Glaciers
shaped the lower peninsula of Michigan like a mitten by during the
Ice Age, gouging out the five Great Lakes around it. People out in
the country still find weird geologist nerds stopping in front of
their lawns in order to look at big rocks that were carried hundreds,
maybe thousands (!) of miles in ice. Jackson, Michigan, if the mitten
is the right hand facing up, is where the Life Line curves down and
ends almost at the wrist, between the two meaty sections at the
bottom. Though Native Americans had been around for thousands of
years, Jackson was ‘founded’ in 1829 by Horace Blackman, who
named it after President Andrew Jackson, a Democrat, but if you go to
the corner of Second and Franklin, just south of downtown, there’s
a small park with a plaque titled “Under The Oaks” describing the
founding the Republican Party on July 6, 1854. The population hub of
Detroit and the communist city-state of Ann Arbor represent the
liberal parts of Michigan. The rest of the state, including Jackson,
is the generally conservative part, though Michiganders are a weird
mix: They can overwhelmingly elect a democratic governor, but will at
the same time overwhelming vote to ban gay marriage. Most of the
people belonging to the Democratic Party do so in order to protect
their union jobs. And look how well that’s worked.
Jackson
became known as a small parts city, with smaller factories supplying
the bigger ones in Detroit, though as more and more jobs go south, to
other states, and other countries, the less small parts are needed.
And there’s never been anything to replace those jobs, except rich
people from Ann Arbor and Detroit who became willing to make the
commute in order to get cheaper houses. When the feds eased
restrictions on drilling on government land out in places like Utah
and Wyoming, job recruiters came all the way to Jackson to find
people who wouldn’t mind the harsh winters in places like Casper.
And they got takers.
Economically
and geographically, Jackson is right in the middle of the Rust Belt,
which stretches from Minnesota to Pennsylvania, and was coined for
the decline in iron and steel production in the 70s, but grew to
include the decline in all the manufacturing industries, like cars.
Starting with the Industrial Revolution, and Henry Ford’s new
factory system, and especially after the first World War, many
African-Americans moved up for all the new jobs assembling cars on
the assembly lines of Detroit and surrounding cities. This was not
without some conflict. With too many people for too few jobs, as is
usually the case, the poor whites blame the poor blacks, instead of
the rich white guys running the car companies, or the rich white
politicians ‘running’ the system. White people abandoned city
centers for the suburbs (“white flight”) and, starting in the
60s, Detroit and other cities in the state have had their share of
race riots. Yes, even into the 21st century,
though you won’t hear about it on the news anymore.
Jackson
is about two thirds white, one third black, and only a sprinkling of
latinos filtering up in search of well-paying dishwashing jobs. There
are a few Asians, from Asian countries proper, plus the Indian sub
continent and the Middle East, all safely belonging to the upper
middle class. For the most part, these different groups get along,
now, though of course they all stay in our respective cultures: At
school: black kids at one table, white kids at another. On the bus:
black kids in their seats (yes, usually in the back) and white kids
in theirs. In restaurants, white folks at their tables, black folks
at theirs. Only at Jackson Community College is it different: white
kids in all the college-prep transfer classes, poor whites in
developmental and trade classes, and blacks hardly anywhere.
Michigan
was logged completely back in the day, when everyone thought the
trees of North America would last forever. Most of the trees you see
there now are 2nd or 3rd
generation. Along with, and after, logging, came farming, and you can
still see fields and fields of corn around Jackson, though less and
less than even a few decades ago. Summers in Jackson are hot and
humid, with flies and mosquitoes. When you’ve been gone for awhile,
you forget how lush the area is: cornstalks tall and green, trees
bending out over the roads, forming green tunnels. Thunderstorms
lasting days, the thunder soothing though, you can fall asleep to it.
Fall
is the best time in Jackson. Leaves turning, sometimes amazingly,
red, yellow, orange. Nights cool, all the bugs gone, and it feels
good to put on a jacket and go for a walk, looking at the stars,
brighter with the drier air. We know what’s coming, so we enjoy the
sun and the outdoors as much as we can, unless we’re inside
watching college football. The first snow nice, pleasant, beautiful,
especially since the sun still comes out afterwards and keeps
everything brighter than it’s been in a while. If we’re lucky,
the big snow doesn’t come until December, though sometimes it can
come as early as October.
But
then January comes and there’s no excuse, nor escaping: it’s full
on Winter, the feet of snow, eyeball-freezing wind, and the vanishing
of the sun until April. You get up in the dark, work inside somewhere
all day, and come back in the dark. Not that there’s sky to see:
just grey clouds all the time, something to do with being surrounded
by Great Lakes. Winter in Colorado, for example, is nice because
there is sun in the daytime, and with the high altitude, the
temperature can get up in the 40s. In Michigan, when it gets in the
40s, teenagers wears shorts. There’s also no social life in Jackson
in Winter. Many would argue there’s no social life in Jackson
period, but in Winter it’s hard to feel attractive when bundled up
in five layers, head tucked down. Better just to just stay in, rent
movies and eat Doritos, with a partner if you’re lucky. If not,
that’s what internet porn was invented for.
Then
Spring. The sun comes out. The snow melts. The lake ice melts. The
sandhill cranes come back. The tulips in Ella Sharp Park bloom.
Little buds appear on trees, then actual leaves. And grass, the Great
American lawn becomes visible and men can finally mow their lawns.
I
found her in the woods behind the subdivision by my house, between
the dirt road and the lake, lying on her back in the weeds. Black
dress. One of her black leather shoes missing. Short brown hair like
my sister Jenna. Her eyes still open. Her lower lip cut with dried
blood.
I
knew her. My old babysitter’s sister. I couldn’t remember her
name. I knelt down and touched her. Her blouse wet from the dew. The
ribs underneath. I touched her bare leg. Cold. Smooth. I pressed down
on the skin. Her eyes staring out away from me. I picked a piece of
leaf from her hair and traced my finger down her cheek. Cold.
I
stood up and looked around. Nothing, no one. Just trees. The road,
the lake. I bent down and lifted her skirt and looked.
I
dropped her skirt and stood up, looking. Then I ran away.
My
mom was back from Ann Arbor, sitting on a couch grading papers,
listening to cuban jazz and drinking tea. She looked at me as I came
in and tilted her head. —Danny, what’s wrong?
—She’s
dead.
—Dead?
What do you mean? Who?
—Jennifer’s
sister. In the woods out back by the lake. She’s dead. I saw her.
She
put down her tea and got up. —Jennifer? Jennifer Streeter? Her
sister? Danny are you sure? This isn’t playing?
I
shook my head. —No. She’s there.
—Can
you show me?
She
called to Jenna that we would be right back and took me in our car
out on the dirt road. I told her when to stop and we got out. She
held my hand and I led her through the trees to the girl. When she
saw the body she said, —Oh my god.
She
ran over to it. covered her mouth with one hand, and started to cry.
Then she turned around and took me back to the car.
We
drove home and she called the police. She put more water on the stove
for tea and stood there holding her hands over the teapot. By the
time the tea was ready a police car drove into the driveway with its
lights flashing.
My
mom talked to them, then went with them to show the body. She was
gone a while. I turned on the tv. Jenna came out and sat next to him.
—What’s going on?
—I
found Jennifer’s sister in the woods. She’s dead.
Her
eyes got wide. —Dead? Where?
—By
the lake.
—You
saw her?
—Yeah.
—What
was she like?
—Like...she
was sleeping, except her eyes were open and she didn’t move.
—What
did she look like?
The
police car pulled back into the driveway and my mom got out with an
officer. They came inside and my mom took Jenna back to her room. The
officer came and sat next to me. —Hello Danny, my name’s Kyle.
I’m with the Jackson County Sheriff’s Department. Can I talk to
you for a minute?
I
kept staring at the tv. —Ok.
—Do
you mind if I turn off the tv?
—No.
The
officer got up and turned it off and sat back down. He took out a
notebook. —Danny, first we want to thank you for what you did. It
was very brave.
I
didn’t say anything.
—Did
you see anything else there? Any people?
—No.
Just her.
—I
thought so. I had to ask. Did you touch the body at all?
I
shook my head. —No.
—And
she’s your babysitter’s sister?
I
nodded. —Yeah.
—Did
you know her? Did she every babysit you?
I
shook his head again. —No. I’ve just seen her.
The
officer nodded slowly. —How exactly did you find her?
—I
was walking in the woods. I was going out to the lake and I saw her
color. It was different. So I went over and it was her.
—How
close did you get?
—Just...so
I saw her eyes and then I knew she was dead.
—How
do you feel right now?
—Sad.
—Me
too.
—Did
somebody kill her?
—Well...yes.
—Who?
—We
don’t know. But we will.
He
put his hand on my head. —Listen, Danny. If you like, you can talk
to somebody about this. A therapist. It’s ok to be sad. Sometimes
people like to talk about being sad and it helps.
I
stared at the floor. —I’m ok.
—Are
you sure? I talked with our mom and she said it would be up to you.
—I’m
ok.
—How
old are you and your sister?
—I’m
eleven, she’s ten. We’re in the same grade though.
Danny
nodded.
—Ok,
well...I just need to take some notes real quick and then I’ll
leave you alone. Ok?
—Ok.
After
he wrote something, he stood up. —Thank you Danny. Do you want the
tv back on?
—Ok.
My
mom came back out and offered the officer some tea but he said no.
They went outside to the car. I went over to the window and listened.
—Will
he be ok?
—I
think so. I just wanted to be sure he didn’t look too closely. Then
I would be worried. Just...be around him. If he looks bad give that
therapist a call. She’s good. But, I think it’ll be ok.
—Ok,
thank you. Is there....
—Any
danger? Shouldn’t be, for your family. This was...sexually related.
—Sexually
related. The poor girl....
When
she came back in I was watching tv again. She sat down and asked how
I was, stroking my forehead.
—I’m
ok Mom.
—Are
you sure baby?
—I’m
ok. I’m sad is all.
—I
know.
—She
seemed nice.
She
kissed him. —You’re very sweet. How about we go out to eat
tonight? Do you want pizza?
—Ok.
Can we go to Sir Pizza?
—Wherever
you want baby.
That
night I was still awake when Jenna opened my bedroom door and
whispered my name. She came in and got under the covers with me. I
stared at the ceiling while she looked at me in the dark.
—Will
you tell me about her now?
—Like
what?
—Like
what she was wearing.
I
was quiet for a second. —A dress. She only had one shoe.
—Did
you touch her?
—Yeah.
She was cold.
I
touched Jenna. —And harder. Not like you.
—Was
she still pretty?
—Yes....
—Did
somebody kill her?
—Yes.
She
rubbed her eyes. —That’s sad.
I
kept staring at the ceiling. —I looked up her skirt.
She
stopped crying. —You did? What was it like?
I
didn’t say anything.
—What
was it like?
—There
was blood. I think he killed her there.
—There?
How?
—I
don’t know.
—Did
you tell?
—Not
about that.
She
snuggled up to me and rested her head on my shoulder. —I wish they
could have left her alone. Are you sad?
I
touched her arm. —Yes.
—Why
don’t you cry?
I
closed his eyes. —I don’t know.
I
stayed up in bed looking at my clock until eleven o’clock, then
went out to the living room to watch the news on television. They
talked about her.
Our
top story tonight, police recovered the body of eighteen year old
Wendy Streeter, reported missing yesterday. The police say they have
detained an acquaintance of hers. Relatives report that the two
people were intimate, and police have said it is a quote crime of
passion unquote. Funeral services will be held on Wednesday at St.
John’s Church. In other news, another Michigan soldier has been
killed in a car bomb explosion in Baghdad....
I
turned the television off and went back to my room, but stopped when
I saw there was still a light on in my mom’s room. I hesitated,
then knocked softly. —Mom?
—Danny?
Come in...
I
opened the door. She was reading in bed, one large candle lit on the
bedstand next to her futon. She put her book down and looked at me.
—What is it baby?
—Mom,
what’s passion?
—Passion?
She
sat up and motioned me to sit on the bed. —What do you mean?
I
sat down. —What does it mean?
—Well...it’s
love. It’s strong love. Extreme love.
I
stared at the floor.
—So
when someone is passionate about something that’s all they think
about. Like, someone can have a passion for playing music. They’re
passionate.
I
nodded. —Oh. But...can you be passionate about a person?
—Um,
yes. Usually it’s about doing something, but yes.
—But
if you’re passionate about someone, why would you kill them?
—What?
Baby, is this about that girl?
—Yes.
They said it was a crime of passion.
—Oh.
Oh. Jeezus. The poor girl.
—Was
it her boyfriend?
—I
guess so. If they said that, then probably. I guess...maybe he...I
guess he was jealous. That’s usually what it means.
—Jealous
of what?
—Of...another
man. Maybe she was with another man and her boyfriend found out
and...killed her.
—Why?
—Baby
I don’t know. People are...fucked up. Just fucked up. It’s not
right to do that.
—But...he
loved her?
—Well...maybe.
In a way. But not in a good way
—How
do you know when you love someone in a good way?
—When
you don’t want to hurt them.
—But....ok.
But...why was she with another man?
She
sighed. —Baby...sometimes that happens. I’m not saying it’s
right but...sometimes you get attracted to another man. Or woman.
Then...it’s a big mess.
—Did
she love the other man?
She
shook her head. —I don’t know. Only she knows.
—But
did she love her boyfriend?
—Maybe.
Maybe she used to and then didn’t. Maybe she never did.
—Why
would she be with both of them if she didn’t love either of them?
—Well...people
can be attracted to people. You can like someone without loving them.
Love comes later?
—And
one person can love someone even if the other person doesn’t love
them?
She
sighed again. —Yes.
—Why
do people fall in love?
She
smiled. —Nobody knows. But it feels good when both people do.
—It
feels passionate?
—Um...yes.
You can’t think of anyone else.
—So
why is it a crime?
—Oh.
Well, when someone loves someone else, passionately, but the other
person doesn’t feel the same way...that can hurt. So...I guess he
wanted to hurt back.
She
touched my shoulder. —But promise you’ll never do that to
someone. Never hurt anyone.
—Even
if they hurt me?
—No.
It doesn’t make things better. With this girl, now her family is
hurt.
—But
you said that if someone feels passionate they don’t think about
anything else.
—Yes....
—So...I
don’t want to feel passionate about anyone. Ever.
—Baby,
why?
—Because
if they didn’t feel the same way it would hurt.
—Oh
baby, come here.
She
hugged him. —It’s ok to feel that. If you find a girl and feel
that way, it’s ok.
—What
if...she doesn’t?
—Then...her
loss. And there will be others.
I
yawned. —But...
—Baby
go to sleep. You’re too young to be worrying about this stuff. Too
heavy.
I
stood up. —Mom?
—What?
—Can
I go to the funeral?
—Oh.
Sure baby. We’ll go. That’s very... nice of you.
My
mom picked me up after lunch from school and we drove to the funeral
at St. John’s Church. There were lots of people. It was an open
casket, but we sat in back so I couldn’t see her very well. The
minister talked and I looked around at the other people. Her family
sat in front. Jennifer was between her parents, wearing a black
dress. The mother was slouched over, crying the whole time. The
father just say there straight with red eyes. The other sister sat
next to them in a wheelchair in the aisle, wearing a military
uniform.
After
the minister finished speaking, everyone stood in line to view the
body. I waited in line with my mom’s hands on my shoulders.
Jennifer’s mom bent over the coffin and cried until the father and
Jennifer helped her away.
When
I finally stood next to her, she looked like she had in the grass.
Sleeping. Hair brushed, shiny. Hands crossed on her chest. Eyes
closed this time. I touched her arm.
My
mom grabbed my hand and drew it back, whispering, —Danny no, it’s
disrespectful.
I
looked up at her as they walked away. —I just wanted to touch her.
—Well....don’t.
Come on.
I
looked back at her face one more time.
The
family stood at the doors to greet people. Jennifer was first. She
held out her arms and hugged me. —Oh Danny. I’m so sorry. Thank
you.
Her
body was warm. Her hair in my face. Apples. —I’m sorry Jennifer.
She
looked at me and started to cry, then leaned over to her mother and
whispered in her ear. The mother’s eyes got wide and she started to
cry again. She leaned down and hugged me. —Oh my boy, I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry. Thank you.
The
father held out his hand. —Son, thank you for finding her.
He
shook his hand and looked up at him. —I’m...I’m sorry. She
seemed like...I could have liked her.
The
father closed his eyes hard. Looked at him again. —Thank you son.
When
we got to the car I asked my mom if I could skip the rest of the
school day. She said yes and dropped me off at home.
I
went for a walk back into the woods and took the path over to the
lake, back to the spot. The grass was matted down everywhere. Tire
tracks. I found where her body had been. Still the outline in the
grass. I touched the matted grass where her legs had been and traced
up. I traced up to her head and stroked the grass like her hair. Then
I cried.
Wednesday
night was our night out with our dad. He picked me up from the house
and Jenna from her dance class. We went to Pizza Hut, like always.
The manager smiled at my dad when we came in. —Hey, got a booth for
you in the corner like you like.
My
dad smiled. He liked to feel important. We sat in the booth and Anne,
our usual, and Dad’s favorite, waitress, came over and smiled. —Hi,
the usual? Let’s see, two Pepsis and one water for the thirsty
dancer, and a large pan pizza with pepperoni.
She
winked at Jenna. —How are you? How’s the dancing?
Jenna
smiled, shy. —Fine.
—Ok,
I’ll be right back with your drinks.
She
turned and walked away with the menus. I watched my dad watch her,
then I looked at her. Her pants were black and tight and I could see
the lines of her underwear. I looked at my dad who was still
watching. Jenna played with her fork. —I like Anne.
My
dad played a video game on his phone. I looked around at the other
people. Jenna played with her fork and knife. Anne came back with
their drinks. —Here we go, two Pepsis for the boys, and a water for
the ballerina. And here’s your straws.
Jenna
smiled. —Thank you Anne.
—You’re
welcome, ballerina. Your pizza will be right out.
Dad
went back to playing his phone. Jenna tore off the tip of the straw
cover, turned the straw around, and blew the cover at me. My dad
looked at her. —Jenna, stop that.
She
looked down at her lap. —Sorry....
I
looked around at the people again. The restaurant was busy. I drank
some Pepsi.
Eventually
the pizza came. Anne cut out the first pieces for us, Jenna first,
then me, then my dad. Jenna smiled. —Thank you Anne!
Anne
winked and walked away.
We
ate. Jenna had two pieces and my dad and I ate the rest. My dad paid
with a credit card and we left. My dad gave me the keys and told me
to take Jenna out to the car.
—Why?
—I’ll
be there in a second.
I
took Jenna’s hand and led her outside to the car.
From
the front seat I could see through the restaurant door. My dad was
talking to Anne. She nodded at something and looked out the door and
saw me. She wrote something on a piece of paper and gave it to him.
Then he came out to the car.
Jenna
touched his shoulder from the back seat. —Daddy, what were you
doing?
He
looked at her in the rear-view mirror. —Nothing.
—Are
we going to the arcade now?
—Yes.
He
drove us to the mall and parked. We got out and went inside to
Aladdin’s Castle, dark and red and loud with bleeps and buzzes and
explosions and bells. My dad got five dollars worth of tokens and
gave us each four to start out. I played games and sometimes watched
Jenna play and sometimes my dad when I had to ask for more tokens.
When the tokens were done, we left and went back to my dad’s
apartment. He turned on the tv and we sat down and watched a MASH
rerun. Later, he made popcorn with oil and lots of salt. At nine
o’clock my dad and Jenna wanted to watch a show that I didn’t
like, so I asked my dad if I could watch the tv in his bedroom. I
went in and lay on the bed, using the remote to turn the tv on,
propping myself up with pillows and watching his show.
During
a commercial, I noticed the top drawer to the night stand slightly
open. I opened it all the way and inside was a stack of magazines
called Penthouse, with beautiful women on the covers. He took the top
one out and opened it to the center to a two-page picture of a naked
woman lying on a bed smiling. Showing herself and smiling. She had
hair between her legs and fancy jewelry and shiny hair, and she
smiled like she liked me looking at her. I turned the pages with more
pictures of her. I kept turning pages. There were stories and
articles, but then more pictures of another naked woman. Then
pictures of two women together. In their underwear and then naked.
Kissing and touching each other.
I
kept looking. Once I heard my dad get up and I put the magazine away
quickly, shutting the drawer. When he sat back down, I opened the
drawer again and looked at the magazine until I heard my mom knock at
the front door. I put the magazine away and turned off the tv and
went out. My mom knocked again. I went to the door and opened it. My
mom smiled. —Hey baby, ready to go?
—Yeah.
She
looked at my dad. —Hello Sean. Jenna, ready to go?
Jenna
was sitting next to my dad half-asleep. She shook her head. —I
don’t want to go.
—Baby,
it’s late. You need to get home and go to sleep.
—Noooo...
Jenna
snuggled up to my dad.
My
mom sighed. —Sean, come on.
My
dad sighed too. —Alright. Jenna, come on. Time to go.
—Daddy,
no....
—Come
on. I’ll see you this weekend.
Jenna
got up and slouched out. My dad got up and walked over and patted him
on the head. —See ya, kiddo.
—Bye.
I
turned around and walked to the end of the hall after Jenna. The door
was still open enough to heard my parents’ voices. My mom’s got
louder. My dad said something and my mom came out slamming the door
behind her. She walked past him. —Come on baby....
Driving
home, Jenna slept in the back seat. I sat up front and put my face
against the window, the glass cool on my cheek.
My
mom kept switching radio channels. —Did you have a good time
tonight?
I
nodded. —Yeah....
That
night, in bed, in the dark, I thought about the woman. I held my
pillow and imagined it was her, that I was holding her. I rubbed
against the fabric like I was rubbing against her and my penis got
hard. I turned over on top of the pillow and rubbed, breathing heavy
and thinking about her smile and between her legs and then stuff
squirted out of my penis. I thought I’d peed myself. I sat up and
turned on the light. It wasn’t pee. It was thicker and white. I
turned off the light, turned over the pillow, and lay on my back,
touching the white stuff still on my stomach, and fell asleep.
I
was the last one the school bus dropped off, forty-five minutes after
leaving school. I never got a key to the house because I’d figured
out how to break in, which was to climb up on the shelf of empty
flower beds below the front windows, pull off a screen and set it to
the side, then push open one of the windows and slid inside. I’d
shut the window, going around to the front door, outside, and put the
screen back on. Then I’d go back inside and maybe make popcorn and
watch cartoons. If I got tired, which was most of the time, I would
go in my room and take a nap.
That
night, after picking Jenna up from dance class, my mom got a pizza at
Little Caesar’s and came home. I was sleeping but heard them come
home and came out. We ate and afterwards my mom sat both of us down
on the couch and kneeled down in one of her yoga poses, smiling. —I
have really important news to tell you guys. But first of all I want
you both to know I love you. And, I just found out today that I’m
going to Mexico for a year!
We
both stared at her.
—I
just found out I got a fellowship to study Spanish for a year there.
I...wasn’t sure I’d get it. I leave in three weeks, after you
guys get out of school. But, I wanted to say, to ask you both, if
that’s ok with you? That I go?
Jenna’s
eyes started to water. —You’re leaving?
My
mom put her hands on Jenna’s knees. —Not for good baby. I’ll be
back before you know it. And this way your father can come live here
and you can be with him.
—I
hate you!
Jenna
got up and ran to her room, slamming the door.
My
mom closed her eyes and sighed. —Shit.
She
looked at me. —Baby, I’m going to go talk to your sister, ok?
—Ok.
—Are
you mad?
—No.
—Ok,
I’ll be right back.
She
went to Jenna’s room and knocked. I could hear everything.
—Go
away!
—Jenna
baby, I’m going to come in.
—No!
My
mom opened the door and went in, leaving the door open. Jenna was
crying.
—Jenna
baby, don’t be mad at me. It hurts.
—I
hate you! You don’t love me....
—That’s
not true baby. Come here, let me hug you.
—I
don’t want you to hug me. I don’t like you. You’re always doing
things. Why can’t you be a normal mom?
—Baby,
what’s a normal mom?
—Someone
who stays. I don’t like having you for a mom. All my friends make
fun of me.
—Oh
baby, why? What kind of friends are those?
—Why
are you leaving?
—I’m
not leaving forever. It’s only a year. Baby, this is really
important to me.
—Can’t
you stay here and do it?
—No,
not really. Baby, this is exciting for me. I want you to be happy for
me.
Jenna
sniffling. —Why can’t you stay?
—Honey...there’s
nothing here for me in Jackson. I want to learn things from
the world. I want to show you that it’s possible to do that. I
don’t want you to stay here all your life.
—I
like it here....
—Well...this
way you’ll get to be with your dad. I know how much you like him.
You can see him all the time.
Jenna’s
voice got louder. —Why can’t you be normal? You don’t like me.
You like Danny but you don’t like me.
—That’s
not true. I like you both.
—You
don’t like me! You laugh at me!
—No
I don’t baby. When did I do that?
—When...when
I asked you about boys, you laughed and made fun of me!
—Baby,
I don’t remember that, but I’m sorry if I did.
—Don’t
leave!
My
mom started to cry. —Please baby, don’t say that. I really really
really need to go. I don’t like it here. I need to leave. Please,
please say it’s ok.
She
sniffled again. —Fine. Ok....
My
mom came back out to the living room, still crying a little. —Danny
baby, are you ok?
—Yeah.
She
sat and put her arm around me. She always smelled like tea tree oil.
—Baby, you know I love you, don’t you?
—Yeah.
—Is
it ok if I go?
—Yeah.
I want you to. I want you to be happy.
She
started to cry again. —Thank you baby, that’s sweet. You know,
I’m not sure what it will be like, but I thought, maybe, you could
come live with me and go to school there. I don’t know yet and I
didn’t want to say anything to your sister. I’m not even sure you
would want to, but maybe. I’ll see. Would you like that?
—I
don’t know.
—I
know, it’s scary. I’m scared too. But, that’s why I want to go,
a little. I’ve never done something scary. Do you understand?
—I
think so.
She
hugged me. —I’m going to miss you. Will you miss me?
My
eyes started tearing up. I wiped them. —Yes.
—Will
you write me letters? I’ll be lonely down there.
I
stood up, still rubbing his eyes. —Ok.
—Oh
baby, are you ok?
—Yeah
mom. I’m just going to bed.
She
touched my arm. —Do you want to snuggle?
—No....
—Ok
my big boy.
I
went into my room and closed the door and got in bed in the dark. I
hugged his pillow and listened to Jenna and mother cry.
I
got to science class before anyone else and sat in my assigned seat
at one of the back tables. Outside, students were still changing
classes laughing and yelling. Raquel Vasquez walked in. Dark skin,
long black hair, tight white t-shirt and jeans. She looked at me and
smiled and went to her seat in front, one row over. I could see her
bra under the tight shirt across her back. She got out our science
book and started to read.
More
kids came in and sat down. Chris, the boy that sat next to me, came
in smelling like cigarettes. He started drawing on the table. I got
out the science book to read, but he nudged me and leaned over,
half-whispering. —Damn, Raquel’s got some big ole titties, don’t
she?
I
automatically looked up at her. She turned around. I knew she’d
heard him, but she looked at me, her face getting red and her eyes
watering. She turned back around and slouched over her book. I looked
at Chris, who shrugged and kept drawing on the table.
Mr.
Messer, our science teacher, came in and slammed the door. He was
tall, and big. And ex-marine. —Open your books!
If
we hadn’t before, we did then. He told us to read chapter nine and
do the questions at the end, then talked about the National
Geographic special he saw the night before. I looked at Raquel, but
she never looked back, just kept slouching and looking down at her
book. Chris nudged him and pointed to what he had drawn on the table:
A girl with big breasts and black hair licking her lips.
I
glared at him. —Don’t.
—Don’t
what?
—Just
stop.
Mr.
Messer had still been talking. —...and what scientists are now
learning is that sharks actually prefer fresh water. Hey, is
there a problem back there?
He
pointed at me. —Out. Out the door.
Now
Raquel was looking at me. Everyone was looking at me. —But—
—Out.
I
stood up. Chris looked down at his book, which was covering the
drawing. I closed the door behind me and stood in the hall, looking
out the hall window at the bike rack. The door opened and Mr. Messer
came out, slamming it behind. —What’s your problem, punk?!
He
pushed me on the chest. —You got a problem?!
I
barely kept my balance. —No.
—Gabbing
with your friend?!
—No.
He
stepped forward and pushed me again. —No?!
—I
didn’t do anything!
—You
gonna blame your buddy? Snitch?
I
didn’t say anything.
—You’re
not tough. I could take you. Think I couldn’t? I was in the
marines. I’ve seen punks like you.
He
pushed me again. —Are you sorry? Say you’re sorry and you won’t
go to the principal’s office.
—I
didn’t do anything!
Mr.
Messer pointed down the hall. —That’s it. Go.
—But—
He
slapped me on the face lightly. —Come on, punk.
I
backed up. —Ok, I’ll go!
Mr.
Messer went back inside and slammed the door again. I stood there and
heard him say something and the class laugh. I turned and walked down
the hall, looking in open classroom doors.
I
passed one of the janitors, an older black man, who winked and
smiled. —Busted huh?
I
nodded. —Yeah....
—Don’t
let him get you down son.
—Who?
—The
Man, son, the Man.
—Who’s
the Man?
He
exaggerated looking around. —He’s everywhere!
—But,
you’re a man.
He
nodded slowly, pointing at me. —That’s right son. And you will be
too.
I
stared at him, unsure what to do, or say. He laughed and patted my
shoulder. —Alright son, I’ll be seeing you around.
I
walked into the office. The secretary looked at me over her thick
glasses, frowning. —Yes?
—I
got sent down here.
—By
who?
—Mr.
Messer.
She
sighed. —Oh jeezuz. Alright, have a seat.
I
sat in a plastic chair by the door and waited. A girl came in crying.
The secretary looked at her. —Yes?
—I
have to call my mom. I want to go home.
—What’s
wrong honey?
The
girl looked around at Danny, then whispered something.
—What?
—I’m
bleeding!
—Oh
honey, sorry. Come here in the other room.
The
secretary looked at me. Angry.
I
sat and waited to long the girl’s mother came and took her away.
Finally the principal, Mrs. Singleton, came out, smiling. —Ok,
what’s your name?
—Danny
Singer.
—Ok
Danny, come in.
I
followed her in and sat in a chair. She sighed. —Mr. Messer sent
you?
I
nodded. —Yes.
—What
did you do?
I
looked down at his feet. —Nothing.
—What
did he say you did?
—Talking
I guess.
—Did
he do anything?
—....
—Danny?
—He
sent me out in the hall.
—Anything
else?
—...No....
She
sighed again. —Ok, well, just wait outside until the bell rings,
ok?
I
nodded. —Ok.
I
got up. —Mrs. Singelton?
—Yes
Danny?
—How
do you tell a girl she’s beautiful in spanish?
She
smiled. —Hermosa. Eres hermosa.
—Eres
hermosa. Thank you.
—De
nada. Buena suerte con la muchacha.
I
went out and sat until the bell, then went to gym class.
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