Oh, Brother!

by Cochran, Peg

  Besides, I had work to do. A plan to engineer. And a really hot guy to dream about.

  Monday morning. And not just any Monday morning. That would be bad enough. Back to that prison called “school” where we’re expected to waste a zillion hours a day in boring, stuffy classrooms learning stuff that has no use whatsoever. Like who discovered America. How is that going to help me in later life? Huh? I ask you.

  No, this wasn’t any Monday—this was the Monday. The Monday I’d told Celia and Emily I was going to begin operation “Snare Travis Cooper as a Boyfriend”. Maybe Travis would remember me from the dance. I hoped not. How stupid to put your knee out while trying to look cool dancing. I rolled over and pulled the covers over my head, but my mother banged on the door and said “rise and shine” in that annoying, chirpy voice of hers. She just doesn’t understand.

  Fortunately I’d washed my favorite jeans—the ones that hang really low on my hips. And my favorite top from this cool boutique at the mall. My mother hardly ever lets me shop there. She takes me to all these cheesy places like that department store that hardly anyone ever goes to. And no wonder. Their buyer has no fashion sense whatsoever.

  My mother dropped me off at school, and I gave her a kiss. Which is so gross—especially in front of everyone. But if I don’t, she pitches a fit. This morning Kevin Austin made a big smoochy face at me as I got out of the car. He is such a nerd!

  I stashed my coat and lunch in my locker and joined Celia and Emily. My knee still hurt a bit, but I cruised the hallway with them anyway hoping for a Travis sighting, but no luck.

  The five minute warning bell sounded and everyone scattered. I scurried into my English class just as the bell rang. Mrs. French teaches my English class. How funny is that? Kevin Austin laughed so hard the first day of class he started to choke and Bob Waldorf had to slap him on the back.

  Mrs. French has reddish hair stuck up in a bun, and an enormous lumpy bosom that looks like she stuffed a bunch of wadded-up socks down the front of her dress. She is positively medieval and always carries a handbag that matches her shoes. Even my mother knows better than that. Today she had on red shoes, and there was a red patent leather handbag tucked under her arm.

  We are reading Pride and Prejudice which is just about the dumbest book on the face of the earth. Why didn’t Elizabeth just tell Darcy she liked him? They would have saved a lot of time and at least three hundred thousand pages. Not to mention all those trees they had to cut down to make the book.

  Mrs. French started writing on the board, and I zoned out. Before next period I would have to MAKE MY MOVE. I knew from experience that Travis’ class was three doors down on the right. I was going to have to do something to get his attention. But what? I could just go up and talk to him, but the thought made my heart do that funny thumping thing again. I was tempted to give the whole thing up.

  But then I thought of the hundred dollars.

  Mrs. French droned on and on, and the class seemed as if it would never end, but finally the bell rang. I grabbed my books and plunged into the hall.

  Walking down the hall of Central High between classes is like swimming upstream the way those salmon do. The door to Travis’ classroom swung open, and a bunch of kids poured out.

  I hovered nearby which wasn’t easy to do with the rush of students going in the other direction. I had to sort of grip the floor with my toes to stay in place. Finally Travis came out.

  Ohmigod. He is so hot. And what on earth was I doing trying to interest someone of his god-like stature? I’ve never even had a boyfriend before. Unless you count that boy at camp who shared his Rice Krispie® Treat with me that time back in fourth grade.

  Then I noticed that Amber—Amber with her bouncy blonde hair and perfect tan twelve-months-of-the-year—was walking next to Travis and looking up at him with this stupid, simpering smile on her face.

  Red Alert. Operation Abort. Immediately. There was no way I was going to approach Travis with Amber there. I was beginning to suspect that there was no way I was ever going to approach Travis period.

  Just then Emily passed me on her way to gym class. She gave me a little smirk that basically said, “I so know you’re going to chicken out.”

  Which meant I had to do something or they’d never let me forget it. I could just see Celia laughing that hyena-like laugh of hers and tears streaming out of Emily’s eyes as she doubled over with hysteria.

  I was standing there trying to think of what to do when Joe Rogers and Glenn Maxwell came out of the classroom right behind Travis. They were mock fighting—shoving each other back and forth and punching each other on the shoulder. They are both so lame, I can’t believe it.

  Joe shoved Glenn again, and he smacked right into me, catching me in the back with his head. I let out a sound sort of like “ouf” and went flying.

  Right into Travis Cooper.

  Ohmigod.

  He put out a hand to steady me. “Whoa, there. Are you okay?”

  Okay? Are you kidding? My heart was thumping out of my chest, which was probably why I couldn’t breath. I stammered, open-mouthed, like a beached fish as I stared up into the bluest eyes on earth. There were crinkles around the edges, and he was smiling.

  The rest of the world turned hazy, and it was just me and Travis standing there in the middle of the hallway. I willed myself not to do anything stupid like throw myself into his arms or fling myself at his feet. The blood had deserted my brain, and I was afraid I was going to faint.

  I managed to nod.

  “You sure? You took quite a hit there. You look a little pale. Maybe you should go to the nurse?”

  I shook my head back and forth a little too energetically, and my hair whipped across his chest. I wanted to die.

  “How’s your knee by the way?” He gave this grin like we both shared some kind of secret or something.

  I shrugged. My tongue was still stuck to the roof of my mouth.

  “Well, if you’re sure you’re okay…”

  I nodded again. I hoped all this nodding wasn’t going to give me whiplash or anything.

  He began to walk away. Amber was still at his side, and she gave me a really dirty look that made her look like an enraged ferret. Travis turned around and made this little half wave in my direction.

  I stood there, rooted to the spot like some kind of indoor tree, until Mr. Lasick came down the hall and asked me why I wasn’t moving along to class.

  Chapter 3

  Dear Lucy Love,

  I want this guy to notice me, but I don’t know what to do.

  Sincerely,

  Miss Invisible

  Dear Invisible,

  Try wearing a big red nose and a clown costume.

  Yours,

  Lucy Love

  Mr. Lasick thinks I’m not taking this advice column stuff seriously enough. I reminded him that I had only agreed to be Lucy Love because

  he-had-begged-me-since-he-couldn’t-find-anyone-else.

  Honestly. Besides, people ask such stupid questions, what am I supposed to do?

  Celia and Emily came home on the bus with me. The bus really sucks. All the seniors think they can push us around and take all the good seats. Everyone knows that any senior still taking the bus is lame-o in the extreme. Can you say “drivers license” and “car”? Hello.

  My mother always leaves this bowl of fruit on the counter hoping that I will choose that for an after-school snack. Dust is starting to collect on the apples, and the oranges are turning a funny color. I got a bag of chips out of the pantry and a jar of that orangey-cheesy stuff that probably doesn’t have any real cheese in it which is why they had to write the name in Spanish. My mother says the government is cracking down on stuff like that.

  We carried our snack and a bottle of Coke up to my room. Clementine was stretched out on my bed with one paw over her eyes. She looked like she was resting after a hard day of chasing lint and pouncing on dust balls.

  Celia pushed her off and took up residence on the bed
, her feet against the wall. “Well?” She poked at the corner of my poster of Life Cycle with her toe.

  “Well, what?” I pretended I didn’t know what she was talking about. I wasn’t sure I wanted to let them in on what had happened yet. I’d been reliving the experience all afternoon. Mme. Pacquin kept bugging me during French class and saying, “faites attention, mademoiselle. Faites attention, s’il vous plait.” How would she feel if she had touched Travis Cooper and then been forced to spend a zillion hours in class with no time to think about it?

  I told them what happened.

  They stared at me, bug-eyed. “That’s the second time you’ve touched him,” Celia breathed.

  “What did he say?” Emily sat down on the floor and stretched her legs out to either side.

  “He asked me if I was okay, and if I needed to go to the nurse. And he asked me how my knee was.”

  “He did?” Celia and Emily squealed.

  “What’s next?” Celia was still poking at the edge of my poster with her foot.

  “Cut it out. You’re going to rip that.”

  “Sorry.” Celia put her foot back down.

  “Do you have the money for the tickets yet? They go on sale next month.” Emily stretched and reached toward her left foot. “My mother’s getting me one for my birthday.”

  I nodded and smoothed down the edge of the poster. “I just need another five dollars.”

  “What about Amber?” Celia was picking bits of potato chip crumbs out of her hair.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The bet. There’s no way you’re going to get a date for the Snow Ball, and you’re going to have to pay her the hundred dollars.”

  I shook my head. “No way. I can’t lose that bet. I just can’t.”

  If I didn’t get to see Life Cycle, I would die.

  My mother was getting ready for her date with

  Mark-what’s-his-face. She’s started wearing this new perfume he got her for her birthday so she doesn’t even smell like herself anymore.

  My Dad died when I was really little, and I barely remember him. It’s been Mom and me ever since. Sometimes I wanted a father, but not this Mark what’s-his-face guy.

  The bell rang, and my Mom yelled for me to answer it. It was Mark-what’s-his-face. He always hesitates on the door step as if he’s waiting for some kind of engraved invitation. I just held open the door and walked away.

  “So, how’s school?” he asked as he took off his raincoat and draped it over the arm of the sofa.

  Why do grown-ups always have to ask about school? Do they think we don’t do anything except go to school? Well, I have to admit that’s partially true since we spend like a gazillion hours a day there. There’s hardly any time left for a life once the bell rings at three o’clock. Adults must have forgotten what it’s like, or they wouldn’t be making us do it, too.

  My mother came out and made a big fuss over Mark what’s-his-face. She was all kissy and huggy and cutesy. It made me want to barf. A grown woman shouldn’t be acting like that. She ought to just sit in a rocker and read like everyone else her age.

  After they left I heated up a frozen pizza and booted up my computer. Mr. Lasick gave us this seriously dumb project to do. A report on the amendments to the Constitution. Is that lame, or what? My stupid computer was taking forever to boot up. I’d already finished my first piece of pizza, and it still wasn’t up and running.

  Not good. The report is due tomorrow. My mother keeps telling me I need to begin things in advance. Right. Like I’m going to rush home from school the day of the assignment and immediately begin working on it. Only some kind of uber-geek would do that.

  But my tardiness was about to become my undoing. Tardiness. Don’t you love that word? Teachers can never just say “you’re late” or “you’re not on time”. No, you’re tardy. It makes it sound a million times worse than just plain late.

  Back to my computer. It’s just sitting there staring at me with it’s geeky blank face. Fortunately I had a brainstorm. Alex knows just about everything there is to know about computers. Everyone at school is always begging him for help when they have a problem. Maybe I could entice him over to take a look at it. I padded down to the kitchen and peeked into the freezer. There was a carton of peanut butter cup ice cream behind a package of frozen spinach. Hopefully that would be all the enticement I needed. The ice cream that is, not the spinach.

  I peered out the kitchen window. The light was on in Alex’s room so there was a good chance he was home.

  Ten minutes later Alex was hunched over my computer clicking keys wildly. I’d forgotten how big his shoulders are. It’s all that extreme sports stuff he does like snowboarding and skiing. I guess he must be pretty athletic even though he never went out for normal stuff like football or basketball.

  It took him barely ten minutes to get it up and running again. He told me what was wrong, but it sounded like he was talking some kind of foreign language. I thanked him a gazillion times when he was done and gave him two bowls of ice cream. I don’t know how he can stay so lean and eat like that. It’s not fair.

  He wasn’t in any hurry to go home so we flipped on the television and caught the tail end of a movie. I made us some popcorn and then a couple of peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches. I was going to really have to hustle if I wanted to get Mr. Lasick’s report done and not be tardy.

  Gym class was clearly invented as a torture device for un-athletic girls like me. Our teachers, Miss Terhune and Miss Drake, look like a couple of Rottweilers. They have the knobbiest knees, and when it gets cold their legs are covered with nasty looking gooseflesh. Their calves are disgusting—all bulgy and veiny like a road map. And if you wanted to find their boobs, you’d need a magnifying glass. If that’s what exercise does for you, no thanks!

  Sometimes I try to get out of it by saying I have my period, but they never believe me. They must keep a record or something. One time I had really bad cramps, and they made me play anyway. Why don’t boys have to go through this torture?

  When we were little we used to get in trouble if we threw a ball at someone during recess. Now they have us do it on purpose, and they call it Dodge Ball. Emily, Celia and I usually try to get hit right away so we can go sit on the bleachers and talk.

  Amber, Tory and Laurel always stand together looking perfect and giggling. Amber had her gym shorts rolled down so far I was sure Miss Terhune would have a cow when she saw them.

  “I hate this game.” Celia was half hiding behind me when Miss Terhune blew her whistle for us to start. She blows that whistle like it’s the most important part of her job. Emily is sure she even wears it to bed.

  “Just let someone hit you, and then you’ll be out.” I said over my shoulder to Celia. Poor Celia, she’s so skinny the ball always knocks her to her knees when she gets hit.

  Amber had the ball and was laughing with this really satanic look in her eye. “Got yourself a boyfriend yet?” she called to me as she threw the ball in my direction. “I think I’m going to buy a ticket to see Life Cycle with your hundred dollars.”

  “Not so fast,” Emily bustled to my defense. “You’ll never guess who talked to her after—“

  I hit Emily with the ball. Hard. Right in the head. I had to do something to stop her from saying the word “Travis”.

  Of course Miss Terhune would be watching just then. Normally she and Miss Drake just stand around bouncing on the balls of their feet, and we could be killed for all they’d know.

  She blew her whistle furiously. “Girls, how many times do I have to tell you. No hitting in the head. Mac,” she gestured toward me, “give me three laps around the track. Now!” she bellowed as she blew her whistle again.

  Miss Terhune is so unfair. Emily was sniffling and rubbing her head. I hadn’t hit her that hard. She is such a baby.

  It took me a million years to do the laps. If we were meant to run like that, cars would not have been invented. Of course now I was all sweaty and gross, but no
one ever takes a shower. They only give us like ten seconds to change so it’s impossible. Secondly, what about your hair? I’m sure they never thought of that. I don’t think there are enough plugs for all of us to be blow-drying at the same time. And even if there were, we only

  have ten seconds to get to our next class.

  Mrs. French gave us a pop vocabulary quiz in English today. All about the ancient words from Pride and Prejudice. Things like alacrity and contemptuous. Why didn’t they speak normal English back then? And she expects us to spell them, too, which is ridiculous since everyone knows all computers come with spell check now.

  I had a hard time keeping my mind on the test and kept looking up to stare at the wall. Mrs. French glared at me like she thought I was cheating so I put my head back down and stared at my paper instead.

  Travis, I knew, was sitting in his classroom only three doors down. I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be in the same class with him. Of course it’s not going to happen since he’s a junior, and I’m only a freshman. Not unless we both end up in auto shop or something weird like that, but I’m not even signed up for it so I don’t think that’s too likely to happen.

  I was wondering if I would have the nerve to wait outside his classroom today. I don’t think I can count on Joe or Glenn running into me again, but maybe something else would happen.

  Maybe he’d even remember me and say hi. My heart started that funny thumping business again.

  Chapter 4

  Dear Lucy Love,

  There’s this guy I like, but he already has a girlfriend. What should I do?

  Sincerely,

  Torn Teen

  Dear Torn,

  Give up and go after someone else.

  Yours,

  Lucy Love

  Travis was the next to last one out of the classroom. I had been standing there so long I was sure I had grown cobwebs. Teachers were giving me funny looks. I can’t imagine what he was doing in there. The good news was that Amber wasn’t with him this time.