by Dyan Sheldon
Sue blinked. “Oh, right,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if that was today or yesterday.”
Joan peered over her glasses at her. There was something in the way that Joan always peered over her glasses that reminded me of my mother. “Sue,” said Joan, gently but firmly, “yesterday was Sunday.” The way she said “yesterday was Sunday” reminded me of my mother, too. But her straight dark skirts and plain white blouses reminded me of my grandmother.
There was a blur of colour and the table shook. We all looked up. Tanya had arrived. I know I’m on the short side, but Tanya was the tallest girl I’d ever seen. She wasn’t one of those tall skinny girls either. Tanya was big. The only boy in the whole school who was as broad and as tall as Tanya was Dwayne Miller, and he was a fullback.
“Hi there, campers.” Tanya grinned. She was dressed in bright gold and green. In case you had trouble spotting her in a crowd. She pulled out the chair beside Marva and sort of threw herself into it. The table shook again. Tanya beside Marva was like daytime sitting next to night. Tanya always wore the brightest colours and was always loud and laughing, and Marva wore only purple or black and was moody and intense. “What’s the good word?” boomed Tanya.
“Four more days till Friday,” said Marva, not looking up from the book she was reading.
“But that’s five words,” said Sue.
Everyone ignored her.
I unwrapped my sandwich.
“Yuk,” said Tanya. “What is this stuff?” She was staring at the lump of meat on her plate, scraping at the gravy with her fork. “It doesn’t look as though it ever lived.”
Marva made a face. “It probably never did,” she said.
Joan caught my eye and groaned.
Marva’s eye, shadowed in a colour called Midnight Plum, to match the streak in her hair, rose above her paperback. “Not unless you think being kept in a tiny box in the dark from the moment you’re born, screaming in agony, is living,” she said.
“Here we go,” sighed Joan.
I gave silent thanks that I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich today and not the cafeteria lunch.
“Are we talking about pork again?” asked Sue.
“We’re talking about barbarians,” said Marva, brushing some crumbs off the table. She reached into her lunch-box and took out a bowl of salad.
Tanya leaned her head closer to her tray. “What’s that?” she asked, pretending that her lump of meat was talking to her. “It’s not true what Marva says? You were happy? The one thing that you ever wanted in life was to be a chicken cutlet served with instant mashed potatoes and peas in the school cafeteria?”
“Oh, ha ha, very funny,” said Marva. She waved her hand and the twenty-five bangle bracelets she wore went off like a car alarm. “You can joke all you want, Tanya, but it’s not funny. Eating meat is really bad for you.”
Tanya poked at the food on her plate again. “It wasn’t so good for the chicken either.” She winked.
Joan wodged her sandwich bag into a ball and threw it at Marva. “Marva, please,” she begged. “Do you think we could have just one meal where we don’t have to hear about our crimes against livestock?”
It wasn’t that I didn’t agree with Marva about battery chickens and stuff like that. I did. I wasn’t a vegetarian, but I didn’t think animals should be treated cruelly and have to suffer. It was another of my principles. Even I was pretty tired of Marva’s lectures, though. “Yeah,” I said, “let’s talk about the dance.” Since it was the only thing I’d been thinking about myself for two days, it was the only thing that came into my mind. Their reaction was a little different than Amy’s would have been.
Five heads turned to me at once. Five voices spoke. “What dance?” they asked.
“Saturday?” I said. “The dance next Saturday? You know, it’s the first big social event of the year.”
Joan bit into a corn chip. “Oh, really?” she said.
“Well, whoopdeedoo,” said Marva.
“I didn’t know there was a dance,” said Maria.
“I can’t believe it!” cried Tanya. “A dance? Here at Red Bay High? And I haven’t been asked to it yet?”
“Why did Mr Herrera keep you after class?” asked Sue.
I turned to her, a little surprised by her question. “What?” How did we get from Saturday’s dance to Mr Herrera?
“Mr Herrera,” Sue repeated. “You said you were late for lunch because he kept you late after class.”
Tanya pretended to gag. “I didn’t know you had Mr Herrera,” she said. “Everybody says he’s worse than the plague.”
Marva broke a carrot stick in two. “They’re wrong,” she said. “He’s worse than two plagues. My brother had him and he almost got him kicked out of school.”
The rest of us all looked at one another. Everyone at Red Bay knew Marva’s brother. He was a senior. And though he was really smart and everybody, even teachers, sort of respected him, he was even more eccentric than Marva was. Talk about weird!
“Why did your brother do that?” asked Sue.
Marva patted her shoulder. “No, Sue. Chris didn’t try to get Mr Herrera kicked out. Mr Herrera tried to get Chris kicked out.”
I decided to get back into the conversation. “He didn’t make me stay late,” I explained. “I just wanted to talk to him about something.”
“What’d Chris do?” asked Tanya.
Marva opened a small jar and shook some sunflower seeds into her hand. “Who knows?” she shrugged. “Chris is always doing something.”
Well that was true enough. Even I had heard how Chris County had led the protest against Styrofoam trays and cups in the cafeteria. You could see where Marva got it from.
“What about you?” asked Maria. “Was Mr Herrera nice to you?”
“For him he was. I mean, he didn’t actually yell at me or anything.” I’d finished my sandwich and potato chips and was starting my brownie. “I asked him if I could be excused from dissecting frogs.”
“I have Mrs Ricco,” said Sue. “Mrs Ricco doesn’t believe in dissection.”
“So do I,” said Maria. “I don’t know what I’d do if I had Mr Herrera. Jenny’s right, he’s always yelling.”
“I have Mr Janover, and he doesn’t believe in dissection either,” said Tanya, “but it wouldn’t bother me if he did.”
Marva eyed Tanya’s empty plate. “It couldn’t if you could eat that,” she said. Then she looked at me. “So,” she said, “what did Herrera say?”
“He said he’d think about it.” Which he had. I’ll think about it, Miss Kaliski, he’d said. But now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have my lunch.
Marva took a container of fruit salad out of her lunch-box. “That means no,” she informed me.
“Oh, you can’t be sure” said Joan. “It could mean that he wants to think about it.”
Marva jangled as she picked up her fork. “No, it doesn’t,” she said simply. “I know him. It means no.”
Later, as we were getting ready to go to our next classes, I brought up the dance again. Subtly. Casually. “So,” I said as we left the lunch room, “what about the dance? Are any of you interested in going?”
Joan shook her head.
Marva rolled her eyes.
“Not unless the Jolly Green Giant’s going to be there to dance with me,” laughed Tanya.
“What dance?” asked Sue.
Yes and no
On Tuesday night I had a dream. In the dream, I didn’t go to the dance. Amy came over to show me how she looked in her blue mini and lacy blue top. She looked terrific. She was wearing big silver hoops in her ears and turquoise shadow on her eyes. She looked like a model. She looked grown-up. “I wish you’d change your mind,” she said.
I was sitting on my old tricycle. My hair was in pigtails and I was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. I rang the bell of the trike. “I’m not coming,” I said. “I want to stay home and watch TV.” I rang the bell again.
Amy disappeared. The
next thing I knew, I was at the dance. I was standing on tiptoe at the window of the gym door. Inside it didn’t look like the gym. It looked like a club. There were posters on all the walls and it was dark. There were purple spotlights everywhere and a real band. Everybody inside was smiling and laughing. It started to rain. I was in the hallway outside the gym, but I was getting wet. I tried the door. It was locked. Amy floated by in the arms of Dwayne Miller, Red Bay High’s big football star. I banged on the glass. “Amy!” I shouted. “Amy! I’ve changed my mind! You were right! We’re not little kids any more. I want to come to the dance after all. I want to be grown-up and popular too!” The storm increased. “Amy!” I screamed. “Amy! Let me in!” Everyone in the gym turned to look at me. They started laughing. Amy was laughing the loudest. “Amy!” I was practically crying. “Amy! Open the door!”
“I can’t!” Amy laughed. The door disappeared. I was standing at the end of a dock. It was still pouring. The gym had turned into an enormous cruise ship. It was decorated with paper lanterns and coloured lights. The band were dressed like pirates. Amy was waving to me. “Goodbye, Jenny,” she was calling. “Goodbye!”
“Wait!” I was yelling. “Wait for me! I don’t want to be left behind! I want to come, too!”
Dwayne Miller suddenly appeared at her side. He put his arm around her. “It’s too late, Jenny!” Amy laughed. “You’ve missed the boat!”
So that was why, on the way to school on Wednesday morning, I told Amy I’d decided to go to the dance.
“I knew you’d make the right decision,” said Amy.
* * *
Mr Herrera, however, did not make the right decision. Mr Herrera said, “No.” Science was supposed to be about logic and reason, but for Mr Herrera it was about rules.
“I can’t make exceptions, Miss Kaliski,” he informed me. “You’re in high school now. You’ll do what the rest of the class does or you’ll get an F.”
I didn’t see Amy after school on Wednesday, but I phoned her that night. I had to tell someone, I was so outraged, and Amy was the person I always told everything to.
“Can you believe it?” I asked. “He’s making me dissect a frog even though I’m not going to learn anything I couldn’t learn from a textbook. Even though I’m not going to contribute anything to scientific knowledge.”
Amy was filing her nails, I could hear her sawing away while she spoke. “I don’t know why you always make such a big deal out of everything,” she said. “Just tell him you’ll dissect the stupid frog, and then when he isn’t looking let one of the boys do it for you. It’s what all the other girls do.”
I tried to explain. “But, Amy, that’s not the point. It’s not that I can’t do it, it’s that I don’t want to. It’s a matter of principle.”
“You can’t fight city hall,” said Amy. “And anyway, what choice do you have? You might as well just go with the flow.”
“It’s just that I feel very strongly about this sort of issue.” I raised my voice. “As a future scientist I am concerned with—”
“What you should be concerned with is what you’re wearing Saturday,” said Amy. “Have you given any thought to that, or have you been too busy worrying about reptiles?”
“Amphibians,” I corrected. The truth was that I hadn’t yet given any thought to what I was wearing because my argument with Mr Herrera had put the dance completely out of my mind.
Amy sighed. “Amphibians, reptiles … what’s the difference? The dance is only three days away. Are you going to do anything to your hair?”
“To my hair?”
She sighed again. “And what about make-up?” she demanded. “Have you even thought about that?”
Why would I? The only time I paid attention to stuff like that was when I saw those posters about testing beauty products out on mice. “Well, no…” I said. “I—”
Amy huffed. “Really, Jenny,” she said. “Sometimes I don’t know what’s going to happen to you. What would you do if I wasn’t around?”
“I guess I’d stay home Saturday night,” I joked.
Amy didn’t laugh. “Why don’t you come over after school tomorrow and we’ll try out some make-up and hair styles and stuff.”
We arranged to meet in front of the library after last period on Thursday. “Right after class?” said Amy. “Right after class,” I said. So there I was, standing under my green umbrella outside the library, water beginning to seep through my sneakers, waiting for Amy. I looked at my watch again. Amy was late.
It was funny, but though I’d never thought much about my hair or make-up or anything like that before, as the afternoon went on I’d started to feel a little excited. What if Amy managed some incredible transformation? All through history I kept imagining what I might look like when Amy was through. Taller. Thinner. Prettier. Like a Before and After make-over in a magazine. I’d go into Amy’s bedroom looking like one of those girls boys don’t notice unless they want to borrow her maths homework; and I’d come out looking like one of those girls who never does her maths homework but whom every boy in her class wants to date. I wanted my watch again. I wished she’d hurry up.
My patience was beginning to wear out when the door opened behind me. I turned around, but it wasn’t Amy. I caught a glimpse of a long, hooded black cape, a pale thin face and black-ringed purple eyes. It was a vampire. The vampire’s arms were filled with books. I turned back to the path.
The vampire stopped beside me. “Jen?” she asked, peering under my umbrella. “Jen, is that you?”
“Marva?” I should have known. Who else at Red Bay High would wear a cape instead of a raincoat? Especially one that was black on the outside and purple on the inside. Tanya, Joan, Maria and Sue might all be Martians, but Marva was the head Martian, there was no doubt about that.
“What are you doing out here in this deluge?” She laughed. “Waiting for the ark?”
“Not exactly,” I said. “I’m waiting for my friend Amy.”
Marva tucked her books under her cape. “That’s not the blonde, is it? The one with the perm I sometimes see you with in the mornings?”
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said, “that’s Amy.”
“She’s gone,” said Marva.
“Who’s gone?”
“Your friend Amy. She’s in the same class as me last period. I saw her leave right after English.”
“Are you sure?”
Marva nodded. “Sure I’m sure. There were a couple of girls waiting for her in the hall, and they were talking about not being late for something.”
All of a sudden I felt as though I’d been waiting for my friend Amy for a very long time. My feet were soaking. The bottoms of my jeans were wet. My arm hurt from holding the umbrella. How could she go off and leave me like this? I forced myself to smile. “I guess I must have mixed up the days,” I said. “She must have meant tomorrow.”
“You live past Burr, don’t you?” asked Marva.
I nodded. Numbly.
“I go that way, too,” she continued. “You want to walk together?”
For a second I just stared at her. I had this sudden image of the two of us on our way home, me looking like a green mushroom with feet, and Marva looking like Countess Dracula. What if someone saw us? Then I had another sudden image, this one of Amy going off with Amber and Kim. “Sure,” I said. “You want to hold the umbrella?”
“So what’d Herrera decide?” asked Marva as we walked past the teacher’s parking lot. “Is he going to exempt you from the frog carving?”
I told her what he’d said.
“What did I tell you?” asked Marva. “When Herrera says he wants to think about something he means ‘no way, not in a million years’. It’s because he doesn’t think, he just does what he’s always done.”
“I can’t believe it,” I said for about the hundredth time since the day before. I kicked a stone and it splashed into a puddle. There was a rumble of thunder in the distance. “No one else in the whole world makes this stuff mandator
y any more.”
“It’s because you’re in advanced biology,” said Marva.
“But it’s not like I want to be a doctor,” I complained. “I want to be an astrophysicist. A first-hand look at the intestines of a frog isn’t really important to me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Marva. “It’s exactly what happened to Chris.”
“Chris?”
“My brother.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “Chris.”
“He was the best student in the class, so there was no way Herrera was going to let Chris bend the rules. He said he would set a bad example. I’ve never seen Chris so mad. He hates inflexibility. And when Herrera tried to have him suspended…” She rolled her eyes. “Chris swore he’d get even before he graduated, or die in the attempt.” We turned a corner.
“So what are you going to do now?” Marva wanted to know as we walked up her block.
“Now?” What was she talking about? “What do you think I’m going to do now? I’m going home.”
Marva made a face. “No.” She moaned. “About Herrera.”
“What can I do?” I asked. “I’m going to cut this poor little frog open and then I’m going to go home and feel guilty about it for the rest of my life.”
We came to a stop in front of a big old house that looked like it might be haunted. Marva didn’t have to say anything, I knew it must be hers. My family lived in a small ranch house. Our house was white with dark green trim. Marva’s house was blue. The paint was peeling in places, but it was definitely blue. Bright blue. The trim was pink. I’d never seen a house that shade of blue before. In fact, I’d never seen anything that shade of blue before. There seemed to be a lot of stuff on the front porch. I half expected to see Boris Karloff appear among the old furniture and refrigerators, laughing his evil laugh. If Marva was the head Martian, then this was Martian Control.