Present Day
I’m in Ms. Schultz’s Social Studies class trying to be engaged, raising my hand and answering questions when asked. I’m probably an annoying classmate because of my drive to succeed and overachieve, paired with wanting to be liked by anyone but especially people older than me. I love learning normally but it’s hard for me to do it when I can’t stop staring at this neckline in front of me. It’s a duck tail with a point on either side, like an M. His skin is perfectly tanned and his hair is deep brown, straight but there’s tons of it. I don’t understand how the sight of this guy’s neck has me so mesmerized like it’s a neck I want to get to know. I don’t even know his name but his neck I have memorized. I guess it’s better than staring at his face blatantly but he’s not facing me so I have no other option. He’s gorgeous but that’s not what pulls me in. It’s like he has some secret and I have to find out what it is. His energy is palpable to me: intriguing, mysterious. I rest my feet on the book basket under his seat. It’s a way for me to feel like I’m closer to getting to know him without having to say anything.
One of these days I’ll dart out of my seat as fast as he does after class so that I can casually bump into him to start a conversation, or that’s how I picture it in my mind. He would look up, surprised to see me starting a conversation, or maybe surprised because he has no idea who I am. Maybe I need to think this through more thoroughly. He’s really quiet but doesn’t seem ignorant, just prefers to be left alone. I would choose the one person who isn’t begging for attention to focus on. Today’s lesson is about slavery: interesting in a tragic way, a definite downer for anyone with a conscience. As Ms. Schultz goes through our homework, the questions at the end of the chapter as well as a journal prompt to answer in essay form, I get out my planner and neatly write the assignment verbatim so it will be easier for me to complete when I get home.
The bell rings. Eek!
I lean down to shove all of my things in my backpack. My God, whoever made these textbooks must be a bodybuilder because they weigh a ton. He turns his head slightly back towards me as he grabs his books and I see his face. I’ve seen him as I’ve walked past him to my seat but he’s always looking down, even when he’s the one walking to his seat. I’m paying more attention this time. I’m near him. His eyes are dark like his hair, his lashes model-long, and his lips are so full. I’m staring in a daze even after he faces away from me, feeling the rave raging in my chest.
He is so fast to leave that I don’t even attempt to catch him. It seems clear that he doesn’t want to be caught. Besides that, I need a moment to let myself feel all this excitement and hide the smile forcing itself on my lips. But all I can think about as I walk through the halls and watch him disappear the opposite direction is his eyes, that hair, and the feeling that consumes me when I think about him. It’s way more fun to focus on than the familial strife we’re all going through. So I picture him and lose myself in the thrill of the unknown for the rest of the school day. I giggle to myself when someone else is sitting in front of me the next few hours and I couldn’t care less what their neck, the shape of their hairline or their skin looks like. I was curious if maybe I was starting to develop an interest in all necks so I had to test my theory. Turns out it’s not the neck so much as it is the person attached. Thankfully, his absence makes it easier for me to excel in all of my other classes. Not that I’m failing in Social Studies. I probably have an A because I complete my homework and show up to class which isn’t a testament to my intelligence, only my effort. That’s something I’ve never run short of… effort. Guess I’ll need to use some of that if I ever want to speak to him, or better yet have him speak back to me.
At the end of the day, I gather all of the books I need to do my homework and speed walk to Mallory’s locker. We ride the same bus since we live so close, but I want to have plenty of time to tell her about Mr. Tan Neck. That nickname makes me laugh out loud to myself. I amuse myself. She’s slinging her backpack over her shoulders as she sees me approach.
“Heyyy!” I obnoxiously call out to her.
“Oh hellooo!” she goofily matches my tone.
Instant smiles brighten both of our faces as we fall into our routine.
“How goes it?” I look over at her, hair half pulled back in a clip and her lashes sticking out with sparse mascara.
“Oh just grand. How are you?” she giggles with her answer. This is our thing. We laugh nonstop when we’re together and it’s cathartic.
“I’m apparently obsessed with a certain gentleman’s neck now.” I divulge.
She looks at me with the look she frequently gives me, one of amusement and appreciation.
“Who is it?” She presses.
“I don’t even know his name. I think it’s Dean or something. But ask me about his neck and I can give you the rundown.” I raise my eyebrows, being purposefully awkward.
“Oh my God. What is wrong with you? Glad to see you not focused on your dad but also why his neck?” I love the way her smile reaches her eyes. It’s uplifting.
“Well I’m not totally nuts. I can only see his neck cause he sits in front of me in Ms. Schultz’s class. But I got a glimpse at his face today and it’s almost as lovely as his neck.” We approach our bus and climb up the ridiculously high steps into the narrow aisle. Neither of us care much where we sit as long as we’re together. I wait for her to plop down in a row on the commercial vinyl, hardly padded brown seat and follow suit.
“So have you even talked to him?” she continues.
“Well, no. But I have a plan or an idea of a plan.” I muse, smiling with my cheekbones pushed up in round little apples squinting my eyes.
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“Okay. That’s a start. My dad’s at work so maybe you can come over and we can do homework while you tell me more.” Mallory suggests, as though it’s not our plan most days just rotating whose house we land at.
“Perfect. Let me go home first so I can let Prissy out and pee.” Prissy is short for Priscilla, our fat little yorkshire terrier that is precious but incredibly lazy for a terrier. I push for details from her, “How was your day?”
“It was boring other than lunch. I had chocolate chip cookies and pizza. That was delicious.” She recalls with a pleased smirk.
“Their cookies are so good. What is in them? I want to eat them every day.” I prefer the double chocolate white chip ones but the chocolate chip ones are also a delight. They warm them up before you buy them so they’re impossible to say no to. Unless you don’t have the money on your lunch card obviously but that would never be the case for Mallory.
Before I know it we are slammed into the seat in front of us as the bus comes to our stop.
“I’ll call you before I come over or I might just come over. Raid your pantry for the good snacks.” I say to her over my shoulder as we exit.
The weather today is gorgeous for November, warm, sunny and in the 60s. I love the feeling when I’m standing outside my house knowing my dad isn’t here any more. It sure makes going inside easier.
As I walk up the front steps, I think about how this Thanksgiving will be different from others. I always like when my mom’s family comes in town because it really feels like the holidays when we are all together. The thought of having to share my time between two places doesn’t excite me. My dad has this townhouse that is practically a lego tower. One floor stacked on top of another so it seems nice that there’s multiple floors but you’re always using the stairs. There’s only two rooms per floor, three on the 2nd floor if you include the bathroom. It’s been hard enough spending a couple days there in a row with little to nothing to do. I sit out back by the basketball courts sometimes just hoping some other bored teenager will see me and we can share common misery. I’m just nervous about having a change in how Thanksgiving normally goes but there’s not much I can do about that.
I’ve gotten better about carrying my key on a shoelace around my neck when there won’t be anyone there upon my arrival. Prissy is pawing furiously at the door as I open up like she needs to escape. As I push through the door, I kneel down to ruffle up her hair and talk to her in the most ridiculous voice.
“Sweet sweet baby Prissy. Did you have a good day?! Did you!?”
I know better than to linger too long or she gets the excitement tinkles so I walk straight to the backdoor and open it as fast as I can to release the beast into the wild. She bolts down the deck steps into the grass, a prisoner seeing the sun for the first time in a while. Only she’s ecstatic, peeing with intention and turning around to run back inside towards me.
I grab some water in my favorite basic bright blue plastic cup from the Brita pitcher, hand Prissy a barfed-up-cardboard smelling treat and she gobbles it up with gratitude. I gently scratch her behind her ears which she loves, a whisper of a contented sigh behind her smile. I scan the first floor for messes that need cleaning or anything that needs completing before I let myself free to go to Mallory’s. My sisters are busy with their friends or after school activities so I take it upon myself to keep up on the housework. Mom is working a clerical job at a chiropractor’s office so she won’t be home for a couple hours. I deem the house clean enough and sling my backpack full of heavy books onto my shoulder then pop out the front door to head down the street to Mallory’s.
Mallory’s house is different from how mine used to be. Her parents are pretty chill and actually seem to enjoy each other’s company. A bonus of being at Mal’s is enjoying the vast array of snacks they have on hand at all times and the latest gadgets to play with. Last weekend, we ate cookie dough from the roll while we played a cheesy computer game where we constructed a town and made our characters live next door to one another. We only live down the street but it’s fun to pretend. We stayed up late playing, taking random breaks to download music for cds we burned the next morning. When we are together, I can ignore anything that isn’t great in my life. Her dad, John, is kind in a way that makes me long for the same treatment from my dad.
I do a little knock on the front door to let her know it's me. She answers soon after eating Cool Ranch Doritos from the bag. I step inside and reach my hand in for a few chips when she holds the open top out to me in an offer. Mallory’s mom, Sherri, is very into aesthetics. Their house is meticulously decorated with all the latest trends. We secretly giggle at the rubber berries contained in frosted glass bowls adorning the crisp white liner on their dining room table. My mom never cared much for decorating but that just means I didn't have to worry about knocking more stuff off surfaces and incurring the wrath of my dad when he lived with us.
“Is your mom home?” I ask knowing her dad is at work.
“Nope!” she responds.
“Well then, I guess that means it’s snack time. I’ll set up my homework at the table.” I walk over to their spotless white kitchen table, and lug my JanSport bag off my shoulder onto it. Textbooks are so heavy and I rarely only get to bring one home.
“How about we do a little bit of homework then we can take a break and get on AIM?” Mal suggests and I nod smiling, excited to see who is online.
Before I start my Social Studies homework, I waltz to her pantry and open the door. S’Mores toaster pastries, chips, cookies and more occupy the space. I grab for the blue S’Mores box because my mom won’t buy us those so I have to indulge when I can. After I tear open the metallic foil, I sink my teeth into the most sugary, dry, unhealthy tasting treat. Most people prefer theirs toasted but I love drowning the powdery pastry dust in water or milk while I eat it. I pour myself a big glass of milk, cringing that all they have is 2% since I’m used to the watery texture of skim. I chug half of the glass down.
“So did I tell you that I’m pretty sure he looked at me?”
“Who? That guy?” Mal responds with a question, slightly amused.
“Yeah. Dean or whatever his name is. Right before we left, he turned slightly as he was getting his books into his bag and I could see his eyes. They weren’t really looking directly at me but he had to have seen me.” I recall, interested in the possibility of someone showing interest in me.
“So he turned towards you to get something and you think he might have seen you? Wow.” Mal says dryly.
I slap her with a little swipe on the shoulder, giggling at her snark.
“Okay well I’m just saying. It could mean something! But it could not. Time will tell.”
“Is he even cute?” Mal asks, staring at me waiting for a reaction.
“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if he wasn’t.” I assure her, raising my eyebrows and opening my eyes wide to look matter-of-fact.
“What does he look like?” she inquires, clearly feeling as though she needs to.
“I don’t want to bore you but he has these deep brown eyes and even darker hair. So much hair…” I trail off.
“Ah, yes. The hair on that neck you were talking about.” She snickers, pleased with herself.
“Right you are! Anyways, are you going to the winter dance? That’s in a few weeks right?” I change the subject since there’s no further developments in that department.
“If you want to go together, we could do that. Otherwise, eh. Not really interested in standing there watching people dance.” Mal rolls her eyes, knowing it’s more my thing than hers to socialize.
“I mean I always love a reason to dress up and do my hair all fancy. And I could help you do your hair too!” I suggest, excited.
“We can talk about it. I need to see if I can even go.” Mallory ends the topic with that and we go back to snacking and homework.
Before I head back home for dinner an hour later, I confirm, “Hey, are we still on for tomorrow night if your parents say yes?”
“Yeah totally!” She says.
“For sure!” I respond with my best loud valley girl voice as I walk away. We laugh as we part ways, clinging to the happiness that we create when we’re together.