Pretenders (9 page)

1. Talk like a cop and say, “These boys giving you trouble?”

2. Tell a girl she looks tense.

3. Name a kid Logan.

I’d never dress like some doof in a magazine ad either. Gardner’s always getting some deal on designer brands but I wouldn’t take that stuff for free. High-tops are the only exception and that’s only because they don’t come in plain. I wish they did because someone stole my lucky Nike Air Maxes and Mom said they’re too expensive to buy again. It’s all because of that swoosh. It jacks up the price. I bet they’d cost twenty bucks without it. Anyway, I cover my swooshes with duct tape.

Feeling = I don’t do labels. I don’t endorse for free.

Anyway, I wasn’t about to let Logo get away with perving on Mandy and smearing on me. The guy had to be Wiped.

I did my first Wipe when I was eleven. Amelia wrote a play
called
Roll with the Punches
, about a girl named Jabby who falls down the stairs, ends up in a wheelchair, and becomes the best boxer in the world. Guess who played young Jabby?

Amelia made me practice falling every day after school until I got it right. It was awesome. We still lose it when we remember the time I did it for my parents. They came home from the real estate office with pizza and all these fountain sodas. The minute they opened the door I went rolling. We tied toy trucks to my shoelaces so it would sound really loud and clanky. Like teeth and bones.

I landed on my back and started twitching. Amelia and Mandy were cracking up. Mom started to cry. I was grounded for a month. It was worth it, though. Now I can fall like a stuntman.

Feeling = Logo is going down after school.

He takes the back stairwell, which was perfect. Fewer people meant fewer witnesses in case he decided to punch me or something. Hud and Coops were starting to laugh so I had to move fast. I snuck up behind Logo, and as soon as he cleared the first flight I turned to my side.

I put out my hands to lessen the impact. Then I ducked and rolled. I made my legs go all wild so everyone thought my body was out of control. Then I screamed:
Whoa!!!!!!
It’s hard to describe the actual falling part because it happened so fast and I was spinning. But my landing was great. I bashed right into the back of Logo’s legs and knocked him and his energy drink to the ground. Hud and Coops were losing it. I had to curl up in fetal and hide my face inside my hoodie so he wouldn’t catch me laughing.

LOGO:
What the hell, dude?

ME:
Sorry, man, you okay? I totally tripped.

His buddies stood there while he looked down at his giant wet Polo pony. Pink drops dripped off his chin. It was so epic. Until he made a fist and pulled back his arm.

RANDOM GIRL:
Stop!

Everyone turned around. It was my neighbor. The one that’s always skateboarding by my house with her boyfriend.

SKATER GIRL:
You okay?

I wanted to tell her it was all a joke and I wasn’t hurt but then Logo would have punched me so I didn’t.

ME:
My ankle is a little sore but—

LOGO:
What about me?

SKATER GIRL:
You’re fine.

LOGO:
I’m not. There’s a crack in my butt. Wanna see?

His friends high-fived. She kicked his backpack down the steps.

SKATER GIRL:
Can you stand?

ME:
I’ll try.

Hud and Coops would have been all over helping her help me if she looked like Mandy, Megan, or Morgan (the 3Ms). But she’s normal looking. Brown hair, brown eyes, saggy jeans, and yellow highlighter on her nails. Not bad. Just not slick. So they stood there.

LOGO:
Hey, Freshman, I ever see you using these stairs again I’ll hog-tie you to the back of my car and—

ME:
Your lip is bleeding.

LOGO:
Yeah? Well, next time it’ll be your internal organs.

He drew back his fist again. I flinched and that made him happy. So he bolted.

I wanted to be alone with Hud and Coops so we could laugh about everything but Skater Girl was there and she was still trying to help me. So I kept wobbling and saying ouch and stuff like that. Hud and Coops couldn’t stop laughing.

SKATER GIRL:
What’s so funny? He’s hurt! What if he can’t play basketball this season?

ME:
How do you know I play basketball?

SKATER GIRL:
You do? I had no idea.

ME:
You just said—

SKATER GIRL:
You’re wearing high-tops. I guessed.

ME:
Cool.

I stood and thanked her but she didn’t leave. She just stared at me, like those hotel bellmen in the movies who want a tip. So I pulled a dollar out of my pocket and gave it to her. She didn’t laugh, though. She squeaked like a happy mouse and put it in her pocket.

Feeling = Maybe she’s poor.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

I touched Andrew Duffy! Andrew Duffy touched me!

I’m so excited I can’t even write! Andrew Duffy fell down the stairs!!!! It was incredible.

I—Lily Bader-Huffman—literally slid my hands under his arms and lifted him to safety.

If it had been just the two of us, I think he would have let himself cry. But his loser friends were laughing at him so he had to keep it all inside. Desperate to show gratitude without betraying his machismo, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a dollar bill. His greens were fixed on my browns as he extended his hand toward me. I offered mine in return. Our
movements were smooth and exacting, as if we were performing ballet underwater. He placed the crumpled single in my open palm. A tip!

This must be a Pub thing. I was expecting something more traditional—more Homie—like verbal gratitude or a lingering handshake. But the dollar was way better. It gave us an excuse to touch. And now I can hold it. Treasure it. Ask it how it feels to spend an entire day pressed against his right leg.

I skated home so fast Blake thought I had to pee. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to hear about his day. I wanted to relive mine. Which I have, thousands of times. I even memorized the serial number on the bill.

L 89751377 D.

Can you believe those letters?? LD!!! L(ily) 89751377 D(uffy).

I love Pub!!!!

INT. BEDROOM—NIGHT.

SHERIDAN is seriously depressed.

I waited until H&M were asleep and went looking for Mom. Not that she’s an expert on O.L.S. (Overnight Loser Syndrome), but she’s my mom. She has to love me no matter what. And I needed to feel loved.

I found her in the garage treadmilling on a full incline. I should have turned around then.

Any higher and you’ll step on your ponytail.
(Me.)

Gotta lose the baby
(pant)
weight
(pant).

Mom, you had the twins seven years ago. Anyway, you’re like a size zero.

Am
(pant)
not. In certain jeans. I’m a
(pant)
two.

Clearly she was the one suffering, you know, being an occasional size two and all. So I decided not to burden her with my O.L.S.—which, thanks to her, is now L.A.P.S. (Loser and Pear Syndrome). So I got snippy instead.

I just wanted to thank you for taking the little butt and giving me the big one. Your generosity has provided me with oodles of confidence.

Note: I have never used the word “oodles” before. Audri would have laughed.

Mom lowered the machine and slowed to a jog.

Sheridan, what’s going on? Are you being teased about your weight? I think you look wonderful. But if you don’t, we can put you on a program where—

Forget it! It’s not about my weight, okay?

I stomped back to my room.

Even if I could have called
CUT
and
SHERIDAN TALKS TO MOM ABOUT O.L.S.—TAKE TWO,
I wouldn’t have. I should have known better than to expect sympathy from a celery. Pears may have sturdy bases, but we are soft on the inside and should be handled with care. Walk the produce aisle and see for yourself. We’re always bruised. But celeries? Ha! You need two hands to snap them.

PAUSE.

I just lit some sage. We used to burn it in the theater after plays to banish old characters and make way for new ones. I’m trying to banish Loser Sheridan so the popular one can return.

Loser Sheridan begone!
(Me waving the plant over my bed.)
Popular Sheridan, beback! Loser Sheridan begone! Popular Sheridan beback! Loser She—

Dad just came in and made me blow it out.

Our house smells like the Occupy movement.

Would you prefer the stench of loneliness?

Please, Sheridan. Stop being so dramatic.

Sure, Dad. And you stop being such a BMW dealer.

S’cuse me?

Nothing.

I hate everyone.

To Be Continued…

END SCENE.