help books? Watching Oprah? I wanted tangible advice. Advice that I could use to gain instant results. Call him and find out is not what I was looking for. But I took what she gave to me. She refused to offer anything else.

  I sat by the phone, picking it up every few minutes. After the first five numbers, I hung up. I wasn’t even gutsy enough to let it ring. I wanted to call him, but maybe he and Trina were in love now. Stranger things had been known to happen.

  Maybe if I knew what I planned to say to him, it would be easier. I pulled out Aunt P’s journal and scribbled in it. I imagined dialogue between Chad and me, but my thoughts quickly turned to Trina and how much I truly disliked her. My entry became an ode to my hatred for her. I penned evil thoughts about rubbing her in fish parts and throwing her in a room with a thousand rabid cats; about force-feeding a bucketful of earthworms to her, freshly pulled from the rain-drenched ground, the smell of the moistened dirt emanating from their slimy bodies. Pretty soon I would fill my entire journal with vengeful thoughts toward Trina. But that would never change anything. She would still remain happy and in the arms of Chad, and I would be alone with my journal. I had to do something.

  Over the summer, Grace was totally occupied with Henry. The date I thought would only last through the Spring Fling turned into an actual relationship. Grace relished having a boyfriend. She told me every little thing that happened between them:

  “Henry told me I have nice fingernails.”

  “Henry held my hand when we went to the movies.”

  “Henry says I have the neatest handwriting he’s ever seen.”

  Henry, Henry, Henry. It’s all I ever heard from her. It wasn’t exactly romance to me, but it certainly was to Grace. She wanted to share her happiness. It was depressing. I didn’t have anyone. It seemed like everyone I knew had somebody. Everyone but me.

  When Grace finally finished filling me in on all the details I missed while I was away in Florida, she immediately moved to the next hottest topic on her agenda.

  “Mike’s been asking about you.”

  “You said you’d clear things up with him.” Anxiety settled into my voice.

  “I thought you were kidding.”

  “No.”

  She manipulated the whole situation with Mike, wanting me to have a boyfriend at the same time she did. That would have been fine if the guy was someone I was actually interested in, but not when it was Mike.

  “Maybe—”

  “No.” I didn’t give her an opportunity to finish. “I’d rather be alone.”

  I tried again. I progressed to dialing the entire number and letting it ring. A woman answered a couple of times—probably his mother—but I always hung up. I wished I hadn’t burned my bridges with Aunt P. I definitely needed better advice than call and find out.

  Henry went to Flagstaff for a weekend in July with his family, so Grace and I went to Big Surf Waterpark in Tempe. It was the closest thing to a beach that the desert had to offer. I wore the forbidden bikini under my shorts and T-shirt and headed to Grace’s house. We planned to take the bus. We waited under the scorching sun, sweat dripping from our pores like melting candle wax.

  A red Honda spun around the corner, then made a U-turn in front of us. It stopped across the street, and the tinted window rolled down. Jake craned his neck out of the driver’s side and whistled.

  “Where you two headed?”

  Grace pranced to the idling car. “Big Surf.”

  My heart pounded. Then I spotted Mike observing me from his position in the passenger’s seat. I took a sudden and intense interest in the advertisement plastered against the bus stop side paneling.

  “Jake’s giving us a ride.”

  I remained motionless.

  “Come on, Noelle.” Mike tried to entice me over.

  I picked up my beach bag, dragged myself over, and crawled in. The smell of cigarettes and aftershave wafted from the Honda’s interior like incense from a burning wick. Jake looked good, and being near him made my palms sweat. I pretended he was someone other than who he really was: the troll in the picture book of The Three Billy Goats Gruff, the man who works in the pharmacy at the Walgreens who has a nose hair problem, or the news anchor on Channel 10 who looks like his face and hair are made of plastic. It made the ride with him easier if I believed he was someone else.

  Mike grinned at me as though we shared a secret that no one else knew.

  “How are you, Noelle?” The sound of Jake’s voice sucked me in like an undercurrent.

  “Okay.” I swallowed hard.

  Grace chattered nonstop. I watched Jake’s eyes in the rear-view mirror as he studied the line of traffic out the back window. They brushed across me briefly then returned to the road ahead. I just happened to be in his line of vision like he happened to be in mine.

  I thought the two of them were going to drop us off at Big Surf then head their own way. They didn’t. Mike coerced Jake into going with us.

  As we swung toward their apartment so they could pick up their beach things, we passed a broken-down car along the shoulder. A lone woman crouched by the tire, sweating at the road side.

  “Maybe we should stop and help,” I said, my eyes following the desperate woman and her vehicle.

  “Right,” Jake said. “It’s like 110 degrees outside. Besides, I’m done playing the Good Samaritan.”

  “Someone else will come and help her,” Grace said, touching my arm as if that made up for it all.

  What if Grace had thought the same of me when she found me cornered by Jerry Searfus? Would someone else have come along for me? Or would my life be markedly different because of her indifference?

  “Besides,” Grace continued, “I’m anxious to get to the beach. Aren’t you?”

  I definitely wasn’t. What was supposed to be a relaxing day catching up with my best friend turned into one of frazzled nerves, the kind you get when you have to go to the dentist’s office for a root canal. Plus, I felt unsettled. This was not the same Grace I once knew, completely oblivious to everyone’s feelings but her own. I studied her and wondered where that person was.

  When we arrived, we marked a spot for ourselves on the man-made beach, and the three of them quickly stripped down to their bathing suits. Grace’s was a conservative tankini. I didn’t know what I was thinking by putting on the bikini Becca bought for me. I was reluctant to take my clothes off. It was one thing to wear it in front of complete strangers, but it was totally different to wear it in front of Mike and Jake. The last thing I needed was to have my body scrutinized by either of them.

  “We’ll be back. We’re going to rent boogie boards.”

  I watched Jake, tan and muscular in his trunks and no shirt, head with Mike toward the cabanas.

  The water park was moderately crowded. Heads bobbed in and out of the waves. Everyone awaited the next big swell.

  “Aren’t you going to undress?” Grace questioned me.

  The word made me cringe. Undress encompassed, “Why don’t you undress? The doctor will be in to see you in a moment,” or, “I think I’ll undress now and take a shower.” The director tells the actor to undress before she does her nude scene. Undress means “get naked,” which is how I felt once I took off my shorts and T-shirt.

  “Where did you get that bathing suit?” Her declaration made me feel even more self-conscious, if that was possible.

  “Florida. Becca bought it for me. Do you think it’s too … slutty?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just that I never saw you wear anything like that before. I took you for the one-piece type.”

  “Maybe I should put my T-shirt back on.” I grabbed for it,
covering the pushed up cleavage it created at the center of my chest.

  “If you have it, you should show it off. Right?” I sensed something in her words. Jealousy? Or was it over protectiveness? “Just…”

  “What?” I asked her.

  “Nothing.”

  I wondered if Grace was thinking back to the seventh grade.

  Then seriousness dissolved. “Maybe I should get one of those,” she said, pretending not to evaluate her chest as she massaged suntan lotion on it. “Besides, I bet Mike will really like it.”

  That’s what I was afraid of.

  He and Jake returned with two boogie boards and a tray filled with soda that sloshed over the sides of the cups. They set everything down near us. Mike eyed me and raised his eyebrows.

  “Nice suit!”

  Jake’s reflex reaction to Mike’s words kicked in, and he looked at me, too. He quickly averted his eyes, perhaps realizing he shouldn’t be staring at his sister’s friend in a state of undress.

  I felt thankful for the sun for hiding my reddened cheeks.

  “So who wants to play in the waves?” Jake asked.

  Grace and I looked at one another and shrugged a why not? Then all four of us headed for the water. Modesty pushed its way to the forefront, forcing me to cross my arms over my chest. Once my body was adequately hidden in the water, I felt comfortable again.

  “How come you didn’t get four boards?” Grace asked.

  “I thought we could share.”

  I figured the two of them conspired at the concession stand. Mike probably concocted the plan so that he and I would be forced together again. He definitely wasn’t making progress any other way. But Grace could see my feelings written out in the air like a thought bubble from a comic strip.

  “I’ll share Mike’s.” She was remembering Jerry Searfus and protecting me again.

  I smiled gratefully. But now I was with Jake. I talked myself through it. I can do this. He is just my best friend’s older brother. He means nothing to me. He has a girlfriend, and you’re interested in someone else. But the other side of my head, the less rational one, the one that was easily influenced by a pair of blue eyes, a few muscles, and a smile, took over. No matter how much you try to deny it, he’s incredibly good-looking and sexy. All you have to do is look at him. The only thing I could do to save myself was to direct my gaze somewhere else.

  “You know what? I really don’t want to use the boogie board,” I lied. “I think I’ll just play in the waves.”

  “Come on,” he beckoned. Why couldn’t he have yellow smoker’s teeth when he smiled or beady rat eyes? Why did he have to be so ridiculously good-looking?

  I splashed my way over to him while reminding myself that he was just being brotherly. The trouble was, I didn’t feel all that sisterly.

  The sound of the artificially-generated wave rose from where the horizon would be.

  “Ready?” Jake smiled.

  All four of us started paddling toward the shore. The water erupted into a miniature tsunami. It exploded, and the force of the wave rode up under us. I felt my bikini top jump over my breasts like it was searching for a life preserver. I tried to pull it back down while still clinging to the board. I was afraid that I would throw Jake off balance if I let go to adjust my top. As the water diminished to mere ripples, I struggled to secure my top back in place. But as the machine sucked the water back for the next big production, I stood fully exposed. I knew I hadn’t tucked myself back in time. Jake saw my breasts. I knew it. And I was sure he wasn’t the only one. I was too ashamed to look around to see who benefited from my embarrassment.

  I made my way back to our little spot on the beach and hid under my T-shirt and the shade of my sunglasses. I heard Jake calling to me, but pretended not to notice. The rest of the day I refused to set foot back in the water. No one mentioned anything about my humiliation, but I knew they were aware of it. At least Jake knew, and he was really the only one who mattered.

  At home, I raced to my bedroom, still mortified at losing my top at Big Surf. I tore the bathing suit off of me and stood in the mirror examining my breasts to see what Jake saw. They were small. He was probably having a good laugh right now. I should have worn my water-park-friendly suit. Grace was right: I was a one-piece type. I didn’t know what I was thinking by wearing the bikini. Who was I trying to impress? Instead of feeling attractive like I did in Florida, I felt like a joke. I was the little girl who played dress-up in her mother’s bikini.

  I slipped into shorts and a T-shirt and tossed the bikini into the garbage. Even if I eventually had the body to pull it off, it would always be a reminder of the shame I felt at Big Surf.

  I flipped through a few pictures in my art book, then picked up the phone and dialed. I paused after the first five numbers, not sure if I could continue. I punched the final two without dwelling on what to say. If I did, I knew I’d set down the receiver before a connection could ever be made.

  One ring. Two. A male voice answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Chad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s Noelle.”

  We met at Chaparral Park. Chad sat on a bench near one of the exercise challenge stations. He smiled and stood when he saw me. Dewdrops of sweat glistened on his face. His skin was tanned. Visions of Trina and him frolicking at Big Surf splashed through my mind. I drained them from my thoughts.

  “You look good,” was all I thought to say to him.

  “You, too.”

  Now that he was here, I didn’t know what to say.

  “So what’s wrong?” He seemed a little more to the point than I wanted him to be.

  My eyes wandered the circumference of the park, hoping to find a reasonable excuse for inviting him. Very little activity took place on the smoldering hundred twelve-degree day. A few ducks waded in the pond, a girl on roller blades spun lethargic circles around the path, and two boys dipped their fishing poles into the water. I looked back at Chad, still not knowing what to say. He waited patiently for me to utter something.

  “Why’d you come?” It was a question I really wanted answered.

  “Because you asked me to.”

  I inched down on the bench. It was in the shade, but the temperature still felt like the inside of a heated oven. Chad eased back down beside me. If our conversation had been a game of chess, it was my turn and the timer was running. I wanted to ask him about Trina; about us. If there still could be an us. Instead, I remained mute.

  “You don’t really have a problem you want to talk to me about. Do you?”

  Checkmate. He found me out and I was open to complete annihilation. In retrospect, he probably knew all along.

  “I did. I mean, it wasn’t a problem…” I couldn’t lie. “I was upset about someone…”

  “A guy?” He interrupted me.

  “Yes. No.” I thought about Jake and the bikini top. I considered telling him about it when it occurred to me how trivial the whole thing sounded. The reason I called Chad and asked to see him was because I wanted another chance. I skirted around the issue. I couldn’t drum up the courage to blurt it out.

  “I wanted to see you because I made a mistake.”

  “With the guy?”

  “Yes, the guy.”

  “He must be pretty special.”

  “He is.” I swabbed the perspiration from my forehead. It wasn’t just the heat anymore.

  “What happened?”

  I organized in my head the words I wanted to say, but Chad interrupted them with his prompting. “You said you made a mistake.”

  “I did.” I faced him, and his walnut eyes met mine. “I pushed him away when I shouldn’t have.”

  “Can’t you call him and tell him how you feel?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “He’s here right now.”

  “Noelle…” He turned toward me, acting more candid than I wanted him to be.

  “I know. It’s too late.” I said it before
he had the chance.

  “I’m dating someone now.”

  “Trina.” I emitted a heavy sigh and rolled my eyes. “Why her? Out of everyone in the entire school, why did you have to pick her?”

  “I didn’t.” He became defensive. “I picked you.”

  “But Trina?”

  “That’s not fair, Noelle. And you know it. You pushed me away.”

  Our voices grew louder with each sentence we spoke. I waited for the skater to pass then unleashed a torrent of emotions on him. “I told you. I didn’t want to hurt Grace.”

  “And now you don’t mind hurting her?”

  “She has a boyfriend now. She’s over you.” I felt defeated, frustrated. “But I’m not.” I looked everywhere but at him. I stood and headed down the pathway to where I thought I could catch the bus home. Just like the moment I lost my bikini top, I revealed too much of myself.

  “Noelle, don’t walk away.”

  He caught up with me, grabbed hold of my elbow, and prevented me from continuing down the path.

  “I don’t want you to leave. Not with all this…” he gestured to himself then to me, “…between us.”

  “Us? There is no us. You just made that perfectly clear.”

  I jerked my arm free from his. I disliked him touching me, trying to exercise control over me. I wanted the conversation to end. I played my feelings out for him like a reel of film, and now they all lay out on the cutting room floor.

  “Tell Trina I said hi,” I yelled sarcastically as I stormed for the bus stop.

  Twelve

  Summer shuffled by like an elderly man. Despite the heat, I jogged. It was a ritual, a good way to vent my frustrations without talking to anyone about them. I went to mass every week as promised. My mother seemed thrilled. In a sense, I looked forward to the start of the school year in August. But when it finally arrived, I dreaded that I had to go. Nothing seemed to make me happy.

  Junior year. Becca’s senior year. For someone who was entering her final phase of high school, Becca seemed less than happy. Ever since Florida, she’d been acting moody and unpredictable. Any of the relics from our two weeks of camaraderie in Smyrna Beach were now buried by time. She was difficult to be around.