"So," He says acidly. "You're going to tell me that you've got problems, too, Jasmine? What's up? The family Range Rover has a flat maybe? Or wait. Maybe the leather seats are too sticky in this hot weather. Makes it a bit uncomfortable on your legs? Is that it? Total bummer."
Jasmine looks as though she's been slapped.
"Just save it, okay?" Eddie continues. "You could never understand what it's like."
"I couldn't?"
"No. Your life is nothing like mine, okay? You have no idea what real hardship is."
Jasmine walks over to Eddie, hikes up her T-shirt, and points to her stomach.
"Whoa! What the hell? What are you doing?" Eddie says, jumping back in his chair. By now the kids sitting at the nearby tables are watching.
"See that?" Jasmine points to a scar about five inches long on the side of her abdomen. "That's from surgery. From donating a kidney. I did it for my sister two years ago." She smooths down her shirt and collects her books again.
Eddie looks uncomfortable. "Oh. Wow. I'm sorry. Was...was she sick?"
"Yeah, Eddie. She was sick. Dying of kidney failure, in fact. I was her last hope." There are tears in Jasmine's eyes now, and she swipes at them angrily.
"Jesus. I'm sorry, Jasmine. That's pretty awesome that you did that, though," Eddie says quietly.
"Well, I guess it wasn't awesome enough, because Amy died, anyway. So, don't you dare tell me that I don't know what hardship is!"
When she's gone, Eddie sits at the table and stares at his half-eaten burrito, his appetite having vanished.
He stays that way until the bell rings.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
JOURNAL ENTRY (June)
"Is there anything more dangerous than sympathetic understanding?" - Pablo Picasso
Well, sure, if you take the above literally, then yeah, there are lots of more dangerous things out there in the world: man-eating lions, bacteria, venomous snakes, assault weapons...you get the picture.
But I think I get where he was going with this sentiment. It's kind of like what good old Holden Caulfield said in Catcher in the Rye: "Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody."
There's real wisdom in that. You start sharing your thoughts and dreams and bad poetry with someone, and sure as shit, things are going to get complicated. You'll start caring. They'll start caring. And then when they take off, or it doesn't work out, you're going to go into withdrawal, for sure, because it was you who probably cared more.
It's best to keep your heart tucked well inside your sleeve, out of harm's way.
Lately, I have to keep reminding myself this every time I talk to Jasmine.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Maya slumps at her desk near the back of the classroom. Mr. Baker is at the front, reading enthusiastically from a Shakespeare novel: A Midsummer Night's Dream. He is being very animated, flailing his hands about in the air and doing a lot of hopping around. At one point, he leaps onto his chair and waves a ruler over his head.
Wow, Maya thinks. It's like a scene out of The Dead Poet's Society.
But she's not really listening to him. She couldn't even if she wanted to because Nicole and Paige are giggling and texting each other in the next aisle, sneaking glances at her when they think she's not looking.
A boy behind her—a boy Maya doesn't even know—keeps poking her with the end of his pencil right between her shoulder blades, trying desperately to get a reaction. Maya doesn't give him one.
Poke. Poke. Poke.
When Nicole passes her a note via the pencil-poking boy, Maya takes it and slides it under her textbook. She doesn't want to read it. She knows it won't say anything nice, but eventually her curiosity gets the better of her and when Mr. Baker asks the class to read a passage on page 34, she finally opens up the folded piece of paper.
Hey, Maya. We all know what your favourite cereal is!...Cheery-Ho's!"
She shoves the note back under her textbook. It's not even clever, she thinks. Why can't they just leave her alone? What did she ever do to them?
"Miss DuMont?" Mr. Baker says from the front of the room. "Are you with us today?"
Maya jumps, which prompts giggles from the girls on her left. "Oh. Sorry. Yes, I am."
"Would you please read for us then?"
"Read?" Maya shrinks. She hates reading out loud. And reading Shakespeare in front of a group is mortifying.
"Come on, Maya," Mr. Baker says. "We're all ears."
"Fine," she says.
"Good. How about Helena's lines: Act II, Scene I. Page 35."
Maya nods her head and finds the right page.
"If you could stand up for us, please, Miss DuMont."
On shaking legs, Maya stands up. She picks the book up and feels her cheeks begin to burn. She wishes the floor would open up and swallow her whole.
"Anytime you're ready, Miss DuMont." Mr. Baker prompts.
"And even for that do I—"
"We can't hear you," Mr. Baker says in a singsong voice.
Maya stiffens and blinks back tears. She has never felt more uncomfortable in her life. She clears her throat, trying desperately to block out the images of Nicole, Paige and some others whom she can see in her peripheral vision.
"And even for that, do I love you the more. I am your spaniel. And, Demetrius, the more you beat me, I will fawn on you. Use me but as your spaniel—spurn me, strike, neglect me, lose me. Only give me leave, Unworthy as I am, to follow—"
"WOOF!"
Maya stops reading but doesn't raise her head. She stares at the words on the page in front of her and concentrates on breathing, just like Eddie told her to.
In. Out. In. Out.
"Shhhhhh!" Mr. Baker says to the class. "I realize it's a powerful passage, but listen please."
Maya takes another deep breath.
"Go on, Maya." Mr. Baker smiles at her, oblivious to the change of energy in the room.
"Unworthy as I am, to follow you. What worser place can I beg in your love - And yet a place of high respect with me - Than to be used as you used as your dog."
She snaps the book shut and sits down quickly, picking up her pen to doodle mindlessly on the front of her notebook.
"Thank you, Maya," Mr. Baker says. "Are there any questions?"
Nicole enthusiastically shoots up her hand.
"Nicole," Mr. Baker says.
"Well," Nicole says, casting a look at Maya. "I just think it's so pathetic. You know, the way Helena is so desperate for Demetrius' attention. Like, she'll do anything for him. She's totally acting like a common dog." Nicole looks at Maya, a cruel smile slashed across her face.
"That's an astute observation," Mr. Baker says, nodding. "But understand, those were very different times. It was a very patriarchal society. Nowadays, women have so many more options."
Paige is the next one to raise her hand.
"Miss Webster?" Mr. Baker says.
"I would just like to say that I would never follow a guy around like a little cocker spaniel. Not under any circumstances."
Snickers from the rest of the class.
"I mean," Paige continues, "no self-respecting girl would throw herself at someone like that, especially a guy who didn't even want her. Not unless she was total trash."
"Yeah," a boy in the far row says. "And I actually feel sort of sorry for Demetrius."
"Why is that, Kyle?" Mr. Baker asks.
"Because, he's like, just trying to get through the day, you know? Like, living his life, only he's got this crazy stalker chick following him around 24/7."
A few of the other boys in the class hoot in agreement.
Everyone begins talking at once and, shouting out their opinions and after a few minutes, Mr. Baker holds up his hands and says, "Okay, okay, grade nines! Calm down, please."
It takes a little while for everyone to settle back down in their seats. Maya continues to stare at the textbook while she peels little chunks of her pencil eraser onto the pages.
Half the class starts to laugh out loud, and Maya shrinks down further into her chair. The room begins to spin. Her skin feels hot and then cold, and then she is afraid that she might actually pass out.
"Maya?" Mr. Baker says expectantly.
"Um," Maya says weakly. "May I please be excused? I don't feel very well."
"Oh," Mr. Baker says, looking confused for a moment. "Okay, then. You do look a bit pale. Off you go. Go on down and see the nurse."
Maya scoops up her books, shoves them into her backpack, and walks between the desks towards the classroom door, a door that seems as though it is miles away.
A boy begins to whine like a dog as she passes by his desk.
Nicole whispers, "Hey, Maya. How did you and Mark do it? Bet it was doggie-style."
Maya pushes through the door, and when it closes behind her, she leans against the wall in the hallway, finally letting the tears she's been holding back for what feels like an eternity, spill down her cheeks.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Jasmine comes out of the girls' washroom to find Maya leaning against the wall with her eyes squeezed shut.
"Hey," she says, placing a hand tentatively on Maya's shoulders. "Hey. What's up? Are you all right?"
Maya wipes her cheeks with her hands and pushes her hair back from her face. "Oh. Yes. I'm fine. Thanks." She picks up her backpack and starts to walk away, but Jasmine grabs her arm.
"It's Maya, right?"
Maya stiffens. She doesn't really know Jasmine. She only knows that she is in her brother's art class—one of those alternative girls who can wear Blundstone boots and Paisley skirts together and make it look cool.
"It's okay," Jasmine says. "I'm a..." she hesitates, remembering her earlier conversation with Eddie in the cafeteria. "I'm a friend of your brother's."
Maya blinks. "Eddie has a friend?" She says this before she can stop herself, but really, when has her brother ever had a friend?
Jasmine smiles and pulls Maya inside the washroom door. "Come on. Let's chat."
Maya allows herself to be led through it, and the bathroom, is thankfully empty.
Jasmine sits on the counter between the sinks and smooths her skirt down over her legs. She pats the counter beside her. "Come on, now. Sit."
Maya sits but she doesn't relax. She's not sure why she's here, or what it is that Jasmine wants from her.
"It's okay," Jasmine says. "I don't bite."
Maya manages a smile but remains silent.
"Look, I just thought you could use a little moral support. I know what you and your brother are going through right now."
"You do?" Maya instantly regrets saying this. Of course, she knows. Everybody knows. The whole school knows.
"Would it help if I told you that I've been in your shoes?" Jasmine asks.
"You?" Somehow Maya can't envision this girl with the word SLUT written across her locker.
"Back when I lived in England," Jasmine says. "Before we moved here. I went out with an older fellow. He was twenty and I wasn't even fifteen. Nothing really happened, but it didn't appear to matter."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, everyone had already made up their minds about it." Jasmine shifts uncomfortably on the counter and fishes around in her oversized tapestry bag. "Damn. I forgot I quit. Would love a fag right now."
"A fag?" Maya frowns.
"A ciggy. Cigarette. Horrible things."
"Oh," Maya says. "Yeah. They are."
Jasmine zips up her bag and lets it drop on the tile floor. "Anyway, I guess my point is, is that this stuff will pass. It will. I know you don't believe me right now but trust me...in a few weeks someone else will be in the hot seat. People get bored with the same old gossip. They want something new. You'll be yesterday's news before you know it."
"And in the meantime?"
"In the meantime, you just have to suck it up."
"But it's so hard. Those girls. Nicole and Paige. They're so awful."
"I know, but you don't have a choice."
"And it's not just the girls," Maya says. "it's Mark Johnson, too."
"Mark." Jasmine says his name as though it's a form of poison.
"He's not doing really anything."
"Well, that's good news, isn't it?"
"Not really. I mean, Eddie beat him up and stuff, and his dad is supposedly this big shot cop and everything, and well, Eddie thought the cops would have come for him by now."
"I don't know," Jasmine says. "He trashed your car. And he assaulted Georgia. And you! Perhaps he doesn't want to rock the boat any more. Perhaps he's letting it go. That would be the smart thing to do, from his perspective. I know he isn't exactly a creature of burning intellect, but even he must realize the wisdom of keeping his mouth shut."
"Maybe." But Maya isn't convinced. To her, Mark seems like the sort of person who would always want the last word. Always.
"Come on," Jasmine says. "Splash some water on your face and pull your socks up. You can't let those girls get to you like this. They'll eat you alive if you let them. You've got to stand up to them."
"But, I can't."
"Well, then. If you really can't, you'll just have to fake it."
A tear slides down Maya's cheek. "You don't understand."
"Yes" Jasmine says. "I do."
"No. You don't. All of this, it's all my fault. If Eddie gets in trouble, it will be my fault. I'm always screwing things up for us. I did it a few months back. A girl found out we were living in our car because I told her, and we almost had to move because of it. It was only because she left town right afterwards. But it doesn't matter. I've screwed everything up again!"
"I'm sure Eddie doesn't blame you, Maya."
"That makes it even worse!" Maya snuffles into her sleeve, and blindly accepts the tissue Jasmine hands to her. "Because he's so nice about it. And now I've ruined his chances of ever getting into art school."
"Why is that? He can still apply."
"But he won't," Maya says, stuffing the soggy tissue into her jeans pocket. "He thinks I'm too messed up now. He thinks he needs to babysit me 24/7. No way he'll even consider it."
"Well, that's a shame," Jasmine says. "He probably stands a really good chance of getting a full ride."
"You mean a full scholarship?"
"Uh huh."
"I know. His sketchbook alone is a work of art. It's like this crazy book of his life. Poems and drawings and everything."
Jasmine nods. "I stole it one day when he left it in the art room. I took it with me and read it in the library at lunch. Every word." She looks at Maya and sticks her chin out a little more. "I know it was wrong of me, but I'm not even sorry. It's brilliant. I'd do it again in a flash. I secretly call his sketchbook, The Picasso Project."
"Good secret," Maya says. "And that's a good name."
She is starting to feel better. It helps to talk. And Jasmine. Jasmine is cool, Maya thinks.
Jasmine pauses, then suddenly furrows her brow and begins pulling at a stray thread of her blouse. "Maya?"
"Yeah?"
"I think I might have just come up with a really brilliant idea."
"What kind of an idea?"
"One that could quite possibly change everything... for you and Eddie, I mean."
"What is it?"
Jasmine jumps down off the counter and faces her own reflection in the mirror over the sink.
"First of all, you have to promise me you'll keep it a secret."
Maya's eyes widen. Keeping secrets with someone she's only just met? She isn't sure. But for some reason, she trusts Jasmine. She isn't sure why.
Jasmine doesn't give her a chance to think it over. "Listen. I'm going to need your help." She picks her bag off the floor, slings it over her shoulder, and grabs hold of Maya's hand. "Come
on."
"Where are we going?"
"For coffee. You're cutting class. I need to run this idea by you. We need to talk."
"But—"
"Trust me. I think it will be worth it."
***
It's a good secret.
When Jasmine goes to the bathroom in the café, Maya waits for her at the table. She feels different somehow. She stares into her empty mug and tries to identify the feeling; it's a mixture of calm, excitement and something else. Hope maybe? Or anticipation. Or...something.
She thinks about the plan and she knows Eddie would never be on board with the idea; that's why it has to be a secret. If he finds out, he's going to be seriously pissed. Still, Maya and Jasmine decide it's worth the risk. They've got nothing to lose. Not really.
Yes, she thinks, this is good. This will definitely be worth it. I know it.
She nods her head, even though she's the only one at the table. Yes, she thinks. This is perfect.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Eddie doesn't get much sleep in the Athletic Hut. He's on high alert, and when the first fingers of light appear above the trees, he shakes Maya awake.
"But it's so early!"
"Too bad," Eddie says. "We have to be careful. No one can know we're here. Now get up."
Suddenly awake, Maya sits up. She remembers yesterday's conversation with Jasmine. Just two more weeks. It isn't a long time to wait. Her fingers are crossed it will be enough time for them to execute their plan.
If they can really pull it off, then Jasmine might be right; everything really could change.
She and Jasmine had hung out for hours, and it had been so nice. Like having a big sister, Maya think. She's not sure what that feels like. Not, really, but Jasmine had listened, and hadn't judged her, and Maya could tell, that she likes Eddie, too, although she didn't say as much. She'd be good with Eddie, Maya thinks, and smiles at the idea of it.
***
The girls' change room is empty, and just like she always does, Maya chooses the last shower stall. She struggles out of her clothes—the tight jeans are the hardest to get out of—and then twists her hair into a knot and on the top her head then secures it with a few stray Bobby pins she finds in the pocket of her backpack.
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