Project Pallid (6 page)

“My
High today was—

“Low
first,” Mom interrupted.

“OK
then, my
Low
today was when I showed up for my first biology class and
learned I should’ve already picked up my syllabus and books from the bookstore.
Turns out, we already had a reading assignment
and
a paper due, right
when we walked in the door.”

“That’s
awful!” Mom’s reply was of genuine hurt for Nicole.

“Yeah,
right? And I wasn’t the only one empty-handed. There were ten or twelve other
kids who didn’t pick-up their things and who didn’t get the assignment done
either—so at least I wasn’t alone.”

“Well,
there’s a lesson in being proactive for you,” my dad proclaimed.

“Relax,
Dad. I learned it,” she assured. “From now on, books first, then classes. I
won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“I
would hope not,” Mom chimed.

“And
for my High. Well, I guess my High was finding out that Meghan’s in the same
Biology class as me. She helped me with the assignment,
and
I got it
turned in by the end of the day!”

“You
didn’t copy it, did you?” Dad asked with playful suspicion and a crooked brow.

“What
kind of question is that Darryl? Of course she didn’t copy it!” Mom defended
Nicole, but switched gears when she realized the very distinct possibility that
my dad might be onto something. “You didn’t copy it, did you, Nicole?”

“
Noooooooo
,
Mom.
Nooooooo
,
Dad. I didn’t copy anything. She just helped
me with the reading so I could do the paper faster.”

“Well,
it sounds like you’ve got yourself a great roommate.”

“She
sounds like nothing but trouble to me.” Dad pressed on and continued poking
sticks at my sister.

“Quit
it, Darryl. It’s Damian’s turn.”

“I
don’t know if I want to go if he’s just going to pick at my story.” I spoke to
my mom, but pointed to Dad with the end of my fork.

“Darryl,
promise you won’t badger him.”

“You
know I can’t do that, Martha.”

“Fine.
Then I’ll go instead. Maybe he’ll run out of gas by the time we get to you,
Damian.”

“Fat
chance of that happening,” my sister, who’d gone back to slicing away at her
pork, interjected.

“So,
I was down at the nursing home today, visiting my mother and some of the other
girls. And when I was there, I checked in with Linda from across the hall. I’ve
told you about her, right? That poor woman’s all alone; she’s got no family and
she never gets any visitors. Anyway, I popped-in to drop off the Chex Mix I
made her, and wouldn’t you know it? She took a fall this morning and banged
herself up something terrible. She scraped up her knee, and now she’s got
bruises up her whole side.” Mom’s hands illustrated the story on her own body as
she spoke.

“That’s
terrible, Martha. How is she?” Dad’s uncharacteristically sympathetic response
was an obvious attempt to blanket his earlier misstep with her.

“Thank
you for asking, Darryl,” Mom thawed and replied. “She’s actually doing quite
well.”

My
dad looked satisfied with the few points he’d earned back in her good favor as
she continued. “And my High for the day was making lunch for her and my mother,
and watching game shows with them for the afternoon; it was nice seeing them so
happy and knowing I was able to play a part in it.”

“That’s
really cool, Mom,” I mumbled behind a mouthful of potato and looked to my plate
instead of to her—eye contact would have just pushed her on, and on and
on.

“Yeah,
cool,” Nicole followed.

Obviously,
neither of us was all that interested in her sharing.

“Okay,
Damian, I did my best to defuse your father. It’s time for your share.”

I
looked over at him. Grinning, he’d bided his time and wasn’t about to let me
off the hook so easily without getting a rise out of me, too.

“Alright,
alright. Let’s just get it over with,” I began. “So, my Low for the day came
when I got to school and went to my locker for the first time. I didn’t get a
chance to find it yesterday, and I didn’t really need to until my teachers
started piling books on me.”

“Gross.
I remember that.” Nicole lent supportive sympathy to the start of my share.

“Anyway,
it turns out that the guy I’m sharing a locker with is a total douche: Ryan
Hayes. I guess he’s some football god at school, and he thinks he deserves a
locker entirely to himself. He took all my stuff and dropped it right in the
middle of the hall. He basically told me to find a new home.”

“Can
he do that!?” Mom asked, startled.

“It’s
high school, Martha,” Dad jumped.

“It’s
survival of the fittest,” Nicole added.

“Well,
it doesn’t seem right.”

“It’s
not, Mom, but that’s how it goes. And I’d rather deal with it on my own than be
the guy who runs to get help like some baby. Don’t worry, I’ve got it taken
care of.”

“So,
you made friends with this boy, then?”

“God,
no! Never! He’s a total douche!”

“Please,
Damian, not at the table.”

“He
does sound like a bit of a douche, Martha.”

“Darryl!
Stop feeding into it!” My dad never stayed in the green for long when it came
time for sharing. Mom’s sharp words redirected him to his plate.

“And
my High,” I continued, “came when Catee, this redhead girl I told Mom about
yesterday, offered to share her locker with me, instead.”

“Catee,
huh?” My dad responded before my mom could vocalize the instant excitement
that’d spread over her face.

“Darryl,
you promised … ”

“I
didn’t make any promises. Remember?”

“Still,
you behave.”

“Just
relax, Martha. If Damian’s got a new girlfriend, I’d like to hear about her.”

“Oooohhh,
Damian’s got a girlfriend!? I want to hear about her, too!” My sister, only
remotely engaged to that point, turned her attention to my reveal, and I
instantly had everyone’s complete attention.

I
tried to back out as best I could. “Cool it guys. I barely know her. We only
talked for a few minutes in the hall, and I didn’t even take her up on the
offer. At least, not yet.”

“Playing
hard to get then?” Dad prompted.

“No,
Dad. I’m not playing hard to get. I just don’t know if it’s the best move for
me and all right now.” I opted to leave out the parts about Justin and his
territorial threats.

“Well,
I think it’s great that you’ve met a girl, Damian. And whenever you’re ready to
bring her home, I’ll plan a nice big dinner and we’ll all be on our best
behavior,” Mom declared with a look back and forth between Nicole and my dad.

“Of
course we will, Martha,” Dad agreed with his signature, mischievous grin.

“I’m
always
on my best behavior, Mom,” Nicole agreed.

Her
sadistic smile was more like my dad’s than anything else. But even though
neither of them could be trusted, it was all in good fun. Plus, Catee’s quick
wit that afternoon suggested she could handle our sarcastic dinner talks just
as well as anyone.

But
the road to dinner seemed an unlikely one back then and before Catee and I
started to hang on the regular. And because I knew such little about her, I
wasn’t sure if I’d want to cross that bridge, if we ever came to it. Yeah, she
had my attention, but so didn’t impromptu pizza in a Wednesday lunch line.
 
It didn’t mean I wanted to date it,
marry it, or bring it home to my family.
 
As I figured, the most I’d share with Catee would be half a
locker—and even that seemed far-reaching.

September
7
^th:

By
Friday of week one, I’d begun to develop a serious case of scoliosis from the
sheer weight of my swollen backpack. It contorted my spine in unnatural ways
that was only worsened by those who took notice, and who lent the added weight
of downward tugs.

I
wound up on the ground a couple more times during those first few
days—mostly by kids after quick and easy laughs. It wasn’t anything
personal, and it didn’t bother me too much. None of them even knew me. I was
just the small guy with a big backpack—an easy, slow moving target.

And
even though Catee and I saw each other throughout that week, we hadn’t had any
opportunity to talk. We exchanged brief words whenever we ran across each
other, but she was always distracted with one or another groups of kids, and I
didn’t really feel comfortable jumping in. It was only through bus
windows—where Justin’s threats were empty ones—that I even dared
look at her long enough to appreciate her the way I wanted and needed to.

There
was a magnetism about her that had captured the attention of more than just me,
and it wasn’t exclusive to the guys at school either; even girls with
reputations for cattiness were drawn to her. And by the looks of it, Catee had
quickly secured herself a spot as one of the IT girls of Madison: all in under
a week. I’d been there the same amount of time, and I hadn’t even secured a
spot for my books, yet.

The
hunt to spot her was always an easy one, even from the bus. Mature by freshman
terms, Catee’s hair was the first giveaway when I looked for her on the ride
home. It helped that she was taller than other girls—and even some of the
boys, too—but not in a freakish sort of way, either. She’d just come into
her own faster than everyone else. While they still looked and dressed exactly the
same—like they’d just popped out of some crappy, Sears
catalogue—her look was thoughtlessly her own. It was as uniquely perfect
as it was natural.

And
even though I caught Catee looking back at me, it always seemed to be in
geometry class, where her glances went unreciprocated. Of course, I worried
about the dismissive signals I was sending, but I didn’t have much choice in
it. I had to allow Justin his domain; after all, he’d already marked her as his
territory.

And
because she hadn’t approach me again about the locker-share during that first
week, I naturally wondered whether the offer was still on the table when I
finally caved and convinced myself that it didn’t matter what Justin thought: I
was making my move anyway—for the sake of my broken back, if nothing
else.

“Hey
Catee.” I tried my best to sound confident in the face of what could have been
a near-death experience. I’d been waiting for her to exit geometry, and I
pounced almost immediately as she walked out the door. Justin looked totally
shocked by my brazen forwardness in the face of his threats.

She
excused herself from his side and left him to wait and linger, just out of
earshot and shooting looks that left me stumbling for words with her.

“Hey,
Damian. What’s up?”

“How’ve
you been, Catee?” I asked.

“Eh.
Predictably unsurprised. It’s not a whole lot different here than it was at my
old school: same cliques, same bunch of meatheads.”

“But
aren’t you
going
with one of the biggest ones?” I asked, using my eyes
to point Justin’s way.

“Him!?
Gross! No!” I looked for his reaction and hoped he hadn’t heard her. There was
none. Only the same, blank stare ripping through my head.

“Well,
I just figured and all. I mean, you guys have been sitting next to each other
all week, and I’ve seen you after school together, on my ride home to Crapsville.”

“Platsville?”

“That’s
what I said, Crapsville.”

At
this, we both laughed, and I worried Justin might think it was at his expense.
I worried about the even bigger beating I might take because of it.

“No,
I’m not
going
with him at all. Usually, I’m trying to
go
wherever
he isn’t, but he’s been a tough one to shake.”

“Seems
it,” I replied.

“So,
what’s up?”

“Well,
remember what you said about your locker being available?”

“Your
locker-share across town not work out?” she asked.

“Not
really, no,” I said, and began to unravel another twisted tale for her. “They
wanted first, last,
and
a security deposit; I just couldn’t see spending
that much on such a small place, especially since it’s only got a shared
bathroom.”

“Understandable,”
she agreed. “So, when are you looking to move in?”

“As
soon as possible, I guess.” My own forwardness intimidated me, and I looked to
the floor and hoped her answer was still a yes.

“Give
me your hand,” she said.

I
put it out, and she took it in hers. Turning it over, she unclenched my fingers
to expose my upturned palm. She pulled a pen from the curls of her pulled-back
hair and wrote:

# 227
      
4 - 26
– 12

“There.
Now we’re locker-mates.”