After watching Courtney sulk and sigh for the rest of the class period, I headed to AP American History. It was taught by this retired military guy, and about halfway through the class, he put on a documentary about some war. But I fell asleep before I figured out which one, and when the lights flipped back on, I headed to my last class of the day.
I had sixth-hour journalism, and since it was Friday, I joined Caitlyn at the round table for our weekly staff meeting. I was rubbing my eyes and feeling groggy from the short video nap when Rob assumed his role as editor of The Riverside Review. “Okay, everyone, let’s get started.” I sat directly across from him, trying to conceal my successive yawns. “And Chloe, let’s begin with you.”
“Really, Rob?” I frowned because I wasn’t ready to pitch an article, and Rob always had a sixth sense about it. I was in charge of the “Student Life” section, and prom was the major headline in our last issue. Even though I hadn’t planned my articles, Caitlyn and I aptly covered prom all week long: we decided on a place for dinner, the time to meet up at my house for pictures, and the location for the after party. Caitlyn even created a spreadsheet, so everyone had the exact times and locations for each activity. After we finished with prom, we decided Caitlyn should become a wedding planner, and we planned our double wedding to our boyfriends.
“Well, I was thinking of interviewing a couple about their prom experience,” I started talking as I tossed ideas around in my head. “Like a his-and-hers perspective on the night.”
“But it can’t be either of us.” Caitlyn gestured between her and me. “Because we’ll both be on Junior Court, and it doesn’t seem fair to showcase us twice in the same issue.” There are two things to realize about her statement: first, if I made Court, then it would have been based on my boyfriend’s popularity and not my own; and second, the only reason Caitlyn took journalism was to make sure she was well showcased in every issue.
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to interview you two anyway,” I said to Caitlyn before addressing the whole table again. “Plus, I was thinking about two friends or a couple in the early stages of a relationship.” I peered across the table at our fearless leader as my next idea surfaced. “You know, I should interview you and your date.” Curiosity fueled my next question. “So, who’s the lucky girl, Rob?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Just flip a coin,” our sports editor offered.
“Uh, mucho problemo,” I began in a language I had never taken. “A coin has two sides, and I know more than two girls have asked him to prom.”
He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms like he was annoyed with my acute awareness of his social life, but then again, our lives ran as parallel as the roads on which we lived.
“Oh, I know, I know,” Caitlyn repeated enthusiastically. “You should draw names, Rob.” She pulled out a ruler and a pair of scissors from the office supply caddy at the center of the round table and began making perfect strips of paper, and while Caitlyn exhibited her obsessive compulsive tendencies, another idea popped into my head. “Or better yet, we could make it a contest—like an essay contest. And we could print the winning entry in the paper.” I smirked and drew my hand across the air. “Why should Rob Callahan take me to the prom?”
“Hmm, that is a good question.” Rob rested on his elbows. “Why should I take you?”
“Well, you can’t take Chloe because…” Caitlyn interjected unsuccessfully, her voice muffling like Charlie Brown’s teacher as our eyes locked for verbal warfare.
I went first. “Because I’m nice, Rob.”
“You’re nice?” he echoed incredulously. “Think of all the things I do for you.” He enumerated each one on his fingertips. “Tutoring. Taxi Services. Car Loans.” A few snickered at the mention of the car thing. My key incident—still not old yet.
“Yeah, well, I do plenty of things for you,” I returned.
He tossed a “like what” expression across the table and handed me my assignment. “Why don’t you explain it in your essay then?”
“Well, she can’t win the contest,” Caitlyn reminded.
I leaned in toward Rob. “Yeah? How many words?”
“Haven’t I taught you anything? ‘Brevity is the soul of wit.’” He leaned back and turned his attention to the entire table. “Now, that we’ve covered my student life, let’s move on to Sports…”
After we wrapped up our Friday meeting, I followed Rob over to the counter at the back of the classroom. “Hey, chief,” I said, sliding next to him.
He was busy sorting through articles. “Whatcha’ need, Chlo?”
“Nothing, really. I just wanted to let you know that I got the highest score on the physics test.” I rose up on my tippy toes and whispered the rest. “And I even answered the bonus question correctly.”
He turned, offering his dimpled grin. “Wow, I’m really proud of you.” His fatherly tone gave me a warm feeling and caused a catch in my throat. My dad was in the middle of a four-week-long speaking tour.
“I really miss my dad,” I said with a prominent pout.
“Yeah, me too.” He draped his arm around my shoulders. “Taking care of you is a lot of work.”
-6-
Brown Paper Bag
After school, Brad and I lounged on the L-shaped leather sectional in the family room. It was one of the few pieces of furniture from this century, and it was the perfect configuration for after school slothfulness. Brad took the long side since, at fifteen, he had surpassed the six-foot mark, and I always got the short end since I was only five and a half feet tall, never growing an inch after my big middle school growth spurt.
For the rest of the afternoon, Brad and I remained on the couch with an open bag of tortilla chips and a big bowl of salsa between us, and when my mother came home, I was busy picking miniscule bits of chips off my hot pink T-shirt while Brad flipped channels at an impressive rate.
My mother entered the room with a loud sigh and several bags of groceries. She was dressed in a pair of gray slacks and a lavender blouse, and her blonde hair was cut in a short wedge. My mom had no use for makeup beyond lip gloss and a little mascara; she wasn’t one of those Monet moms who looked like a blank canvas in the morning. All she required was a single cup of coffee, and she was herself again: a totally conservative librarian.
Brad and I left the couch begrudgingly and helped my mom unload the groceries from the trunk of her silver Civic. It was a hybrid, of course, since our household was as green as the two saplings sitting on the backseat, and at the sight of the tiny trees, our faces twisted into question marks.
“Oh, come on, kids. It’s Earth Day!” A smile spread across her face, and she acted like the holiday rivaled one with presents. “And we’re going to do something nice for the environment by planting trees in our yard.”
“Like we need any more of those,” Brad mumbled under his breath, and my mother offered her parental frown.
As we headed into the kitchen, I asked, “So Mom, did you consult Dad before you bought these trees? Sure, they’re cute little saplings now, but one day they’ll grow into big, big trees.”
“Oh, I see where you’re going with this.” She placed the bags on the island in the kitchen.
“Yeah, I bet you do.” A few years back, my dad returned from one of his book tours and was surprised to find a tiny dog in the backyard. Even though my mom was a librarian, we neglected to research Fluffball’s breed ahead of time, and when our pup matured into a full-grown, menacing Chow Chow, my dad sent our beloved pet to live out the rest of his days on a nice, roomy farm. There, he could dig holes and bite people without my father worrying about the inevitable lawsuit.
My mom started putting groceries away while my brother foraged for snacks, and quite casually, Brad mentioned, “Mom, ask Chlo about her day.”
She turned toward me. “Why? What happened?”
“Well,” I started plainly. “I locked my keys in the car.”
“Oh, you??
?ve done that before.” She waved her hand dismissingly. She was holding a carton of eggs in her other hand, so Brad waited until the eggs were securely on the shelf before he added, “Yeah, but her car was still running.”
Her mouth dropped open.
“I know, Mom.” He put his hand on her shoulder like it was a delicate situation. “It’s Earth Day, and Chloe is polluting the environment with unnecessary car fumes.”
My mom started laughing like she wasn’t all that concerned about the environment or my feelings. Brad had my mom going, so he followed it up with a preposterous tale about the book mobile, which is like a library on wheels. The big buses visit parking lots of grocery stores and day cares, bringing books to children who may not have access to them otherwise. Brad began the story with a smile, “Well, it’s still not as funny as that kid who tried to use the book mobile bathroom, and by the time he was all done, he found himself in the Winn Dixie parking lot way across town.”
“C’mon Brad, do bookmobiles even have bathrooms?” I asked.
“Sure, they’re fully equipped like an RV, and if they run short on TP, the kids probably use the—”
“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” My mother held up her hand. “After a long day of work, I could use a little peace and quiet right now.”
“Seriously, Mom, you’re a librarian. Isn’t that what you get all day long?” I couldn’t hold back the laughs even though there was a serious déjà vu feeling to this comment.
“Oh, go do your homework, kids.”
“It’s Friday night, Mom,” Brad reminded her. “I’m going to the movies.”
“Yeah, and I’m spending the night at Courtney’s.”
Brad and I left the kitchen together and crossed into the family room. “Courtney’s house, huh?” He eyed me carefully. “What will you do to buy my silence?”
“You can use my car tonight.” I paused. “Oh, that’s right. You can’t drive.”
My brother stepped in closer, whispering, “And what about your little referral today?”
“You want rides to school, don’t you?”
“Yep, but I want to keep the spare set of keys.”
“You’ll have to get them from Rob then.”
“Sure, that makes sense, since Callahan acts more like your boyfriend than that Neanderthal you date.”
I glared back at my brother as I reached for the ringing phone in my back pocket. “Hey, I was just thinking about you.” I poured on the syrup in front of my brother and then left the room.
“You coming?” Austin asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then hurry your sweet, little—”
I cut him off. “Okay, okay, I’ll be right there.”
****