Freshman Year (30 page)

While Mrs. Schwartz distributes the softballs and mitts, I sneak a peek at the absence sheet the office sent her and see that Kate missed first period, too. I wonder what's wrong with her. Maybe Kate and Derrick are wandering through the mall, holding hands and wasting the day away at the movies. I find this possibility extremely irritating, but if we're going to be friends, I'm going to have to accept that Derrick's her boyfriend. In the meantime, I'm seriously going to flip out on the next person who asks about my eye.

My classes after PE are sort of a blur because I spend my time daydreaming about the one who shall not be named. After I'm released from English class, I speed-walk to the cafeteria for my five minute lunch. I look at the jock table for Kate in hopes that maybe she was just late to school, but I only see Dumbbell Derrick sitting there with his dumbbell friends. I guess she really is home sick. I'm relieved but disappointed that my apology hasn't reached her yet.

Though no one at the designated Losers R Us table in the library asks, “What the hell happened to your eye?” when I sit down, I do get a lot of raised eyebrows in my direction. But I just shrug, as if to say, “You know how it is,” and they seem to understand.

For once, I don't really have any algebra or bio homework to do, so I take out
To Kill a Mockingbird
, which we have to read for English class.

I'm getting kind of into the book when, out of nowhere, someone kicks my shin. “Ouch!” I yelp, and Mrs. Guzman glares at me, so I look down again at my book. I can't take any more trouble or fighting.

Then two minutes later I get kicked again. This time, instead of saying a word, I look coldly up from my book. That's when I lock eyes with the girl sitting across from me, the one I told Garrett about last week when I was trying to figure out if I had been blessed with the gift of gaydar. But when I asked Garrett if she knew about a tank-top wearing girl with a green gem piercing in her nose who might be one of us, she laughed and said, “There isn't a lesbian phonebook that I can cross reference, Abbey. You'll just have to figure it out on your own.” Some help she is.

Tank Top Girl grins at me and looks down at the empty table space between us, as if trying to signal something.

I look at the same spot but don't see anything special about it besides the carving of a pot leaf and wonder if she's asking if I want to buy some drugs. Out of the corner of my eye, though, I see Mrs. Guzman look up from her stack of books and glare our way again. I go back to my reading and try to ignore my throbbing shin.

Halfway through chapter two, I feel yet another kick, but at least she's eased up on the strength of it. I'm a little ticked off because I need to read three chapters of the book by tomorrow and my shin is definitely going to bruise. Then I wonder,
Is she flirting with me in some sort of first grade way or something?

This time she gives up the subtle eye movements and mouths her message instead. “Under the table.”

I use my peripheral vision, which has improved exponentially since I started high school, and look at Mrs. Guzman to see if the coast is clear. She's checking out books for a large group of students, so I duck down and pretend to search for something in my backpack.

From everyone else's viewpoint, it looks like Tank Top Girl is hunched over, working on math homework. But from under the table I see a different picture. She's actually slouched in her chair so she can extend her legs as far as possible in my direction. Held between her dusty Doc Martens boots is a note for me to retrieve.

Unfortunately, she's got really short legs, so I have to stretch superfar to get the note from her feet. I nearly fall out of my chair but come up unscathed with a folded piece of binder paper. Before opening it, I look across the table once more.

She smiles, which causes the tiny gem in her nose to catch a beam of fluorescent light and wink at me. Could it be? Could I have developed gaydar? Well, there's only one way to find out. I open the letter in my lap and read it:

Hey. I think you're cute, and I don't just mean that hardcore black eye. You were cute before you had it, too. Do you want to go out sometime? Hit me up if ya do. 345-3247

Signed, your fellow inmate, Mia

Yes! I've got the gift! How cool is that? But then her words hit me. Oh my God! She thinks I'm cute? What's wrong with her? Isn't it obvious I can't handle any more girl drama?

So instead of doing anything normal, like writing Mia back, I fold up the note and try to read the rest of my homework. The whole time, though, all I can think about is how not all the girl-loving girls at Gila play basketball and that I have confirmed, yes indeed, I have gaydar.

When the bell rings, I do all I can, besides hide under the table, to avoid eye contact with Mia. She gets the hint because she doesn't wait around for a response. I don't mean to be rude, but I really have no idea what to say to her. I mean, I still haven't even decided what to do about Keeta, and Mia's note confuses me even more. I do, however, walk with a lighter step to biology.

I'm about to slice open a raunchy-smelling crustacean when Tai comes into my classroom. I start to freak out for three very good reasons:

1. I don't want to go anywhere, especially not to see Keeta.
   
2. I don't want to see Keeta.
   
3. I really, really, really don't want to see Keeta.
   

So, I decide that hell no, I won't go.

I watch as Tai hands Mr. Zamora a note and pray it has nothing to do with me. He opens it, reads it to himself, and calls me up to his desk. Thanks for nothing, Universe.

I quickly look down at the crayfish pinned to my tray and pretend not to hear him.
No, no, no,
I repeat in my head, as if I have the power to change reality. Then he gets kind of annoyed because he practically shouts, “Abbey Brooks, come here now.”

The rest of the class stares as I walk over to his desk. I pass Tai on the way, and when she looks me in the eye, she doesn't flash her usual sly smile. Instead, she gives me a sympathetic nod. My stomach instantly tightens and my head starts to spin because this is the same kind of look everyone gave me in the days, weeks, and months after my dad died.

Twenty minutes after arriving at the school office and meeting up with my mom there, we arrive at St. Joseph's where Kate is recovering from the appendix surgery she had this morning.

I've twirled my hair into a rat's nest by the time Jenn comes out into the hall to tell me it's my turn to see Kate. Before she lets me pass, she puts her hand on my shoulder. “How important does it all seem now, Abbey?” she says, which is a pretty coldhearted thing to ask me, even for Jenn.

But maybe it's just her way of saying how much she loves her little sister, so I don't give her attitude. “Yeah, I know. You're right, again,” I say before entering Kate's room.

I push the curtain aside and find Kate slightly propped up, sucking on small chunks of ice from a pink plastic cup. “Hey, Abbey,” she says in a slurred, drugged way.

“Hey, Kate.” I check out her room and try to think of something else to say. “Wow, they really knocked their heads against the wall when they decorated this place.”

“Yeah. God, your eye looks like crap.”

“Thanks.”

“You can come closer, Abbey. You can't catch appendicitis, you know.”

“I know. I just wasn't sure if you wanted to see me. I mean, after the way I've been acting.” I inch a little closer and touch the foot of her bed. I look at Kate with the intent of saying something meaningful, but instead I fiddle with the edge of her blue blanket and concentrate on not crying.

“Sit down,” she says, motioning to the chair next to her. “You're making me nervous.”

We sit in silence at first, but then I finally say it: “I'm sorry, Kate. Like really, really sorry.”

I don't know who starts crying first, but the waterworks are turned on full blast, and we go through the tiny box of Kleenex on her bedside table in a matter of seconds.

“Abbey, I'm the sorry one,” Kate says after she blows her nose, which I guess really hurts her stomach because she whines afterward. “Can we have a do-over? But this time be totally honest with each other?”

“Deal,” I say. “I'll start.”

She adjusts her pillows a little and says, “Okay. I'm ready.”

I take in a deep breath and say it for the first time to anyone. “Um, Kate…I like girls and I am pretty sure I'm…gay.”

“No way,” she says and chuckles a little, but only because it would probably hurt too much to bust out a full-blown laugh.

Not the reaction I was hoping for, but then I start laughing, too.

“I'm sorry,” she wipes the laughter tears from her eyes, “you just looked so serious.”

“Well, that
was
my first time saying it to anyone, you know.” I hope she appreciates the honor, or whatever you would call coming out to someone.

“Sorry I laughed,” she says, but giggles again. I figure it's the drugs and let her off the hook. “You did a good job of it.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks, butthead.”

“Okay,” she tosses the used tissues on the side table. “I guess it's my turn.”

“Yep, lay it on me.”

“Well, since we're being totally honest, it wasn't Derrick who didn't want me to spend the night anymore. It was me.”

I nod but look away from her. I knew it all along, but that doesn't take the sting out of her words.

“Don't be mad, Abbey. I was just freaked out. I'm sorry.”

I remind myself of what I wrote in the letter to Kate; we have to forgive and forget. “It's okay. I know it must have been weird. I mean, I was freaking out, too. Speaking of Derrick,”
be nice, Abbey
, “where is he?”

She turns her head toward the window, but I can still see her eyes well up with tears. “You won't be seeing him around me anymore.”

“Oh?” I try not to sound relieved.

“Don't sound too disappointed, Abbey.” I guess I still can't fool her. Then she says, “I know, I know, he was a douche bag.”

“Yeah, only slightly.”

“If I had the strength, I'd throw this ice in your face.”

“Did you guys ever end up, you know?”

“No, thank God. He kept on wanting to and we came pretty close one night, but right when he was, you know…”

“No, I have no idea.”

Kate rolls her eyes and whispers, “You know, putting the raincoat on his Jimmy.”

My confusion is clear.

“Condom, Abbey. He was putting on a condom. Anyway, Jenn opens the basement door and tells us to knock off all the heavy breathing because we're fogging up the windows, which pretty much ruined the mood.”

“Oh my God. She's so crazy.”

“I know.” Kate fiddles with the empty tissue box. “But I'm glad she did it. He's such a loser. It turns out he was seeing someone from a different school at the same time we were dating. Can you believe that?”

I clear my throat. “Well, yeah. I always knew he was scum.”

“I know, but I was too in love to see what he was really like. I guess it felt so good to be loved.” Her next words seem to be pulled from my own mouth. “It was like if I wasn't with him, I couldn't breathe.”

“Yeah,” I agree, thinking that maybe Kate and I aren't that different after all.

“Speaking of being in love with all the wrong people, how is Keeta? Have you guys, you know, done it?”

“Oh my God, Kate,” I look over my shoulder. “Shut up.”

She taps her fingers on the thin mattress and waits for an answer.

“No, we haven't had sex yet.” I'm sure my face turns crimson. “We've come close, too, but…wait, what do you know about Keeta and her being one of the wrong people?”

“Well, all I know is what Jenn tells me, and from what I hear, Keeta's quite the player, and I'm not talking about basketball or guitar. But I also know, by the way you look right now, you're hopelessly in love with her and you don't really care what everyone else says.”

“Did the surgery heighten your mind-reading abilities or something?”

She smiles and says, “When in the world will you get it through your thick skull, girl? A best friend can always tell.”

*

It's after nine when my mom and I get home from the hospital. We're both too tired and hungry to talk, so we eat some leftover casserole and listen to the kitchen clock tick off the seconds. When we hear the knock at the door, we both jump.

“Who in the world?” My mom turns on the porch light, peeks through the small window, then opens the door.

I nearly spit my pasta across the room.

“Hi, Mrs. Brooks,” Keeta says. “Uh, I would have called, but I know Abbey is grounded from the phone after nine.”

“Oh, that's okay,” my mom says. “Come on in.”

No, no, no. I look around the kitchen and am so embarrassed at the mess. Breakfast dishes in the sink, my backpack and gym bag on the floor, my lunch study hall cards plastered on our fridge, and a layer of dust on everything. She'll be so grossed out she won't even want to sit down.

As Keeta enters, she continues to explain why she's here. “I heard about what happened to Kate today and was wondering if Abbey wanted me to get her homework tomorrow so she could hang out with Kate at the hospital.”

“That's so thoughtful, Keeta,” Mom says, and then they both enter the kitchen. “We're just having some dinner. Are you hungry?”

When they come in, I'm at the sink filling it up with hot water and dirty dishes to give Keeta the impression that we aren't slobs. Seeing Keeta in my kitchen is beyond strange, and at first I want to ignore her, but that would be suspicious, so instead I hide my uneasiness with politeness. “Keeta? What a surprise. What are you doing here? Would you like something to drink?” I move robotically through the kitchen while keeping an eye on my mom. Despite my efforts, I'm sure my mom can tell that Keeta and I have been kissing buddies or whatever you would call us.