Maybe I Will (13 page)

Dad didn't seem to notice. “I've got a great book on writing sonnets. I'll find it for you after lunch.”

“Your father used to write me sonnets,” Mom said reaching across the table and taking his hand. “Back in the day.”

“You're still an inspiration,” Dad said kissing her hand. “Maybe it's time I wrote you another sonnet. Get all of the creative juices in the household flowing.”

Looks like they're through fighting. Maybe if they spend the rest of the weekend making up, they'll still leave me alone.
I quickly scooped the rest of my California roll into my mouth. I soon as I could swallow, I asked to be excused.

“Don't you want some fresh fruit salad?” Mom asked.

“Maybe later. Right now I just want to get back to work.”

“What about the book on sonnets?” Dad asked.

“I'll let you know if I need it,” I replied.

If my slight Muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.

—Sonnet 38
, Lines 13-14

I
SURVIVED THE
weekend and emerged from my cave with two sonnets. I couldn't decide which one I wanted to turn in, so I rewrote them both neatly in the back of my spiral notebook. I was leaning toward this one:

This seemed the safer of the two sonnets. My monster liked the other one best, just because it had the word “hell” in it, I think. Conaway is still pretty new and cool enough that he probably wouldn't make a big deal about that used in the proper context. And I had it in the proper context.

I definitely didn't want my parents reading either of them.
What about McMann? Erin TheRapist? Are you going to let her read them?
The monster's voice again. I could feel my monster's predilection for danger—wanting to get me into trouble just for laughs.
I'm going to have to keep a close watch on the beast.

I told my parents I was no Shakespeare when it came to writing sonnets and that I had to settle for a regular poem. I let them read the first
My Character
poem I wrote last weekend. That sounded more like the general teenage angst they expected me to have to deal with. Dad seemed a little disappointed, but Mom pulled him back. She told me that it was really lovely, and she was very proud of me. The monster was having a heyday taunting me with that, and it was all I could do to keep the tears in check without lashing out.

Dad drove me to school. I think he really wanted to help me turn my poem into a sonnet, and it was all he could do to leave it be. He talked a little about the musical, but mostly we rode in silence. I was trying to think of a way to get out of my appointment with Dr. McMann. I could hear the monster's sinister laugh in my mind.
Only two days until your date with Erin TheRapist. Better let me handle that.

By the time I walked into the school, I was as tight as an over-stretched violin string—sensitive to every vibration and ready to snap. I coasted through my morning classes and sat by myself at lunch. There was an empty chair between Cassie and Troy, but they never even looked at me.
Not like they're saving it for you. They're just growing apart, too.

I was picking at my food when a hand on my shoulder startled me. “Hey, Sandy.” It was Hector. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Go right ahead.” I motioned to the seat next to me. “Congratulations on earning your yellow belt.”

Hector turned the chair around and straddled it so he could lean over the back of the chair and still face me.

“Thanks,” he said. “Your white form looked good, too.”

We talked about Shanika and taekwondo and how it was too bad that seniors and sophomores had different lunch periods.

“So will I see you at the do-jahng tonight?” Hector asked me.

“Probably not,” I replied. “I've got play practice.”

“Oh, yeah. I heard you're Peter Pan.”

I nodded. “I doubt I'll be there regularly until after the musical. Maybe Saturday morning, though.”

“Shanika is in that, too, isn't she?” Hector asked.

I nodded. “She's Tiger Lily. You should see her dance.”

Hector laughed. “I plan to. I want to get me a ticket right up front.” Then he leaned closer to me and said in a sly whisper, “Don't tell Shanika I said so, but when she's not wearing those taekwondo pajamas, she is one hot
mamacita
.” He exhaled heavily with a low whistle under his breath.

Figures! Hector's hot for Shanika.
I tried to remember the expression on Shanika's face when she was telling me about what happened to Hector, but I don't think it was anything at all like the expression on Hector's face.
I wonder if he knows she knows all about the wrestling thing. Probably not. And he definitely doesn't know I know.
I felt a little guilty about how glad I was that I knew more about Hector than he knew about me.

Just then the bell rang. Hector was up and off in a single motion. “
Hasta luego,
Sandy.”

I gave him a feeble wave. “See ya.”

In World History, Conaway collected our assignments first thing. I was all ready to hand in just my
What Is Character?
sonnet, but at the very last second pulled out my notebook, ripped out my
Behind the Mask
sonnet and went up to Conaway's desk to staple them both together. It was a pretty lively class discussion with most people talking more about how much or how little they wrote and doing everything possible to avoid telling what they actually wrote.

Hamilton gave me a pass out of study hall last period to work on the musical. Shanika was there, too, so we went through all of our lines and songs together. Neither of us said anything about my parents calling her until after rehearsal was completely over. “Do you want a ride home?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said. “Thanks. Just let me call my dad so he knows where I am.” I started following her out to her car.

“That's a good idea,” she said. “They seemed pretty worried about that Friday night.” We both climbed in and buckled up.

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that—their giving you a call and everything,” I said as I started dialing.

“Dad said he found you sleeping on the table behind the studio.”

I winced. Fortunately, my dad picked up. “Hey, Dad. Shanika's taking me home, okay? Right now . . . No problem.” I hung up.

“Everything cool?” Shanika asked, starting the engine.

“Yeah, he just wants to make sure I go right home and stay there.” I was tempted to look out the window, but gathered my courage and turned to face Shanika instead.

“I'll take your butt right home all right, but are you gonna stay there?”

I nodded. “I'm on a new mission to stay OUT of trouble.”

Shanika laughed. “All right, then. What was that chickenfeed story about you and Hector going to the library all about, anyway?”

“I just wanted to walk, and I thought my parents wouldn't worry if they thought I was at the library with Hector.”

“Well, your mom sure sounded worried to me.” Shanika rolled down her window. “We gotta let some of that fresh April air in here. Roll down your window, Sandy. A little breeze'll do you good.”

We rode for a few minutes in silence. “So what's the deal with you and Hector now?”

I chuckled. “No deal. We're just friends because we both spent last week at camp.” I studied Shanika's face. She was smiling. “So what's the deal with you and Hector? You know he's got a thing for you.”

Shanika let out a shrill screech. “For me? You think something's going on between me and Hector?”

“I'm just sayin',” I nodded. “He thinks you're one hot
mamacita
.”

“Shut up!” Shanika howled. “Did he actually say that?”

“He did.” We were pulling up to my house now, so I pulled my backpack up from between my feet onto my lap. “Only don't tell him I told you, or he'll never talk to me again.”

“Oh, I won't tell. I promise!” Shanika pulled into my drive and put the car in park. “Cross my heart I won't tell. What else did he say?”

“Nothing,” I replied. “Just that he's planning to come and see you in the musical.”

Shanika just sat there for a moment, smiling and bobbing her head. “That's cool,” she said. “Maybe we can fill a whole section with taekwondo ninjas!”

“You're probably the first Tiger Lily with a black belt in martial arts,” I said getting out of the car.

“Not just a blackbelt, Sandy,” Shanika called to me through the window. “Third degree blackbelt! Don't forget the third degree part!”

Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not.

—As You Like It
, Act I, Scene iii, Line 57

I
T WASN'T UNTIL
I started unpacking my backpack at home that evening that I realized my spiral notebook was missing.
I took it to school. I know I took it to school because I had both of my sonnets in it for World History.
At first I thought someone had stolen it, but then as I retraced my steps in my mind, I realized I must have left it on Conaway's desk when I stapled my two sonnets together.

I collapsed on my bed in a full-blown panic attack. My heart pounded as I gasped for breath.
This cannot be happening.
I tried to calm myself down and think about what this really meant. Conaway had the two sonnets I turned in for my assignments.
He might not even open the notebook. He might not read anything. He might just give it back to me tomorrow. No problem.
No problem—except I knew he would have to open the notebook to see whose it was. And the only way he'd know who it belonged to would be by finding the rough drafts of my sonnets inside.

Screwed. I am so totally screwed.
But I wasn't sure what Conaway would do. I went into my closet and pulled out the vodka. I hadn't
had a drink in days. I was a little afraid that Dr. McMann might test me for alcohol, and I wanted to be totally clean. I put the bottle on the dresser in front of me and started doing my white belt form.
Step and high-block. Focus. Punch.
By the time I finished I was ready to hide the vodka back in my closet. And I did it without taking a drink.

I sat back down on the bed and started reading through all of my Peter Pan lines. I'd been a little rusty in spots at rehearsal. Mom had a dinner meeting, so it was just Dad and me for dinner. I talked him into eating in the living room and watching
Hamlet
with me. Cassie and Troy had given it to me on my birthday, but it was still wrapped in the original cellophane. We were still watching it when Mom got home. It felt good to lose myself so totally for several hours.

The moment I went to bed all of my worries returned. I didn't feel so panicky, though. I just lay awake most of the night wondering what Conaway would do and whether there was any way to get through all of this without having everything explode in my face. My parents still didn't know about the grocery store incident. With each passing day, it seemed less likely that the store would call my parents.
Maybe if you just stay away like they told you, the whole thing will blow over. It's either going to blow over or blow up.

And then there was Shanika's wanting me to tell somebody about Aaron.
How about Erin TheRapist? Do you want to tell Erin TheRapist about Aaron the rapist? Why? Why should I tell? What good would it do now?

I woke up the next morning thinking maybe Conaway hadn't even noticed the notebook on his desk, or at least hadn't done anything with it. So I got to school a little early and went directly to his classroom. He was sitting behind his desk grading papers.

“Mr. Conaway?” My voice quavered as I said it.

He looked up. “Good morning, Sandy.”

I walked toward the desk. “Good morning.”

“I was hoping I might have a chance to talk with you today. Have a seat. I'm glad you stopped by.”

I sat down at the desk closest to his. My eyes searched his desktop, but there was no sign of my notebook. “I was wondering if I left my notebook in your classroom yesterday,” I stammered.

Mr. Conaway opened the drawer on his right and pulled out my notebook. “Here it is,” he said handing it to me. He waited to see if I was going to say anything more, but I was too busy stuffing the notebook as deep as possible down into my backpack.

“Sandy, I read the poems you turned in on character. They're very good.”

“So I get an ‘A'?” I asked bitterly. I could feel the monster wanting to come out to play with Conaway.