“What are you talking about?”
“Just spreading the word.”
“Okay then, whatever.”
Janie left not wanting to deal with me. I pulled myself out of bed to get going for school. Part of me was feeling quite happy that people were actually sticking up my stickers. Was I heading up a citywide vandalism campaign? Maybe, but it was starting to get fun. Part of me was also feeling happy about Elias, but then there was this tugging in my gut that was bringing down my high. As I was getting ready to leave there was a knocking on the front door. I opened it to find Elias bouncing on his toes, like really bouncing like he was trying to get ready to spring up somewhere.
“Hey,” he said, smiling. “Wanna ride to school?”
I looked down the steps where Elias’ bike was leaning up against them.
“Sure.”
“Awesome!”
“You had energy drinks for breakfast didn’t ya?”
“Yep.” He then gave me a quick kiss on the lips and bounded down the steps.
I hopped up on the back pegs of his bike, and Elias started pedaling down the sidewalk, veered to the left across the strip of grass, and squeezed us between two cars, hopping off the curb into the street. He rode down the block, waited for the light, took a left, and started for school. One thing I could say about Elias Bickler is that he had some endurance. Granted, school was only like a mile away, but still, he had my extra weight and yet sped and bobbed and weaved us through traffic and got us there in no time. As we rode, the tugging in my stomach tried taking over again.
“I think that was faster than taking the bus,” I said as he locked up his bike at the bike rack behind school.
“That’s cuz it is. I ride until it snows.”
“Well, thanks for the ride.”
“Well, thanks for riding with me.”
We walked up the sidewalk to school together and followed a small stream of our peers inside. I poked Elias in the side as we walked up the steps. He bit his lip and looked at me, then down at my hand. I scratched the tip of my nose. He was probably thinking, hey, I just kissed you this morning. Oh, and don’t forget last night. Oh, and I gave you a ride to school, and now you won’t hold my hand and just poke me in the side you weird girl. But I was thinking, yes I kissed him and it did seem perfect, with another quick kiss in the morning, and I was so happy about it all last night and maybe the happy was lingering when I woke up, but then my lighthearted happy feelings got stomped on by that feeling in my gut and my thoughts because it wasn’t just that long ago where I was so mad that I thought I hated him, so herein is where my problem lied—did I waltz in school holding hands and kissing and showing everybody that we might have been together, but weren’t really too sure because it was just the night before when we started kissing each other and really hadn’t discuss it yet, but then I didn’t know if I wanted to address the situation because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be fully together with him? My mind was going in every which direction, so I just grabbed his jacket sleeve and pulled him through the doorway of school with me. As we walked down the hall, I gave an exploding fist bump to Dean, who came from the opposite direction wearing an awesome striped sweater vest, and then I gave out a couple what’s ups here and there.
“Uh, my locker’s on the second floor,” Elias said, stopping at the bottom of a pair of stairs.
“Okay.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at the ground.
“See ya at lunch,” I lamely said.
“Sure,” he answered with a slight frown. Any sign of his energy drink all but vanished.
I gave a little wave as he started up the stairs. I was tempted to give him a hug or a kiss, but held back. From his sullen sure I’m pretty certain he was hoping my actions would have been more affectionate. I was just still so hesitant. I should have kept it simple. Why did I have to go and kiss him? I took the next hall right, then hung another right and a left to get to the short hall where my locker was. Kate was already leaning up against the locker next to mine waiting for me.
“Whadup?” she asked as I unlocked my locker.
“I’m not sure exactly.”
Kate twisted her lips to the side. “Huh?”
“Well, last night Elias and I went out and…”
“On a date!” Kate said excitedly, standing up straight and clapping the tips of her fingers together.
“No, wheat pasting.”
“Is that code word for something dirty?”
“No,” I said, laughing. “We were gluing up posters, but…”
“You guys did it anyways,” Kate said, putting finger quotes around it.
“No, we just kissed.”
“Really?” Kate said, punching me in the shoulder.
“Yes and ow.”
“Well?”
“Well, I dunno, he gave me a quick kiss this morning before we left for school.”
“He spent the night!”
“No, my word, will you let me finish a sentence. He picked me up and gave me a ride, but it’s like I’m not too sure if I just want to leave our relationship status as is, or as something more.”
“He’s your boyfriend now, so act accordingly. Make out in the halls, touch each other, do things under the bleachers.”
“Just cuz we kissed does not mean he’s my boyfriend, and I’m not doing anything under the bleachers and…”
“And whatever, I said he’s your boyfriend, so there, and none of your anding and self-doubting and your am I doing the right thinging, trust me.”
“I still have my reservations about him, and then I dunno, I’m a tad worried it’ll just feel weird in front of…”
“Your army of nerds? They’re nerds, who cares? Brian and Reynaldo just don’t like Elias cuz they want you to themselves. You’re like nerd crack.”
“Be nice, even if they’re nerds, which they’re all not, their feelings still need to be accounted for.”
“Whatever, you’re just making excuses. You and Elias like each other. Get over whatever reservations you may have about him, and who cares what the world thinks, or what happened with you two. Live in the now.”
I smiled at Kate, “You are a wise one.” I closed my locker and pointed a finger at her. “Nerd crack, I like that. Ooh, that would make a good tee-shirt.”
“Oh and speaking of crack, well, cracks, as in butt cracks, I’ll be seeing Brian’s.”
“What, eww, gross.”
“I really am painting him naked. He’s coming over to my house on Saturday.”
“Won’t your—”
“My mom works all day Saturday, and I’m painting a naked nerd.”
“Why do you keep—”
“Interrupting you? I’m working on being extra intuitive. I’m thinking of being like a psychic detective or something as a career possibility in case being a world-renowned painter of naked people doesn’t pan out.”
“You are so weird, but I guess it’s good to have a backup plan.”
*************************
At the end of the day I found Elias by my locker. He was chewing on his nails and standing on the outside of his feet. He saw me coming and gave me a head nod. “Gotta work tonight.”
“Okay, thinking of going to the art store myself.” I opened my locker to throw my books inside, but took nothing out. It felt like a no homework night. I think I mentioned before, I wasn’t the best at keeping up with it. I wasn’t what you would call a stellar student, mainly because I never did my homework. I pretty much held a C average, even in art. My art teacher never gave me anything higher, seriously. I had art four years in a row, and it was constantly a C, so therefore I was never able to take A.P. art and that always really irritated me. The art teachers at my school had some secret vendetta against me. Maybe I unconsciously made sucky work in art class, but art class was generally boring. I didn’t enjoy drawing still life’s and self-portraits.
After I slipped on my ski vest and hat, I grabbed Elias’ hand, a
nd we walked out the back doors to his bike. Even if we were in relationship limbo, I figured I could at least do that—hold his hand.
“So can you actually do tricks on this thing?” I asked, trying to control the conversation from focusing on a certain subject.
“Kinda, well I used to, or attempted, then I fell on my face, and that was enough.” Elias seemed to grasp that I was skirting around talking about us and went along with the conversation I started.
“Hurt?”
“Not really, I actually broke my nose, but didn’t really know it was broken, and I told my mom it hurt, and she called me a dumbass, and this is what my face now looks like.”
“It looks nice.”
“Okay, sure.”
“It does. You have a very nice face.”
“As do you.”
“I know.”
Elias elbowed me.
“So your mom showed no concern that you smashed your face in?”
“Nope, and I didn’t know that some broken noses need to be re-set. I was in eighth grade at the time ya know, so I’m thinking mine needed to be cuz look at it.” He then sighed and started fiddling with a pocket on his field jacket.
I pinched the top of his nose where it went kinda awry. “This isn’t totally the same thing, but kinda goes with the whole mom’s not showing concern for their child. But this one time my mom wanted me to do some kinda chore, like wash the dishes or something, and I didn’t jump at her word, and it made her mad, so she took a wooden spoon from the kitchen utensil holder thingy and cracked me in the top of the head with it, and it really hurt, seriously.”
“Oh, no, I believe it. Kitchen utensils do hurt, especially the wooden ones. What’s with moms’ and hitting their children with kitchen utensils?”
“I dunno, they’re crazy.”
Elias nodded, agreeing with me.
“But I started crying and I coulda sworn my head was bleeding, but it wasn’t cuz I checked, so I’m all crying and stuff and my mom’s like, do the damn dishes.”
Elias scratched his head. “Ya think it’s just our moms, or do all secretly beat their children with kitchen utensils?” he asked with total seriousness.
“I hope it’s just our moms’ cuz there’d be something really wrong with the world if it was regarded as normal.”
Elias threw me half a smile and brushed his hair out of his eyes and looked at me intently with his lips pursed. He grabbed my other hand and swung my arms a little. I’m sure he was waiting to see how I’d respond and maybe if I’d acknowledge our kissing. He looked so sweet and playful, but yet kind of sad all at the same time, and my heart fell a little because I’m sure what I was doing to him wouldn’t qualify as nice, but I couldn’t help it. I was so confused.
“I have to go to get going,” he said softly, looking into my eyes searching for something.
“Okay.”
He squeezed my hands, gave a meek smile, and hopped on his bike. Elias pedaled off to work, and I took the bus in the opposite direction in which I usually go to go home and took it down to the ‘L’. I was heading to my favorite art store. While on the train, I discreetly put one of my stickers on a sign next to the door that was advertising monthly passes or something. I got off at the library, the jumbo downtown one, and found a couple more objects to stick my stickers on. There were tons of people around, but it almost seemed easier because I could hide behind somebody and quickly slap a sticker on something.
It was colder downtown, and the wind was at full blast. I held onto the strings that ended the earflaps on my hat and pulled my hat down and close to my head and walked against the wind and business folks and college students, so I could get to the art store. I found the store, which was the first floor of some like eight hundred year old high-rise, and entered—the door making a jingling sound as I walked in. It was warm and fuzzy in there. I was greeted nicely by the shelves of art supplies and then by some dude behind the counter who was hidden under a mass of wild hair who mumbled, “Hey.” Let me tell you, art supplies is one of my most favorite things in the world. I started wandering through the aisles admiring the tubes of acrylics, oils, and water colors and checked out all the colored pencils and the graphite pencils and sniffed some erasers: a pink one, a kneaded one, and a gum one. Yes, I like the way erasers smell.
I continued on and browsed through the markers, where I actually picked up one to buy—it was one of those jumbo huge ones—for what I was planning on working on that evening. Then I looked at pens and ink and picked up a couple of the ink pens I use for my comic. Next I went to the paper aisle and perused through the sketchbooks and pads of paper. I found a huge newsprint one, but wanted larger. I wandered down the aisle to the back of the store where they sold things on rolls, and I found the most perfect roll of newsprint to buy.
I know you’re probably like Wait, she’s buying stuff? I thought she didn’t have a job, and her family was all poor like? All of which is true, but I’m going to let you in on a little secret and no, it’s not about shoplifting. Over the summer, I was a camp counselor at a nearby city park. I told my mom I was volunteering, but I actually got paid and cashed my checks at the currency exchange and saved the money and used it on occasion when I really needed something. I dare never spoke of or mentioned it because Janie would have somehow got every penny out of me, or would go on a search for it because she was quite dissatisfied by my lack of employment. It’s wasn’t even that much money, but enough to subsidize my needs when it came down to it. On occasion, Kate would also spot me a few, like when I got my wheat pasting supplies because she knew about my secret stash and didn’t want it to run out on me. When I earned enough money with my comic stuff, I owed her big time.
When I was leaving the art store, I reached in the front pocket of my backpack and pulled out a small pile of Sasha stickers. I threw them on the floor next to the other free stuff: newspapers, zines, flyers, etc.
*************************
Once I got home I rolled out my paper, took out a ruler, flipped it over six times, made a mark, and cut the six-foot piece off the roll. I was going to make a life-sized cutout of Sasha Santiago, so I could paste it up somewhere. I then taped newspaper all over the kitchen floor because I was going to use permanent marker on newsprint, so there was definitely going to be some sinking through. I didn’t want to ruin the floor because I already messed up my bedroom wall from where I wheat pasted that poster. Let me tell you, wheat paste is one heck of a permanent adhesive. It was up there for the long haul, unless someone had a sand blaster or something, it wasn’t coming down. I tried to peel it off to test the strength of the paste and holy poop on a stick that is some good glue. All I got off were these little scrappy pieces, just barely anything.
I laid out my newsprint on top of the newspaper, and in pencil I drew Sasha Santiago at a front three-fourths pose with her hands on her hips standing in a wide stance. After that, I went over sections with the jumbo marker I bought, which was a grayish-blueish color, and colored in blocks of color and shadow and some details. I then went over that with a thinner black marker to do some outlining and additional details. End result: pretty cool.
Chapter Twenty-One
We were all sitting in Taco Mel’s when Sasha Santiago walked in. I know, it wasn’t the real Sasha because she’s a fictional character that I made up, but somebody was dressed as her and did a fantabulous job. Sasha approached the table where Kate, Roberto, Elias, and I sat. I think Elias was actually sleeping. He had his elbow propped up and was holding the side of his head, and his mouth was kind of hanging open. He might have been faking just so he really wouldn’t have to talk to me because we had yet to address the topic of us.
“Ya like?” she asked, flouncing the black wig she wore.
“Nicki,” I said. It was the first in a long time that I had seen her in anything other than vintage clothing or rain coats or fish nets or anything from her closet of peculiar. “You look great.”
“I’m jumping on the bandwa
gon,” she said, sitting in a purple swivel chair next to Roberto.
“Where did ya get the outfit?” I asked.
“Surprisingly enough, the clothing, boots, and socks are all mine. I just went and bought a wig,” Nicki said.
“Sweet,” Roberto said, totally checking Nicki out.
She leaned forward putting her elbows on the table and clasping her hands. “I so have to go somewhere dressed like this. You all wanna hang out somewhere tonight?”
“Yes,” Roberto said very quickly.
“Won’t you be cold?” I asked, totally not wanting to be a Debbie Downer, but it seriously went from chilly cold to holy crap its cold overnight.
While remaining seated in her swivel chair, Nicki grabbed her ankle and pulled her leg straight up in the air. Let me tell you, she was flexible. It made me think about when during gym class, they make you take those evil fitness tests and how I always struggled just to touch my toes, so I was quite impressed by Nicki’s feat of limberness.
“Dance tights,” she said, putting her leg down. “And see my arms?” She held out her arm and Roberto ran his fingertips over it.
“Dance tights?” he asked.
“No, but close. I’m going to let you guys in on a little secret.” Nicki stood up, and I was very unsure of what she was about to do. She pulled up her tee-shirt, but instead of us getting flashed, we all stared at the shimmery bodysuit type of deal she had on. The main part that covered her body was turquoise with glittery flecks and silver swirlies all over it and at the top of her outfit, over her chest and arms, was a different material, a flesh colored one. “I tore the little skirt off of this, but this figure skating outfit belongs to me. I’m a closet figure skater. I was thinking that if I’m going to fully unleash my superbness, I was going to have to come clean.”
Kate and I looked at each and both immediately started cracking up.
“No way,” Kate said. “You bought that at a thrift store or something.”
A grin was spread across Roberto’s face. He seemed to have liked what Nicki said.
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