A bunch of ditzy cheerleaders squealed like guinea pigs at that.
“At random points throughout the year, you may be given a life issue to deal with, such as a surprise pregnancy or a job promotion, a debilitating injury or a lottery windfall. You will keep a journal of your private thoughts and feelings concerning the marriage. To aid you in this journey together, you will attend weekly sessions on marriage skills presented by our guidance counselor, Ms. Klein.” Maggie Klein rose from her seat down front and gave one of those fake, twiddly-fingered waves to us. She sported her usual phony look of calculated disarray: a flowy yellow sundress accented with gold bracelets and gold dangly earrings, her hair tied back neatly with a white scarf. Definitely granola, but clean and put-together. She always reminded me of the women in douche and tampon commercials.
Principal Miller went on. “She and I are in full agreement that now is the perfect time for you to learn how . . .” She closed her eyes for a second. Opened them. “To maintain and sustain a possibly . . . challenging . . . relationship.”
Principal Miller squared her shoulders, leaned into the podium, and scanned the room again. “I feel obliged to make it clear that we are not in any way condoning physical consummation of these marriages.”
Well, everyone pretty much cracked up at that. Todd Harding started howling like a dog and pumped his fist in the air. What a jackass. He and his Porn Star Barbie girlfriend, Amanda Lowell, had been “consummating” like crazy for over a year and a half. It was common knowledge. Spread by Todd, of course.
While Todd hooted, Amanda leaned over and tickled him. He draped his arm around her and inhaled her face into his like a vacuum hose, or like a zombie sucking her brains out through her mouth. That’d be if Amanda actually had brains. Which was doubtful. The only time in history that she’d demonstrated the least bit of cleverness was in second grade when I wet my pants on a pony ride at Callie Brooks’s seventh birthday party and Amanda started calling me Pee-ona instead of Fiona. Then she’d say, Your last name should be Pony. Then you’d be Pee-ona Pony. Get it? Pee-on-a-pony?
Yeah, I got it. Hi-freakin’-larious.
She still called me Pee-ona, too. In ten years she hadn’t been able to think up anything more original. But whatev. At least now it was just her, and not the entire second-grade class.
I made a gag face at Todd and Amanda’s vacuu-kiss and rolled my eyes at Marcie, but she didn’t notice. She just sat, white as a sheet, with her eyes fixed on Principal Miller. She picked at her brand-new French manicure. I gave her an elbow. “Are you okay?” I whispered.
Marcie turned her bug eyes toward me, shook herself, and said, “Uh, yeah.” She looked like she might puke. I wasn’t feeling too well myself. The idea of marriage education had gotten my pits all sweaty again. Next, my stomach started churning.
Then, deep in my mind flickered the tiniest thought. Maybe, just maybe, I’d get paired with Gabe.
And that was the moment. Right then.
The moment I allowed myself to have the slightest bit of hope that I’d be lucky and things would work out for me. Right then I should have known.
Principal Miller raised her hands above her head and motioned for everyone to settle back down. Once we were relatively quiet, she said, “Mr. Evans has signaled to me that the list of paired couples and their respective homerooms has been posted on the bulletin board outside the auditorium. Seniors are now excused to—”
She probably said more, but there was such a spastic rush of people and noise, I couldn’t hear another word. The seniors scrambled over their seats, spilled into the aisles, and crammed through the auditorium doors. Marcie and I got trapped behind Johnny Mercer, who was over six feet tall and the size of a small bulldozer. He couldn’t move fast if a burrito’s life depended on it. Plus, he was listening to his MP3 player like always, so I’m sure he couldn’t hear the shrieks and screams coming from the hallway as everyone read the name of their . . . spouse.
Marcie and I finally made our way out the auditorium doors and over to the bulletin board. Marcie’s forehead glistened with sweat, and she kept puffing these shallow breaths out of her half-open mouth. I skimmed the alphabetized list for the S names. There was mine: Sheehan, Fiona. I prayed that for once in my miserable life I’d be just a little bit lucky and then slid my eyes over to the name next to mine. Harding, Todd.
My legs nearly fell out from under me. “Son of a bitch.”
Marcie grabbed my arm and yanked me sideways. I seriously thought it could not get any worse until my eyes passed over the W’s. I tugged myself out of Marcie’s grip just long enough to read Webber, Gabe—Lowell, Amanda.
Un-freaking-believable.
CHAPTER 2
MARCIE PULLED ME AGAIN AND WE DUCKED INTO THE girls’ bathroom. “Did you see that?” I cried.
“I’m sorry, Fee,” Marcie said. “You cannot possibly complain to me.”
“Todd Harding? How am I supposed to spend the year with that no-necked Neanderthal?” I leaned over the sink, willing it to suck me down the drain. The fluorescent light buzzed above us.
Marcie said, “He has a neck. And an ass and abs. Nice ones. And even if you haven’t noticed them, pretty much every other girl has.” She pulled out a tube of lip gloss and started applying it as she spoke. “Plus, in case you missed it, he is not three times your size, like the guy I got.”
“Johnny Mercer is not three times your size,” I shot back. “Okay, maybe twice. But at least he’s a nice person.” Mar held the lip gloss out for me. I shook my head. She dropped the tube back in her purse.
“How would you know?” she cried. “He’s gone to school with us for years. Have you ever had one conversation with him?”
I picked at the stringy hairs on the end of my braid for a second, then gave up and just watched Mar primp. “No, but he keeps to himself. He’s got his damn earphones on all the time. He might be nice.”
“And he might be a serial killer,” she said. She adjusted and readjusted her ponytail in the mirror and tucked a stray highlighted strand behind her ear.
I rolled my eyes at Mar and then checked under the five gray stalls to see if anyone was there. It was all clear, so I said, “Did you see that Amanda freaking Lowell got Gabe? That is so unfair! Do you think we’re allowed to trade? She’d never trade anyway. Plus, I would never ever ask her, because then she’d know that I liked Gabe. Or, wait! I could just say I was being nice by giving her Todd. Oh, screw that. That would make her even more suspicious. I can’t believe she got Gabe. So typical. She gets everything.”
“Good Lord, Fiona. Take a breath,” Marcie said. “It’s not real life. Let it go.”
“Hey, you’re the one who’s so choked about being matched with Johnny Mercer.”
I took off my glasses to rinse them in the sink. I dried them on my shirt and slipped them back on. Several girls filed into the bathroom. Cheerleaders. Vomit. They set off on such a frenzy of giggling and makeup application that I didn’t even notice in the mirror that Her Royal Cheerleading Highness, Amanda, had come up behind me.
“Listen, Pee-ona,” she said. I turned around, but she looked past me at her reflection and fluffed her already perfect blond hair. “I guess you think you pulled the golden ring by getting Todd.”
I shifted over to block her view of her reflection. “Before we begin, Amanda, please clear up your metaphor. Are you trying to say ‘golden ticket’ or ‘brass ring’?”
She cocked her jaw. “What?”
“I just want to understand completely the complexities in your locution and lexicon.”
She blinked at me as her mental gears (the two of them) ground together. God might not have made me pretty, but He made me smarter than Amanda Lowell, and that was enough for most days.
“Look, loser. Let me make it clear that if you think that just ’cause you got”—she did the quote thingy with her pale pink, pointy-nailed fingers—“‘married’ to Todd that he’s going to be with you and not me, then you are wrong.”<
br />
“See how much better you do when you stick to single syllables?” I said.
Amanda smirked. “Here’s a single syllable for you.” She stuck up her middle finger, then turned and swished out of the bathroom. The rest of the cheerleaders flocked and flapped after her.
“Why do you love goading her so much?” Marcie asked me through her reflection in the mirror. She licked her thumb and wiped off a speck of mascara below her eye.
“I’m just trying to even out the scales of the universe,” I said. “Maintain homeostasis. Why should she be given a life of such utter perfection without the least amount of payback?”
“Why do you feel it’s your responsibility to level the field?” Marcie fancied herself an amateur therapist at times. I was her favorite patient.
“I don’t,” I said. “It’s just fun.”
“Try to focus on the positive, Fee,” Mar said. “At least we got the same homeroom. Let’s go.”
That was true; we’d both gotten Mr. Tambor, who was pretty decent, even if all his sentences went up at the end like everything was an emphatic question. It must have been Mar’s good luck that did it, though, because it sure wasn’t mine. My luck had resulted in Todd being in our homeroom as well. Mar and I saw him and Amanda outside Mr. Tambor’s room, huddled against the lockers. She had her face nuzzled in Todd’s neck as he stroked her hair. When we passed, both of them—right on cue—looked at me like I had pus-laced phlegm dripping out of every orifice in my body.
I opened my mouth to say something just as Mr. Tambor boomed, “Okay, people? Take your seats?”
Marcie grabbed my arm and yanked me inside, saying, “Leave it.”
CHAPTER 3
WELCOME TO TRYING THE KNOT!
Congratulations! Your school has invited you to participate in a revolutionary course on marriage education. This folder contains all the materials you’ll need. Below is a list of “rules” you must follow to gain optimum benefit from this course.
1. Shared Activities
Each semester, one member of the couple will select an activity in which both partners will participate (one person picks first semester; the other picks second semester). The activity should have a duration of at least three months, and should meet at least once a week. Of course, more is fine!
2. The Budget
Every month, each couple must earn real-world cash money by doing a job (or jobs!) together. In addition, by a random draw, they will receive an “Income Factor,” which is the number by which all real-world cash earnings will be multiplied. The resulting figure will be the couple’s income for the month. For example, if you select an Income Factor of 50, and you and your partner earn $20 that month washing cars together, then your total income for the month is 50 x $20. Or $1,000. That $1,000 is what you must use to create a budget from the “menu” choices below. (Remember, all expenses are per month!) So the more real-world cash you earn, the more you have to spend! At the end of each month, the couple must turn in a balanced budget using the enclosed budget sheets, as well as the earned cash, and written validation that the money was earned at a job. (No cheating with your own money!)
LIVING EXPENSES (choose one):
HOME A
A four-bedroom, two-and-a-half-bath house in a gated community. Excellent school district and no crime.
Mortgage and insurance: $2,000
Utilities: $500
HOME B
A three-bedroom, one-and-a-half-bath house in an established neighborhood. Decent school district and low crime level.
Mortgage and insurance: $1,500
Utilities: $400
HOME C
A two-bedroom, one-bath apartment in an apartment building. Marginal-quality school district and moderate crime level.
Rent: $1,000
Utilities: $300
EXTRAS (choose any or none):
Cable TV: $75
Cell phone: $50
Internet: $30
CAR PAYMENT (choose two):
Brand-new luxury hybrid: $400
Pre-owned midsize: $250
Used compact: $150
FOOD EXPENSES (choose one):
Gourmet, all organic; frequent takeout: $600
Average grocery; occasional takeout: $500
No name-brand grocery; infrequent takeout: $300
ENTERTAINMENT (choose one):
Country club membership, three movies a month, etc.: $350
One movie a month, video rental, etc.: $150
Video rental only, etc.: $50
BANK IT OR BLOW IT:
Any remaining income either can be spent on a luxury item or vacation, or can be listed under SAVINGS and be banked to the next month.
3. The Journal
Enclosed, you will find a journal in which to write your thoughts and feelings concerning the “marriage.” You may evaluate the course, your spouse, or yourself! Try to make an entry at least once a week, or more if you feel like it!
4. Weekly Sessions
Each week, you and your partner will attend a brief counseling session with a school guidance counselor to address issues in marriage, such as the three C’s: Communication, Compromise, and Commitment. But don’t worry! Everything you say will be a fourth C: Confidential.
Sounds easy, right? Well, just to keep things interesting, you may or may not be given a life-altering issue (ranging from a sudden illness to a pregnancy with twins!) along with a new monthly cost or a lower Income Factor to address in your budget. Of course, you may get lottery winnings or a sudden inheritance, and you could buy that new house or car! It’s up to you as a couple to decide how to handle these situations. Your school guidance counselor will offer assistance at your weekly counseling sessions.
Don’t forget! Your school will keep a running tally of all real-world cash earned. Each month, the couple who earns the most may win a prize. Also, at the end of the course, the most successful marriage as determined by your guidance counselor (in terms of effective communication, successful budgeting, conflict resolution, and personal growth) WINS HALF OF THE TOTAL MONEY COLLECTED, TO BE SPLIT BETWEEN YOU!
Good luck and have fun Trying the Knot!
“Have fun?” I cried. “Does this really say, HAVE FUN? These people are sadists.” I shoved the marriage ed packet into my backpack as Marcie and I headed to lunch. I hadn’t been able to bear reading the damn thing until just then. Now I’d pretty much lost my appetite. The stench in the hallway outside the cafeteria didn’t help either. There was no way to tell from it what they were serving. Could be spaghetti. Could be boiled baby diaper. Thank God they always had hot dogs.
“Have you talked to Todd yet?” Marcie asked.
“He bolts whenever I see him. What about you and Johnny Mercer?”
She didn’t answer, because just then Johnny rounded the corner and shuffled toward us. He plucked out his left earphone. “Hey Marcie,” he mumbled. He glanced for a split second at me. “Hey Fiona . . .” He tugged up the waistband of his oversized khaki cargo shorts and pulled at the side of his denim jacket. I didn’t think they still made those. But then again, it didn’t look too new.
“Hey Johnny. How’s it going?” Marcie asked.
He was nearly a foot taller than me, so he kept his head down and kind of eyeballed Mar and me from there. “Uh, fine,” he said. His voice was deep. “I, uh, wanted to let you know that we’re supposed to meet at guidance Friday after the . . . uh . . . wedding ceremony thing. At ten-fifteen.” He darted his eyes toward me from under a strand of sandy blond hair. “Everybody has a time. They’re posted on the bulletin board.” Eyes back to Mar. “I didn’t know if you’d seen it yet. Thought I’d just . . . you know . . . let you know.”
“Thanks,” she said. “See ya there.”
“Sure. See ya.” Eyes to me one more time.
“’Bye,” Marcie and I both said at once. He sidled between us and lumbered into the cafeteria.
“See? He is nice,” I whispered.
“Ma
ybe.”
“I’m gonna go check out our time,” I said to Mar. But I was really going to see what Gabe’s time was. In case I could arrange to run into him in the hallway. “Save me a seat,” I said.
“Sure.” Mar went into the cafeteria, and I headed for the bulletin board. I got there just as a couple of girls skulked away from it, snickering. For a sec, I wondered what they were laughing at. Then I saw.
Right there was the paper with everyone’s counseling times on it. Right next to 9:45 a.m. were Todd’s name and my name. And right next to my name was an arrow pointing to a cartoon of a girl with glasses, sitting on a horse, with pee running down her legs and pooling on the ground. Underneath, it said: Pee-ona Horse.
Good old Amanda. Clearly this was her work. She’d forgotten it was Pony, though, not Horse. I reached out and ripped the picture off the rest of the sheet of paper. Unbelievable. The first day of school, and I was already a joke.
I marched down the hall to the cafeteria, thinking of a dozen different insults to launch at Amanda. I pulled open the door and found myself face-to-face with Gabe Webber as he was leaving.
“Oh! Hey Fiona,” he said. “How’s it going?”
I crumpled up the picture and crammed it into the back pocket of my jeans. “Great. Fine. How about you?”
His porcelain smile gleamed. “Better every day.” He held the door open for me, and I slid by him. “See ya soon,” he said.
“Okay, sure,” I said. “See ya, Gabe.” I loved saying his name out loud. I watched him stride down the hall until the door swung shut on my view. Then I turned and searched the lunchroom for Amanda. I looked the cafeteria over three times, but I didn’t see her anywhere. I did, however, see Marcie sitting with a bunch of people, and she had apparently forgotten to save me a seat. Perfect. Whatev. I’d just sit by myself and read. I was no good at girl talk anyway, even if there had been room for me at that table. Designer clothes, bubblegum pop music, celebrity heartthrobs—I couldn’t give a fat rat’s hairy ass. Just give me my hotdog and Jane Austen, and I’m good.
A Match Made in High School Page 2