Just Ask (16 page)

Wow, it's amazing that someone could make that many bad choices—and in such a short amount of time too. But then I suppose it could happen to anyone. I hope I'm not wrong about this girls parents, but if they
hired a tutor, they must care about her. I'm really praying that they won't let her down.

Sometimes I wish I could meet some of the kids who write these letters. I'd like to give some of them a great big hug. Even more than that, it makes me REALLY want to reach out to some of the kids I already know. The kinds of kids who look like they're trouble just waiting to happen (like Marissa or Spencer). I mean, Marissa's not really that messed up, but sometimes I get the feeling that she's just one step away from doing something totally stupid. But I could be wrong. I sure hope so. Just the same, I'll keep praying for her and looking for opportunities to reach her.

I think I was more aware of my makeover than anyone else at school. And that's okay. If anything, I think it's given me more confidence. And in some ways, I was relieved that hardly anyone said anything. I was almost surprised when Marissa finally mentioned it in art class.

“I like your hair,” she said.

“Thanks. It was kind of hard getting it cut, but I'm not sorry.”

She flipped a long strand of her coal black hair over a shoulder. “Yeah, I think about cutting mine sometimes too, but it's like part of my identity. And now that you cut yours, it makes me even more determined to keep mine just the way it is.”

“Good for you,” I told her. “Are you going to keep it black too?” Now, I'd been wanting to ask her about this
since I've never been able to figure out why she would dye it black on purpose. I mean, I've learned to accept my hair color, though there was a time when I wanted to change it.

“I don't know.” She studied my hair then frowned. “Do you have something against black hair?”

I kind of laughed. “No. But I used to want to change my color.”

“Why don't you?”

“I tried it once.”

“Really? What color?”

“It was in middle school, and I wanted it to be reddish. I'd seen a girl with hair like that, and I thought it looked cool. Natalie helped me do it, and it turned into a total disaster.”

She leaned forward with interest. “What happened?”

“It turned kind of a muddy purple color.”

“That sounds interesting.”

“Mostly it was ugly. I was so embarrassed that I begged my mom to have a professional dye it black again. And then it took years for it to all grow out and look as good as before.”

“And then you went and cut it.” Marissa frowned like maybe that was a big mistake after all.

I gave my hair a shake, enjoying the feathery feel around my face. “But I really like it this way better.”

“I like it too,” said Matthew, and I realized that he'd been standing behind us.

“Thanks,” I said, feeling embarrassed.

“And I like what you're doing there, Kim.” He leaned down and looked at my pencil sketch, pointing to a section of tree that I couldn't get quite right. “You might try shading the trunk in a little around there,” he said.

“I think you're right,” I told him. “That's exactly what's wrong.”

“Any tips for me?” Marissa asked in what sounded like her flirty voice—the one she usually reserves for Cesar.

Matthew squinted as he studied her sketch of what I think was supposed to be a cat unless it was a rabbit. “Start over?” He pretended to duck in case she threw a punch.

“Thanks a lot.”

He just shrugged and walked away, but then he said, “Hey, Kim,” as he motioned for me to come over to where he was standing in a semisecluded comer.

Curious, I went over to see what he wanted.

“I was thinking about asking you something,” he said in a quiet voice, like he didn't want anyone in art to overhear us.

“Ask away.”

“Well, remember how I said I want my senior year to be different?”

I nodded.

He exhaled as if whatever he wanted to ask me was going to be difficult. “Well, I wondered if you'd want to go to the Harvest Dance with me next week… “

I considered this. “Sure, why not.”

“Cool.” He glanced over to where Mr. Fenton was now eyeing us from his office, like he was about to say something. “Guess I better get back to work now.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I sat back down and tried to act calm, but I now had Marissa staring at me. “What did he want?” she finally demanded.

I just shrugged and continued to work on my sketch, adding the shadows right where Matthew suggested, and he was totally right; they made all the difference.

“Come on,” she urges. “What's up?”

Okay, I knew it was no big deal, but somehow I didn't want Marissa to be the first one I told about the dance. I mean she can be such a downer at times. But then I remembered how I'd been praying for her and trying to connect with her. Maybe this would help. “Matthew asked me to the Harvest Dance.”

Oh.”

I was somewhat disappointed with her response, but then reminded myself that this was Marissa. What could I expect?

“Well, that's cool,” she finally said.

“I think so.” I looked at her as she stared down at her drawing. She seemed sad.

“Are you going?” I asked in what probably sounded like a totally patronizing tone.

“Yeah, you bet.” She looked up at me with angry-looking eyes. Or maybe it's just the effect of those thick tracks of black eyeliner she circles her entire eyes with.

“You know,” I told her. “There are lots of guys who would ask you out if you ever gave anyone the slightest chance. Or if you would ever give up on Cesar. I mean he's not going to date anyone—period. And there's nothing that either you or Natalie can do about it.”

“I knew that Natalie liked him too.”

Oops! I really didn't mean to, let that slip out.

“Oh, I don't know if she likes him like that,” I said quickly, trying to recover from my blooper. “It's just that she thinks it's weird that he doesn't date. Like he's this project that she'd like to figure out.”

“Yeah, sure.” Marissa looked unconvinced.

“But really—” I tried to distract her from Nat—”there are lots of guys who'd take you to the dance.”

“Name one.”

“How about Jake? “

“How about him?” Her voice was laced with sarcasm now.

“He can be fun.”

She rolled her eyes. “Easy for you to say when you've already scored a date with Mr. Hottie over there.” She cussed quietly. “I just don't see why Cesar can't bend his rules for once. I can tell he likes me.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Back when I first came to school here he couldn't keep his eyes off me.” She frowned. “That is, until Chloe moved in on him.”

Oh.”

“Well, there are other guys besides Jake, Marissa.” I
looked over by the window to where Robert Sanchez was sitting. “How about Robert? He's definitely good looking.”

She followed my gaze and actually seemed to consider this.

“And he's Latino,” I reminded her, as if she were blind. “Maybe not as handsome as Cesar, but he's definitely got something going on.”

“Kind of short though.”

“Well, it's not like you have to wear six-inch heels.”

She actually laughed now. “like it's a done deal, right? Like you think he'd really ask me out.”

“He might, with some encouragement.”

“And that's going to come from where?”

I smiled.

“Yeah, you bet.”

“Hey, if you want, I'll go and—”

“No way.”

“So you wouldn't go with him?”

“That's just too lame, Kim. I'm not going to have you running over there and begging Robert Sanchez to take me out like I'm some kind of pathetic charity case.”

I shrugged. “Well, I just thought I'd offer.”

Now she seemed to be considering something. “But maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could talk to Matthew. He and Robert hang together in art sometimes. Maybe Matthew could sort of sound Robert out about this stupid idea. At least,
that might be a little less embarrassing.”

Okay,” I agreed. And that's how I got Matthew to talk to Robert, and by the end of class, it was settled that the four of us would go to the dance together. Well, go figure! Who would've guessed?

“You're doing what?” Natalie demands after Marissa spilled nay news at the lunch table.

“Going to the Harvest Dance,” I said in a quiet voice. “Is that a problem?”

Nat frowns at me. “With Matthew Barclay?”

“Yeah. Is that like okay with you?”

She shrugged.

“And Marissa is going with Robert Sanchez.” I hoped to deflect some of the attention from myself.

“And it's going to be a double date.” Marissa seemed just a little too smug.

“A double date?” Natalie actually looked slightly hurt now.

“I know,” I said suddenly “Why don't a bunch of us go together? Kind of a group thing, you know.” I looked at Cesar now. “You could come too, Cesar. I mean since it wouldn't be a real date.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I've done stuff like that in the past. It's kind of a fun way to hang with friends without feeling like I'm compromising anything.”

“How'about me?” said Jake.

“Of course,” I told him.

“Maybe we should rent a limo,” suggested Cesar. “You know split up the cost between all of us and then
we could arrive at the dance in style.”

I grinned. “I like your thinking.” Of course, then I remembered something—like I have someone else to consider about this. “But I, uh, I better check with Matthew before I sign us up.”

“Well, I'm sure I can talk ol’ Roberto into it,” said Cesar. “I'll ask him about it in history this afternoon.”

So now I'm feeling a little worried. I mean Matthew's the one who asked me to the dance and it should probably be up to him as to how we get there and who we go with. Still, I'm hoping he'll go for this whole group thing. It seems like it'd be a lot less pressure. I just need to think of a way to ask him that doesn't sound too pushy. Speaking of pushy, get a load of this letter.

[She actually gave her real name, as well as phone number and address, but I left it off for the purpose of publication.]

Okay, I'm trying not to feel too irked at this girl. But she has a lot of nerve. I showed her letter to my dad, and he's the one who suggested I answer her publicly in the column. Now I'll be curious to see if any other kids speak up. Who knows? Maybe I really flop at this advice stuff. All I have to go on is my friends’ comments, and while they don't love or agree with every answer in my column, they do seem to enjoy reading it. Plus the jury is still out on whether Jamie is a guy or a girl. During these
discussions, I usually act like I think Jamie is a guy with a strong feminine side. Not gay, but comfortable with girl questions.

However, I did have one close call in regard to the column last week. It was a result of the letter about not being attractive to the opposite sex that was printed. Natalie remembered the conversation we'd had where J said I was going to write Jamie for advice.

“Did you write that letter?” she demanded the next day.

Naturally, I played dumb, like I hadn't even read the column yet. Then after she pestered me enough, I actually had to lie to her. “Yes,” I stupidly told her. “I wrote that letter. You happy now?”

“But why did you make up that stuff about sports and say that you'd had a crush on that guy for two years?”

“To cover my tracks. Do you think I wanted anyone to know it was really me?”

She nodded. “That makes sense.” She smiled. “That was pretty creative. I'll have to remember that if I ever write a letter to Jamie.”

I laughed. “Yeah, sure, what would you write about?”

“Lots of things.”

Okay, I felt bad about lying and even confessed to God and told Him I was sorry. I'd tell Nat too, but then she'd want to know why, and I might end up blowing my cover. It's not easy being an anonymous advice columnist.

After this discussion with Nat, I began reading the letters more carefully, wondering if maybe she had already written one and I'd missed it. Some of the letters are handwritten and if I tried hard enough I might be able to guess the author by the handwriting. But a lot of them are sent through e-mail (where their e-mail addresses are stripped away at the newspaper—for anonymity reasons). But I do get curious sometimes. Its weird to think that I might have gotten letters from kids I actually know.