Smile for Me (A Young Adult Romance)

by T. J. Dell

  “Hey—are they giving out extra credit this year for drama club?” Dave asks when I slump into the seat next to him.

  “No, why?”

  “Wel I can’t think of any other reason The Professor would be here.” Sure enough just past where Dave is pointing I can see Kim Penney sitting by herself in the front row completely engrossed in a smal paperback book.

  What is she doing here? Kim is not what you would cal a joiner. I don’t even think I have ever seen her at a school dance . This thought of course conjures up images of Kim in a fancy dress. A short fancy dress. Thoughts of her dancing in a short skirt, of course, chase away al my earlier irritation with her and her notebooks.

  “Maybe she’s decided to loosen up a little bit and have some fun this year.”

  Dave snorts. That is his entire answer. A snort that says both ‘ no that couldn’t possibly be it’, and ‘ you poor fool, you have got to get over her’ at the same time. Dave is a very accomplished snorter.

  “Maybe I should go find out.”

  “Find out what?” Dave seems to have already forgotten what we are talking about.

  “Find out what she’s doing here.”

  “Dude. What is it with you and The Professor anyway? You could have any girl in school. Claire Haines is practicaly drooling over you every day in math class and you would rather waste your time on a chick you don’t even like half the time? Who also, I might add, doesn’t even acknowledge your existence.”

  “Claire is practicaly a cardboard cutout.” Dave keeps staring at me looking confused. “You know—she is without depth.” This is very true. Claire is like the any popular girl in a low budget after school special: super sexy, lots of confidence, and boring as hel.

  “Have you seen Claire Haines? Popularity is completely wasted on you.”

  At this point I decide to stop listening to Dave. So I walk over to Kim.

  “Is this seat taken?” That sounded so much cooler in my head. Kim is staring at me like maybe I am one of the special needs kids. “That sounded cooler in my head.” I go ahead and sit down trying to charm her into smiling. Kim never smiles. Not realy—maybe a self-satisfied smirk when a teacher hands back an assignment or a polite turn up of her mouth when she’s speaking with someone—but never a real smile. Sometimes I dream of making Kim’s whole face light up with a real honest-to-goodness smile. A smile that is just for me.

  “Did you want something?” Kim is stil staring. I have got to start paying more attention to what’s going on in the real world.

  “I was actualy wondering what you wanted.” She just raises an eyebrow at me. “You’ve never seemed interested in theater before.” Stil nothing. “You know these things aren’t graded right?” I’m instantly sorry for teasing her. Realy, I am not usualy a bad guy. What is it about her that gets under my skin this way?

  Instead of no response now she has turned back to her book and is openly ignoring me. I probably deserve it.

  “Is that why you find it so appealing?” Kim speaks up just as I am about to slink back to Dave. Her eyes are stil trained intently on her book, but she is definitely waiting for me to respond.

  “Maybe.” I offer her my widest grin. “What are you reading?” I tap one finger against her book.

  “I’m preparing.” She uncurls the book and holds it up for me to see the cover. Much Ado About Nothing.

  “That won’t help much. Shakespeare needs to be seen on stage, and anyway Mr. Patterson is adapting the whole thing to high school setting. I doubt there’l be much of the original left when he’s done with his butcher job.”

  Kim turns her head to meet my eyes. Before I can gauge her impression of me or my comment Mr. Patterson clears his throat and hops onto the stage.

  Patterson is new this year.

  Our old drama teacher, Miss Channing, left at the end of last year to get married. Miss Channing was great. We always had realy great productions and a couple of times she was able to attract scouts from performing arts schools. So far my impression of Patterson is not promising. He spends a lot of his class time just chatting with us, like he’s our buddy. Most of the kids think that’s great. But unlike them, I am not in Drama class for an easy A. I would realy like a shot at making a career in this industry and I don’t particularly think his watered down take on The Bard’s work is going to help get me there.

  “Good turn out!” He is smiling broadly as he takes in the size of the crowd. There are only about two thirds as many people here as there were for last Spring’s production. “Alright, wel today we are just going to go over the scheduling and try and get al that dry technical stuff out of the way. Try-outs wil be next week.” I can’t help slumping down in my chair and roling my eyes. Dry technical stuff? Kim is sitting upright with a pen and memo pad. Where did she get a memo pad that quickly?

  When the meeting is over Kim closes her memo pad. I swear she took three pages of notes in the last 30 minutes. Here’s what Patterson said: 1. We are remaking Much Ado About Nothing (don’t worry we are going to make it fun.) I managed to restrain myself from pointing out that Shakespeare did a pretty good job of making it fun in the first place.

  2. Tryouts wil be held next Tuesday and Wednesday after school and you wil need a monologue and a song.

  That’s al there realy was to this whole meeting. What the crap was she scribbling about? Would it be too much to hope that she was alternating between practicing signing Mrs . Marshall Henries and Mrs. Kimberly Henries? I would even settle for a Mrs. Kimberly Penney-Henries. I’m a modern kind of guy after al.

  “Can you wake up? You are on my backpack.” Kim is tugging on a blue canvas strap. I look down and see that I my shoe is indeed pinning the other strap to the floor. I swear I am usualy smoother than this.

  “I wasn’t asleep, Kim.” I try to defend myself as I pick up her backpack.

  “You weren’t paying attention. Are you planning on trying out? If you want I can tel you what you missed during your nap.” I swear to you she said this with a serious face. Kim Penney is offering me advice on theater. I have been in every production since my freshmen year.

  “I always try out. And I heard every word he said—I just don’t need to write everything down.”

  “Wait! Where are you going? That’s my bag.” She practicaly shouts when I turn to walk away.

  “I know. I thought I would walk you to your car. You know—be a gentleman, carry your bag; I may even lay my jacket over a mud puddle for you if the opportunity presents itself.”

  “Wel. That’s nice of you.” Kim folows behind me. I didn’t get so much as a chuckle over the mud puddle bit, but at least she’s not screaming help! thief!

  “You never did tel me. Why the sudden interest in theater?”

  “How do you know it is sudden? I could have gone out for several plays.”

  “I would know; I am pretty involved in this stuff.”

  “Oh. Wel, I am just interested that’s al.”

  “In other words… it’s none of my business?” I am having fun even though she is being less than gracious in light of me carrying her insanely heavy book bag.

  How many books does she need for one night anyway?

  “That’s basicaly it. I’m over there.” She points to the blue car I am already headed towards.

  “I know.”

  “You do?” Kim looks suspicious. And now I am wondering something. A great big boulder of ugly insecurity is roling around in my gut…

  “Of course, Kim. I see can see your driveway from mine. We are neighbors.”

  And there it is—Kim turns to look at me, her face colored with utter confusion. She has no idea who I am. I hate when Dave is right. “Jason’s brother, right?

  Martin?”

  The pain of this is almost unbearable. Jason’s brother? He is in the tenth freakin’ grade! “Marshal. Jason is my younger brother.” She just nods her head.

  No apologizing for not recognizing me or— god forbid—for getting my name wrong. “We ha
ve three classes together.” I am embarrassed for pushing the point, but I can’t help myself.

  “Right, of course. Wel thanks Marshal. I’l see you next week, I guess, for tryouts.”

  “And tomorrow in European History, Calculus, and Chemistry.” I don’t even think she hears me. The moment I handed over her back pack she jumped into her car and shut the door. Dave is totaly right—I have got to get over her.

  Chapter Three

  I went to sleep thinking of anyone but Kim Penney. So why am I out here again this morning? Waiting to see her before school? Because I am a masochist. It is raining this morning. Even standing under the porch overhang I am stil getting wet because the wind is slanting the rain directly towards me. That must be her walking quickly down the driveway. I can hear her car chirping, and I see a gray figure with a big gray umbrela. I don’t know much about girl’s clothes, but I do know that they come in more interesting colors than beige and gray. Maybe no one ever explained that to Kim. I raise my arm and wave widely at her. After several long heart beats she offers me a smal tilt of her umbrela in response. It’s better than nothing.

  “Mom went to the store. There’s milk, but I didn’t see strawberry Pop-Tarts.” I can barely understand Jason around his mouthful of cereal. He is such a barbarian.

  “I got it covered.” From the lower row of cabinets where mom keeps the pots and pans I pul out the box of strawberry Pop-Tarts.

  “You’re hiding food? Weirdo.”

  “Desperate times, dude.” I am completely unashamed. If it were left up to Jason, I might starve to death.

  Jason rode the bus again and I got to school early despite going through the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru for coffee. I know where Kim’s locker is. I can’t help but stalk her a little, please don’t judge me too harshly. So while Kim is finishing with her SAT prep group I am leaning as casualy as I can manage against her locker waiting. Something about that less-than-an-encounter from this morning has brought on a revelation. I think it might be my own fault if Kim Penney hasn’t been noticing me. Just because I don’t normaly work very hard at getting dates doesn’t mean that I can’t. I happen to think I am pretty darn charming.

  “Excuse me.” Kim barely spares me a glance when she shows up.

  “Good morning to you too.” Holding out the extra coffee I brought for her, I move aside to give her access to her locker.

  “What’s this?’

  “Caramel mocha something—it sounded reasonably girlie and also tasty.” I wiggle the hand that is stil holding her cup slightly. If she doesn’t take it I wil be so humiliated.

  “It’s for me?” She stil doesn’t take the cup.

  “Wel I have my own.” I paste on a confident smile and show her the already half empty cup of plain old coffee, milk, and sugar in my other hand. “So, this one must be for you.”

  “Why?” She finaly reaches out for the coffee. Her fingers feel soft and cold against mine, probably because I’m holding the contrastingly hot cup. I am astounded by how much I enjoy the brief contact. I always thought holding hands was more of a girl thing.

  “I just wanted to say good morning. What did you think of the play? Did you finish reading it?” I know that she probably have kept reading despite my advice not to. That is just the kind of person she is—no such thing as too prepared.

  “It’s funny. I liked Beatrice—not Hero though—she was kind of worthless.”

  “I know! I always liked Beatrice better too. I am hoping to get the part of her boyfriend Benedick. Patterson is renaming him Benny.”

  “I like Beatrice.” Kim’s voice is wary. Like she isn’t sure why we are talking. I decide to ignore her wariness. “But, I’d be happier with something smaler though. No smal parts only smal actors, right?”

  “That’s true, but most people stil don’t usualy hope for the bit parts.”

  We are walking down the hal now. My class is in the opposite direction, but nothing could turn me away. Something about Kim gets my blood pumping. I feel more alive when I’m talking with her.

  “I’m not most people.”

  “No, Kim Penney, you certainly are not.”

  She stops just outside a classroom and turns to me. “I don’t understand you, Marshal.” At least she got my name right today. “I’m not a very complicated guy.” Is it possible that I wasn’t being obvious enough? Did that many guys bring her coffee in the mornings?

  “Thank you for the coffee.” She turns around and disappears into the classroom. The bel rings, and I am late for Brit Lit.

  It seems this morning was a good place to start. In al the classes I share with Kim she gave me a smal wave back when I waved to her. I managed to feel impressed rather than annoyed when she corrected our teacher in Calculus (correcting a teacher takes some serious bal… guts) and in European History I am sure she noticed that I turned in my test first. That had to win me some points.

  Steve and I have newspaper on Tuesday afternoons, or I would have walked her to her car again. I am wondering where the line is between flirting and stalking. It could be a good thing that Mr. Bilings is pretty harsh about tardies. I don’t want to scare her; after al, nothing says I love you like a restraining order.

  “Whoa, are you humming? What is with you today!?” I didn’t notice Steve sitting down next to me. As a point of fact, I was humming.

  “I’m not humming. Dudes don’t hum.” I take a little longer than necessary to pul out my notebook just to avoid meeting his eyes.

  ***

  At home I find Jason and Mandy hunched over a text book at our kitchen table. Wel Mandy is hunched over, Jason is tipping his chair back on two legs trying to see into the family room and watch television. I am in such a good mood I can’t help having a little fun at his expense. It is extremely easy for me to upset his balance with a thump on the back of his chair as I walk past. Arms and legs flailing wildly, Jason and his chair clatter loudly onto the tile floor. I wil shelter you from the string of profanity he let loose on the way down.

  “Watch your language! There’s a lady present, Jase. She shouldn’t have to suffer just because you’re a klutz with a foul mouth.”

  “Where do you think I get it from?”

  Mandy swalows down the last of her laughter. “It’s true, Marshal. I am the Johnson family reigning champion of dirty words scrabble.” Mandy is ful of surprises.

  “Realy, she’s worse than a sailor.” Jason seemed to be talking more to Mandy than me.

  “Whoever said sailors used so much foul language anyway?” Mandy wants to know.

  “Actualy I don’t know—why do sailors get such a bad rap? You never hear Popeye cursing.”

  “Maybe they just edited that out for the kids. I bet Popeye could curse like a… wel a sailor.” You are probably wondering why I am stil standing here listening to them. Did you ever watch that show about the Duggars and their 25 kids? Wel I am never sure why it is actualy on the air. They are so boring, but whenever I happen to come across it I always end up watching the whole show. That is what Mandy and Jason are like, boring but somehow fascinating.

  “Nah—he was too busy showing off for Olive Oil to have a potty mouth. Now Pluto—I bet that’s where the potty mouth was.” Jason is stil talking

  “Like from Mickey Mouse?”

  “No. The big guy that was always kidnapping Olive away from Popeye—Pluto.”

  “His name was Bluto. With a B, like butthead.”

  “That’s stupid, who would name their kid Bluto?”

  “Who would name their kid Popeye?”

  Jason has righted his chair by this point and the two of them are so involved in their inane debate I might as wel have left. So I do.

  On my way upstairs I can hear them continuing the argument behind me. That wil probably be it for whatever schoolwork Mandy was going to get out of Jason. She is either very good at playing it cool in front of me, or I am losing my girl radar. She sure didn’t seem to be particularly affected by my presence.

  Most of t
he next week is the same. Not about me eavesdropping on my brother and his friend—that would be dumb. I meant that I kept up my Make-Kim-Penney-Smile-For-Me campaign. I met her in the mornings at her locker. Just to say ‘good morning’, and remind her that I exist. I didn’t try the coffee thing again, but I did offer her one of my Pop-Tarts on Wednesday. She declined. On Thursday I thought she might be warming up to me when we were comparing notes on our Calculus homework. Then Claire Haines popped up out of nowhere.

  “Marshal, I can’t wait for the play. I’m sure you are going to be just fabulous.”

  “Thanks Claire. We are going to do our best.” I turned around to answer her—I didn’t want to be rude.

  “You know you are the only reason anyone goes to those things.”

  “That’s not true. Everyone always works realy hard. Kim here is trying out this fal.”

  “Who?” Now, at first I thought Claire was just being rude. This would not be out of character for her. So I turned around and reached out to touch Kim’s arm, but she was gone. Seriously—she just left me standing there.

  I didn’t let that discourage me though. I stil met her in the mornings, and waved to her in class. I sit next to her now instead of behind her in European History. I hate the front row, but sacrifices must be made. So, the milion dolar question: have I made progress? Not realy. Today is Monday, so after a ful week of stalking/charming her she finaly initiated a conversation with me this morning.

  “Do you need help with your history?” She asked before I could even get out the carefuly scripted ‘good morning’ I’d been working on during the drive to school.

  “What?”

  “In European History? We have another paper due next week. If you want I could tutor you.”

  “What makes you think I need a tutor?”