Forever for a Year (4 page)

Jake kept saying stuff like, “He thought the Princess was cute! She's so ugly! So ugly!”

Then another kid said, “Carrie and Peggy Darry are lesbians. Everyone knows that.”

So Licker added, “Yeah, I know a girl who saw them making out in the bathroom last year.”

Jake felt it was a good time to say, “Has anyone seen Peggy Darry this year? Her tits got huge!” And the whole table leaned in and smirked, whispering just how huge.

Henry then said, “I might pretend to like Peggy just so I can feel her up.”

And that's when I decided I hated my little cousin. But I didn't say anything. Because he was the only person I knew at this crappy new school in this crappy new town. Him and Carolina Fisher. But I didn't really know her. Just that she was cool to me. But not cool enough for me.

 

5

Carolina makes a vow

So I totally ran out of history class the moment the bell rang, without looking at the new boy, because I knew he hated me for not saying thank you. I didn't blame him—I would hate me if I were him. I mean, I did hate me, and I
was
me.

Fifth period was lunch. I was supposed to meet Peggy in front of the cafeteria and wasn't really paying attention to anything except getting there when this really, really, really weird thing happened. So weird! This boy leaned up against the lockers like he had been waiting there all day, and said, “Hey, you.” I looked at him. I wish I hadn't, but I did.

I shouldn't even call this boy a boy, because he was definitely not a freshman. His face had scruff on it and he wore a thin black tie. Who wears a tie to school if they don't have to? He wasn't handsome, not really ugly either, but with his wide chin and long forehead he kind of looked like he should have lived one hundred years ago. Like on that HBO show about gangsters from the 1920s. He should have had a toothpick in his mouth, but he didn't. “You're the freshman who wrote that article in the
Riverbend Review
last spring?” the scruffy boy with a tie on said. He didn't blink when he looked at me. His eyes looked very mature and very fast. Like he was taking photographs with them. Like he was having dirty thoughts. Gross. I wanted to run, but instead—

I said, “Yeah,” even though I should have said no. But I don't lie. Almost never, anyway. Because I
had
written an article for the
Riverbend Review
. The local paper had asked me, after the junior high principal recommended that they ask me, to write an article about what it meant to be a kid in Riverbend. Except all the horrible stuff with my dad had just started, so all I could write about was how kids didn't get to be kids very long in the world now. Obviously, I didn't talk about my dad directly. Just that every secret about sex and life was just a Google search away. That sort of thing. I didn't think anyone had read the article besides my mom and brother. Especially not some weird man-boy.

“My name is Alexander Taylor. I'm a junior. You interest me.” He talked slowly, so intense, like he was trying to brainwash me. Then he said, “Your name is Carrie Fisher, right?”

“Carolina Fisher.”

“Interesting. You're too young for me right now, but maybe I'll say hello again in a few months to see if you haven't been turned into one of the masses. Until then, Miss Carolina.” And then he nodded at me and walked away.

I wanted to take a shower just for having been near him, and I told myself I would never speak to or look at Alexander Taylor again. Such a weirdo.

*   *   *

I met Peggy just as we planned, and we went inside the cafeteria, which had puke-yellow walls, and found a table near the food line, which is where the freshmen sit because it smells like dead animals and soap. Only seniors are allowed to drive off campus, so there were, like, nine hundred people stuffed inside, and it was sooo loud, like everyone in the room was screaming at the exact same time. Groups like yearbook club and chess club met in classrooms during lunch, and some people had lunch sixth period, so I'm probably exaggerating about there being nine hundred people. And I promised not to exaggerate. I know. But sometimes it's just how it FEELS, even if it's not how it is, you know?

Seven other freshman soccer players joined us at our table, also just as we planned, and then some other freshman girls that we didn't know too, but they sat at the end and just looked at their phones. Soccer season wasn't until the spring in Illinois, but we'd all gotten close during summer camp practices. Peggy and this girl Kendra, who was the best goalie I had ever played with, were both on the fall club team with me, and our mothers were going to rotate driving us to practice.

I spent the rest of lunch talking mostly to Kendra. She was quiet, and new like the new boy, except she was at summer camp, so she wasn't new to us. She's black. Or African American. I wish I could ask her what's the better way to describe her. Or I wish we were all the same color. The best, however, would be if we were all a million different colors. The best. I know it's impossible, but I think sometimes you have to think about impossible things.

My dad would always tell me I was a “thinking addict,” because I would ask him questions about everything. And then he would give me an answer, and I would ask two more and then three more. Even when I realized that he didn't know any more, I kept asking because I wanted him to go find out and tell me because not understanding drove me crazy. I used to love when my dad called me that because he said it with such pride. He said it was our greatest bond. He said it was how he knew I was his daughter. But now that I hate my father, I kind of hate that I'm a thinking addict.

Near the end of the lunch period, Katherine—you know, Peggy's whack-job sister—stomped over to our table, pointed at Peggy and me, and said, “You two, come here.”

I really wanted to say: Nobody tells me what to do! But I didn't. I always do what people say, sort of, which is pathetic. I want to change this about myself, but I didn't know if I could start right then. So I just got up and followed Peggy, who followed Katherine to a lunch table on the other side of the cafeteria. Shannon Shunton was sitting there with the four other most popular eighth graders. Emma Goldberg. Jean Booker. Raina Bethington. And Wanda Chan, who used to be a geek like me until she started to dress like a slut. You know, super-short skirts and super-high boots. I suppose all these girls were the popular freshman girls now. Does it work like that? You just get to carry your membership from one grade to another? Even one school to another? DO NOT CARE ABOUT THIS! This is dumb. I just wanted to go back to the soccer table. I thought I was going to faint standing there, waiting for Shannon Shunton to yell at me or not look at me or something just as mean. My whole head was turning into bumblebees that wanted to fly out of my eyeballs and kill me.

Even though I really did feel sick and about to die, I ALSO felt, and this is so lame to admit, that I was actually cool for just being there, near Katherine and Shannon and all of them. That just by being included in their little lunch table atmosphere, I was, like, one of them. Anointed cool. And I thought people could see us there and would think we were special. So LAME, right? But I couldn't help it. It's just what I felt.

Katherine said to Shannon and the others, “Peggy's my sister, so if you want to come to our parties and for me to introduce you to junior guys, you have to be friends with her. And Carrie's her best friend. So you have to be friends with her too. One more thing. Call them Marguerite and Carolina. Okay?” Katherine pronounced my name like the state (Caroliiina) and not how I like it (Caroleena), but I didn't correct her because I didn't want her to kill me.

All the girls nodded, except Shannon Shunton.

“SHANNON!” her sister Elizabeth yelled from down the table, where she sat with a pack of junior girls, who all looked like they should be in college or working at the Macy's perfume department. Elizabeth and Katherine were best friends. Probably because they were both very pretty, popular, and liked to yell so loud it made your body convulse.

Shannon Shunton finally smiled and said, “Great, can't wait.” What she really meant, obviously, is “Not great, could wait forever,” but Peggy said thanks so I did too, and then there was the most awkward moment. Like, were we supposed to sit down and start talking? Or leave? Or make plans? Or exchange phone numbers? Or just wait in silence? Which is what we did, until Katherine yelled, “Stop standing around like freaks! Go to class already.” Peggy and I quickly scooted back and made for the exit. Then Katherine must have felt bad because she started yelling at Shannon, Emma, Jean, Raina, and Wanda too.

“That was…” Peggy said as we left the cafeteria. For the breath it took her to finish her sentence, I wanted her to say, “That was stupid; let's totally not be friends with them,” but then I realized how much I liked the idea of other people knowing we were friends with Shannon Shunton. Which is sick. Just sick. So sick. Why am I so sick? Then Peggy finished her sentence, “… so amazing.” “Amazing” was Peggy's favorite word. It was mine too. I want to use it less, though. Feels too immature, I think. Don't you?

Except then I said, “It
was
amazing,” and giggled, and then I saw Kendra walking by herself to class and thought we should make Shannon be friends with Kendra too. But I stopped thinking about Kendra when I saw the new boy walking down the hall with Henry McCarthy, who dated Shannon Shunton in seventh grade and was not very attractive, but he was still the most popular boy all through junior high.

Not that I was surprised. Obviously, the new boy would already be friends with the popular boys. Obviously. Obviously. Obviously.

Wait a minute. I might be popular soon too, right? So that means the new boy and I could …

But then I stopped thinking these stupid things. Sooo stupid. High school and popularity is sooo stupid. I want to be grown-up and mature and never have to stress about this relationship stuff ever again. Ever. So I made a vow to think only about school the rest of the day. I'm usually pretty disciplined when I make a vow.

*   *   *

Sixth period was algebra. Having a boring class, like math, after lunch is the worst. Even though I'm a really good student, I really am, it's sooo hard not to fall asleep after lunch. My dad says they should give nap periods at school, and at work for adults. I told him naps are for little kids. But my head kept nodding during algebra anyway.

Seventh period was health class, which you only had to take for one semester. It was an elective, but only sort of since you had to take it by the end of sophomore year. So I just decided to take it right away. Why postpone things? The teacher, Mrs. Maya, went over the syllabus and said yes, we would be talking about sex, and then everybody giggled, even the sophomores in our class. And then she said, “I'm even going to use the words ‘penis' and ‘vagina.'” And then everyone laughed, but not the sophomores as much. And then she said, “Let's all say those words now so we can get the giggles out on the first day. First, let's all say ‘penis.' One, two, three,” and half the class said “penis” and half the class just laughed. I said it, obviously, because I'm mature for my age. Sort of. Then Mrs. Maya counted down and everyone said “vagina,” even the still-giggling freshmen.

Well, everyone except the new boy. He didn't laugh or giggle or say the words. Luckily, I had not thought of him since I made my vow. I barely even noticed he was in the class. That's just a fact. I'm glad I'm not going to be one of those girls that goes boy bonkers and thinks dating is more important than school because it would be embarrassing to be in health class with him and have to talk about sex.

When the bell rang, I decided to look toward the new boy because, well, just because. But he ignored me, probably because by now he's figured out he's too cool to even be my friend.

Which is fine. Totally. Because I don't care. I don't! Really.

*   *   *

Eighth period was gym class for athletes. So if your sport is in season, like football players in the fall, you just go to the locker room and head out to the field. Since girls' soccer isn't until spring, Kendra, Peggy, and I had club team Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and then study hall on Tuesday and Thursday.

My mom was waiting for the three of us in front of school to drive us to club practice in Highland Park. I totally forgot I was mad at her about having Dad spend the night when I saw her. Maybe that's because I just needed to tell someone about my first day of school.

After practice, my mom drove us back home, dropping off Kendra first since her house was farthest from mine. She lived in the nicest area of Riverbend, in a development called Covered Bridges. It was for rich people. The houses were really big, and the streets looked newly paved even though Covered Bridges was built almost five years ago.

Once Kendra was gone, my phone beeped with a text. It was from Peggy, who was in the back seat. For a second I wondered why she didn't just speak actual words, but then I read it:

PEGGY

My parents are going to the lake

this weekend. Katherine is throwing

a big party at our house Friday and

said we get to come!

I glanced back. She was so excited that I texted back:

ME

Yay!!

Even though the idea of going to a big high school party with upperclassmen made me queasy, stressed, and miserable. Peggy and I never got invited to parties in junior high. Obviously, we wanted to be invited; who wants to not be invited? But guess what? We usually spent the weekend watching movies or talking about a hundred million things, and never once did I think we would have more fun at some party. But now that Peggy's sister went to the same school and made us be friends with Shannon Shunton, we would have to do things like go to parties. Being cool would be hard and not always fun, I imagined.