No Small Thing (13 page)

She realizes too late what she’s said. “Oh, I’m sorry … I forgot …”

I shrug to let her know I don’t care, even though I can feel my face starting to flush again. I know she didn’t say it to be mean. I know the whole school knows our business. Actually, I’m more surprised to hear her speak so strongly about her parents. I always thought rich kids had perfect families and got everything they wanted. Hearing that Cheryl wants a horse and can’t have one has a strange effect on me. I find myself saying something that Cid and Queenie would kill me for.

“You can come here anytime and ride Smokey.”

Cheryl looks at me with her big, innocent eyes. “That’s really sweet of you to offer….”

“I’m serious. You can come with me anytime you want. I mean … as long as your boyfriend doesn’t mind.”

“My boyfriend?”

“Tyler. The guy who gives you rides home from school all the time. He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

Her face shows shock and then disgust. “Tyler? He’s not my boyfriend. He just wishes he was. I don’t have a boyfriend right now.”

She says this last part with her nose in the air, as though she’s proud of it. I can’t believe my ears. I feel like Christmas has come early. I don’t know if she’s telling me the truth or not and I don’t care. Suddenly I want to tell her everything. I want to tell her that I love her and that she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I want to tell her that I dream about her and think about her all the time and that I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.

Of course, I don’t say any of this. What I do say is that there are other horses in the barn she may like to see. So we walk down the aisles, one stall after the other, me telling her all the names of the different horses and what I know about their personalities and owners. I show her the palominos and the Gorilla’s colt. I tell her all about how the big ape forced us to get Smokey gelded. I even mimic his voice for her, which makes her laugh. But when I go to return the noseband to its rightful place, I discover a padlock on the Gorilla’s tack box. I don’t know what to do, so I stuff the noseband back in my pocket. Then I show Cheryl Silver, and Flag, the horse Smokey defeated onhis first day in the field. And finally, at the very end, I show her Jed. He weaves back and forth when we walk by. I tell Cheryl how his owner never feeds him or waters him, let alone brushes him.

“Why does he keep him?” she asks in horror.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t understand him or even like him. He just likes owning him so he can brag to all his friends.”

“It’s so cruel! I can’t stand it!”

The tears well in Cheryl’s eyes.

“We feed and water him,” I reassure her. “I’d clean out his stall and brush him too, but he’s wild. He won’t let me near him.”

This seems to make her feel better. She wipes her tears away and you can barely tell she’s been crying. Then she slips her small, warm hand in mine.

“You’re really nice, Nat.”

I can feel my heart beating in my throat and in my ears. My face is hot and my hands are all sweaty. I hope she can’t tell these changes are happening to me. I hope I just seem normal and that I don’t look like I’m going to explode, which is how I feel. She moves closer to me. I can’t even hear what I’m saying, but the next thing I know her mouth is against mine. Her lips are firm and warmand taste like strawberries. I kiss her back and she laughs, which makes me wonder if I’m doing it right or not. I’ve never kissed a girl before—other than Ma and my sisters, but that doesn’t count. This is entirely different—like electricity arcing, or lightning shooting between us. This kissing feels dangerous and I want it to go on all night….

And then we’re walking hand in hand through the snow to the road. Somehow I managed to turn out the lights in the barn and close the door, but I can’t really remember doing any of it. Cheryl starts to run, pulling me along by the hand through the drifts. We run like this, laughing wildly, and then we stumble and fall into the snow. She leans over and kisses me again, only this time softly and more slowly.

“Close your eyes,” she says.

I close my eyes and feel her lips against my mouth. Then she pushes a handful of cold snow in my face.

“Hey! You little brat!”

Cheryl jumps up and runs. I chase her, letting her stay just an arm’s length away, even though I could catch her in a second. She screams and throws snowballs at me, which I easily dodge, and then I tackle her and knock her into a big drift. I hold a handful of snow over her head.

“Say uncle!”

“No!”

“Say uncle!” I hold the snow higher like I’m going to slam it in her face.

“You wouldn’t dare, Nathaniel!”

She looks at me so innocently with those blue eyes of hers that my heart melts all inside my chest. I drop the snow and lean over to kiss her some more, but she pushes me away and jumps to her feet. I jump up after her and grab her hand, and we walk in the falling snow, all the way through town and to her street. It’s strange, but everything seems different and new to me. The street lamps glow peacefully. The windows of the houses cast a warm amber light. I want to turn and look at Cheryl a million times while we’re walking, but I stop myself in case I break whatever spell the night is under. I just love her smile and, what’s more, I can’t believe she’s smiling at me.

When we reach the corner of her street, she pulls me to an abrupt stop.

“I’d better say goodbye here. My folks are kind of crazy about who I hang around with.”

She sees my expression and starts to apologize.

“It’s not that … It’s just … they don’t know you.”

“Sure. I understand.”

I understand all too well. They don’t want their princess daughter being seen with the likes of me. But I can’t hold her responsible for the way her parents feel. It’s not fair to her. I lean towards her to give her a kiss, but she puts her hand on my chest and pats my coat.

“Thanks again for the nice time. I had fun.”

And then she turns and walks down the street. She walks through the falling snow, past the expensive homes and the four-car garages. She walks in and out of the street lights like an angel appearing and disappearing before me. I watch her grow smaller and smaller, until she slips into a shadow and is gone.

I stand there for a long time, wishing the night wasn’t over. I want to turn back the clock and stay with Cheryl and Smokey in the barn forever. I go on thinking like this, my eyes closed, imagining the touch and the taste of her lips against my mouth. I do this until my feet get so cold I can’t feel my toes any more. And then I turn and run home. I don’t mind the cold biting at my lungs and face. I run so fast I can’t even feel my feet touch the ground. When I get in front of the house I can see our Christmas tree twinkling through the living room window.

“You were gone a long while,” Ma says when I puff into the house. “I thought we were going to have to go out looking for you.”

“I just took my time is all.”

I can feel Ma looking at me kind of funny. I bet she knows something is up. I take my boots off and hang up my coat slower than usual so I have time to settle down.

“Come and look at Douglas!” Queenie shouts from the living room. “He’s the best tree ever.”

Cid, Queenie and Ma are gathered around the fire admiring the tree. It looks beautiful, despite our mishmash of old ornaments. Somehow Ma always manages to make everything look good.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, and I mean it, although it could have looked like anything and I would have said the same thing. I can’t stop thinking about Cheryl and the night. The whole thing seems like a dream.

“How’s Smokey?” Cid asks.

“He’s great. He’s really good.” I guess I answer too enthusiastically because she turns and looks at me kind of funny too. Our eyes meet and I can’t stop the happiness from showing on my face. Cid and I just look at each other long and hard, and then she raises her eyebrows and turns away.

“I saved you some hot chocolate,” she says, getting up and going towards the kitchen.

I follow her and stand next to the stove as she ladles the hot chocolate into a mug. “I won’t ask,” she says, handing me the mug. “Be careful. It’s hot.”

“I’ll tell you sometime. I promise.”

“It’s okay. I’m sure I’ll find out sooner or later.”

Normally I would take this as a threat, but I can tell by Cid’s voice that she is letting me off the hook. I’m tempted to tell her all about Cheryl—about how nice she is and everything—but part of me wants to keep the night to myself, to hold on to the magic as long as I can and not spoil it with words.

“Thanks, Cid. I mean it.”

We walk back into the living room and join Queenie and Ma on the couch by the fire. I drink my hot chocolate quickly, then sneak up to my bed because I’m restless and I want to be alone. Tomorrow is Friday, the last day of school before Christmas, and the sooner I get to sleep, the sooner I see Cheryl in the morning. But I end up lying in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the evening with Cheryl over and over. I know this sounds stupid, but I imagine all kinds of things—like me and Cheryl going steady and even gettingmarried and having kids. I imagine everything, like what kind of dog we’ll have and even what kind of car we’ll drive. I’m still thinking about this by the time Queenie and Cid rustle up the stairs to bed.

I get up earlier than usual the next day because I want to look as good as I can for school. Earlier than usual means half an hour before school, which means I’ll be late for the bell all the same. My heart is still skipping beats from the night before. But when I go to use the bathroom, Cid has already beaten me to it and I know I’m sunk. It takes her hours to get ready just to go to the corner store. Now I can’t even grab my comb or brush my teeth. I bang on the door with my fist.

“Hurry up, disco queen! You’ve been in there for hours.” Cid hates disco. She’s a David Bowie fan.

“I just got in here. You can wait.”

“I have to get ready for school!”

“So do I! I’ll be out when I’m ready.”

I pace back and forth in front of the door, hating Cid’s guts again. How can she do this to me? I feel like I’m going to scream. “Hurry up! I have to get in there!”

Silence. Cid doesn’t even grace me with an answer this time.

“Fine! I’ll remember this, Cid!” I kick the door with my sock foot, cursing the day she was born. I crash back to my room and dig through a pile of dirty clothes on the floor at the foot of my bed, trying to find my good velour shirt—the one Ma embroidered with my initials. I can hear Ma’s words running through my head about how I should keep my room clean and how I’m old enough to do my own laundry. Now I understand why she says these things to me. I dig and dig but I can’t find my shirt. “Aaaaahhhhhhh!”

I kick my pile of old Spider-man comics across the room in frustration. I can hear the time ticking away on my bedside alarm clock. I find my best pair of jeans, shake them out and jump into them. I sift through the clothes and find a pair of matching socks. I check my hair in the mirror and realize I’m screwed. My hair looks like a chicken tail, sticking every which way. And to make matters worse, I have a big pimple forming on my upper lip. I hate those ones. They hurt so much. At least it isn’t on my nose, I think, knock on wood.

Just then, the door to the bathroom smashes open. Cid tries to sneak past me and tear down the stairs—because she’s wearing my velour shirt!

“Hey! Take it off!”

Cid grabs her coat and flies out the door. She has her boots on already so she leaves me standing there, screaming like an idiot through the front door.

“You stupid jerk! I’m going to wreck all your stuff!”

Ma would kill me if she heard me yelling out the door like some hooligan, but she’s already at work, so she won’t know. It’d be no use trying to explain to Ma that Cid took my best shirt anyway. She’d just tell me to go put on something else and get on with it. There isn’t much justice in our house. Not the right kind, at least. But I’ll get Cid back….

I run up the stairs and jump into the bathroom. Queenie is in there sitting on the toilet, still in her pajamas. She doesn’t mind if I come in and brush my teeth.

“What’s all the yelling about?” she asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Oh, nothing. Just Cid. I’m going to break her neck. Hurry up, Queenie, or we’re going to be late.” I splash water on my hair and try to get it to sit down. Then I revisit my pile of dirty clothes and look for the next best thing to wear. Everything is either full of holes or wrinkled beyond recognition. I pick a dress shirt with sleeves tooshort and roll them up to my elbows. I throw a shrunken green wool vest over top of this and check myself in the mirror. Terrible. But it will have to do.

By the time I’m finished primping, Queenie is still moping about in her pink fuzzies. “Come on, Queenie, let’s go.”

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Just throw on anything. Wear what you wore yesterday.”

“I wore what I wore yesterday for three days already.”

“Well, wear it again!”

I leave her to get ready while I smooth more water on my hair and check my teeth. At last Queenie’s ready. We bundle up and fly out the door. I all but drag her down the street to school. Queenie starts to dip and skip like she’s going to dance, and I yank her arm a bit.

“You’re hurting my hand, Nat!”

“There’s no time for dancing!”

Queenie looks betrayed. I feel like a big jerk but I can’t help it. I hear the bell from across the park.

“Jeez. Come on, Queenie!”

I make Queenie trot to her schoolyard and push her through the gate. Then I run across the street to my own school. The national anthem isalready playing as I skid up to my homeroom door. The teacher gives me a dirty look, so I stand to one side of the door, out of her field of vision. When the anthem stops, I slip into the class and try to take my seat unnoticed. The teacher doesn’t even say my name, she just points at me.

“Office.”

“But …”

“Go.”

I groan, then get up to go.

“Take your books with you. Homeroom will be over before you get back.”