“Let’s see if Lola has the ability to get her hands dirty in the kitchen instead of out there on the dirt,” Beth smirks and faces away from me. The other girls are giggling at her comment when they abruptly stop.
Mark’s cousin just walked through the door and is looking around to take a seat. He makes his way toward me and occupies the seat next to me. The girls have now switched from laughing at me to swooning over him. He is just about to say something to me when Mrs. Rose walks in.
“Hello students. I know some of you will think this class is going to be easy. However, this class actually requires a lot of work and demands a lot of attention. Be prepared to put in the effort and I won’t fail you,” she says.
It’s last period and my mind keeps drifting off task, anxious to get out of school to head over to the track. I finally look up at my watch, dreading to see the time, but to my surprise, the bell is about to ring. I feel a smile break across my face. I close my notebook and stuff it in my bag. As soon as the bell rings, I’m out of my chair heading right out the door.
The sky is gray, cloudy, and I hear thunder coming from a distance. I know Jack won’t let me ride in this weather. My mood suddenly changes, disappointment replacing excitement. I jump into my Jeep and sit in the silence of the enclosed space. I see the raindrops on my windshield, then without warning, the rain comes down hard and fast. A sense of comfort overwhelms me with the sound of rain and gloominess of the sky. Gray skies always emit that feeling for me. I sit in my car looking at everyone running to their cars, trying to escape the rain. Then I see him, walking to his car. It looks like someone hit a fast forward button but he’s the only one moving in slow motion. Causally walking to his car, he doesn’t avoid the water falling on him. He runs his hands through his hair. He places his backpack in his car, closes the door, and leans against the red frame. Mark must have called for him, because he turns his direction. Mark is running hurriedly, getting into the car as his cousin places his hands on the hood and takes in the rain. He’s there for a moment, taking in the rain and thunder. He gets into his car and drives off. The mystery of this man grows inside of me; who is he?
I turn my ignition and head home. I hear my phone chime as I arrive at home; Dion will be here in an hour. I step out of my car and attempt to stand in the rain, but my initial reaction is to escape from it, and I run inside. I shake the mystery of him off and head upstairs to change. Dion will arrive soon and he waits for no one. He’s the best ballet instructor in the state and he has been my coach since I was six. His expectations of me are high. He pushes me to my limit and at times breaks me down to tears, but as much as I can hate him at times, I love him even more for getting me to where I am today.
I step into the dance room and pull open all the drapes of the oversized glass windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling. I stare out into the gray skies, the sound of the raindrops hitting the window echoing in my ear, the silhouette of that man standing in the rain invading my mind. I search for “Skinny Love” by Birdy on my iPod playlist and hit play and repeat. I sit by the window and begin to stretch; I need to clear my mind. Distractions are not allowed when Dion is instructing. My focus needs to be here on the dance floor, but the more I try to focus, the less successful I am. I hear Dion step in and shut the door.
“Up, up, up my little swan,” he says to me, clapping his hands. I quickly stand in first position in front of the large mirrors that cover the entire wall.
“You know the routine. Let’s do stretches and then we can freestyle,” he says to me as I place a leg on the bar. A gazillion stretches later, I can finally enjoy the music. I dance through the entire two hours of practice. Even though Dion yells throughout most of the session to correct my technique, it is just what I needed. He stops the music, my feet following, and he walks over to me. My chest is heaving and my muscles are burning. He looks right at me and shakes his head.
“Lola, Lola, Lola, how many times have I told you absolutely no distractions on the dance floor? Your feet were sloppy, your posture poor, and your beat off,” he scolds, his tone stern and firm. I want to walk around to ease my cramping muscles but he will have my ass if I break away from him, so I kick my legs behind me one at a time and rest my hands on my hips.
“It was the first day of school and I have so much on my mind that I tried to-” He cuts me off before I can even finish what I’m saying.
“You wasted my time, Lola. I don’t care what else is going on in your world. This! This right here is what I care about!” I see disappointment in his face as he grabs his bag and yells, “Don’t let there be a next time!” He leaves, closing the door behind him. I walk around to catch my breath and ease my cramping muscles. I don’t stay in the dance room long. I rush right out to take a hot bath.
I’m walking out of the bathroom drying my hair with a towel when I hear Brian and Nolan’s voices echoing from my bedroom. I rush into my room, relieved to see them. Brian stands and hugs me, placing a kiss on my cheek, while Nolan just sits there.
“School sucks big balls.” I hate that I don’t have any classes with the boys.
“Don’t worry, Lo, I’m gonna try and bribe Mrs. Cleary so we can have the same schedule,” Nolan says with a smirk.
“Good luck! She is being tough this year. She’s giving me a hard time dropping out of Home Ec.”
Brian pulls me close to him and kisses my forehead. It’s past my dinnertime and I hear my stomach growling.
“That’s our sign to get out of here. We just wanted to stop by and see you. I missed you today.” Brian holds me a little tighter as he says those words.
“I missed you both too.” We went from seeing each other almost every day to suddenly only at lunch. As this school year progresses we will have fewer moments together, less time to talk, less time to share. With dance, football, and baseball practice, not to mention my time at the track, our time will be very limited.
“Ok, we better get out of here. I love you, babe. See you tomorrow.” Nolan stands, giving me a quick kiss on my lips.
“I love you,” Brian whispers in my ear.
“Love you.” Loneliness takes over as they leave. I hear the roar of Nolan’s truck sounding further and further away.
I no longer feel hungry, exhaustion replacing it. I lie down and close my eyes. I hear footsteps in my room. My eyes feel heavy and my body paralyzed; I am unable to respond to anything. I feel my Abuelita cover my body with my comforter and kiss my forehead.
“Mi preciosa niña, true love will dance into your heart one day, it can cramp up with every beat or burn with each breath but it’s up to you to take the risk and make yourself vulnerable.” She turns off my lamp and shuts my door behind her. Her words reverberate in my head, her soft voice repeating them. I take in her message, but I am too exhausted to analyze it. My body and mind succumb to the darkness.
A week has flown by, and I still can’t get out of Home Economics. Grr. I hate that class. When the teacher isn’t talking about quantities of measurements, the stupid girls are all fawning over Luka like they have never seen a guy before.
So here I am now, in fourth period history. Mr. Mann is discussing some war or another, when something my grandma said this morning strikes me.
“Make sure you open your eyes to the world before you fall off it.” She is always saying things that have hidden meanings. Like I have time to figure them out, or something.
Today I actually acknowledge the message, because as I sit here I realize that if I had been paying attention the past week, I would have noticed that I have come to know the backpack next to mine. I have seen it constantly throughout the last several days, my subconscious recognizing it. The logo of the fox face is unmistakable. I don’t have to follow the jean-clad legs to know whom it belongs to. Really? A whole week and I didn’t know that Luka had history fourth period, too? I look up to his face and I notice that he is looking at me with a smile on his face. It’s odd, since no one smiles at me, I mean ever. If I weren’t
a friend of the boys, I would be considered an outcast.
“Hi,” he mouths as he tosses his hair to the side, making me look into his black shiny irises.
I try to smile a non-creepy smile, which I tend to do when I’m nervous. I’m about to say hi back when the bell rings. I gather my things to put away. I turn again to see him, but his attention has already been snatched by another girl asking him to have lunch at her table.
I rush out of there. I don’t need to worry about another boy when I’m already juggling two. I make my way to the patio. Once there, I glance at the table where I have my lunch, because I take no part in anything else going on. It’s the table in the middle of the quad, popular central. We have the jocks and, unfortunately for me, that means pesky cheerleaders and their annoying friends. In the center of the quad are Brian and Nolan, the heads of the in crowd. I walk over with my lunch plate just in time to hear the meatheads trying to pump each other up.
“First game of the season is today. Are we winning or are we winning!” This from jock number one.
“Fuck yeah, we are. We are going to crush them!” jock number two joins in.
“We are the motherfucking shit!” jock number three proclaims. I do know their actual names seeing as we all grew up together, but they all sound the same.
I get that they have team spirit and all, but do they have to talk football like every day? It starts on Monday with practice runs, then Tuesdays they discuss strategies they are going to use to beat the opposing team on Friday. On Wednesdays, they watch the opposing team video review, and Thursdays are pep rallies. Fridays are game days. It’s the cycle that never ends, because once football is done, then we have baseball, and that goes about the same. Maybe I would be the same if anyone I knew cared about motocross or ballet like I did, but alas, I’m solo. I put my headphones in, and I am as invisible to them as they are to me. I only sit here because Nolan and Brian will not let me sit anywhere else.
I feel an intense gaze on me as I sit on my section of the picnic table. I still feel the gaze as I eat my lunch. I don’t want to look up. I don’t want to acknowledge whose gaze is on me. I take out my phone to watch the review of my last dance session. Dion has always liked to video tape me dancing, so I cannot only see my mistakes but also recognize my strengths. I am reviewing the one I had at the beginning of the week. No wonder Dion left in a hissy fit. I look like an amateur. My legs and arms are all over the place, there is no discipline or structure, and my back looks like a hunchback. I am totally not in the zone. I can’t afford to look this sloppy. I have to turn in my videotape in two months to see if I can get a live audition.
As I gather my things, I finally look up Luka is looking straight at me. I glance back down to finish getting all my things and walk to my next class. I can feel him walking behind me as I go into the classroom.
I sit in my chair and three chairs to my left Luka takes a seat. Really fucking great, I have three classes with him. How did I not realize this?
Literature passes in a blur. I can take notes in my sleep. I have to talk to the guys about my feelings, even though I know they hate when I go all girl on them. I feel my phone vibrate. I look up to the front of the class just to make sure the teacher is not looking my way as I slowly retrieve my phone from my pocket.
The Golden Tripod group text:
Nolan: Yo, Lolita. Going to the party 2nite?
Me: When do I ever?
Brian: It’s our last year Lolita, let’s go. We need to make memories.
Me: No! I have lots of memories with you guys already. Besides, why would I go to a party if nobody cares whether I go or not?
Nolan: Are you at least going to the game?
Me: When have I ever missed one?
Nolan: NEVER!!!
Me: Exactly. Bring it home Tiger.
Nolan: Only if you are my lamb.
Brian: That was a wolf, Nol.
Nolan: What was a wolf?
Brian: The metaphor was a wolf and a lamb. Not a tiger.
Nolan: The meta what? I have no idea what you are talking about, bro. All I want to know is if Lola is coming to the party.
Lolita: lol. Nope, just game for me.
Nolan: Lola, I need to release some stress. ;)
Lolita: Buy a stress ball.
A smile plays on my lips as I put my phone away. How can I let go of these two? I love them to death. I have the best of both worlds: I can find the spontaneous in Nolan while Brian is the sweetheart. There is no pressure, no expectation. I have neither tried to get a guy’s attention nor flirted with one before. Wait, now that I think about it, I have never been asked out. Am I that ugly?
Me: Hey, am I ugly?
Nolan: No
Brian: No. Why, Sweet Cheeks?
Me: Brian, I will hurt you if you call me that again.
Brian: But you were soo cute with your bubble cheeks when you were small.
Me: Grr. Stop, just answer the fucking question.
Nolan: We did.
Me: Then why has no guy ever asked me out?
Class finishes and I once again pick up all my stuff and head out. I don’t have any other messages as I make my way to Anatomy and Physiology. I am looking at my phone to see if any of the guys have responded to my message as I make my way down the row to my seat. As, I pass the desks, I see the same fox face backpack on the floor.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I say to myself with a groan.
“No.” Okay, not to myself then. I look toward Luka who is already sitting down at his desk.
“Are you like stalking me? We have like four classes together-”
“Eight. Maybe you are stalking me,” he interrupts me with a smirk on his face.
“Eight what?” I ask, confused as to what he is saying.
“We have eight classes together.”
“What? No, that is not possible, because that would mean that we share every class, and that is not allowed. Why would I stalk you? I don’t even know you.” I look at him, confused. As I’m speaking, he turns fully toward me and is now pointing at his body like ‘look how hot I am, how could you not want this?’
“Yes, the great mysteries of the universe. Besides, I can’t believe you have not realized it already seeing as we have been here for almost two weeks. Did you fall on your head while you were twirling around?”
“Fuck you.” Did I mention that I curse a lot? Hazard of having boys as my friends. I have no filter, and I never hold back. Hey, how does he know I’m a dancer?
“I know a woman’s body,” he says, reading my mind and looking down my body making me blush. I glare at him. Jerk. I need to go to the office and talk to Mrs. Cleary; I know that old woman and my grandmother have something going on.
I hate that I have to share my time with him here at school too. I got a message from Jack last night telling me that I can go to the track if I want, but all his attention is going to be on his nephew, due to Luka wanting to go pro, and since motocross is just my hobby then I should understand. I broke a few pencils last night during my hissy fit. I hate sharing my hills. I grew up riding that track. Yes, motocross has become second to my dancing now that I decided to go join a ballet company, but I hate sharing. Yes, I’m a brat, or more like I have a severe case of only child syndrome.
I skip my last period to go to the office. I need answers.
“What do you mean you don’t know what happened? You make the schedules?” I yell at Mrs. Cleary, losing my temper.
“Lola, sweetie you need to calm down. I already told you that the computer generates the schedules. I just print them and send them out.” She states as she calmly continues to do whatever the hell she does. Does she not realize how not okay this is?
“So the computer just magically made two class schedules identical? You honestly want me to believe that.”
“What can I tell you, that’s the magic of technology,” is her reply.
“But I don’t like him. Why can’t you change his schedule then, he doesn
’t look smart enough anyway to have AP courses.”
“Lola, learn to play nice. I’m sorry but schedules stay as is until the spring,” she says sternly. Well that was a total bust. I know that somehow, some way, they did this on purpose.
Old Ladies: 2, Lola: 0.
This is gonna feel fucking awesome being on the track. I need to get my shit together and focus, really focus out on the track. I walk toward the back of the shop and I can hear the roaring of a dirt bike going. Good, hopefully I can meet some guys I can hang out with and talk to. Everyone here is all into football. I haven’t met anyone that is as interested in motocross as me. As I approach the track, I see the bike and rider land on the dirt after a jump. The shiny black bike glistens in the sun. The rider is wearing no color but black.
I see the bike take off and aim for the ramp off to the side. He goes into a 360 flip and lands with grace. I see it take off again, hitting the hill, and he lets go of the bike in a cliffhanger move. Wow. With that extension and height, he is pretty awesome. The landings are so graceful, the whole run is like a dance. The precision of each jump is flawless and he makes zero mistakes. I’m getting nervous just watching him take each hill like he and his bike are one. The bike molds to his commands. I wonder why my uncle hasn’t made him go pro. I bet he would win gold.
“Beautiful, huh?” I hear my uncle say next to me. I have no idea when he showed up. I was too caught up in the show in front of me to hear him.
“He is good. How come he hasn’t gone pro? I bet he could win gold.”
“That is not an option for the kid.”
“Parents are not on board to join the circuit?”
“Let’s just say they feel this is not something the kid should be doing. Come on, let’s go introduce my two favorite riders.”
We walk closer to the track as the kid is pulling another back flip. I see my uncle motioning him to bring it in. So I am finally going to meet Cole. My uncle said he went to my school, but I never saw anyone that might look interested in dirt.
Dirty Chaos Page 4