For Always (3 page)

I turned toward the touch, surprised to find Jordan standing behind me, a smirk on his face. Reflexively, as our eyes met, my lips drew up into a smile. And then I saw it. His hand attached to a large white, shaving cream filled paper plate, closing in on me. There was no time to duck or move before it hit me square in the face.

He stood, holding his stomach, laughing, a deep belly jiggling laugh. It was pretty funny. I didn’t mind half as much as I pretended to because he came to me first and spent the rest of the day by my side.

Poor Beth, she didn’t have a chance.

Halloween proved to be a nice break from my usual routine. Every school day since, like every school day before, I woke in the morning dreading the new day.

“Call in now for your chance to win two tickets to . . . ” I hit the snooze button and closed my eyes.

“Today’s weather, a beautiful fall day with winds ranging . . . ” I shut off the alarm.

I let out a long tired breath and threw the covers off, knowing that was the first and most important step. My eighth grade teacher used to say, getting out of bed was the hardest thing to do each day. Not certain I believed him, I slowly lumbered out of bed, stretched and yawned until my mother came in.

“Why aren’t you dressed yet? You should’ve been up ten minutes ago. Let’s go.”

I moved in slow motion in the morning, chewing each bite of breakfast twenty times, and doing my best impression of a snail while getting dressed.

A reason to procrastinate was never hard to find. A form I forgot to have signed, homework I didn’t finish, a discussion on why I couldn’t quit school and go to work.

“Mom, can I stay home today? I have a headache.”

“A headache, huh?”

I nodded.

“And yesterday, it was a sore throat, and the day before that you were certain you had appendicitis.”

I didn’t mean to be difficult. I just hated school. Hated it. Not because it was hard. I knew if I stayed awake while my teachers droned on, I could make honor roll without studying. Academics, not a problem. The trouble with school came from socializing. I hated the other kids. Mostly because they hated me, at least the ones I went to middle school with. The others didn’t even know I was there.

I didn’t look like the popular girls with their perfectly sculpted bodies. I wasn’t fat. Just meaty, actually, “zaftig” is how my mother described me. She told me I was full figured like Marilyn Monroe. Great. That gave me a lifetime of unhappiness and a premature death to aspire to.

Maria was part of the popular crew. Everyone flocked around her. It didn’t matter that she was a freshman. She walked in on the first day as if she were crowned queen of the school. And it worked. Guys swarmed around her, and surprisingly, the girls welcomed her too. People laughed at her jokes, even the ones that weren’t funny. I was treated more like a shadow, something you know is there but ignore.

Maria always seemed to know what to say. She could think of a witty come back in an instant. I found that biting comment long after I could’ve used it, if I was lucky.

Like last year, when Vinny asked us if we wanted a pig for a pet. He explained his grandparents moved from a farm in New Jersey, to an apartment building in Brooklyn. His grandparents always considered the pig a part of the family, so it lived indoors with them. The problem: the apartment building didn’t allow pets. They couldn’t imagine who would’ve complained about the pig. But someone did, and they needed to find it a good home.

I ran the scenario through my head over and over again. I found it funny, a pig as a pet in Brooklyn. What a ridiculous concept. I pictured a gray haired old lady walking her pig on a leash. And then it hit me. I knew who ratted them out!

“The pig squealed!” I said, snickering.

“What?” Maria asked.

“The pig squealed, don’t you get it?” I asked.

“About who’s going to the movies Friday night?” Maria asked.

It took me a moment to realize I’d been so deep in thought, I missed the fact that Vinny left us, and the conversation moved on. I vowed to keep my whimsical thoughts to myself in the future.

Maria just plain overpowered me.

She didn’t mean to; it came natural to her. She spoke her mind with ease and tried to speak mine as well. As much as I loved her, I resented always being in her shadow.

And then there was the whole “cloud of death” thing, hanging over my head. So either way, I was always walking in a shadow of some sort.

As far as school went, I felt hopeless. I couldn’t drop out. I was too young to work full-time. I had to suck it up and make the best of it. I walked out of the house, my mother calling out pleasantries behind me like, “Have a good day!” and “Don’t forget to smile. You look so much more approachable when you smile.”

I knew it was going to be one of those days.

Three

Maria wasn’t waiting for me on the porch. I stood outside a few minutes, expecting her to come bounding out any second. Nothing happened. I rang the doorbell and looked around while waiting for someone to answer.

Maria opened the front door, still in her pajamas, her hair disheveled. She looked pale, her eyes half closed. I didn’t need her to tell me. She was sick.

“Feel better.”

Maria grunted something in return before closing the door again.

I took a deep breath and considered hiding in the backyard until my mother left and then sneaking back in the house. I could do it, but by dinner time she’d get an email from the school regarding my absence.

Realizing I had no other choice, I started walking to the bus stop. I spotted a rock the size of my fist lying on the cement. Surprised no one used it to break a window, I kicked it in front of me. Frustrated the day was already off to an awful start, I kept my eyes down and focused on advancing the rock. Just as I reached the bus stop, I brought my foot back and struck it one last time, as hard as I could, into the street.

“Hey, what did that rock ever do to you?”

I turned toward the voice, my heart thundering in my chest. I swallowed hard.

“Jordan? What are you doing here?” I sounded almost accusing as I tried to hide my embarrassment.

He turned to glance at the house behind him, “I live here.”

I rolled my eyes, “You know what I mean.”

He smirked. “My car is in for repairs.”

Now I understood why I never saw him on the bus with us.

“So does that mean you’re going to grace us peasants with your presence?”

“Just this once,” he joked.

In Brooklyn, we didn’t have nice new (or not so new) yellow school buses, not in high school. We were given a metro card for public transportation, if we were lucky. The bus screeched to a halt in front of us with its unmistakable greeting, a rumbling engine and obnoxious exhaust fumes. We watched the doors fold open five feet in front of where we stood and waited while the others got on.

“Ladies first,” Jordan swept his arm in front of me in a gallant gesture.

I climbed on the crowded bus and moved along, looking for some place to sit. I thought my eyes deceived me when I saw open seats in the middle, including an open two-seater. I dove in, wondering if Jordan would follow, or if he’d continue all the way to the very back where the cool kids sat.

I settled down, rearranging the books I carried so they wouldn’t fall if the bus made any sudden stops. I did my best not to look delighted as Jordan plopped down next to me.

“So this is how you young ‘uns get around?” He grinned.

“Do you ever think of anything besides how old you are?”

Jordan ignored my question, as usual. I looked out the window, racking my brain for something to say, anything that could be construed as interesting conversation.

“Hey Steph,” he leaned in close to me, as if he were about to tell me something he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “See that guy two rows up, aisle seat?”

I craned my neck around the bench in front of us. “You mean the one with the briefcase?” I recognized Jonah, everyone’s favorite nerd. I mean could anything be dorkier than carrying a briefcase to school?

“I think you should talk to him, you know, go say hello.” Jordan pressed his lips together tight, trying to suppress laughter, and doing a bad job of it. “I think he likes you,” he composed himself enough to get out. “He keeps looking over here.”

“What? You think I can’t do better than Jonah?” I asked offended.

For a moment Jordan’s whole demeanor changed. The playfulness replaced with an air of seriousness. “There’s nothing you can’t have if you want it bad enough,” he answered.

I looked at him fascinated. The corners of my mouth crept into a slight smile. I wondered if there was hidden meaning in that. Did he realize what he was encouraging?

“Did you ever consider it’s you he’s looking at?” I asked.

All traces of humor and laughter were completely forgotten. I didn’t wait for him to answer, knowing he probably felt even more uncomfortable than he looked, if at all possible.

“After all, I’m sure he’s not used to seeing a car driving, upper classman such as you, slumming it on the bus with us children,” I made certain to over-emphasize the last word in a mocking tone.

“See, I knew I wanted to hear what was going on up there,” Jordan snickered while messing my hair.

He got it. He understood my sarcasm, my sense of humor. I realized he might very well be the most perfect specimen of the male species ever made.

Jordan’s head snapped forward to the front of the bus. Just as quick he looked back. Confusion replaced the look of confidence that usually resided on his face. His eyes narrowed. He was on high alert.

“Do you smell that?” Jordan asked.

“What?” I had no idea what he was talking about. No sooner did I answer, but a cloud of white smoke came billowing from the front of the bus.

I swallowed hard, feeling the cold icy fingers of the dark cloud that seemed always to loom nearby, crawling up my back. The hairs on my arms rose. My lungs constricted, breathing felt hard and labored. A panic attack. I didn’t want anything to happen to him. Most of all, I didn’t want Jordan to know it was my fault.

I squeezed my eyes shut hoping everything would be back to normal when I opened them. Jordan’s grip on my arm snapped me back into the moment.

The bus stopped moving. Passengers rose from their seats and started yelling and demanding the driver open the doors, while flooding into the aisle. Not quite pandemonium, but well on its way.

“Doors are jammed!” Someone yelled back.

Jordan looked at me, his eyes nervous and unsure. “Switch places,” he ordered.

My mind became jumbled from the commotion surrounding me. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I had no choice but to listen to him.

We stood. I squeezed behind Jordan into his seat, thinking him even more gallant and charming, allowing me the opportunity to be closer to the aisle, and therefore escaping before him. Boy was I wrong.

Jordan reached over his head to the metal bar that ran along the side of the bus. With acrobatic grace he pulled himself up, brought his legs in to his chest and kicked them out at the emergency window in front of him, right next to where I’d been sitting. As if dismounting from a gymnastic apparatus, Jordan went flying through the window and stuck his landing.

I was bewildered by his sudden actions. I had no idea what happened. The earsplitting clamor of the window being kicked out of its frame paralyzed me. I expected it to break and tiny shards of glass to fly everywhere. Frightened, I brought my arms up to shield my face. Screams from the already nervous passengers grew louder as a reaction to the crashing sounds of Jordan’s escape.

Never having seen anything so daring, I felt the thrill of adrenaline rush through me. A wave of relief crashed against my mind, weakening the hold of the cold, clammy hands, gripping my heart. The dark cloud receded, but only a little bit. It still hung near enough to storm over me, at any minute.