Here is the original story that I submitted to my former publisher (the now defunct Torquere Press).
There were a few changes:

• The title and ALL British slang/wording. I was kind of disappointed as there was a decent Monty Python joke I had to remove.
• Lindsey is unaware of Jen’s past
• A lot of Jen’s back-story was not flushed out
• A lot of hints about Krys are not in this version
• I was not allowed to name the chapters after Shania Twain songs at the time.

On June 5th, 1997 my world was the same as it always was: I was nothing.
That shadow in the hallway? Me.
The person you thought you saw, but couldn’t quite place? That was me, too.
The one picture in the yearbook that you kind of remember? Yep, me again.
It’s not that I didn’t try to break out and be a part of everything…but, at the time, I wasn’t ready and well, there was a lot of stuff I had to get over first. I’m not referring to zits on my face or how I felt about an algebra final. Okay, those could be a part of it...but they were the flotsam on the waves, not the malu cachu, crap, that flowed underneath...and if you hated that analogy...don’t worry, I’ll have a lot more.

Where to begin?
I suppose I could start with my family—of what it was…which was nothing, really. We were like three flat mates that talked a little bit as we lived separate lives. I suppose that’s a bit blunt, but that’s how it is, or was. I don’t want to think that I intruded on the lives of two people on the day I was born…but I kind of felt that way.
My—I guess I should still call him—dad, Daniel Kane, I can best describe him as the one who takes the happiness out of the room without saying a word, cold and bitter. He was tall, foreboding; had dark brown hair and a face that was usually locked in a scowl. I used to wonder if he sucked on lemons for breakfast every morning.
He wasn’t an alky. He never hit me or Mum. Sometimes, I kind of wished he would have because any physical contact—let alone a nice word now and then—would have been great. Was he there on the day I was born? Probably...and he probably was in the billing office the whole time trying to see how much he could save if Mum pushed harder on her own. Perhaps instead of any drugs the doctors should have gone with whiskey and a bullet as I made my way into the world on September sixth, 1982.
He was a realtor, dealing with business locations and high stakes markets…but I didn’t really care what he did, I just wanted to…maybe once, have him be at a ballgame or a movie or see me in one of my kindergarten concerts. He never went to any event held at my school and it took a bit to find out why. Regardless, he was able to make me feel he was nowhere to be found even if he was standing next to me. Many times, I remember reaching out to him, wanting him to pick me up or tell me a story and he’d simply stand there, like a sadistic stone statue, pretty much ignoring the small one in front of him.
Mum, try as she could to not be, was submissive to him. I do not mean submissive as she let him be the man of the house or fell in-rank to the king of the castle...I mean she was cobblestone beneath his feet. No, she was the dirt beneath the stones he walked. I don’t know what occurred on the day they first met, but it was like Mum was destined to be a “Stepford Wife” and thought nothing more of it.
She once had light blonde hair, a thin face and was known as the fun-loving sister in her family who would never turn down a good time. I never met that person. I think my dad might have murdered her and replaced her with a shell of her former self.
My only relief from the doldrums of my family was the fact I lived down the street from my cousin, Krystal, the only person—at the time—who understood me.
Not that it was easy to understand me; I’d say it was kind of tortuous—like watching a terrible movie and continuing to do so, even though it’s the most wretched and convoluted shite burned into your retinas. Somehow, though, she was there at the times I wanted so badly to throw myself off of a bridge, a building, or jump out—allow me to add: stand in front—of a moving car…but my courageously caring cousin came to the rescue.
When I felt bad for myself, I usually walked down the block to the park and sat on the swing set. In time, Krystal would usually find me, sit in the next swing, and listen to my diatribe.
“Do you really think jumping off the school roof will help?” she asked back.
“Maybe.”
“Then who’s going to help me bake lasagna?”
“Recipes?” I asked looked at the ground.
“Like I have time to read those. Just think...ninth grade is almost over. No longer freshmen…I can see a great light at the end of the tunnel.”
“I don’t see the same light, Krys…not by what I have to go through every day.”
My “normal” day began with my dad yelling across the house about something and Mum would try to calm him down. This happened every day, so having an alarm clock was redundant. I’d rise up, get dressed, and then go to Krystal’s house to walk the next few blocks to Ferris High School.
Once we arrived, then the real fun would start. I was a short kid with mousy hair, freckles, glasses, and a bullseye on my back and forehead. No one who was bigger, taller, and stronger could avoid trying to hit them. I spent a lot of time trying to avoid everyone like the plague, but there was someone who I could never avoid—Matt Tracker.
The great Matthew Modine Tracker made sure that my days were Hell. Looking back, I’d think he had radar on me—or he just knew where I’d show up—and then he, and his friends, would make certain to knock me down a few pegs. Each day, he was successful— except on days I was absent, but then he’d make sure the next day was double the fun for me. Matt was in the same grade as Krystal and me, so I had three more years to look forward to this special kind of attention.
This royal treatment went on throughout my freshman year. I didn’t get to even enjoy the last day of school. Then one day maybe, just maybe, he’d leave school early and do whatever it is popular, and astronomically more superior, people do on their last day of class—besides to torture lowly students. When the final bell rang. I walked out of the school—
—and fell to the ground, courtesy of a large boot.
“You ought to watch where you’re going.” Chris Carlson jeered. Chris stood the tallest of the four and had to brush his blonde hair out of his face whenever he loomed over me.
“Looks like you made it through the year, pussy,” another of Matt’s minions, Damon Mercer, chimed in. Damon was only a few inches taller than me but he compensated with his mouth, making sure there was a put down in everything he said.
I tried to get up but another foot kicked me down again.
“And he hasn’t been thrown into the crapper this year,” Tyler Jensen, the second in command stated. Tyler was the most stoic of the group—or at least he gave the impression—as he hardly ever smiled or looked my way as he talked about me.
“Yeah, you lucked out, didn’t you, Kane?” The king of them all, Matt, asked the rhetorical question. “What’s your plans for summer? Gonna finally score big with the ladies?” Matt usually came to school wearing a long black jacket and had brown his hair cut short. He recently had braces put on his top teeth—and how I would have loved to say something about them, but didn’t. I may have looked pathetic, but I wasn’t stupid.
I stood up and faced the four of them. Meanwhile, the sea of students continued to flow around us like fish. I prayed for someone to come to my rescue, but no one wanted to get involved. Either fear or indifference, I couldn’t tell at the time, prevented the collective student body from throwing a life preserver.
“Oh, so we’re sticking up for ourselves now, are we?”
It wasn’t that I was sticking up for myself—but if I didn’t get off the pavement, the stampede would trample me. Matt took the chance, grabbed me by the neck, and shoved me back to the ground.
“C’mon, wuss, get up and let’s see you take your best shot.”
I wanted to get back up, to punch him in the face, and choke the living daylights out of him...but I didn’t do any of that, even when he stomped his boots into my stomach. The fight just wasn’t in me.
“Let him go!”
Krystal, and her friend Lindsey Nichols, stood behind Matt and company. She was pissed and wasn’t afraid to let them know it.
“You’re so lucky your cousin’s stacked.” Matt commented on Krystal’s rack as he lifted his boot.
“Shove it, Matt!” Krys stated as she stepped through the group to help me up. The gang simply stood by and watched two cheerleaders save my sorry arse. Lindsey picked my backpack up as Krystal led me away. Matt and company, of course, had to fire a parting shot.
“See you pussy!”
“You talking to Krystal or James?” Chris asked.
“You good?” Krystal inquired to me as she threw the bird at Matt.
I only nodded, as I didn’t feel I could give an answer to anyone.
“They’re always acting like jerks, pushing people around. Someone needs to put them in their place.” Lindsey handed me my backpack. “Are you okay, James?”
Lindsey Nichols. I used to think a lot about her...I really wanted to ask her out at one time. She was always happy and had such a smile—a toothy grin with a small gap. There were times when she had no idea what I was talking about but since she was a friend of Krystal’s, I had a lot of time to admire her. I could never bring myself to tell her how I felt...I didn’t want to get the cold shoulder and lose the kind-of-a-friend-ish status.
I simply nodded to her.
“You sure? One day we’re going to have to give them their just desserts.”
“Deserts, Lindsey,” Krystal replied.
“Whatever. This is so wrong. I’ll help you kick their butts.”
“Think of it this way, James: you’re fortunate. I think any guy in this school would love to have a cheerleader support group.”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
Lindsey turned to me and smiled—that—along with her eyes—bright, sparkling with sunshine, lollipops and rainbows—and I couldn’t help but grin back at her. “Yeah, you’re okay now.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll see the two of you later on this summer.” Lindsey’s parents had planned a three-week camping excursion in the Wyoming wilderness.
“Lindsey?” Krys turned to her.
“Yeah?”
“Work on those dance moves we talked about while you’re out in the boonies.”
“Which ones?”
“All of them,” Krystal replied.
Lindsey walked away but then turned and ran back to us.
“You have a good summer for me, ’kay, James?”
“I will,” I replied as she reached out to hug me, which caught me off-guard. I did my best not to smother or resist too much.
“It’ll be okay,” she whispered.
“Thank you.”
“You watch out for him.” She turned her attention to Krys.
“I have been.”
“I mean it. I want him to come back in the fall.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Bye!”
She waved to the both us and ran to an awaiting car parked on the other side of the road. We walked a few yards in silence.
“Is this a good time to talk about the dress design?” Krys whispered.
“I guess so.”
Since I was in sixth grade and learned how to work a sewing machine, I designed various outfits. I had Krystal model them for me and give me her opinion on fabric and style. There were a few she liked and others she swore she’d never be found dead wearing. Often times, I would create a design, stare at it for hours on end, and then decide to embellish it—or throw the sketch away. Either that, or my dad would see one and he’d laugh. Not in a “That’s a pretty good drawing you got son, uh, heh-heh,” but one in the vein of “What the Hell is this?” variety.
“Is this what you want to do? Make dresses? Do you wear them too?”
I could never answer him, mostly out of fear...the other because I didn’t know the answer he wanted to hear. By the time I was in eighth grade, my bedroom was more like a boutique. What more did I have to do? Where else would I go? And besides, I liked creating new things.
Krystal sat on the other side of my desk, looking over a set of drawings for a pleated skirt.
“Why navy blue? It looks like a uniform.”
“It is a uniform—it only needs a few touches, like a bow on the back. What color?” I asked as I looked at a map of Europe I had on the wall. I was born and raised in Washington State but my dream was to one day leave and go across the pond, preferably somewhere in the UK and, also preferably, never coming back.
“For what?”
“The bow.” I loved to add flourish to my designs. Krys would either smile at the addition or she would roll her eyes.
“I think a shade of red would look good. Maybe an orchid pink? What’s the blouse going to look like?”
I took the book, flipped through a few pages, and handed it back to her.
“Nice. Including the tie too?” Krys asked as she tapped at the drawing.
“Yeah, it goes with it.”
“You have enough fabric or do we need to go and buy more?” Krys gave the folder back to me.
“Yeah, we should—”
“James!” The staccato, harsh, voice of my dad reverbed from downstairs.
I looked at the mirror on my bedroom door with what must’ve been a deer in the headlights expression. I got up from my desk as I heard heavy footsteps come up the stairs. We had a large house with a lot of wood in the architecture, so sounds—like yelling and footsteps—were amplified. If I were to come home late, there would be no way I could get upstairs without setting off the parental alarm.
My dad appeared in the doorframe.
“What are you doing?”
My dad was the master at asking rhetorical questions. I didn’t bother to answer. I attempted to avoid eye contact.
Krystal buried her face in my sketchbook.
“Stand up straight and look at me.”
I didn’t dare.
“I said, look at me.”
I finally looked at him, not sure what he would say next. I had several ideas, all bad.
“Where’s your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at me and then through me, as if I weren’t even there. “Damn woman,” he muttered as he left my room.
For the past few years, we never really ate dinner together. Usually it would be Mum and me...or I’d be over at Krystal’s house. I still don’t recall when we last had Christmas dinner or Thanksgiving as a family. Sure, my grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles would come—but my dad would be absent for whatever reason. After a while, Mum stopped trying to find out and I never asked. Did I think their marriage was doomed? I didn’t really know what made a marriage. If it were about love and roses, then yes, they were hopelessly, no doubt in my mind, done for. If it was about keeping things civil...well, I supposed they were, but kind of hollow and without any emotions…or at least positive ones.
With his footsteps descending the staircase, I looked toward Krystal.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
The front door opened and then closed with a loud thud. I ran out of my room and down to the foyer. Dad was already in his car, backing out of the driveway. I stepped back from the window and looked up the staircase at Krystal.
“I have an idea. Something that might cheer you up,” she said as she walked down the steps.
“What?”
“Maybe you should join the cheer squad in the fall?”
“I don’t think so.”
“We could use someone to help with our stunt work and new uniforms, maybe?” Krystal asked as she stood next to me.
“No.”
“You help me practice these cheers all the time, so you know them as well as I do.”
“Like I need another target on me. A male cheerleader? I might as well tattoo a large, red X on my forehead.”
Krystal stepped forward and put her hands on her hips.
“I!”
“I really don’t want to do the fight chant right now, Krys—”
“I said: I!”
“I,” I stated with no emotion.
“Louder!”
“I,” I said with a smidgen of enthusiasm.
“I believe!”
“I believe.” The Ferris High School Saxon Fight Chant was said before every football game, right after the fight song and again if we were losing later on.
“I believe that!”
“I believe that!” It was repetitive, but it grew on me.
“I believe that we!”
“I believe that we!” It riled me up to want to kick a football.
“I believe that we will!”
“I believe that we will!” Or maybe someone’s arse.
“I believe that we will win!”
“I believe that we will win!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. For some reason, I felt a little better.
“What do you say? And, there’s always Lindsey.”
“Would they really want me?”
“I can persuade the others to start you off as, say, a mascot at first, but eventually a uniform—letter and all.”
“Sure,” I replied as I looked out the window to the empty driveway. “It might be fun. Why not?”
An hour later, I was—as usual—sitting at the table with Krystal’s family. My mum’s sister, Lydia, worked as a registered nurse.
She was older than Mum, but she was the second one married. I don’t think it was a competition or anything between them as they talked to each other often but there were things Aunt Lydia would never ask—like how her marriage was doing. Aunt Lydia always welcomed me into her home; to the point there was a room I stayed in down the hall from Krystal’s when home life became unbearable—which was increasing by leaps and bounds as my freshman year came to a close.
“How is your father doing, James?”
My uncle Alan, on the other hand, was the one who would ask the uncomfortable questions. He didn’t do it to be crass or nosy but more to actually talk to me, and since I didn’t share his love of football or business talk, family life was about the only subject in which we had any commonality.
“He’s okay, I guess.”
“Still selling?”
I shrugged my shoulders...I didn’t really know anything else.
“Alan?” Aunt Lydia gave him the look I had seen time and time again. Don’t ask him about his whacked out father and my sister who married him.
“Dad, remember what we talked about?” Krys broke the awkward silence.
“No.”
“You don’t?”
“Krystal, I talk to a lot of people,” Uncle Alan worked at some large corporation, which had him fly off to remote locations around the world. The man was a polyglot and could converse in many languages at once, “and a lot of conversations come up—”
Aunt Lydia glared at him and he had an oh yeah, I remember expression on his face. “James. You’re welcome to stay here for the summer.”
“Thank you, but—”
“But nothing, you should stay here—” Krystal exclaimed.
“Krystal,” Lydia raised her eyebrows.
“Mom, I—”
“No, I think I need to solve some things at home...like getting my parents to try and talk to each other.”
“If that’s what you want,” Lydia responded.
There was a lump building up in my throat. As much as I wanted to say, Yes! Please take me in; please rescue me from the Hell that is my home life. Let me sit at a table with people who actually care...even if one cannot relate to me. Two out of three’s not that bad. I couldn’t say that. I was the poor, down-trodden, and invisible rich kid who seemingly had no life at school—and I did not want them to see I felt helpless. I put in such a performance, I deserved a Tony award.
I walked home alone, by choice, and went through everything I could think of to say to my parents. Surely, I could steer some sense into them—and get us all talking together. Families are supposed to do that. The books I read, the television shows I watched...my cousin’s family. Why couldn’t we be that way?
Well, on my eighth birthday, my dad decided I should have a bowling party and he had me invite several boys from class—such as Tyler Jensen, Chris Carlson and Matt Tracker...and, well, let’s just say that it was the last birthday party I ever had. Dad ignored me, and Mum refused to see anything wrong with the three other guys whispering and laughing at me as I fell to the alley floor—after one of them blatantly tripped me up.
Or the time when he decided to tell Mum how stupid she was because she had rear-ended a car and she started crying. I thought after seeing the tears start he’d try to reach out to her and say he was sorry, or maybe say, Hey, here’s all of my money because I’m an unforgiving arse who doesn’t deserve a family like you. So, go out and buy something for yourself and a mallet to whack me over the head with. No, he simply walked into his office like nothing ever happened.
I stood on the porch with my eyes closed. I had the choice to walk in with bravado and strength to try restoring our fractured family, or I could shuffle upstairs in silence. I grabbed the knob but it opened from the inside.
“James!” Mum stood in the front hall, her face a mess with running make-up and puffy eyes. “Where the Hell were you?”
“Krystal’s,” I replied as I tried to read her face.
She turned around and we both looked toward my dad.
“Get in here and shut the damn door!”
I stepped inside and closed it. A feeling of dread hung in the air.
“Your mother and I are divorcing.”
Divorce.
For obvious reasons, the word did not jar me. I didn’t feel pain or sadness when I heard it. I thought more along the lines of whoa, now it’s official then, eh?
Mum walked to the staircase, her back to my dad and me.
“Pack up a few things, we’re leaving.”
“What?” I exclaimed.
“We’re leaving,” She ordered without looking back.
“Where?” I put my hand on the railing and wondered if I was dreaming.
“Stop asking questions. Just…just go pack a few things.”
I looked at my father as he shook his head in disgust. There was more going on than they wanted me to know. This was all...strange. I suppose, at the time, I could have stamped the floor and then run out of the house to points unknown and lived on the streets...or at the very least, stay at my cousin’s house.
Instead, I walked up to my room, took a look around, and hastily packed my sketchbooks and some materials.
I looked into my dresser of bland, single color T-shirts and jeans and left them there. I then went to the closet and looked between several pairs of khaki pants and dress shirts on one side and my bagged dress designs on the other. I grabbed the hangers to all of the dresses I could hold in my hand. Since we were no longer going to be a family, I was no longer going to be the frightened little boy. I was going to start anew.
 

We left in the middle of the night without a word to my dad or to each other. The car trip was silent for the first hour of our journey.
“I’m sorry that this is happening, James.”
“Why did we have to leave?”
She stammered for a moment before sighing and stated, “Some things are best left unsaid for now.”
Her answer kind of took me aback. Sure, if I was six years old then she could tell me that and then say I should go back to my coloring books, but I was fourteen and deserved some answers. I didn’t argue with her at the time; she had her reasons, and things she didn’t want to say right then...as did I.
“We’re going to spend some time with Grandma for a while.”
I only nodded in reply. Grans lived on a ranch outside of Missoula, Montana...out in literally nowhere. As I stared out the window, I looked at the space between myself and my reflection on the glass...I thought more of the future. This would be my chance to do things the way I wanted to. I could actually be in charge of my life—as Mum would try to look for some form of work...or she would travel back and forth to Spokane so much to discuss my welfare I would be left to fend for myself.
We arrived in Missoula at three-something in the morning. I had slept most of the way—and by the look of it, perhaps mum did too. She didn’t even bother to grab her purse as she got out of the car I grabbed my backpack and a few of my bagged clothes but left the box of materials.
We walked up the front porch and Mum pounded on the door. Several lights came on, and a voice came through a speaker
“Who is it?” Gran’s voice wasn’t tired or irritated, but it did sound far away.
“It’s Rachel, Mom.”
“Rachel, it’s three thirty-seven in the morning, dear.”
“I know. Things have become...complicated.” Mum buried her head in her hands and then looked up to the rafters above the porch as the speaker clicked off. The locks creaked and the door opened. Grans stood before us, wearing a long nightgown under her robe.
“I suppose coffee is in order?”
“No, Mom, can I just explain it all in the morning?”
“Of course dear.” She noticed me standing there as well. “James.”
“Grans.”
She reached out to hug me, which required a bit of effort to maneuver with the bags I was carrying.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
Mum walked into the house, almost zombie-like, and shuffled down the hall.
“Does this have to do with your father?”
I nodded, and she shook her head.
“Let me get your bed ready,” Grans said as she patted my back.
“You don’t have to.”
“And you didn’t ask to have that man as your father, either,” she replied and lead the way.
I walked inside and she closed the door.
Gran’s house was huge, palatial one could say—at least that’s how I described it to people who asked. It was able to accommodate several guests, so imagine how Christmas was. The only problem was even I could only imagine how a family Christmas would be…because Grans and Dad never saw eye-to-eye. Dad may have towered over her, but she had a piss-and-vinegar attitude—If you hurt any member of my family...and not caring about anyone’s emotions was like second nature to my Dad—so the dream of a family gathering was all I had.
We climbed the staircase to the second floor and then up a half step to the large loft room. Krystal and I dubbed it the guest cottage, as it was a section of the second floor divided into two bedrooms, a den-like room, and a full bathroom. We spent a lot of time there in the past. The room was in immaculate shape—and it still had our old toys on the shelves. Grans once mentioned she held onto them for her great grand ones. The room smelled of cedar…it felt like a safe haven.
Grans walked into the one of the bedrooms and turned on the light. I followed behind her and set my backpack down on the floor, against the bed.
“Did you bring any clothes to change into for the night?”
“All I have is what I’m wearing right now.”
“Good lord, dear. Did he make you leave at gunpoint?”
She turned to look at me and I just shook my head.
“Get some sleep. We can go to the store tomorrow and get you some new clothes.”
“Thank you,” I replied as I hung the bags in the closet, freeing my hands.
“Good night, dear,” she said as she gave me a quick hug.
Grans walked out of the room, and closed the door. I sat down on the bed and, in an attempt to get comfortable, took off my worn out shoes... I was wide-awake—not going through denial or sadness at my situation, just sitting with a calmness I had never felt before. I grabbed my bag and took out one of my sketchbooks.
The book contained my dress designs, including the Japanese-style school uniform, which took up several pages. I went over the materials in my mind. I would have to make several adjustments to neckline and the shoulders. The next page was a short, blood-red skirt with matching midriff blouse. The final ones were of an elongated gown. It was a simple charcoal; I could never decide what color I wanted it to be, and without Krystal around, I would have to make decisions on my own.
I fell asleep on the floor and woke up the next morning to the sound of chirping birds. No yelling or stomping feet outside the door. It was very peaceful and it almost made me forget that I had a wicked crick in my neck from laying in such a position. I got up and walked out of the loft room.
It was after nine o’clock and Grans was outside on her swing chair on the back porch area. I opened the sliding glass doors and stepped out in my bare feet.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked as she looked up from a magazine.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Are you hungry?” If I had said yes, Gran would have jumped off the swing and run into the kitchen to make enough for the First Continental Army. So I shook my head no.
“Where’s Mom?”
“She went into town to speak with a friend of mine about, well, never mind that for now I suppose.” She put the magazine down and got off the swing. “Let’s go into town ourselves and get you some new clothes.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “Where are we going?”
“How about the mall?”
“I’ll get ready.”
The drive was mostly in silence except for some small talk. I didn’t really have much to say and I had my mind on what I was going to buy. There was a lot to consider, like, what would Grans think if I bought what I liked? Would she turn pale and have a heart attack in the middle of the store? Or would she simply give me the money to go and do whatever it is teenagers do so she wouldn’t have to follow me.
“James, if it’s all the same to you, can I just give you some cash and allow you go to pick out some things you like?”
“That’s fine,” I replied as she parked the car in a handicapped spot.
“I’m afraid I’m too old to keep up with you.”
“You’re not that old, Grandma.”
“Of course I am, dear. I’m ancient and cranky, but I still do love to shop. We’ll meet for lunch.”
“Thank you,” I said as she handed me a wad of bills I placed in my wallet. I had no idea how much she gave me and I thought it would be rude to ask or count it in front of her.
I walked inside and went to one of the directory signs. Where to go? I took out my wallet and flipped through the bills. Grans had given me four hundred dollars. She had given a teenager who was plucked from what he knew as normal to the status of a refugee four…hundred…dollars. That being said, it was time to make use of it.
I walked into a store and looked around, not really finding anything I wanted to buy—but I was getting a lot of ideas about design. I left store after store and continued walking.
New clothes would work, but I could make them myself, and not spend a fortune doing it...but something had to be done to start the process. A few things, actually...but they couldn’t be done at the mall. I went into a shop that sold trinkets, necklaces, and earrings. I stepped up to the counter as the clerk, who was a twenty-something person with more metal in her ears, nose, and tongue than I had ever seen at the time, turned to me. Her nose ring alone looked like it weighed a ton.
“How can I help you?” she scratched at a gauge in her ear as she asked.
“What do I need to do to get my ears pierced?
“You want both of them done?”
“Yes,” I answered as I looked at the earrings behind the glass.
“You need to fill this out. And sign the bottom.”
She handed me a clipboard and I filled out the information as requested. The bottom of the form had a space for a parent to sign. I signed my father’s name and then handed it back to her.
“Looks good to me; come over here.”
She led me to a black leather chair and I sat down. We went over the types of rings they had and positions. She presented two gold studs.
“They’re starters. You can then move on to other types if you want after a few weeks of healing.”
I nodded in approval and she got to work.
I didn’t feel a lot of discomfort when she punched my ears. Not a flinch or a mutter.
I paid for the rings and walked out of the store with a small bag of cleaner and another set of rings. The only thing to do now was to get them past Grans.
I noticed my ears were slightly numb as I walked toward the food court. Then I saw Grans and the blood rushed to my head.
“What did I do just go and do? I felt nervous, but I brushed it aside. This was a small step in a larger plan.
“There you are, James. Did you find something you liked?” She looked at her wrist, probably checking the time before she focused on me again. “Why is your face red?”
“Yes, I found something.” I steeled myself for her next question.
“Let me see.”
“Right here,” I pointed to my ears.
“Earrings?” she asked as she adjusted her glasses.
“Simple gold studs for now.” I touched the orb on my right ear.
“Going for the long, dangly ones, eventually?”
“Yes,” I answered as I sat on the other side of the small table.
“I see,” she replied with a bit of curiosity in her voice. “You hungry?”
“A bit.”
“Any of these places interest you?”
I looked around the food court and shook my head. “No, not really.”
“You’re not really hungry, are you?” Grans laid her hands on the table and looked at me.
“No, are you?” I asked and started to feel ill at-ease.
“Let’s talk.”
Grans was always one to see a situation before anyone else did. I’m very sure she knew everything that was going on in my parents’ lives without asking a single question. I used to think she was psychic.
“About-about what?” I stuttered in response.
“Your mother tells me you design dresses.”
“Yes. Krystal models them for me,” I replied, still not sure where the conversation was going.
“I understand.”
“I don’t think you really do,” I answered as I avoided looking at her.
“No, no, they’re important to you. You’re going to design and sell them, right?”
“Well, yes, I could do that, but that wasn’t my first idea.”
I had piqued her curiosity. “What are you going to do with them?”
“Make my own clothes,” I said as I felt a little confidence build up. Yes, I could make my own clothes. I only needed design concepts.
“Dresses?”
“Well, I don’t think pants are very proper, so—”
I stopped as Grans looked at me with her mouth agape. I assumed I should hand the rest of the money back to her, walk away, and go live in the mountains as the strange wilderness hermit rumored to lurk around Montana.
“What’s your current style?” Gran asked as she leaned in closer.
“It’s a school uniform. My school doesn’t do uniforms but I think that it looks unique, especially with a corresponding skirt.”
“What do you need to complete it?” she asked as her face lit up in a smile.
“A little flourish like some brass buttons, clips.”
Here I was, talking shop with my grandmother in the food court of a mall. She kept asking me questions about my designs and with each description, I’d move my hands to show how the designs would look on me.
“I’d like to change my hair color, ditch the glasses, and a few other things, but…”
“I’m going to help you, dear.” Grans took one of my hands and squeezed it.
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s go. We have some things to do.”

Mum was less than enthusiastic. I planned on the three us sitting together and talking with a calming chai. No such luck on the calm part.
“You’re gay?” Mum asked pointedly.
“No, I’m not.”
“Then explain to me what you’re talking about?“
The three of us sat at Gran’s large dining room table.
“What I mean is that I’m changing who I am ,” I said as Mum looked like she was ready to have an aneurysm.
“What? Are you going to change your...your…” Mum stammered her words as stared at me. She had not touched her chai.
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t finished.”
“Then spit it out, dear,” Grans stated as she sipped her tea.
“You’re not helping with this situation, Mother.”
I stood up and walked around the perimeter of the table.
“I’m changing my name—first and last—hair; as you can see, I had my ears pierced. I—”
“Is there any way I can blame this on your father?”
I ignored Mum’s question as I sat back down. “I went out and bought some new clothes, mostly some shorts and…other things.”
“They’re all very pretty. We’ll have to make some adjustments, of course.” Grans added as she took another sip.
“Are you trying on bras too?”
“I think it’s a little early for that, dear.”
“Mother! What have you been telling him?” Mum asked as she rubbed her eyes in frustration.
I stood up and looked at my mum. “All my life, I’ve been ignored or beaten up. No one has ever asked me what my feelings were. Then, we get thrown out—”
“So, this is just you wanting to get back at your father?”
I didn’t answer that question either. Then she put her hands down, in a case closed sort of way, and lamented that everything I said was me being a snot-nosed kid who didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life because he had daddy issues.
“James, I think you’re just experiencing some issues with this divorce.” Mum stood up and turned to leave. “Let’s go to bed. Everything will be better in the morning.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“What?” Mom asked as her face took on a dark vermillion hue.
“You know how Dad treats me.” There I was, asking the rhetorical questions.
“James, what—”
“He never cared about me at all. And I didn’t see you coming to my defense.” I tried to keep my cool; this was not the conversation to lose my temper.
“I did what I could.”
“You ignored everything. Remember when he called me his ugly kid in a business presentation?”
“He was joking. He was practicing for a business meeting speech and used it as a joke.”
“I can’t believe you’re defending him!”
“James—” I’d never heard my mother get really angry, but the tension rose a few degrees higher.
“And the time when he was so disappointed in me because I didn’t try out for football? So much so that he ignored me for weeks?”
I was on a roll with fourteen years of pent-up frustration spewing from my mouth.
“You know how he feels about success.”
“What about calling you a dumb bitch?”
Actually, fourteen years, nine months and eighteen days, but who was counting?
“He’s never said anything like that to me.”
“That’s right. The exact quote was dumb, stupid, bitch.”
“I will not tolerate that kind of language from you.”
“I’m not the one who originally said it,” I replied.
At that moment, Mum turned, and without another word she walked down the hall, into the first room, and slammed the door.
 

For the next few weeks, I slowly worked my way into my new identity. Granted, I was not exactly sure how it was all going to turn out. If I could go back and start out young, it would have been easy to figure out, or at least have friends, maybe, to show me how my eyebrows should look or how to apply just the right amount of anything.
I avoided looking at magazines or TV shows to guide me—I wanted to be as real as I could and what was passing as perfect on the cover of Seventeen and nightly on NBC left a lot to be desired.
I found it difficult to be me for the first few months. I looked like what Grans would call a ragamuffin—hair dyed auburn with red streaks, and earrings paired with jeans, a few Nirvana T-shirts and large flannels. I still wore glasses but obtained thin, red frames. I wasn’t looking for attention at first, but I had to make more drastic changes.
There are big steps and there are blind jumps. While studying at the library, I found information on how I could adjust myself without resorting to surgery for the time being. Hiding behind flannels made sure no one paid too much attention to my upper body, which was, well…rather lacking; but in no way would I resort to stuffing to create some faux-knockers. Still, while reading through several anatomy volumes, I felt someone was watching me—like a guy on the other side of the main room. I would glance up from my reading from time to time to see he was still looking at me.
Eventually, I closed the books, placed them in my backpack, and walked over to the other side of the room. He pretended to read when I approached, and then stopped when I was in front of him.
“’Ello,” I whispered.
“Hi,” he replied as I sat down across from him.
“What are you studying?” I asked as I leaned in closer.
“I was studying you.”
“I noticed. Your subject’s name is Jennifer, by the way.” I gave a short wave.
I had decided to name myself Jennifer and changed the accent of my voice to that of Cymraeg—Welsh—to distance myself further from James. Also, the expression on people’s faces after they heard it was priceless.
“Mike,” he replied with a happy sigh.
“Hiya. Why don’t we step outside, unless you prefer to keep whispering?”
We walked outside the library and into the summer sun.
“Where are you from, Jennifer? England?”
“No, I’m from Spokane,” I answered as we walked around the corner of the building.
“So you’re not an exchange student?”
“Kinda, I guess, been around a bit,” I replied as I brushed my hair from my face,
“What brings you to Missoula?”
“Family just decided they wanted to see something different. You know, an it’ll be a fun adventure kind of thing.”
“This is Missoula, not a lot of adventure to be found.” Mike tried to keep his focus on walking but he seemed to have trouble with it as he stumbled on the broken sidewalk.
“I don’t know, I think it would depend on what I was looking for, eh?” I wasn’t sure if I was being too forward, not enough, or if he could see right through me.
“I don’t suppose you’ll give me your phone number?”
“It may be best if I get yours...me Mum gets a little brassed off when people call, he—” I wanted to have him call me but how could I explain anything to Mum? And what if she answered if he called?
I looked at his blue eyes and also at the rest of him and kind of got lost for a moment. He had dark hair and an athletic build. The kind of body I wanted to have against me.
“What does she do?”
“Uh, she, um, turns red in the face and either slams the phone down or throws it off the wall.”
“Wow. I feel sorry for the credit card salespeople.” I may have embellished a bit, as Mum would have probably just hung up on them—after agreeing to their terms.
“What about you, Mike, are you from here?” I wanted to hear more about him—anything I could get in the limited time I had—as Grans would be arriving shortly.
“Yep, been here for seventeen years of my life.”
“So I guess you know all that there is to do here then, say?”
“Umm, Yes, I do.”
“I’m interested in everything you can tell me,” I said as I opened my backpack and handed him a pen and an opened notebook.
“I’ll tell you anything you want.” He smiled as he wrote his name and number on the page.
“Can I hold you to that?”
“Call me when you can.” He handed my pen and notebook back to me.
“I will.” I looked toward the rear parking lot and saw Grans’ car pull into a space.
I was kind of caught in a bind. One part of me knew it would be best to get into the car and go home…to go slow and take my time. The other wanted to see where Mike could take me.
I took a parting glance at him as I walked to the car and got into the front passenger seat. I must have lingered longer than I thought. Grans noticed my dumb-founded look.
“Want to introduce me to your admirer?” Grans asked as she adjusted the air conditioner.
“Ummm….”
“How old is he?” She squinted to take a look at him.
“Fifteen.” I really had no idea how old he was.
“Looks kind of old for fifteen. I should ask for his ID.”
“Grans, that’s not necessary,” I said as set my backpack in the back seat..
“Maybe not, dear, but you may want to take it slow.”
“Which is why I got in the car.”
I buckled my seatbelt, hopefully sending a signal to Grans that I wasn’t crazy enough, yet, to just take off with the first boy who took an interest in me.
“Were you thinking about going all over town with a complete stranger?”
“He’s not a stranger, his name’s Michael.”
I fought the urge to open the door and run back to Michael. I glanced into the side mirror. He was still there, standing in front of the library, watching us leave. I was desperately trying to not appear too interested, but I was the one who made the first move—and he obviously showed reciprocal interest—so why not go the full giggly school girl mode, eh?
And with that, he waved back to me with a smile.
I spent the ride back to Gran’s house in a stupor as I stared intently at the seven-digit number written in my notebook. My first actual suitor—someone who paid attention to me, and didn’t want to bash me into the ground. The easy part was over...the hard part was to call him back.
We arrived back at Grans’ house to see Mum standing impatiently on the lawn. She wasn’t tapping her foot or glaring down the edge of her nose, but something was up.
“Looks like we’re in for a verbal beating,” Grans stated as she parked the car.
I nodded as Mum stepped up to the passenger’s side.
“What are these?” She raised her hand and held it out toward the door as I opened it.
I tried to look at what she was holding as she loosened her death grip on something—a pair of panties.
“Uh, underwear?” Out of everything that she could have taken out of my room she went with those?
“Whose?” She asked with a little bit of disdain.
“Mine.”
“How can you possibly wear these without—” I refused to look at her as I reached for my backpack.
“Do we really need to go into that, Mum?”
“You’re from Spokane, Washington not London!” She once again balled the pair of knickers up in her hand.
Grans got out of the car and stood back a few feet to watch the fireworks.
“James, I’ve scheduled an appointment for you with a family therapist.”
“A shrink?” I sprung up from the car and was this close to her face.
“Someone has to talk some sense into your head. This—” she threw the underwear at me “—is the last straw.”
I picked them up off the ground as Mum turned her back to me.
“I met a boy today too,” I piped up. Tragically, I didn’t get to see her face since she only stopped, stomped her right foot, and walked back into the house.
I walked up to my room, closed the door, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Mum was kind of right...they were uncomfortable to wear at time; they were confining, especially in the morning . But if I were to let that bother me at this point, then I might as well take shears to my hair, cut it short, and throw away what I have been trying to do. Oh, and then she had the gall to have me see a therapist? Five years too late and about the wrong subject.
But no, I couldn’t do that. This was me—flaws and all. I had to push away how my mum thought about me. I looked at my face in the mirror, still a work in progress, but every day was a new opportunity.
“You’ll be great,” I said to the reflection. “You’re Jennifer and you can do anything. Come Hell or high water.”
Everyone was quiet at dinner. Mum stared at her plate and moved food around like a grumped up teen who wasn’t getting her way. The fork scraped against the porcelain dinner plate every other second. It was all a build-up to something.
“Why, James? Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why all this? Are you planning to grow a pair?” she clutched her breasts in almost a mock gesture of a ganger, a prostitute, showing a bit of her wares. If we were anywhere else in the world I would have crawled into a nook and wept at the sight before me in embarrassment.
“I’ll keep that option in mind, thank you,” I replied with a bit of hesitation to go with the sarcasm.
“This...this is not natural.” Mum made sure to point at my face and body.
“Natural? In nature, some parents eat their young. Maybe you should have done that.”
“James—.”
“Please stop calling me by that name.”
“No, because it is your legal name,” Mum stated.
“And I can change that too!” I wasn’t sure exactly what I had to do get that done but it was high on my list of things to do before I got a driver’s permit or started school.
Mum stood up, stormed down the hall, and went up the stairs. I followed after her as she opened the door to my room and started throwing things around.
“Stop it!” She was tearing into everything by the time I ran in.
“No. We are getting rid of all of this. James, please, this is... This is not how a teenage boy acts.”
“Says who?”
Mum moved around the room, haphazardly, almost drunk-like until she stood in front of the uniform design. She took the blouse off the hanger and turned to me. Her hands once again knotted around something of mine that she did not seem to like. At this point, I wondered who the person in front of me was. She looked like Mum but sounded like Dad.
“Throw this away. Throw all of it out.” She threw the garment across the room.
“What?”
“Tomorrow, you’re getting a haircut and some regular clothes.” I had purchased a lot of socks, underwear, and jeans, in addition to various bracelets and rings and she proceeded to shove them about the top of the dresser.
“Why, so we can be a regular family?”
“That...that, yes, in a way. A two-person, regular family.” She took a break from damaging everything I owned and turned to face me.
“Would you prefer if I took up smoking? That’s a normal teenage thing to do, right?”
“As opposed to this, yes!”
I wanted to chalk up the basis of her entire argument as her being tired or under some sort of stress. I did not want to think that she would prefer to have me smoke cigarettes. What would I graduate to, crack cocaine?
Mum sat on the edge of the bed, and cried. This was another side of her I seldom ever saw. Most likely because I hated to see her cry, much less hear it, as there was nothing I could do to make her feel better.
“I just want some form of normalcy.”
I bent down to pick up the blouse but kept my eyes on her.
“I do too. And for me,” I pointed to myself, “this is a start down that road.”
The silence hung thick in the air for a few moments. I kind of wanted to move toward her, take her hand and tell her everything was going to be okay, but I kept my distance.
Eventually, she spoke up. “I have to go back to Spokane for the court proceedings.”
I looked at the blouse—there was a rip to the top buttonhole.
“We’ll get through all of this,” she said as she brushed her tears aside.
“I’d like to think so too,” I replied as maybe Mum was seeing my side. We were both victims of Dad’s callous ways.
“We’ll talk about this with the therapist. Good night, James.”
She walked out of my room without looking back, because if she had, she would have seen the fury I had for her.
The next morning Grans dropped me off at the mall. Once again it was time to people watch and window shop. I walked into a store and browsed through the various dresses, seeing nothing I actually liked. I had become some sort of fashion snob.
Then, I saw them. From the corner of my eye, a group of teenage girls staring at me. I still wore my jeans, this time with a Pearl Jam band shirt and flannel, but I tried to accent my look with a bracelet and two extra piercings in my ears. The three teens appeared to be the stereotypical set you’d expect—the reigning queen bee and her court.
“The grunge look ended a few years ago, you know that, right?” a short girl with long dark hair and a could be pretty if it wasn’t caught in what looked like an ever-present scowl face commented as she threw her hair back.
“And the bitch attitude went out with the eighties, or were you waiting for it to make a comeback?” came my quick rebuttal.
The two attendants stood in shock from my insult to their queen. I had no idea who this girl was any more than she knew me and I really wanted to hit her.
“Jennifer!” I turned around to see a familiar face outside of the shop.
“Mike, you know this, person?” Queen Bee asked with a bit of disdain in her voice.
Michael walked into the store and came toward me.
“You never called.” He said as he walked up and hugged me.
“Believe me, I wish had. I just—”
“Just been having your grand adventure around Missoula without me?” Michael tried to catch my gaze and he succeeded.
“No, I was waiting for you. I just didn’t know how to ask.”
“Who are you?” Queen Bee inquired.
Michael stepped back, took my right hand, and held it up to QB.
“This is Jennifer, she’s my new...friend.”
Queen Bee rolled her eyes.
“Has my little sister been bothering you?”
“No, not at all,” I replied to him—with all the honesty I could as I’d most likely have to apologize for what I said earlier.
“Jennifer, this is Monica. That’s Casey and Melissa.”
The ladies-in-waiting did a half wave—taking a cue from their Queen—they couldn’t care less about me either.
“’Ello.”
“Where are you from, England?”
“No, Spokane, Washington.”
It was now Monica’s turn to wave me off in a be gone with ye gesture.
“You ready for the grand adventure?” Michael asked as he led me out of the store.
“Before you go adventuring or whatever, when will you be back to pick me up?”
“You can take the bus,” he replied without looking back and Monica, in true bratty little sister form, flipped him off while her entourage went back to looking at clothes.
“I waited for you to call,” he said as I felt the blood rush to my face.
“I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“It’s okay. Better to see you in person and talk, right?” He had a certain allure to his face, like all he had to do was get up in the morning and it was perfection.
“Yeah,” I replied as I could feel the sweat building up in my hand or maybe it was his? I wasn’t too sure.
“So, what are you into?”
“I’m a bookworm...but I’m into trying new things.”
“Like grand adventures?” he asked as he pulled me closer.
“Yeah, like that.”
We left the mall, walked into the parking lot and snaked our way through to a new model pickup truck.
“Is this yours?” I thought he was at least sixteen, maybe seventeen.
“Yeah, well, it will be in a few months, legally. You like it?”
“It’s very nice,” I replied even though I was clueless about trucks. All I knew was I had his full attention.
“Let’s roll up for the mystery tour,” he opened the passenger side door for me and I looked into the immaculately clean cab. For a moment, the voice in the back of my head yelled out This is how people get kidnapped, raped, killed, and mutilated even. You’re willingly stepping in like a little sheep under the control of an evil wolf, you idiot!
I looked at Michael, all smiles, and then climbed in.
We drove around Missoula, making simple small talk. I had not seen a lot of the town, since Grans and Mum only went to specific locations and then back home. I could only do two things: either look at Mike or stare blankly ahead and think about him anyway.
“Why so quiet?” he asked.
“I just enjoy listening to you.”
“So I could read directions off a soup can and you’d listen to me?” He could mumble off the periodic table of elements in Latin and I would take in every unintelligible syllable.
“Potato or chicken?”
“Hmmm... Tough one.”
We crossed over a bridge and then turned toward a grassy area.
“I know you like to spend time in the library, but how about some time at the park?”
“I’d like that.”
We parked next to a lot of other cars and he held up a finger to tell me to wait a moment as he got out, walked to the passenger side, and opened the door.
I slid out of the truck and stepped down onto the pavement.
“You come here, often?”
“No, not really. I just thought it was a nice day and I also thought that we could spend some time together, in a public place, so you know I’m not one of those creepy, stalking kind of guys.”
“But doesn’t saying that make one think you are?”
“Well?”
“I’m not thinking it.”
“Race you to the swings then.”
But instead of racing me, he took my hand and we ran together. If I were like his sister and her subjects, I would have thought he was weird or cheap—not even wanting to buy me lunch—but I was loving this, and all we were doing was running to the swings.
I broke away, ran ahead, and jumped up onto a swing—only to lose my balance, fall, and land in his arms.
“You’ll never be a rider if you can’t stay on for eight seconds.”
“It fought me.”
“And I caught you. Now...the question is, do I let you down?”
“Please don’t,” I replied as I moved my free hand-the other being wrapped around his neck. I so wanted to do reach out and kiss him, but...I just wasn’t brave enough.
“I’d carry you anywhere you want to go,” he said as he attempted to adjust his grip.
“You’ve got a truck for that.”
“True, and it’s best that I let you down, this is kind of killing my back. Sorry, that’s not the most romantic thing to say.” He gently put me down on my feet and I wanted to jump right back into his arms.
“Just talk about soup and I’ll forgive you.”
***
I stayed at the park with Michael, listening to him talk about school. He played basketball and baseball, his parents worked at the college and his sister was a certified bitch, which made me feel better when he said that because that’s how I felt about her too. I tried to deflect his questions about me, as I didn’t want to lie but I wasn’t about to tell him everything about my family. His life sounded so perfect though—he had a lot of friends in school, a sibling to argue with, but maybe also—at the end of day—they’d be peaceful with the other. He went to bed at night not wondering why his parents despised him.
We left the park in the late afternoon, drove back through town, and into a suburban neighborhood.
“I’ll bet my house is smaller, compared to yours.”
“It’s not the size, but what’s here,” I placed my fist to my heart and Michael nodded as we pulled into the driveway of a two story house with a manicured lawn and built-in sprinklers.
He got out of the truck and the front door of the house opened to reveal Monica.
“Mom says you’re in trouble.” She spoke with a snobby tone, as to inspire fear in her brother. Translated, she had said: I played the helpless victim and you were the selfish jerk who left poor me, all alone, to fend for myself at the mall. Basically, I lied so your ass is in trouble.
Monica glared at me as Michael looked like he wanted to smack her but instead backed off as his mother walked out of the house. She was rather tall with long hair and I would have thought she were pretty if she didn’t have a major scowl on her face.
“Michael Preston, did you leave your sister alone at the mall?”
“I said take the bus home. She takes it every other time she goes there, why not now?”
“Because I told you to bring her home, she—” she stopped abruptly when she saw me get out of the truck. His mother looked at Michael and then back to me.
“Mom, this is Jennifer.”
She continued her inspection of me, perhaps trying to figure out how old I was or to sense something else about me...like maybe I was some sort of airhead.
“’Ello,” I said with a slight smile and wave.
Her scowl vanished.
“Where are you from, Jennifer?”
“Spokane, Washington.” I cheerfully replied.
“And how do you know—”
“Mom, please don’t give her the third degree,” Michael pleaded.
She ignored him as she revved up with more questions.
“Where did you meet?”
“The library,” I answered with utmost truth.
“How long have you been together?”
“All day.” I was almost ready to give her my social security number at that point.
“Do you like spaghetti?”
“Aye, thank you.”
“I like you. Maybe you can teach Michael some manners.”
Michael grabbed my hand and raced us into the house.
“I’m sorry about that...she’s just—”
We stood in the middle of his bedroom with the door closed. I looked around at the various trophies—baseball mostly—pictures and books that were neat and precise on his desk, shelves and nightstand.
“Your mum just cares about you. She doesn’t want you to fall for someone who may break your heart.”
“Well, since you put it that way…” he replied as placed his hands around my waist. He slowly moved his face closer when a fist pounded on the door.
“Mom says get the ice out and Dad says you need to leave your door wide open!”
He didn’t respond to Monica but instead moved closer to me.
I waited in anticipation as time slowed down and I could feel each beat of my heart pounding out. I closed my eyes in anticipation only to have them abruptly open again when a man’s voice boomed out, “Make yourselves presentable, please.”
Michael sighed in defeat.
“There’ll be another time,” I said. I squeezed his hands.
He nodded as we walked into the hallway.
The Preston family dining room table was large and circular. I found myself siting to the right of Michael’s father, with Michael on the left side and Monica sneering at me—when her parents weren’t paying attention, of course—from across the vast spread before me. They said they were having spaghetti which—at my house—meant noodles, sauce and perhaps a glass of water. But they had salad, breadsticks, noodles, and the sauce—which was so aromatic the neighbors down the block could smell the oregano. I kept my excitement bottled up but I loved what was there before me.
“So, Jennifer, what does your father do?” Mr. Preston asked as he glanced at Mike and not directly at me.
“Umm, he’s a business realtor.”
He nodded and made some sound like, mmm-hmm.
“You just moved here then?” It was Michael’s mom’s turn now.
“It’s been a few months, but I’ve been slow to go out. Michael gave me a tour around the city. It’s very pretty.”
“Missoula? Pretty? Yeah right,” Monica chipped in and everyone pretty much ignored her.
“What about your mother?” Mrs. Preston asked as she offered a basket of garlic bread to me.
“She’s Mum, um, takes care of the home and me and—” I took a small piece while keeping eye contact with her.
“Do you have to interrogate her?” Michael asked as she passed the basket to him.
“Michael, we just want to get know your friend.”
“Mom.”
I focused on Michael as he went back and forth with his parents. The fact that he cared so much said something; he was admitting to his parents that I was his girlfriend.
Dinner went by with more small talk. Mrs. Preston told me about the schools; Mr. Preston discussed the sports teams and Michael’s prowess with baseball; and Monica blew her hair out of her face with an expression that stated, I’m in Hell, when can I get out of here?
An hour later, Michael drove me back to the mall. We sat in the truck while parked for a moment.
“Thank you. I had a great time.” I replied as I tried to see him in the dim light.
“You’re welcome. I think my parents like you.”
“I hope I passed their test.”
“Oh, you nailed it!” he exclaimed. “They only ask the What are your plans after high school question to certain people.”
“They really love you.”
He then reached out his hand to hold mine.
“You’re different from any other girl I’ve ever met.”
“Really?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.
“Sorry, too up front? I mean—”
“No, no, I just—” I felt my heartbeat quicken and my face felt flushed. Thank God he couldn’t see me.
“Jen?” he asked as he turned on the interior lights. Damn.
I tried to hide my expression, a mix of confusion and euphoria, but I couldn’t.
“I’m serious. When I first saw you in the library I saw something between us.”
“Me too, I—”
I opened the truck door with my other hand and looked
“Thank you again for the adventure.” There was an abrupt choice to make: to get out and simply wave goodbye or to move closer to him. I took the chance to lean back toward Michael and kiss him on the lips. I then bounced out of the truck.
“I will definitely call you,” I said .
“Tonight?”
“Aye,” I replied with a bright grin.
“Great. Bye, Jennifer.”
I closed the door and walked toward the mall and right as I stepped inside I was immediately stopped by a security officer.
“What’s your name?” The officer towered over me and he looked past me at Micheal’s truck as it drove out of the lot.
“Jennifer.”
“Jennifer what?” he asked as he reached for his radio.
“Kane.” I replied, now feeling like I had done something illegal.
“This is Jones, 346. I’ve found Miss Jennifer Kane.”
The radio crackled back with an indecipherable reply.
“Could you come with me, please?” I was ready for him to throw on a pair of handcuffs.
The officer, Mum, and Grans talked for a few minutes at the porch as I sat in the back seat of a patrol car in Gran’s driveway. Every few seconds, Mum would glare at me from the porch and then turn back to the officer. Minutes later, he came back and opened the door.
I walked to the house in silence. Mum and Grans didn’t say a thing until we were inside.
“You were at some boy’s house?”
“Yes,” I replied as we gathered in the kitchen.
“You just left the mall and went somewhere else without letting anyone know? I waited and looked for you for hours!”
Grans went to the stove to pour hot water into a tea cup as the drama continued around her.
“I went out and met people. I’m sorry you disapprove.”
“How was I going to describe you if you were kidnapped? Long, red hair, earrings, his name is James but answers to Jennifer?”
“How lucky I was found unharmed to save you from that embarrassment, eh?” I turned and ran upstairs.
I sat in my room, listening to the muffled sounds of Mum’s tirade over me, and Grans replying something to her that made her explode yet again. I kind of wanted to apologize to her, maybe tell her I made a mistake and should have called her at some point. Sure, so she could piss and moan over the fact I was eating pasta and garlic bread at someone’s house and not smoking crack or dying in a gutter.

“I’m sorry you got in trouble. I didn’t think about the time.” Michael’s voice sounded so sincere when we were talking on the phone that night—like he was willing to take a bullet for me.
“Me neither. I was so wrapped up in the day I didn’t call home” I sat at my desk with a sketchbook in one hand, a red pencil in the other, and the phone precariously balanced on my shoulder. Grans could never get her hearing aid to work with a cordless so the only one I could borrow for my room was a heavy desk phone with an enormous handset.
“Your parents ground you?”
“Something like that. They didn’t chain me up or lock me in a cell, but I’ll be out of sight for a bit. I can still call you though.” If I was going to be kept a pseudo prisoner, then I would get some things accomplished.
“So when can I see you again?”
“If I can keep my cool, I might get time taken off for good behavior,” I replied as I traded out pencils and turned to a new page.
“Your parents do that too?”
“Doesn’t everyone’s?” I asked as I looked out the window. I could just leave the house and run to Michael’s in the middle of the night.
“I guess so. What are you doing right now?”
“Besides thinking about you? I’m working on a dress design.” I had thought of several designs to wear for school that would complement my current shape. School started soon, so it was time to get working on them.
“Will I get to see you in it?”
“Possibly,” I grinned as I switched to a green pencil and shaded in the skirt, “it’s about time to lose the jeans.”
“Lose the jeans?” I could hear the tone of his voice was not so innocent.
“Don’t get cheeky on me.” I laughed.
“Sorry, I was kind of wondering how you’d look in a dress.”
“I hope your imagination’s not too vivid.” He was a guy, of course his imagination was vivid.
“Only thinking what I know. I’m sure you’ll look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I really liked his response.
We took several minutes before we actually ended the call—the No, you hang up first routine. As much as I used to think no one ever did that in real life, I found myself wanting to keep talking.
I picked up the blouse Mum had ripped. Sure, it was just a button hole and I could repair it—I just didn’t feel like doing that; it would look imperfect, flawed—and that was something I could not stand. Leaving things incomplete.
 

I spent most of my days in solitary on my uniform project, stopping only to eat and speak to Grans about what to do with the designs. She would go into town for me, as Mum made it her mission to stay on my case. By early Wednesday morning of that week, I completed the work: skirt, blouse, and tie—the whole ensemble.
I took a shower and proceeded to attempt to shave the small hairs on my legs down without slicing several holes in my skin and I kind of failed near the ankles—let’s hear it for socks—and it stung like Hell. My arms and underarms, of course, were next. After that, it was time to put it all together.
I stared back at the person in the mirror with a lot of envy.
“Where have you been?” I asked as I buttoned the blouse. “Hiding out, right? You should have been here a long time ago.”
The image nodded back to me as I wrapped the small tie—made up of the material as the skirt, a green plaid—and gave it a simple, loose, knot. The shoes were flats, again, basic, as I didn’t want to even attempt heels.
“James, let’s go, we have an appointment to keep!” Mum yelled from the stair landing.
“Almost ready!” I replied as I took one last look in the mirror. Simple make-up job...eh, I’d have to fix it later. I walked out of my room and to the staircase. Mum looked at me and her jaw dropped down so far it looked like it would dislocate.
“No. No, you go right back up there and—”
“I’m not changing, there’s nothing wrong with this, and I like the color,” I replied as I walked down the stairs.
“James.”
“Mom,” I deliberately dropped my accent just this once.
“Fine. Fine, this,” she moved a few loose stands of hair out of my face as she spoke, “will only prove that you need therapy.”
For a moment I was not sure if she moved my hair because it bothered her or it was something that she could do as she berated me. Whatever the reason, I left the house wearing the uniform.
We arrived at the doctor’s office and I filled out the voluminous novel that all doctors make you fill out.
Mum read a magazine, her way to avoid starting a conversation with me.
“Jennifer Kane?”
“Jam—” Mum started, but I looked back at her with a scowl.
“Jennifer?”
I looked toward the professional-looking woman standing at the entry of the hallway and nodded to her.
“This way, please.”
I rose up from the chair and followed her.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I answered as she sat at a desk across from me. Her office had bookshelves crammed with large books—every one of them had Ph.D or some form of alphabetical abbreviation after the last name—, curios on the end tables, and walls covered in diplomas from various schools and facilities.
“I’m Dr. Adriana London.”
“Jennifer Kane,” I replied as I tried to read her face, What exactly would she ask me?
“Jennifer, pretty name.”
“Thank you.” I was under the assumption anything I said or did would be used against me.
“Tell me about yourself, Jennifer.”
“I live in Missoula, my parents are divorcing, and that’s about it. Are we though?”
“If you want to be,” Doctor London flatly responded.
She left it open for me to get up and go and I really did want to, but I stayed.
“No, what else do you want to know?” I adjusted my glasses as I answered.
“How have you been feeling?” she asked as she opened a folder on her desk with my name on it.
“Lately, very good. As I told Mum, this visit is about the wrong subject and about five years too late.”
“How old are you?”
“I’ll be fifteen, in a month.”
“And why do think that she’s brought you on the…wrong subject, you said?”
“She thinks I’ve gone mad. That this,” I pointed to my clothes, “is some form of rebelling due to the fact that I hate my parents.”
“Do you hate them?” she asked as she wrote something down.
“No, I don’t hate them. Doesn’t every teenager get mad at their parents? Yeah, I’m mad at them. I’ve been mad at them for over seven years but this...this is the reason she wanted me to come here.” I tugged at the tie and the skirt as I spoke.
“The clothes?”
“The clothes, the hair, the voice, the attitude. She will not see me for who I want to be and that bothers her, not me. She wants her son back. Funny, she never really paid attention to him then, but I’m getting it all now.”
“Her...son?” she asked as she sat back in her chair for a moment before moving forward to loom over my folder.
“Aye.”
The good doctor looked over the paperwork and then back to me.
“Umm, so, Jennifer is your name?”
“Legally, my name is James F. Kane...I plan on changing it as soon as possible.”
She continued to leaf through the papers.
“But you go by the name Jennifer?” She looked to me for confirmation.
“Aye.”
“Where are you originally from, Jennifer?”
“Spokane, Washington.”
The session was over an hour later. I walked down the hallway with a light skip in my step and my hands behind my back as I stopped at the appointment desk. I was asked to come back next week to discuss things—apparently the doctor was a bit more confused about things than I could ever be.
“Well, what did she say?” Mum asked as we left the office.
“She didn’t say much of anything. I did most of the talking,” I replied as I walked ahead.
“And?” She sounded disappointed.
“And what?” I asked as I opened the front door and strolled out.
“You’re not going to tell me what she said?”
“That’s what the next session is for. We’ll really talk about things then.”
Mum shook her head. I guess she was expecting the clouds to part and for me to be bathed in a ray of glowing sunshine stating, Forgive me, Mother, for I have been a terrible kid and all that you and Dad have taught me has made me the young man I am today. Which was sort of a half-truth in and of itself, really.
The ride home was, again, in silence. I looked out the window, until mum spoke.
“I’m leaving tomorrow morning to go back to Spokane and to court,” she stated with no emotion.
“Why bother? It’s not like we’re going to get anything from him. Love, attention, money...he’s not willingly going to give any of it.” I waved my hands in a who gives a care manner.
“He helped give you life.”
“Yeah, let me add that to the list I’ll talk to the doctor about.” I scoffed
“James, this is a trying situation. I have had to fill out papers, talk to attorneys.”
“Not my name and no one’s asked about my opinion.”
“I know your opinion,” Mum replied with a snort.
“Do you now?” I turned to her. This I had to hear.
“You feel the need to do something insane like, like—”
“Spit it out, Mum.”
“Wanting to all of the sudden become a girl.”
“And is that wrong? I mean, I’m standing up for myself, right?”
“You could stand up for yourself as a boy.”
“Because it worked so well for you being the wife, right? He wouldn’t care if we died in a car wreck right now. Or we were robbed, stabbed, thrown to the streets—and then robbed again—” I didn’t bother to look at her. I was so irritated I was ready to open the car door and walk the rest of the way home.
“Enough. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
“Well, you opened the door,” I replied as I continued to look out the window.

***

“I never liked doctors. They have their fancy diplomas and charge you so much only to tell you to take this medicine, eat this food. You’ll die anyway though.”
Grans sat across the table from me as we ate a light dinner and continued her lament.
“Your aunt once broke her nose when she slipped down the stairs. I knew her nose was broken, she knew her nose was broken,” Grans took of a sip of her tea and continued, “but we had to go see a doctor who had to wiggle it back and forth. Oh, Lydia was screaming with tears streaming down her face before the doctor put his pen to a clipboard and said, ‘It’s broken.’”
“Grans, do you think I’m crazy?” I asked as I laid my fork down. I had only taken a bite or two,
“Why would you ask that?”
“Mum thinks I am; Dad would think so too.”
“What do you think?” she asked as she motioned for me to eat.
“I think the rest of the world’s a bit mad.”
“And you’re right. Speaking of madness, or what will become madness, when are you going to introduce your boyfriend to your mother?”
“Not until she’s either deaf, mute or dead.” I replied as I took a bite.
“How serious are you?” —and choked on it,
“I’ve only seen him for a few days, Grans, before mum went all Gestapo on me.”
“She is trying to look out for you and keep you safe, as am I.”
“But you’re different.” I replied as I continued to cough.
“Have you talked with Krystal about him?”
“I haven’t talked with Krys for a bit. I don’t want her to know anything until I see her. I know Mum won’t tell her or Aunt Lydia about me, and I just want to tell her on my own time.”
Grans nodded as she poured a glass of tea from the pitcher on the table.
“Jen?”
“Aye?” Grans had never called me that before, so I was a bit surprised to hear her say my name. She usually called me Jennifer or an accidental James—which I would answer. “I’ve been thinking about doing something for you.”
“You’ve already done enough for me. I could never ask you to do anything else.”
“We need to work on you a little bit.” Grans placed her silverware down and adjusted her glasses.
“What kind of work?”
“We need to fill you out a little bit.”
She raised her hands up to her chest. “Don’t want to make you too top heavy, but you can’t stay flat as a board forever, you know?”
“I know, but that’s pretty expensive.” I had thought about surgery but I planned to have it sometime in the future when I could do it myself, assuming I could ever afford it.
“Dear, life is expensive, but we have people in our lives who we must treasure.”
“Mum’s going to have a conniption over this.”
“She was a late bloomer herself. Didn’t get hers until she was sixteen,” Grans commented with a smirk.
I got up and hugged her tightly.
“Thank you,” I replied as I tried to hold back tears of joy.
“You’re welcome dear. Of course there’s something else that we have to talk about as well.”
“Yeah, I’m seeing that as a problem too. It’s kind of hard to wear a short dress with it.”
“We’ll have to schedule a consultation,” Grans replied. “Let’s get the phonebook and see if there’s a surgeon in town.”
I was no realist on a lot of things and on this situation even less so, but I knew drastic changes had to be made. As I said, I didn’t want to leave things halfway done, and that included changes to my own body. Grans was giving me the chance to solve those issues. I had researched what I would have to go through...lots of doctors, drugs and, ironically, therapy.
“I thought you hated doctors though, Grans?” I asked as I went into the kitchen for the phone book.
“I do dear, but we’re all still going to die. Might as well use their degrees for something, right?”
The next few days I spent the mornings and evenings with Grans and every other waking hour with Michael, as Mum stopped checking on where I was going or what I was doing while she sprinted to and from Spokane. We spent time outside and with his friends, mostly. We had a few moments of alone time but it only involved some snogging and a little touching—mostly by me, I admit. I wanted him to explore, but I was afraid of what he might find, and I didn’t really want to explain the why behind it. I just told him to let me be in charge and that one day he’d be happy to see the present I’d give him.
Twice that week I watched him play ball with his friends. One of them, Travis, dared me to try to hit the ball. I was never into sports but I took him up on the offer. He was a tall guy with dark brown hair and it always appeared as though his razor blade was either old as Hell or he shaved in the dark—patches of hair remained above his lips and on his chin.
“You ever play baseball?” He asked.
“No.”
“Travis, don’t be a dick,” Mike yelled from first base.
“I think I got this, Michael.”
“Think you can hit the ball?” Travis asked as he stood on the mound.
“Only if you think you can actually pitch it,” I shouted as I walked to home plate.
“She’s gotcha there, Trav.”
“Whatever. Not going to go easy on you,” Travis replied as he threw the ball to Michael.
“Don’t even think about it,” I replied.
“He’s the best pitcher in Missoula County,” James, the catcher, stated as he adjusted his mask.
The first baseman returned the throw to the mound.
“I hope so, because his bravado is a bit lacking.”
James stared blankly for a moment—as if was waiting for me to explain the comment. I merely picked up the bat and prepped to swing it.
Travis brought his body back and threw a fastball very close to my head.
James caught the ball and threw it back to him.
“Trav, what are you trying to do?” Michael yelled from first base.
“My guess is he’s attempting to compensate for something,” I whispered.
“Just testing her, Preston,” Travis replied to Michael. You ready?” came the question from the mound.”
“Aye, give me what you got.”
Travis again wound up and pitched a fastball. I stepped to the right, placed the bat out, bunted it to the left side of the field, and then ran like Hell to first base.
Michael stood in my way at first base—the issue of why I was batting “against” him was not important at the time. I watched as he looked to his right, caught the retrieved ball, and held his glove up. I did what came naturally to me. I ran into him. He grabbed me and I allowed him to kiss me in front of everyone.
“You do know you’re out, right?”
“Good thing we’ve made it to first base already then, eh?”
We spent the remainder of the day by ourselves at the park, just walking about and hanging around on the large rocks.
“So, when do I get to see this outfit you’ve been working on?” he asked as I leaned back and looked up at his face.
“How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s good,” he replied. “I mean, only if you really want me to see it.”
“Of course, it’s just that…well, I don’t fill it out exactly the way I want to,” I answered as I took his hand and laid it on my chest.
“I’m sure you’ll look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I replied as I closed my eyes.
“I’m sorry about Travis.”
“Why, because he can’t pitch?” I smirked at him.
“Funny. No, because he’s the way he is. He can be a dick sometimes.”
“There’s someone out there for everyone, including him,” I replied
“Yeah,” he replied as I stood up, turned around, and took his hands in mine.
“Michael, I have to ask you something...and it’s kind of personal and—”
“Only ask if you want to...but now you got me curious,” he replied as he moved his face close to mine.
“And I’d like to ask you this as a friend. Not my boyfriend, okay?”
“Okay....”
I had already confused him so if I had asked him to do the task what I was about to perform anyway, he probably would have had an aneurysm. I looked around, saw that no one was watching us.
“Ummm, Jen...?”
“I’m not that well-endowed right now, but I want to be. What size should I get?”
I looked into his eyes but now they were really glazed and almost rolling into the back of his head. I knew breasts—the look or image of them—were powerful, but I never thought they had much influence. Never crossed my mind up until then.
“Michael?”
“Yes?” His pupils darted back to meet mine and he pulled his hands back. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Why? I asked you to. So...what do you think?”
He swallowed hard before he responded with a stammer, “I-I don’t know, I don’t know sizes and....”
“You just know what you like. Go ahead, be honest.”
“I think they’re nice as a part of the complete package. Brains are required too,” he replied as wrapped his arms around me.
“You are definitely good boyfriend material.” I lightly touched his cheek.
“Can I touch them again?”
“Aye.”
I allowed Michael to drive me home that evening but told him my parents were not going to be in a very good mood due to some far-flung lie I kept telling myself would be the best thing. He thought nothing of it as I kissed him, got out of the truck, and walked to the front door as he backed out and drove down the street.
“What did I see you just do?”
Mum met me in the foyer, with her now not-so-unusual “Dad” behavior.
“Walk inside the house?”
“No, with the guy driving the truck!”
Grans walked out of the living room. “Rachel, you don’t have to shout.”
“Is that your boyfriend?” Mum asked as she loudly tapped her foot on the wood floor.
“Yes,” I replied as I walked to the staircase.
“Does he know?”
“Know what? That I love him? He’s aware of that. I haven’t exactly said the words—
“That is so disgusting, I can’t believe...that doctor...she didn’t do anything for you.” Mum paced a bit in front of the stairs, looking like she was ready to rip her hair out.
“It was one session, Mum. Rome wasn’t built in day.”
Yes, the comment was snide and uncalled for. Both of us knew we were playing a grand and emotional chess game with the fattest queens imaginable on the board, and neither one was going to be checked without a lot of Hell to go through.
 

“Jennifer?”
“Aye?”
I sat in a couch across from Doctor London’s chair as she looked through my paperwork and then at me. I changed a bit of my style that day: loose shirt, a short skirt, and a looped set of earrings.
“How long have you been thinking about this?” she asked as she stood up and walked over to a deep chair next to the couch.
“I couldn’t really tell you. I decided to do something about it and here we are.”
“I see.” She wrote something down as I continued.
“I’ve just felt that how I’ve been is wrong. I’ve looked in the mirror and I never liked who was staring back at me. For all good intentions, I wish he was dead.”
“You wish you were dead?”
“Not me, him ,” I replied as I adjusted my glasses.
“But he is you.”
“Only if you want to go by a plumbing standard. No one ever wanted him around. Not parents, people at school, or others.”
“What about friends?” Doctor London asked as she laid the paperwork in her lap.
“He never had any. Not real ones...not ones who shared his interests. So it’s for the best to have a mercy killing.”
“So, what if you saw James again? What would you say to him?”
“Everyone is better off without him. In a few years that will happen.”
“You wouldn’t miss him?” she asked with her left hand under her chin and her right hand resting on the chair. My God, she is going into Sigmund Freud mode.
“Hard to miss someone who’s never really there, eh? Under thumbs of others and not doing what he wanted? I look back and see all this—excuse me—shite.”
I had almost lost my temper and nearly laid back on the couch...which would have caused a bit too much exposure.
“No, go on.”
“And I have to wonder how he survived up to that point! Parents who didn’t—still don’t—care, no one to confide in except for a cousin... A cousin who did care, but how long could he hide under her skirt? Be saved by her from everyone who was against him? Pathetic!”
Doctor London looked at me as I moved several strands of hair from my face, which was beginning to be an issue. It was time to think about putting my hair up.
“So you think you’re better off as, Jennifer?” she asked.
“Jennifer is fine with being herself, yes. Physical issues aside right now, I’m okay with me.”
“Are you looking into changing everything?” She picked the folder up and jotted more notes.
“Of course. That takes a little time, I know. But I am fully content with myself. I have a terrific boyfriend who adores me,” I answered with a smile on my face.
“Boyfriend? Is he aware?”
“That I love him? Aye. God, aye.”
“So he doesn’t know that you’re—”I leaned forward and put my hand up in an I’m only going to tell you this one time gesture.
“I don’t really think that’s an issue with us.”
Dr. London placed her clipboard on her lap. She moved her hands to her face and then looked at me.
“How long have you been with him?
“It’s been a few weeks,” I replied as I tried to count back to the day back at the library.
“And he loves you?”
“Aye,” I replied with a bit of aggravation.
“And you said you haven’t been sexually active with him?” Doctor London asked.
“Well, we—” I abruptly stopped.
“Only tell me if you’re comfortable.”
“No, no we haven’t. Just a bit of snogging, that’s all,” I replied as I sat back on the couch in frustration.
“Snogging?” She asked and stopped writing.
“We’ve explored a bit…kissing, touchy-feely, okay? No sex. He’s not constantly trying to get in my pants. Why does it always have to come to that? Some couples never have sex for their entire marriage.” I exclaimed. I felt like grabbing a pillow and screaming into it.
“That’s true, but they, most likely, went into that relationship together, without big surprises from their partner.”
“Are you saying that I’m lying to him?”
“I’m saying that you’re not being exactly honest to him or yourself. Truth is always the best.”
I was taken aback by this. Okay, so I wasn’t going to flat-out tell him just then. I had a bit of time to build my case. Besides, if I could hold back my own urges, then he would never know until several surgeries later. Lying to myself? I was being more truthful about, to and for myself, than I had ever been in my entire life!
“How truthful do you want me to be?” I asked as I stood up from my seat.
“That’s up to you.”
“Truthful? Fine, I still do not like my parents. They’re still worlds apart from one another and I could care less what they think about me now.”
“What would your father say about what you’re doing?”
“He’d be horrified,” I replied as I sat back down. “Of course, that’s just a tiny difference from what he usually felt about me, so no big loss there.”
The doctor picked her clipboard back up and wrote as I looked toward the wall.
“I’m not crazy and this isn’t something I’m doing because I hate my parents.” I looked back to the good doctor, writing away. “I just know that I’ve felt this way for a long time and it was time…it was time to just stop pretending being someone different.”
“Jennifer, your mother tells me that you’ve been, as she puts it, stand-off, um,-ish?”
“Towards her?” I asked, laughing at the idea. “Yeah. As I said, we don’t agree on how I’m living my life. She insisted I smoke some crack instead.”
“She wants you to do drugs?” She asked with a confused look on her face.
“Not going to happen. I’m not doing it her way. I’ve been through over fourteen years of doing it her, their, and his—whoever’s way—other than my own.” I threw my arms up in anger and almost struck the potted plant next to the couch.
“Do you have any friends that you talk to about your parents?”
“Just my cousin, well, I used to. It’s been hard to get in touch with her lately and since I haven’t really cared about what people have thought of me recently it hasn’t been an issue,” I answered as I sat back down.
I so wanted to backhand Doctor London across the face, walk out of that office, past my mum and into the great wild blue yonder without one iota of care to give…but I also didn’t want to be arrested or committed. So I remained on that couch, still sitting proper, and awaited the doctor’s response.
Dr. London spent the remainder of the session writing on her notepad and asking me the same inane questions—worded ever so slightly from the last one to avoid suspicion—and I answered them the same way right back at her. I was not going to be told there was something wrong with me or that I was merely playing the daddy issues card. I informed her again and again that this was who I was and it wasn’t going to change.
“Oh no, you are going back.”
I had informed Mum I was not going back to see the doctor again; her answer was not shocking.
“Go on, spend money on nothing. If you took me there to make me change my mind, it’s not going to happen,” I said as we walked to the car.
“Fine, then you’re grounded. No phone, no friends…no…no boyfriends.”
“Please allow me to grow my hair longer so we can act out Rapunzel in the proper way then.”
The remainder of our drive was in silence. There was so much I wanted to say to her, well, more like tell her…and maybe a few questions. At that point of my life, I was a little messed up, mixed up and running on raw emotion.
And that is what lead me to call Michael and ask him to meet me at the end of my road around nine o’clock. I dressed in jeans and my flannels, turned off my lights except for a lamp, and locked the door. Grans usually took her hearing aids out and Mum… Well, I didn’t really care if she saw me or not as I slowly moved down the stairs and to the back door of the house. The door closed with an almost inaudible “click” and I was home free for the next nine or so hours.
Michael arrived shortly after I had reached the end of the driveway. The truck’s headlights were off.
“Secret mission?”
“Prison break, actually. Thank you for coming.”
“I’d do anything for you.”
I smiled at him as I closed the door to the truck.
“So what do you want to do with your newfound freedom?” Michael asked as he switched the headlights back on.
“We can go to your house if you like,” I replied.
“I would, but Monica has some friends over and I didn’t want to deal with them…so I am extra glad you called.”
“Your parents don’t know either, do they?” I asked.
“No, they think I’m over with Travis at the batting cages or the field.”
“Did you want to do that?”
“Do you actually like baseball?” Michael inquired as he reached out for my hand.
“No, but you love it”
“I really do have the perfect girlfriend.”
“Aye, you do.”
We arrived at the same field as we had been to; Travis and a few other guys were already playing under the floodlights.
I stood in the bleacher area as Michael stood at home plate, awaiting a pitch from Travis. Travis took not so subtle glances at me…enough that it would have been impossible for Michel to not notice.
“Here it comes, Preston!”
“Bring it!”
Travis wound up and threw a pitch. Mike swung and clipped it, causing it to fly into the air, over the cage and into the bleachers.
I got up to retrieve the ball and had an unsettling feeling that I was being watched by them, in a more than just aww, that’s cute, she’s going to get it for us, kind of way. Not sure why I thought that way though, as denim jeans and a T-shirt were not very attractive. Perhaps it was how I was walking…I wasn’t too sure, but all eyes were on me as I stepped down from the stands and onto the field.
I threw the ball back to Travis who caught it without effort.
“Thanks Jen,” Michael replied as he winked at me.
“You’re welcome.”
Travis again wound up and threw the ball. This time it sailed over Michael’s head and into the catcher’s mitt. I had no idea who was catching since James was at first base.
The catcher threw it back to Travis. I walked to the other side of the bleachers and Travis looked toward me. I was officially creeped out by the unwanted attention. The problem lay with the fact he was Michael’s friend and I would have to make him choose between the two of us. As much as I loved him, his friends were not a part of the deal. Yeah, I know, that sounded bitchy, didn’t it?
Travis wound up and threw the ball. It went straight to Michael’s chest, knocking him to the ground.
“Michael!” I ran to him as fast as I could. He was on the ground with a pained expression on his face while he held his hands to his chest.
I got down next to him.
“Are you okay?”
Travis and the other guys surrounded us. I hoped one of them was coming to see if Michael was okay, but their eyes had another look in them; frightening gazes focused on me.
“What did you tell him?” I asked Michael.
I wasn’t sure if I should feel betrayed, flattered, or disgusted because he talked about us to his friends. However, at that moment I would have given anything to see he was okay and not lying on the ground, in pain.
Travis walked around Michael toward me and lunged forward. I dodged to the side and then to the other side. He moved closer and received a punch to the face. The other guys, except for James, moved to surround me.
“Mike! James!” Michael was still on the ground and James took off into the darkness.
Travis grabbed my left arm and held it behind my back.
“I hear you like being touched.”
I didn’t reply but tried to think of a way out of my situation.
My attempt to elbow him ended up with him locking my arm against his body as he held his hand around my neck.
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen,” I squeaked out.
“You’re very pretty…how experienced are you?”
“Not at all,” I choked.
“We can change that,” he said as he moved his hand to lift my shirt.
The other guys stood by, neither trying to help me or impede Travis. I looked to Michael who tried to get up but was still dry heaving.
“What do I have to do to make you let me go?”
“Are you an adventurous girl?”
“No,” I gasped as I closed my eyes. Did Michael tell his friend everything? And did he know that his fiend—I mean—friend was a rapist protégé?
Without another word, Travis groped me.
“I like ’em young.”
I really wanted to kick, punch or do something but I was getting light-headed. He was working like a boa constrictor to incapacitate his prey.
He then moved to unbutton my jeans.
“Please…don’t….”
“We got to get you in the mood, right?”
At that moment, the adrenaline kicked in and I tried to break free while he was “distracted” but he clamped down farther on my neck.
Travis tugged on my jeans and grabbed my crotch. I tried to shout No, but nothing came out.
“What the hell?”
He spun me around and then threw me down.
I fell to the ground as Michael recovered and raced to tackle Travis.
Travis said, “She’s got a cock!”
“No way…” said another.
The group closed in on me like a pack of wolves.
“What?”
“Mike, help me,” I pleaded as he just stared.
“What are you, some kind of fag?” Travis asked.
“No,” I cried.
“Well you can’t be a lying bitch, you got a dick. But if you want to be a bitch, I’ll make that happen. Guys?”
The other guys, the props while Travis fondled me, were now the ones who held me down.
“Please!” I looked to Michael who was still in a state of shock. His eyes were empty and staring at something between us, but not at me.
I couldn’t fight back and I felt every kick and punch to my body as Travis started the beat down.
“Twllt din!” I called them assholes—maybe Travis, maybe Michael…I wasn’t sure.
“You’re a pussy. Don’t have one but….”
One of the others kicked me in the side and my legs. One brought a baseball bat and slammed it on my chest, then swung at my groin, making a direct hit.
The pain did not hit me for a few seconds, what with my brain going through all the futile steps I could have taken in order to avoid the situation I was in. However, when it did indeed hit, I screamed bloody murder—in hopes someone would come help.
Their faces danced in front of me in a blurry soup as I lost consciousness.  

On October 12, 1999, I made my way back to Spokane on my own.
I packed my sewing machine, two suitcases, and a backpack full of notebooks into my car. Mum stated that she would be leaving the next day to check on me.
“You don’t have to, Mum,” I said as I threw my backpack into the passenger side seat.
“I do. We should tell your aunt before you—” Mum brushed her thinning hair back with her hand as she spoke. “This isn’t a good idea, you should—”
“No. It’s fine. I’ll, they’ll...we’ll all be fine,” I replied as Grans walked out of the house.
“You’re still not going to tell her that—”
“I’ll tell her this is me, Mum. They’ll understand,” I said as I closed the door.
“Don’t put up with any crap when you get back to your school, Jennifer.” Grans stepped in and hugged me.

“I won’t,” I replied.
“Thank you for spending the time with me,” she said and then gave me a light kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you for everything, Grans,” I replied as I stepped around the front of my car.
“You’re welcome, dear. You deserve to be happy, so go and be happy.”
“Okay, so, here I go. Brave new world, eh?”
And with that, I got in and started my journey back home.
The past two years had been a revolving door of pain and perseverance. On the night I left the house without telling anyone, I was found near the highway and taken to the hospital. It took a day before Mum and Grans found me due to my inability to talk—my jaw was wired shut. The police asked questions but I didn’t give any answers as I feigned ignorance of everything that happened. When Mum was questioned, she didn’t know what to tell them…except that I wasn’t right in the head.
They had really done a number on me, including: broken arm bones, nose, shattered leg bones, and a rupturing and detachment of my former genitalia. They informed me that they were unable to repair the damage without advanced cosmetic surgery. I took the opportunity to begin the outward changes .
I was in the hospital for three weeks before I could go home. During that time, Grans visited and Mum came by at times—sometimes in tears and other times fuming as to why I wasn’t going to press any charges.
“I don’t want the attention,” I wrote on a notepad.
“There’s already attention, you’ve been on the news.” Mum threw a newspaper in the trash.
I wrote out “I’m fine,” and underlined it three times, hoping she got get the hint.
“You have broken bones and—”
But it wasn’t my bones or any other part of my body that felt broken—morphine worked like a dream. The only part of my body that was in pain was my heart. And that pain stayed with me until I left Missoula. I avoided that library, the mall, and any baseball park I could see. Not because I felt ashamed or afraid but because I didn’t want to see him again in the flesh—as I already saw him repeatedly in my best dreams and my worst nightmares.
Grans kept me as a homeschooler and I worked with tutors and video recorded classes as my injuries and surgical scars faded away. Three months before leaving, I stood before a mirror once again and looked back at the proper me: hair, face, body, dress—everything was perfect, with the exception of some scar tissue which was easy to hide. I kept my hair at a medium length and a dark auburn.
My parents’ divorce occurred during my reconstruction years. And you’d be correct that not a word was ever said to my Dad. I figured he must have known I was injured due to the initial medical bills, but he never called, wrote or stopped by…not that I expected him to. My mother was no longer Rachel Kane but had returned to Rachel Monroe. And I, with the help of an insanely behind the times governmental system in Montana, was able to create a new identity for myself by submitting form after form to offices in Helena and driving back and forth to other offices in Spokane. James Fitz Kane was officially dead; make way for Jennifer Aylesea Ryan
The trip back took up most of the morning. I didn’t play the radio and spent most of the time thinking about how I would re-introduce myself to Krystal and my aunt and uncle. I had gone over a lot of different approaches—from long-winded speeches to the short and simple hiya. Sure, I wrote letters to Krystal but I had lied to them that James was out of the country, studying abroad, in London. I’d send the letter to Gran’s house and then forward them on to Spokane. Krys would respond with a paragraph or two, like how she missed me but that it was awesome I finally got away from it all.
Besides a few moments of disbelief, Krystal would shrug it off and everything would be fine. Aunt Lydia would mull it over a bit and then it would be cool. My uncle…well, the jury was still out on him.
Four hours later, I arrived in the Lilac City and even though I should have gone straight to my cousin’s house, I stopped at the high school instead to check-in.
I walked up to the front door and stopped. I kind of wanted to turn around and leave, but that wasn’t an option. Where else would I go? Mum had already fought tooth and nail with the school administrators to allow me to go to school at Ferris.
“New student?” The lady behind the counter showed no emotion as she barely raised her head over the top to look at me.
“Aye.”
“May I see your ID?”
I opened my backpack, got out my wallet, and handed my card to her. She seemed to be so arthritic that her wrist was likely to snap if she moved it too much in any direction.
“Jennifer Ryan...let me see... I’ll be right back.”
“Thank you.”
I looked around the office—trophies, knick-knacks and papers all over the wall. I shuddered a bit as I saw a couch in the corner; it was like I was once again in Dr. London’s office. This time she was a hunched over woman with a severe case of seniority.
The bell rang class change. I looked out the office window as the waves of students moved past me like fish in an aquarium—I was a few hours short of joining the school.
The office worker trudged back to her desk, hefted herself back into the chair, and moved her hand, ever so slowly, to hand my ID and paperwork to me. I almost felt bad for her having to make the effort.
“Jennifer?” She asked in a low growl.
“Aye?”
“You’ll need to go and see Mrs. Cole. She’s in room 204. Down the hall and go to your left.” She slowly lifted her right hand and pointed down the hall.
“Thank you,” I replied as she, eventually, moved her left arm to a position I could politely take my file folder and ID.
I placed both into my backpack, walked out of the office, and right into the flow of bodies. Fortunately, we were moving downstream, toward room 204.
I avoided eye contact as I weaved through the crowd, but I could sense everyone looking at me with an I think I know her, no, I don’t…but I have to get to class and can’t find out right now...did I remember my homework? However, someone caught my attention. I looked into a classroom and saw Krystal reading a book.
She was wearing the uniform design I had sent to her the previous Christmas—a white blouse with a blue plaid dress with red accents on the tie. Her hair was longer, blonder, and she looked beautiful.
I stood against the door, allowing people to move past me and into the room. One student looked at me and then at Krystal, noticing we were wearing almost matching outfits; the only difference was mine had a shorter skirt with a green plaid tartan.
She looked toward me, then looked at her book, and then back to me again with a shocked expression. I moved away from the door and into the adjacent room as the bell rang. She was going to be pissed for the next few hours trying to figure out who I was.
Mrs. Cole was the school counselor. I remembered talking with her a lot during my freshman year as she called me in for conferences on the days I was used as a punching bag. She used to tell me to let her or the principal know if I was being harassed. On that day though, she only asked about my accent and I left her office with more paperwork and a resounding Welcome to Ferris High School, Jennifer.
Once again, I went to Krys’ classroom and looked in. She looked back at me in bewilderment but turned her attention back to the teacher.
“Miss Laberdee, could I have your attention, please?”
I took the hint from the teacher’s voice inside the classroom that it was best to take my leave. I left the school and drove off to the old neighborhood.
The street looked the same. Of course, it was only a few years and I should not have expected urban renewal of the whole block. I stopped my car in front of Krystal’s and walked down the street to what was once my old haunt.
The house had new paint on the trim, and hedges lined the driveway. It looked very lovely; someone paid a lot to fix the landscaping. For a moment, I thought about going to the front door and ask to see how it looked on the inside but I passed on that. However, I was able to take a quick look through the large bay window in the living room—the drapes were never open when I lived there. The new owners had painted the living room with a faux wood grain. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t like the way it used to look either. I stood in the driveway for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity as every small detail of life in that place flooded back.
I could remember it all: the yelling, the slamming doors, the distance between the poor devils who lived there. Maybe it was the home itself? Was it possible to have an Amityville Horror experience in the Pacific Northwest? Could my family be cursed by the barren and empty-feeling walls that carried a creepy vibe? No, the Kane’s were just stark mad. The dwelling was an innocent bystander and like me, it suffered collateral damage. Maybe it should have been burned to the ground, and if Mum was any bit of a dirty fighter, she would have done so.
I brought my thoughts back to the present and walked to the park. I stood next to the swing set and stared at them. I had once spent many hours rocking back and forth on one particular swing, pondering my pathetic position on this planet as Krys would try to cheer me up. I would swing high, contemplating whether or not to let go of the chains and fall to the ground, but she’d always win and bring me back down.
“Hello,” a familiar voice said.
I turned around to see Krys standing in front of me with two roses in her hand.
“I saw you at school earlier,” she said as she took a few steps around me.
“Lovely flowers.”
“Oh, yeah. They’re for my cousin, he like flowers.”
I was shocked Krystal remembered, and I really wanted to take them from her and give her a hug, but I needed to keep up the charade for a bit longer.
“That’s sweet,” I said as I avoided making eye contact with her.
“How’s Grans?” Krys asked with a grin.
“She’s doing pretty good. How are you Krys?”
Krys laid the flowers on the ground and hugged me. “Oh my God. Is it really you?”
“Aye, it’s me,” I answered as she released her death grip on me. “I mean…wow, umm… But I got a birthday card from you last month with a picture and—”
“I put my hair up for that.”
“And you dyed it too?”
“Accents at first, kind of experimenting with the shades,” I replied as she ran her hands through it.
“Contacts?” She walked around me in a circle as the Q&A continued:
“Blue tinted lenses.”
“Your educated voice?” Krys continued to circle around.
“Lots of training, surgery, and drugs.”
“Nice figure”
I almost felt like I was a mannequin on display, “Thank you. I’m going through Hell to keep it.” I answered as Krys picked the bouquet off of the ground and gave it to me.
“When did you do all of this?”
“After we moved to Montana. I thought of starting a new life. Something different.” The roses smelled delightful.
“So you didn’t go to England?”
“I brought it here instead.”
“Well, ahh…this is different. Umm, are you?”
“Am I what?” I asked as we walked away from the swings.
“Do you still have your—”
“No.”
“Ouch.”
“Best to save that conversation for later, eh?”
I followed Krystal to her house.
The interior had been re-surfaced with bright colors and a lot of artwork. It looked different, but it still had that welcome home feeling to it.
“It’s been awhile. I’ve missed this place.” I said with my arms wide open like I wanted to hug everything there.
“You’ve been living in the upper room all that time?” Krys asked as we walked into the living room.
“Room and workshop. Oh and wait until you see this incredible dress I’m working on, it’s—”
“Just listen to you,” she said with a laugh.
“What?”
“The sparkling eyes, the happy demeanor. What made you want to do all of this?”
I was about to answer when Aunt Lydia stepped into the living room.
“Krystal, has James arrived?” she asked as she looked at our matching uniforms.
“Not yet, Mom.”
“Rachel said he left for Spokane this morning. I should call her.”
“He’s fine, Mom…maybe he’s sight-seeing around the city.”
She walked over and stood between us.
“I just love these outfits. They are so cute.”
Now Krys was on display with me.
“Uh, Mom, this is Jennifer, she’s a new student at Ferris.”
“’Ello.”
“Interesting accent.
“Thank you.”
“Are you an exchange student?”
“She’s kind of a foreign exchange student,” Krys said as she tried to pull me away from my aunt.
“Well, welcome to America, Spokane, and to Ferris.”
“Mom, Jennifer’s staying the night with us. We have a project to work on for World History.”
“Has she involved you in everything on your first day?”
“It seems so,” I answered as Krys continued to pull on my arm.
“Mom, don’t call anyone.”
“Why?”
“I’m waiting for a call from Lindsey about the game.”
“I need to call your Aunt and ask about James.”
“Can you wait a few minutes though? Once you start talking to her you don’t stop.”
Aunt Lydia put her hands up, open palm in front us, as if to say okay, stop talking. I get it! and nodded in slight aggravation. Apparently, Krys had used this kind of argument before.. We ran upstairs to her room.
“I better call Mum…before she calls here or—”
“See? I kept your secret.”
“Yeah, but I need to let your mum know,” I replied as I picked up the phone.
I called Grans’ house and told her I had arrived safely and had checked in at the school. She was calm with her responses and wished me a happy first day of school. Mum, on the other hand, was erratic and talked a mile a minute. She asked how Krystal took it, how Aunt Lydia would take it, how the blind man on Sprague Avenue who never met me before, ever—how he took it. She made it seem like there was a death in the family.
“You need to tell her, right now!” Mum exclaimed.
“I will. Please don’t treat my life like a movie and talk about it behind my back. I’ll tell her. If you say it over the phone it will be kind of awkward.” I replied.
“Kind of?”
“Mum, seriously,” I paced from Krys’ dresser to the door. I really wanted to end the call.
“I’m coming up there tomorrow.”
“Why?” I asked, with slight disdain in my voice.
“I think Lydia will need to talk to someone—”
“You mean you have to. Are we still having this conversation?”
Krystal looked at me as I twirled my hair and rolled my eyes. Mum was going off on a soapbox about how Lydia—really, about herself—was going to deal with the shocking revelation and how it would cause the seas to rise and the mountains to crumble.
“Goodnight Mum…thank you for caring,” I said with the utmost sugary sounding tone I could muster before I hung up the phone.
“I’m away for less than a day.”
“So, do you want to talk about it?” Krys asked.
“Mum? No, not really,” I replied as I pulled my hair back.
Krys continued to look at me from across the room.
“I want to think I can get used to this… You don’t look or sound exactly the same but I can still see you in there.”
“Thank you,” I answered, “I think.”
“So you just went to the doctors and just snipped it off?” Krys asked as she picked up an old picture of James from her nightstand
“Thereabouts. ” I wanted to ignore the picture.
“And the boobs too?”
“Well, they took a little longer.” I replied.
“Why?”
“Couldn’t decide on the size .” I answered, matter-of-factly.
“Now you’re sounding like a guy.”
“No, but I do have an inside track on what they like .”
Krys walked over to me and sat on the side of the bed. “I’m glad you’re back, however you want to be.”
“Thank you,” I replied and gave a short curtsy.
“So, Jennifer, what?” Krys inquired.
“Ryan. I like the way it sounds.”
“And you have that on your license?”
I nodded in reply
“We are going to make sure you have best first day of school you’ve ever had.”
“Thank you.”
“Have you been working out?” Krys reached over and touched my arm.
“Well, I do run every morning.”
“Every morning?”
“Rise at five-thirty. I run three miles every day.”
“You do what?” She gasped. “For fun?”
“No, didn’t I say I was going through Hell to keep the figure.”
“Can I take a pass on the getting up at o’dark thirty?”
“Krystal!” Aunt Lydia called from downstairs.
“Be right back.” Krys ran out of the room.
“What about your friend?” I heard Aunt Lydia say.
“Jen!”
I ran out to the hallway to see Krystal and Aunt Lydia waiting for me at the foot of the stairs.
“Do you like cucumber sandwiches?” Aunt Lydia asked.
The three of us sat at the dining room table, a place I had fond memories of.
“Mom’s been trying to eat healthy,” Krys stated as she invited me to take a sandwich and then took one for herself before handing the tray off to Aunt Lydia.
“That will do,.” Aunt Lydia placed one on her plate and placed the empty platter on the far side of the table. “I’m thinking about calling the police.”
“Maybe he went to see his dad?” Krys replied as I took a sip of water.
“Not a time for jokes, Krystal.” She got up from the table and went to the phone mounted on the wall.
I thought it was funny, but I suppressed showing any emotion about the issue.
“It’s not a joke, Mom. I mean, maybe they finally had an understanding...and—”
“Rachel should have called me.”
“—had that heart to heart talk and solved that issue that tore at the very fabric of their—”
“Krystal!” Aunt Lydia was not amused and I fought back a horrendous coughing fit, which would have been a laughing fit if I had not inhaled a cucumber slice.
I ran from the table with Krys following me to the bathroom. We could not stop laughing, even though my lungs were screaming in pain, the fact that I could talk to my dad in a “man to man” kind of fashion was just bonkers.
“It’s not funny, girls!” Aunt Lydia had the phone in her hand as we walked back into the kitchen.
“Sorry mom. Just don’t call Rachel yet.”
“Krystal, do you know anything about where James is?”
“Well,” Krys started as she looked at me, “you see what we’re wearing, right?”
“Yes, you said James made it, so— Are you his girlfriend?” Aunt Lydia asked me.
I had to stifle a small laugh at that. “Hello, Aunt Lydia.”
“Excuse me?” She asked as the phone emitted a fast busy signal.
An hour later, Aunt Lydia was up to speed about a few things…with a little bit of history purposely omitted, of course. It didn’t seem to bother her too much, and by then she was able to figure out why I had laughed about the issue with me and Dad having a chat.
 

I took off for my morning run as the sun rose over the Lilac City. It was a brisk October morning. I ran down the block and then back up the South Hill for two miles . I will admit, the air was different in Spokane and I was not used to the climb. Fortunately, the trip back would feel better.
I walked inside the house to see Aunt Lydia sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee.
“Good morning, Aunt Lydia.”
“How was your run?”
“Breathless…not used to the air.” I replied as I took my shoes off and carried them across the wood floor.
“Was Krystal up?’
“No, but I’ll see if she’s up now.”
“Thank you.”
“How long does it take you to get ready each morning? Krys asked as she brushed her hair. We were both in the bathroom, trying to share a rather large mirror—it was huge, but not big enough for a teenage girl…let alone two.
“Not sure. I just do it and off we go. Took a while at first…had a few bad days when I had no idea what to do. On those days, I worked on the uniforms. I had more bad days than good it seems.” I replied.
“What makes you say that?”
“I got them done, didn’t I? Otherwise I would have been out with—I mean, I’d go out.”
“You said going out with, who’s the with?” Krys reached past me for her toothbrush.
“Old Boyfriend,” I said as looked through my Caboodle.
“Boyfriend? You had a boyfriend?” Krys had all but forgotten about brushing her teeth.
“Aye.”
“Was he cute?” she asked as I opened the case for my contact lenses
“He was.”
“Did he know?”
“Yeah, he knew but he’s history.” I replied as I put them in.
There was a slight silence from Krys as I blinked a few times.
“Hey, what shades of lipstick do you have?”
Forty-five minutes and four wardrobe changes later, I was ready for my first day at school. Krys wore a casual pair of jeans with a red blouse. I tried to match her with a skirt and a custom-made red top. I decided to not carry a purse but instead use the same backpack I had from Missoula.
We left the house and drove up the street to the high school.
“How did you get the car?” Krys asked as she lowered the passenger side sun visor.
“I bought it.”
“How?” She asked as she checked something in the mirror.
“I sold a few dresses.” I replied as we turned the corner onto East 37th Avenue.
“Enough to buy a car?”
“Well, it is used…not like I had Stella McCartney asking me to come design for her.” Although that would have been spectacular!
The wheels must have been turning in Krys’ head. “But someone did. Are you thinking about expanding?”
Grans had taken a few samples of my work and showed them to friends of hers who had granddaughters and daughters and friends. Eventually, I had a few orders and I worked them the best I could. Grans took measurements and relayed them to me as I still couldn’t speak at that time. I delivered the final product after a few weeks and the ladies gushed—at least that’s how Grans described it. It was laid back work that I could do in my pajamas—and I never had to ask anyone if they wanted fries with anything.
I created a few new designs and there was one that I was really proud about; Grans showed to a friend, of a friend, of a daughter or something. She gave me the paperwork for the design request and I went to work on it to deliver it in time for that year’s prom. The mother of the recipient came to the house to pick up the dress and I was just about ready to meet her when I saw the vehicle she came to the house in—a late model truck, now with a little damage to the side.
I let Grans know it wasn’t a good time for me and went back upstairs as she came to the door. I listened from the upstairs landing as the lady oohed and ahhed about it right as her daughter walked in behind her to try it on. The girl: Monica Preston.
“I think it may be best to concentrate on school right now. Get back to a normal life,” I said with a sigh.
“Yeah, nothing says normal life like eight hours of regimented schedule.”
“Nine, if you count cheerleading.” I corrected her.
“Ha. Now you’re talking about a lifetime.”
We pulled into the parking lot and parked in my assigned space.
“Ready for the moment of truth?” Krys asked.
“I was here yesterday,” I said as I turned the engine off.
“But today is your official first day...and since you’re making your grand entrance with me, well, everyone’s going to notice.”
“True,” I replied.
We got out of the car and dove into the sea of students. We passed by so many people who I thought I remembered...it was like being a part of A Christmas Carol and seeing ghosts from the past.
“Look over there. Remember him?” Krystal glanced at a freckle-faced guy as he walked up the sidewalk. “That’s Darrin Roberts, the guy who used to be thrown into the basketball hoop.”
“I remember. Better him than me.”
Yes, that was rude, now that I look back. But I have to remember as bad as my days were, others had their own personal bullies too. Darren stood at about four feet, ten inches and he could be lifted into the basketball hoop without a lot of effort...not a lot of effort, of course, meant anyone over six feet, with multiple friends, and zero sympathy for freshman. However, Darren, even though he still had his freckles, now stood at about six-foot, five inches and weighed 290 pounds…of muscle. He was now either someone else’s bully or a guardian angel to a kindred spirit freshman.
“How about her?” Krys motioned to a girl walking in a group of others.
“Renee Alexander, right?” I asked.
“Pregnant at fifteen, had twins.”
“Looks like a lot has changed,” I commented as I hoisted up my backpack.
“Did you really just say that?”
“It’s kind of like a time machine, I—”
I stopped dead in my tracks as I looked toward the door and saw him.
“You’ve got to be bloody kidding me,” I whispered to no one.
“What?” Krys stopped short and looked back to me.
“Matt Tracker?” I asked.
Krystal shook her head. “Yeah, he still goes here too.”
“I thought he would’ve dropped out by now...or at least gotten hit by a truck.”
“Keep on dreaming.” Kris said as she led us on.
Although I still wanted to knock his block off, I had to step down and be placid. This was my first official day and it would have been terrible to start with me sparking him a loner—slapping him—across face. I flipped my hair and walked onward to the front.
My brain raced back all the way to fourth grade and went through every single atrocity he launched toward me. Sparkler burns, punches, swirlies, not to mention a complete disregard for my life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness. I had to shake all of that off and smile through the shite.
Matt looked straight at me as he opened one of the double doors.
“Appointed yourself doorman today?” Krystal asked as she walked past him.
It was now or never. “’Ello”.
“Hello. You’re new, right?” Matt asked as he stepped aside for me.
“Aye.”
“Matt Tracker.” I looked at his face, but his gaze was not focused on mine...they were glancing a little lower. His eyes then darted up and looked at mine.
“Jennifer Ryan.”
“If you ever need help getting around, just let me know.”
“Thank you very much.”
I admit, I was caught in the moment. I never saw the color of Matt’s eyes before—not without them staring at me with spite—and here I was, doing just that...and kind of not wanting it to end.
“Come on, Jen,” Krystal grabbed my arm and dragged me into the building.
I looked back at Matt—and he was still looking at me.
“What was that about?” Krys asked as she pulled my attention back to reality.
“I just wanted to see his reaction,” I replied with a small laugh.
“His what?”
“His re-AC-tion. I know it’s wasn’t my face he was trying to connect with.”
“I noticed. Did you wear that at school in Montana?” Krys asked.
“No,” I replied as I adjusted my top.
“Krystal!”
I turned to the side and saw Lindsey—with her trademark gap-tooth smile—skipping down the hall. She ignored me at first and went straight to Krys.
“Where’s James?
“He couldn’t make it.” Krys answered.
“Oh no, why?” Lindsey’s smile faded as she asked.
“Well, he...he decided to stay in Montana due to school. Some special classes,” Krys replied.
I was going to have to talk to Krys about where she was planning on taking my former life because Lindsey could sometimes ask the rhetorical why question for as long as it took to get an answer. Was he going to be President someday?
“Oh, Lindsey, this is Jennifer. She’s staying with me for a while...I—”
“Hi, Jennifer.” Lindsey’s smile returned to her face.
“Jen’s interested in joining the cheer squad.”
“Does she have you involved in everything on the first day?” Lindsey asked.
“Aye,” I replied
“Oh, I love your accent, Irish?”
“No, it’s—”
“Oh, well, it sounds cool, the sophistication or something.”
“Thank you.”
Lindsey spun her attention back to Krys. “We have a meeting at lunch about Friday’s routine.”
“Who called it?”
“Julia.”
“Of course she did. I’ll talk to Julia about—”
The bell rang and Lindsey looked at a clock on the wall with a frightened expression on her face. You’d think she was the White Rabbit as she took off down the hall and called back, “Gotta go! See you two later!”
“She hasn’t changed,” I observed.
“Nope.”
We casually walked into our World History class and sat in a set of desks near the front. I tried to avoid looking too unsure of myself. These people didn’t know me, they had no idea of my past, or what I had for breakfast. They wouldn’t, couldn’t give a bloody care if I just arrived off a boat from the old country or not…so why was I thinking about passing out?
A boy in the class kept looking back at me and then to the front and then back again. He looked familiar…like I knew him. I was about to ask for his name when the teacher filled up the classroom doorframe.
“Mrs. Myers still teaches? I thought she’d be dead by now,” I whispered to Krystal in a low hiss.
“It’s only been two years.”
Mrs. Myers, shuffled to her desk, sat down, and peered at the class over her glasses. She scanned from the left to the right with a look that said I despise you all...kids aren’t the same as they used to be. She stopped tracking when she saw me.
“Miss Jennifer A. Ryan, I presume?”
“Aye, ma’am.” So much for introducing myself.
“Are you aware of the dress code? What is acceptable and what is not acceptable here at Ferris, Miss Ryan?” Mrs. Myers opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a textbook.
“Not exactly.”
“Well, what you are wearing is not.” The book landed on her desk with a dull thud.
“I can resolve that, ma’am,” I replied.
I set my backpack on my desk, opened it up, and pulled out a T-shirt. I pulled it over my top and waited for her approval. She didn’t exactly say anything but instead picked up a book and held it out to me.
“Please take your textbook, Miss Ryan.”
“Thank you,” I replied as I stepped forward and took the book from her.
I turned back to face the class. I now had about twenty-seven faces looking at me. Well, twenty-one—a few appeared to be asleep still, and Krys didn’t count. The same guy from earlier continued his gaze.
I glanced back to him for a second before Mrs. Myers snapped, “Damon, if you’re going to stare at someone, stare at me. You might learn something.”
Damon, that was it. I didn’t recognize him without Matt, Chris, and Tyler. Damon was never the one with an idea…he was more of the silent one who would carry out orders and would be the lookout in case a coach or a teacher approached during their missions. Like Operation: Kick James’ Arse.
My first class of the day droned on as I expected it to. I also expected to think of countless reasons to walk out of the classroom out of sheer boredom but maybe my other morning classes—Trigonometry, Chemistry and English—would go by faster.
They didn’t, and by the time lunch came around I was ready to mentally pop.
“Did every teacher tell you to put something else on?” Krys asked as she sat down at a table in the lunchroom.
“Everyone, except for my Chemistry teacher.”
“Mr. Edwards?” Lindsey asked.
I nodded as I took off the T-shirt, nearly losing the top underneath it.
Lindsey inquired further, “Besides that, how has your first day been?”
“It’s okay. I keep running into—”
“Matt?” she asked.
I told Krys and Lindsey about my conversation with Matt.
“Hello again.”
“Hiya,” I looked up from my class schedule and smiled at him.
“Enjoying your first day?”
“Are you looking for an honest answer or do I need to lie?”
“Your call,” he said as he tried to lock eyes with me.
I honestly tried not to.
“I survived.”
We stopped in front of a classroom.
“This is where I need to take my leave from you, Matt.”
“Will I see you later?”
“If you can find me.” My tone was more playful than sardonic. I sort of had him looking at the bait. Would I catch him?
“Do you think he’s cute? Krystal once said he was—” Lindsey started.
“I said he can be cute, but he’s still a jerk,” Krys stated as I looked back to her and nodded.
“I don’t know, you’re probably a bit too much for him.”
“Too much for him?” I asked
“I don’t know—oh, I’m sorry, I mean, that he might be intimidated by someone strong-willed like you.”
I looked to Lindsey with a blank stare for a moment. Krys opened her lunch bag and then looked back to Lindsey as well. She eventually got the hint that she needed to elaborate a bit.
“I mean, oh, God. Okay, I used to really have this crush on this guy but I think I was a bit too wild for him and I like crushed him so much he avoided me. God, never mind, too much information.”
“Does he still go here?” I asked.
“Who?” Lindsey asked.
“The guy you had a crush on.”
“No, he’s not here...it’s Krystal’s cousin, James.”
I looked to Krys who glanced down at her lunch—in order to avoid eye contact with me. We were really going to have to have a talk after school about this.
“I once told Krystal that I’d go find him and drag him back here.” Lindsey said as she stared across the lunchroom, as if she was looking for someone.
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah, I mean, at times he was, weird, but I knew something different would come of him. Like some kind of butterfly thing and he’d change to this Freddie Prinze Junior like kind of guy.”
“I see.”
“I liked being around him, yeah. I wish I could’ve told him how much I liked him, before he left.”
Krystal swallowed a bite of her sandwich as she looked to me.
“I’m sure he liked you too...but perhaps he couldn’t show it. That’s the problem with relationships now—no one really shows who they are,” I replied.
“Did you ever have someone who broke your heart?”
“Lindsey, really, do you have to ask that question?” Krys interjected.
“I did,” I replied.
“Who!” Krys asked, nearly choking on her sandwich.
“He was older than me and I thought the world of him. He wasn’t the one.”
Lindsey leaned over her side of the table and asked, “So…what do you think about Matt?”
Krys rolled her eyes and put her head down on the table. “Lindsey, give it a rest.”
“Come on, let’s hear it. It’s obvious that he likes you, because he’s always looking for you, right?”
“I-I- just met him today, I—” I replied as shook my head.
“What do you think of him?”
“Well, he, and his friends, appear to be on the...football team, I can summarize that they spend time talking about us, well I mean, girls in general. He probably wants to act like a gentlemen but the unwritten code of brotherhood forbids it, so he must act like a jackass in front of his friends to save face.”
“So…?” Lindsey hung onto every word.
“So, as for the little I know about him, I can say that he looks pretty strong and athletic; however, his mind is weak and sophomoric. I’m sure his friends fall in with him in the true, red-blooded American high school male fashion as well.”
I left Lindsey and Krys after lunch for my next class, which was PE. The class was held that day on the track. I stood on the starting line with the rest of the class with track pants and a “Ferris High School Phys. Ed” shirt on. We all took off running at the sound of the whistle.
My daily running, while paying off with my overall fitness, was also helping me in this class as I was able to keep a steady pace without tiring. A lot of the class either ran too hard at first or just couldn’t care less and were simply slogging—slow jogging, at least that’s what I’ve been told it means—through.
I worked my way up the track until I was side by side with Chris Carlson, one of Matt’s former minions.
“’Ello,” I said as I read his face—a little strain and a lot of I don’t want to do this running shite right now.
“Jen, right?”
“Aye,” I replied as we rounded a turn.
“You in track?” he asked.
“No, but I run every morning. You?”
“Only if I’m late for class.”
I decided to let him off easy. If I stayed there with him he would have to keep up a pace he had no intention of doing for so long just to impress me.
“I’ll see you around,” I replied as I charged ahead.
Later on in the locker room, I took a colder than ever shower—not on purpose—and tried to clear my head of Matt and his former cohorts. Two years and a cinderblock wall stood between me and the days of old when Chris and Travis held my head above a toilet that had…well, let us say that it was not pristine spring water splashing on my face and shirt.
“James, James, James,” Matt would say from the other side of the stall partition. “Just what the hell are we supposed to do about this attitude you have?”
Chris and Travis would move my face toward the mellow yellow whenever I attempted to say something.
“I don’t hear you, Jimmy boy. Don’t be a disrespectful little bastard. Tell us what we need to do to help you understand the problem.”
The two soldiers shoved my face into the water.
“Make sure you do a courtesy flush there. Okay, man?”
I left the locker room, once again with the T-shirt on over my top and once again ran into Matt. I had no doubt Chris was the mole.
“Hello again. It appears we keep on meeting up,” I stated as he walked with me.
“Are you an exchange student?” Matt asked.
“Not exactly in that way,” I replied as I tried to avoid looking at him.
“I mean, the accent and all.”
“Well then, yeah, you could say I am.”
“Heh, well, I know it’s your first day and all but what do you think of Ferris?” he asked.
“Quite nice, thank you.” I turned to face him, which was a huge mistake on my part as we once again made eye contact.
“Are you busy this Friday?” He spoke with s smoothness to his voice as he cut right to the chase.
“No, but aren’t you?” I pointed to the letter on his jacket with the football patch on it.
“Well, the game, yes, but, maybe you’d like to go somewhere afterward?”
I looked down the hall and saw Krys walking toward us.
“You don’t waste time, do you?” I asked.
“I feel it’s best to get to the point.”
“I like that. How long will you give me to think about it?” It was too late to just walk away from him without giving some form of answer—even if to just string him along.
“How long do you need?”
“We shall see. I have to go now.”
“Okay,” he replied as he dragged behind and turned down an adjacent hallway.
Krys had a slight scowl on her face, but she tried to hide it with a false pretense of concern.
“Is he bothering you?” she asked.
“No, I’m actually finding it funny,” I replied as I looked back to where I last saw him, before he turned the corner.
“How is it funny?” Krys asked with a scowl on her face.
“I have to go talk to the others about practice this afternoon…since we didn’t meet at lunch. You’re staying after school, right?”
“Sure, I’ll wait for you in the library.”
Krys wagged her finger at me. “No, just meet me at the locker room.”
“Why?”
“Just trust me on this, okay?”
After school, we walked to the locker room door and I stopped. My feet felt like lead. Krys had talked the varsity squad into letting me try out for a position on the team. Apparently, they let another member, Julia, go. She didn’t have to persuade the squad too much as my reputation apparently preceded me.
“Can I do really do this?” I asked as I changed into a pair sweatpants and a Ferris Saxon Cheerleaders T-shirt
“Yes, the moves are easy. The cheers, simple. Fitting into the uniform may be a problem. What size are you, anyway?” Krys replied as she tied her shoes.
“You’re not helping.”
“C’mon Jen, you can do it and you’ll find the splits to be a breeze. ” Krys giggled.
“Oooh, aren’t we the cheeky one?”
A few minutes later, I stood in front of the sixteen-member squad with Lindsey and Krys at my side.
Krys made the formal introduction. “Okay, everyone, if you haven’t already seen her in the halls or heard of her dress code issues, then I’d like to introduce Jennifer Ryan.”
“’Ello,” I replied to everyone.
“She’ll be practicing with us today because I’ve twisted her arm to do so.”
“Let’s line up!” Lindsey called out—which startled me for a moment. Lindsey barking orders like a drill sergeant? Could the world get any bit loonier?
I stood to the side as the squad went through a few cheers; all of them I already knew…but it was best to pretend to learn them.
“Lightning crashes, thunders roars!
Power, Saxons, give ’em more!”
 

We drove home after cheer practice with Krys talking a mile a minute.
“You were great out there, really. You were.”
I really wasn’t too bad. I knew the cheers but never actually performed the motions so I was a few steps behind.
“Thank you, I—”
“Now there are a few on the squad who are going to be put off by—”
“Put off?” I asked. “Why?”
It was my first practice, but the unwritten laws of cheerleading stressed that the weak shall perish and the rest of squad saw me as a lost lamb.
“Don’t worry about it, they’ll come around to you as long as you can keep up with the count. No pressure.”
“Oh, no,” I replied.” No pressure at all, thanks.”
I turned the car onto our street and saw Mum’s car in the driveway.
“True to her word,” I said to no one.
“Your mom?”
“Tragically,” I answered as I parked the park next to it.
“Krystal!” Mum raced from the living room and nearly tackled Krys as she walked into the house.
Yep, she followed me. I refused to break and cause a scene, but I so wanted to yell at her.
“Hello, Aunt Rachel,” Krystal replied to her.
“It’s so good to see you and you’ve grown so much, just look at you.” Mum piled on the compliments to Krys as I stood two feet away.
“Thank you,” Krystal answered with a smile.
“You’re here early, Mum,” I hissed at her.
“I know, I was just, well, worried about you and how it would all go.” Mum tried to hide her spite behind a veneer of concern.
“Again, too much, too late and the wrong subject and as you can see, Aunt Lydia didn’t have a heart attack.”
Aunt Lydia walked into the foyer. “How was your first day of school?”
“Tiring,” I replied with a heavy breath, “but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
“Lydia, can I see you in the living room?” Mum asked Lydia—completely ignoring me.
Krys tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, “We should probably go.”
I watched Mum lead Aunt Lydia into the adjoining room and then she closed the door.
We wasted little time in leaving the house. We drove down the South Hill, onto the interstate and up Division Street to the NorthTown Mall. I still hated malls…but at least at this one I wouldn’t run into former boyfriends…or sisters of the aforementioned.
“They’ve added on a new wing—fifteen new stores,” Krys tried to point out all of the new things but I wasn’t impressed.
“And they all sell exactly the same stuff, right?” I asked, with my mind still on the snubbing Mum gave me earlier.
“There’s some variety,” Krys replied.
“We’ll see about that,” I replied as we pulled into the parking lot.
The mall was bigger than I remember it ever being. Three stories—counting a lower floor—and thousands of square feet to look around. I introduced Krys to my way of shopping—bringing a sketchbook and writing down the style and fabric. It wasn’t like I couldn’t buy what I wanted, but I saw no point in buying items that used cheap materials for mediocre tastes, but had expensive prices. Needless to say, the store clerks were not excited about someone walking around and taking notes.
We spent a few minutes sitting in the upper food court; since the mall was near closing all we could get were iced teas from one of the shops.
“When did Lindsey tell you?” I asked.
“That she liked you…I mean, James?” Krys answered and then took a sip.
“Aye.”
“She mentioned it back when we were freshmen.”
“And when were you going to tell me?” I asked.
“I thought you knew. She wasn’t just hanging out with me because we were friends and cheerleaders, you know? You weren’t getting the signs?”
“Obviously not,” I replied as I slapped my forehead with my hand.
“Does this change any—?”
My reply came swiftly. “No.
“Then, why—?”
“Because it’s like getting closure. I can close that chapter of my life now that I know.”
I looked to the ceiling as a few of the overhead lights went out.
“She did mention to me one time that she wanted you to be her first.”
I closed my eyes and tried to avoid thinking about that scenario.
“Too much information, Krys.”
The mall’s closing spiel blared out. “Attention mall patrons: your NorthTown Mall will be closing in five minutes.”
We left the mall and walked down the stairs, into the parking structure.
“Want to tell me why you’re talking so much with Matt?” Krys asked as we searched for the car.
“If he walks up to me to talk, I’m going to be civil with him.”
“But Matt isn’t civil…never has been. You do remember the bowling party?”
“As if I could forget?”
Like how I had forgotten where we parked.
“Do you like him or something?”
“I’m just pulling his chain,” I replied as I finally found our vehicle. I did feel something for him but I refused to give Krys the satisfaction.
“You’re pulling something else you know, figuratively speaking.”
I unlocked the doors and we climbed in.
“I know.”
“Well, you need to ignore him.”
“Why? He may try to woo me with his witty lines, but I’m not going anywhere with it.”
I was just about to buckle my seatbelt when something dawned on me. In another life, say two and a half years ago, my brain would have exploded at the thoughts I had.
I threw out a wild guess. “You went out with him.”
“No, I did not go out with him,” Krys lied.
“You did. You just don’t want to tell me. Because you think I’ll have some sort of fit.”
“And there it is.”
Touché.
We pulled the car into the driveway at the house, to the side of my mum’s car. It would appear she was staying for the evening.
“So you hit the ball?”
“Yeah, pissed him off like nothing else,” I replied.
I closed the door of the car and saw yard sign in the neighbor’s yard. I walked down the driveway but steadily increased my speed until I was standing in front of the sign.
“Damn”
“What’s the matter?”
We both looked at the sign that read in large letters: Daniel Kane for Washington State Senate.
“Bleeding hell!”
“Your dad’s running for office?”
“Biggest cock up in history if he gets elected!”
I picked the sign up and bent it back and forth. Tragically it was made of some kind of plastic and would not rip into a thousand pieces without a lot of effort.
“Dammit!”
I took the sign with me. Maybe my uncle had a chainsaw or a blowtorch.
“I’m going to take every one of these I see down. I’m- I’m… Who’s he running against?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Freaking brilliant!”
I walked back up the driveway and into the house, dragging the sign behind me all the way.
“Mum, do you know about this?”
She looked at the sign and without showing any emotion mum responded, “Yes.”
Krys looked at the sign, now that it was in the light. It had my dad’s picture in the upper right and the standard vote for me spiel. “Maybe it’s not your dad. This guy’s smiling.”
“What’s he running on?” I asked as I dropped the sign to the floor. “Family values? He still lives in Spokane, right?”
“Yes, he does.”
“Where? I’m going to see him.”
“You can’t go see him, James.”
“Stop calling me that!” I yelled.
Aunt Lydia came out from the living room but then retreated back. Krys stood behind me.
“We can’t have contact with him. That was part of the agreement.” Mum replied.
“What agreement?” I asked as I looked through kitchen drawers for anything sharp.
“The settlement stated that we cannot contact him. For all intents and purposes, your father is dead to you.”
“You mean you sold us out?” I located a serrated knife but as soon as I had it, Aunt Lydia took both the knife and the sign from me.
“I did not sell us out. You never showed any interest in seeing your father. You didn’t care to—”
“Because he didn’t call, write, light a fire for smoke signals, or send a bleeding telegram!”
“Jam…Jennifer, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know how to…but when you wanted to come here....”
“Are there any other secrets you want to tell me?” I asked.
“Maybe, how about you?” Mum responded.
The chess match we started over two years ago appeared to still be in effect. Broken rooks, dead pawns, a bishop who left his calling, knights with lame horses, and a philandering king. Again, the fat queens remained. I abruptly turned around and ran upstairs.
Krys followed me and as I ran into my room I fell to my knees. I wasn’t sure what my problem was, except that maybe—just maybe—I actually did have daddy issues—duh—that needed to be worked out. I had stopped wanting to feel anything for him. Never wanted a birthday card…didn’t ask for new teeth or a leather jacket or to have him buy me a new car. So why the hell did it matter? We were now complete strangers—if Mum was telling the truth. I had a hard time believing, but she never really lied to me before—she was just really good about leaving out key facts. Perhaps it was a Monroe and Kane trait to selectively speak the truth.
Krys put her arms on my shoulder.
“Anything I can do to help you, Jen?”
“Yes, actually. You can help me locate his office.”
“We can contact the newspaper, they may know.”
I nodded as I stood up, sniffed, and brushed myself off. The time for crying was over. James would have sat there crying, letting Krys calm him down, and he would tell her that there was nothing she could do for him. That wasn’t going to happen. Krys handed over my sketchbook.
“Okay,” I answered as I turned back to Krys. “I have some work to do. Colors?”
“Umm, red, gold and green?” She asked.
“Doable. Good night, Krys.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“It’s ace. I’ll show you the design in the morning,” I replied.
“You’re still running tomorrow morning?”
“Going to join me?” I asked as I picked up a colored pencil.
“Another rain check for now, ’kay?”
“Aye,” I replied.
“Night, Jen.” Krys closed the door as I sat down at my desk.
I couldn’t say life was falling apart when it really wasn’t. I couldn’t give Mum all of the blame—because she was right. Why should I care what he was doing or what the final judgment in their divorce was? But what kind of man separates himself entirely from his child? And what kind of judge allows for such a decision for that matter?
Sure, one could pack a trip to Timbuktu and never be heard from again but if something happened I’d like to think one’d be missed a little bit. With this, I wasn’t even allowed to mourn his death—theoretically, of course—let alone go to his funeral. I knew the Kane family had imploded but I had no idea it would ever get to this. Indeed, maybe she was trying to protect me from myself—as that I might, one day, actually find a reason in my mind, heart, or wretched guts, to go see him.
I really wanted to talk to Dr. London.
 

We drove to school mostly in silence. Krys tried to make light conversation but I had so much on my mind that all I could do was give out one word responses. I did apologize though and thanked her for caring about the situation.
“You’re welcome. Now, let’s not ruin your second day of school by acting like we want to murder everyone, okay?”
“Right.”
It had been threatening to rain that morning. I almost chose to not run but decided to do it anyway, as a little rain was not going to kill me. However, by the time we arrived at the school it was pretty much a torrential downpour. It was a good thing that my wardrobe was more down to Earth in style—green blouse with a red camisole, jeans, tennis shoes and a gold bracelet—as heels would have been terrible to run in.
Mrs. Myers took it upon herself to congratulate me on my change into a more appropriate style of dress that morning. I politely thanked her for the observation and fought back the urge to tell her that the next day I was going to wear something see-through, just to brass her off.
During the rest of the class, we were put into groups of four to go over the chapter review for a test. Our group had three people: Krys, Damon, and myself.
“Where are you from?” Damon asked as we situated our desks to be in more of a group setting.
“Montana,” I answered.
“So your parents must move around a bit?”
“A bit, yeah.”
Krys looked at him with a scowl, “Damon, let’s concentrate on the Ottoman Empire, okay?”
“Just thought I’d get to know people.”
“Damon, are you into politics?” I asked.
“Somewhat. I suppose….”
“Do you follow the news?”
“Yes.”
“Can you do me a favor?” I asked with a deliberate look in my eyes and a certain tone in my voice, which made him pay attention to my every word.
I hadn’t even told him what I wanted him to do when he responded with a hasty, “Yes.”
“Is it possible to look up the address of the people running for office?”
“Like their campaign headquarters or do you mean their home?”
“Campaign,” I didn’t think showing up at his home—even though I would have wanted to see it—would be a good idea.
“That’s easy to find out.”
“Thank you very much,” I replied with an aww, you’re so sweet voice.
“Can we get on with the Ottoman’s, please?” Krys pleaded—as she had her notebooks and textbook out before we even had our desks in position.
“Tell me again why you want to go see him? It won’t do you any good…oh wait, the closure thing again, right.”
We stood in front of the mirror in the restroom. Krys had the need to adjust something with her hair and I had followed her in. That and I had the only brush between the two of us.
“Aye,” I answered.
“You really think it’s going to close anything once you tell him?” Krys looked at me through the mirror.
“I’m not going to say a thing about it. I’ll introduce myself and ask a few questions…and say that it’s an assignment for a class or that I’m interested in American politics,” I replied. It was a start.
“And it looks like you have another admirer.”
“I noticed that. He’s sweet,” I said, which caused Krys to frown.
“Okay,” Krys replied with a hint of bitterness.
“What’s the issue?” I asked as she handed back my brush.
“Do you want every guy hitting on you?” she asked.
“I’m not trying to do anything but talk to people.”
“It’s not what you say, it’s more of your tone.” Krys pointed to her mouth.
“So you think I’m playing a tart when I speak to some people?”
“No, but you may be laying the lusty chick persona on a little thick.”
“Um, thank you…I’ll try to watch out for that.” A part of me felt insulted. The other part knew that Krys was still getting used to me. At least she was trying—I hoped—to.
“Do you ever get cramps?”
“Awkward question, but no, thank God.”
We parted ways until lunch, when I walked out the door to another building for my math class.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Matt appeared at my side and walked with me to the other building.
“That’s cute,” I replied with a smile, “Not highly original, but cute.”
“I try. Can you swim?” he asked.
“No, why?”
“Well, the rainy season of course. If it’s not snowing then you get deluged by a flash flood.”
“So I should bring some boots and a life jacket in my car, eh?”
“One always needs to be prepared,” he replied while holding three fingers up on his right hand.
“True.”
He continued walking with me into the building—which was a bit out of his way for his next class. The hallway was pretty much vacant; only the squish of our shoes echoed off the walls. However, it appeared that Matt was on a mission, so he broke the odd silence.
“Do you dance?” Matt appeared to be full of questions that morning.
“A little, why?”
“Busy for prom?”
“When is prom?” I had to wonder how many times we could answer our questions with another question.
“Five months from now.”
“You’re asking me to a dance that isn’t for another five months and you’ve only known me for two days?”
I turned to look at him—and I mean really look at him—mostly at his eyes.
“I mean, if you’re not busy….”
“I don’t know about going with you to prom…that’s a bit far off. However, I would like to take some time to get to know you.”
“You said you weren’t too busy Friday—”
“Were you planning on breaking a leg to get out of playing?”
The class bell rang out in the near empty hallway.
“How about afterward?”
“All way,” I replied as I tried to walk into the classroom.
“Is that a yes?”
“Aye, It means all right or okay. Best to get to class, both of us, eh?”
“All way, I mean, okay… Right. I’ll see you later, Jen.”
He turned to walk away but kept looking back toward me. I really hoped that he wasn’t going to flunk classes as he spent so much time pursuing me. I waved him on to run; he took and bolted out the door—back into the rain.
It rained the entire day, with a little thunder and lightning thrown in for good measure. I sat with Krys and Lindsey again at lunch as we went over the routines for Friday. Lindsey, once again, went over how she was going to go see James. Eventually. As soon as she got the resources to do so…and by resources I mean the gumption, bravery and a car...but she didn’t say it in that order.
“Do you have a recent picture of him?” Lindsey asked Krys.
“No, he hasn’t sent one since last Christmas.”
“And you haven’t spoken to him at all since then?”
“He’s been busy with school.” Krys replied with a shrug.
Lindsey shook her head in defeat. “I should move on then. I mean, I’m never going to see him again, he’s not going to come back here. Oh wait, maybe he will.”
“How so?” Krys asked as she took a quick glance at me. I turned my attention to Lindsey.
“Maybe he’s going to become some big designer in New York or LA.”
“Maybe Seattle?” Krys asked.
“Even better, then he’d still be close and he could fly over the Cascades in a private jet.”
A part of me actually liked Lindsey’s story of my life...the what if scenario. Lindsey kept the tale rolling with inclusions on how James would bring the nations together, stop global warming, and put an end to world hunger.
“You make him sound like a legend,” I said.
“Well, he could be one. If people weren’t such jerks to him...like Matt. Sorry, I know he likes you and all—”
I only nodded...I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Lindsey, I’ll try to call my aunt and see if she can get in touch with him.” Krys responded with a sigh.
“Really?”
“Yes, I can’t promise anything, but—”
“What if I wrote him a letter?” Lindsey asked.
“Yeah, sure, go for it. I’ll try to get it to him,” Krys replied as she glared at me.
After lunch, PE was relatively boring as we were forced to play basketball in the gym—never was a favorite for me. Chris made some small talk and also attempted to teach me how to shoot a three-pointer. We bantered back and forth and I was enjoying the camaraderie with him. It was such a long way off from when he would check me to the ground when I wasn’t looking. You’d have believed he was trying out to be a winger for the Spokane Chiefs by the successful throw downs—except we weren’t on ice and I never had a helmet.
In addition, it was in that very same gym that the old gang tried to throw me off the bleachers. Matt was the commander while Chris, Damon, and Tyler took the orders. I found myself dangling, by my ankles, about six feet from the floor. Matt then started counting down from five.
At first, I thought, okay, they’ll freak me out for five seconds and then pull me up. At the three count I was pretty sure that the freak out part was correct, but I would be mistaken if I assumed they were going to pull me back up. When two was called out, it was time to start thinking like a cat and how I was going to land after this. At one, my life flashed before my eyes and my hands went up—or down—in hopes I could land on them and do a handstand or something Krys had shown me from cheerleading. If all went well, I’d maybe sprain my arm.
I always wondered why the Hell guys like them never got in trouble, arrested, or had some older, upperclassman with a conscience beat the shite out of them for all of that.
Cheerleading practice occurred later on in the same gym. We were on one side with the football players on the other, most of them pretending to skip rope or run scrimmage. Mostly though, I think they were all staring at us. Krys and Lindsey started practice off with having us run laps around the perimeter of the gym—which was just fine for me. Afterward, we moved to counting off the steps for a new routine. I tried to keep track of the timing and steps, but I kept feeling like I was being watched.
Looking over to the other side I could see six eyes looking in our direction—Matt, Chris, and Damon, at least he looked like Damon, which made me wonder whatever happened to Tyler?
Krys filled in the gaps as we drove home.
“Well, from the official story, Tyler, Matt, and Chris went out driving around when they were involved in a wreck.”
“Did they—?”
“No, surprisingly, they weren’t at fault, the steering went out.” Krys stated—she was apparently well versed in Tracker folklore.
“Who was driving?”
“Matt.”
Joyriding?” I asked.
“No, just driving around when they struck a tree and Tyler was thrown out.”
It took me a moment to let all of that sink in. It took a few more for me to try and shake the guilty feelings of thinking the three of them were drinking or were drugged up or something as they sped down I-90 or something.
“Matt wouldn’t talk about it. Chris kind of changed too…and Damon, well I’ve never asked him about it…he doesn’t talk about it either.”
“When did this happen?”
“Last year.”
The thought that Matt would not be at fault was one thing. That he would feel remorse for a member of his troop was another. Perhaps the fact that I left had some sort of change on him. He didn’t have anyone to slam into the ground so maybe he went and placed that energy into something worthwhile? That was something to ponder, and at that time it was the best possible scenario.
Dinner was just the two of us as Aunt Lydia left a note on the counter that she switched shifts with another nurse in the Emergency Room department. We slummed it for the evening by pouring massive bowls of breakfast cereal and eating in the living room.
“Jen?” Krys asked while laying on the couch.
“Eh?” I had taken the loveseat on the other side of the room.
“What did you do?”
Krys had a heaping pile of frosted flakes.
“What do you mean?” I asked as I tried to avoid spilling even one bran flake on the upholstery.
“You didn’t tell me how you...lost it?”
“Not exactly a story I want to talk about,” I replied and then took a small bite. The cereal would be mush before I could eat a quarter of it.
“Surgery?”
“Oh, God, Aye.” I had scarring from my implants to go along with several lines to the groin and a small one on the corner of my right eye.
“But why? I mean, did you just one day just feel like a woman or something?”
“I think I’ve been all along. Just needed to correct a few issues,” I replied.
After dinner, I went to my room to work on a few of my designs. It took a few false starts and a lot of cursing under my breath before I was happy with it—a long form, blue dress with small accents. I only had a few small misgivings with it. Officially, it was a prom dress but I was not officially going as it was almost half a year away.
It would have been wise to dismiss Matt’s invitation as a form of flattery—or a way to get into my knickers. But, at least he was trying and wasn’t being crass or worse, digging his heel into my back.
My new cheer uniform sat on the side of my bed. I took a break from work to try it on. It was a multi-piece red and white outfit with a not-so-titillating design. It wouldn’t be something I’d make, but that was okay. And despite Krys’s objections to the contrary, it did indeed fit.
“Welcome to tonight’s game of your Ferris Saxons versus the University High School Wildcats!”
That Friday, for the first time ever, I stood on the sideline, looking toward the team at the first football game I ever went to. Actually, that’s half true. I had gone to one game and I was de-pants-ed…out in front of the home team section. Since I didn’t really care about football, and with Krystal being a part of the junior varsity cheer squad, I had no one to walk and talk with. It was best—and I use that term lightly—to stay at home.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please stand for our National Anthem, performed by the Ferris High School Marching Band.”
I stood with the others at attention as the band played. However, my eyes wandered to look toward the team, and toward Matt. Krys tried everything she could to get me to cancel the date as she thought it wasn’t a good idea. My purity—for lack of better words—may have been in jeopardy that evening though. I’d wait and see where the night would take us.
I was abruptly brought back to reality with the start of the game.
“Jen, the crowd’s this way!”
“Sorry.”
“C’mon hear the Saxons call!”
I spent almost two hours on my feet performing almost every single cheer we had in our repertoire. We clapped so much our hands were chapping and I really felt like I would need a bag of cough drops before the next morning—but it was worth it. I had survived being in front of everyone without tripping over my feet, forgetting a cheer, or falling out of step with the rest of the squad.
At the end of the game, we raced back to my car so we could make it home.
“Where are you going to go? Krys asked.
“I don’t know…he didn’t say,” I replied as I unlocked the door.
“Probably to the sub shop on Twenty-Ninth Avenue…if they’re still open.”
“Did he take you there?”
“Yes,” she responded with a slight bit of scorn.
“Did he make you pay for your own dinner or something?”
“No, it’s just that I expected a little more,” she replied.
“Roses or wildflowers handed to you with a subtle bow?” I asked.
“Yeah…but then I remembered who was taking me and… just as a warning to you, he likes the meatball marinara with lots of peppers.”
“Duly noted.”
Thirty minutes later I walked out the front door wearing my uniform design, but with the tie loosened a bit and with my hair a bit in disarray. I wasn’t slumming it but I wanted to see what his reaction would be if I didn’t glam myself up for the rest of the evening.
Matt’s car drove up a few moments later and he leaned over and opened the passenger side door.
“Have you been waiting long?” he asked.
“No,” I replied.
“Shall we?”
“We shall,” I replied as I stepped in and closed the door.
“Would I be too forward if I said you look nice?” he asked.
“No.”
“Well, you look nice.”
“Thank you,” I replied with a small grin.
“Where would you like to go? This is your limo….”
“Please, lead on, surprise me.”
We could have gone to McDonald’s, I wouldn’t have minded one bit.
“Well…I know this quaint establishment. They serve great Italian.”
“Andiamo a mangiare qualcosa.”
“That sounds very…European. Where are you from again?”
“Montana.”
True to Krys’ word, we ended up at a small sandwich shop. Matt attempted to make it the best that he could, allowing me to sit down as he ordered for us. I asked only for a large cup of water. He came back to the table with the water, a Coke and a medium-sized sandwich. I didn’t know his financial situation; I didn’t really care. We could have gone for a walk in the park downtown—well, during the day and without a baseball diamond in sight—and I would have been happy.
“You’re staying with Krystal?” he asked as he handed the cup of water to me.
“We kind of met some time ago and when I decided to come here, she invited me to stay.”
“I wished she would’ve mentioned you, but, she doesn’t really like me too much,” he replied as he invited me to take a half.
“Why?” I asked.
“She didn’t tell you?” I shook my head to his sandwich offering.
“Perhaps, but maybe you could tell me yourself?”
His guard dropped a little more. We had been alone for under thirty minutes total and I didn’t see any of the old Matt Tracker.
“I’m usually known as either a good guy or an asshole, depending on who you talk to. Not that I try to be one, I’ll admit it. Sometimes I’m a jerk. Isn’t everyone sometimes?” he asked as he picked up one of half of the sandwich.
“I think it’s in our nature, yes.”
“Yeah. Well, Krystal had this cousin, James. He used to go to Ferris and I knew him when he was in junior high and probably longer before that. He was kind of weird and—well, some people would’ve said he was gay or something.” He lowered the half back onto the plate.
“What did you think about him?”
“I didn’t. I didn’t really care about him in any way, he was just some kid and—”
The fact that I—I mean, James—had known Matt for a long time made it strange that he referred him as some kid.
“And what would you tell him now?”
“Dunno. I like to say that I’ve grown up...but guys never do,” he said with a shrug.
“Grow up, or mature?”
“You see, that’s what I like about you. You get it. You get what guys think. You must have a brother.”
“No, girls do stupid things too . Guys just don’t usually pay attention when we do.”
“Yeah….”
“So, you had no personal feelings about, James?” I asked before he took another bite.
“I didn’t care who he was. He was just there—an easy target and I was a stupid kid. What can I say? I was guilty of being a jerk to people who were smaller than me.”
I leaned forward and looked at him. He tried to avoid eye contact as he continued. “I don’t know. For all I know, he could maybe be six-foot three and could kick my ass—umm, rear—without effort. I wouldn’t put it past him and I’d probably let him do it. If I could say I was sorry, I would and I’d hope that he’d accept it.”
“You should tell that to Krystal.”
He shook his head. “She doesn’t want to hear a thing from me, especially things about her cousin. You ever meet him?”
“No, I can’t say I have. She’s talked to me about him…sad case.”
He gave me a slight smile.
“Are you going for a psychology career or something?”
“No, I just thought you’d want to talk.”
I was interested in hearing a different side of Matt Tracker
“I’d like to hear more about you. You’re the mystery girl.”
“Is that what I’m called?” I asked.
“No, that’s what I thought of you…well, one of the things I thought.”
“What was another?”
He nervously swallowed. “Another what?”
“Another thing you thought?”
“Well, after I solved the mystery of your name, I thought She’s cute…What’s she like?”
He then reached out for my hand; I let him take it, even though there was a subtle trace of marinara on his palm.
We spent a little while at the shop, not talking about anything really big. I told him how my parents liked to do their own things and how I preferred to live a quieter life, which is why I chose to stay with Krys. We talked about the things we wanted to do after high school. The employees had to escort us to the door at closing time and we continued talking in the lot.
“So, how’s your schedule for tomorrow?”
“Besides high tea with the queen of England?” I asked as we stood next to his car—the only one left by that time.
“Yes.”
“I’m going clothes shopping. I don’t suppose you’d like to come?”
He hesitated before responding. “Would you think bad of me if I said no?”
“No, I’d worry more if you wanted to come along.”
“I have the patience, I mean, I’ll wait outside the stores for you.”
I leaned in and patted him on the cheek.
“That’s quite the sacrifice. But I couldn’t make you go through that kind of trauma.”
“I don’t know…I think I’d go through a lot more to be with you.”
“But you are with me, right?” I took a few steps away and looked back to him.
“Yes, yes I am.”
He closed the gap, took my right hand, and turned me toward him.
“I’m going to say something that’s going to sound…old, like…I mean, I…I can’t….”
I moved my open hand to his face and placed two fingers on his lips. “Do you hear that?”
“What?” he asked.
“It’s the sound of the hopeless romantic who can’t speak his heart.”
“You’re right, I don’t know how to say—”
“Then don’t.” I replied as I moved to kiss him.
 

In the morning, I went on a longer run than usual in order to think about things…like, what the Hell was I doing with Matt? This was the guy who, if he could, would roll the dice of my life for absolutely no reason—if my name was James. That part of me that cowered behind the sofa was screaming at me that I was, once again, being an idiot. A beautiful, smart, and knowing what she wants kind of idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.
Could I actually like, love, or have respect for the same person who didn’t care about a little, declawed kitten who was backed into a corner and could only pretend that he was brave? Maybe I could…I mean I wanted to see my father, even though he would never know who I was unless I told him. If I could see how he acted to everyone else. Maybe he was an equal-opportunity jerk to the rest of the world as he was to his family…or former family as it seemed.
Should I invite him to my wedding, assuming that I could one day have one? Assuming that I reveal myself to him…or to anyone. But why would I have to? I wasn’t hiding anything. I wasn’t lying about my name, gender, or social security number. I had the court paperwork. Stacks and stacks of paperwork marked by five doctors, four lawyers, three sex specialists, Mum…and a partridge in a pear tree, so no one could ever say that I was guilty of subterfuge. Yeah, I could think that forever and a day and it still would not stop the rule of public opinion. In the eyes of everyone short of my present family, I would be some ugly thing hiding behind a pretty veneer. A potential Jerry Springer guest.
Doctor London had stated to me that it was better to live the truth than to live a lie...or something to that effect. I agreed with her, which was why I was going to do everything I could to be the person I wanted to be and not what I was. That being said, I knew who I used to be…so did Krys and…and I really wanted to let Lindsey know but what would she say or do? Would she accept me as a friend or would she freak out and wish me dead…or worse, would she still feel something for me? That would be a bit on the awkward side for everyone.
“You ready?” Krys asked as I walked in the door.
“For what?”
“Shopping, of course.” Krys was already dressed, primped and had her purse.
“It’s only eight-thirty.”
“Well, I thought we’d get a bit of my type of browsing done as well as yours. Designs or fabrics?”
“Bit of both. I have a few things I’m working on,” I said as I took off my running shoes.
“Prom dress?”
“How did you—”
“Saw your notebook.”
I nodded at that, as I’d had it out on the kitchen table so it wasn’t like it was a huge secret. We walked upstairs and Krys followed me into the bathroom.
“You didn’t tell me how your date went.”
“You were asleep. It wasn’t very eventful,” I replied as I took off my T-shirt.
“Where did you go?” Krys asked.
“Sandwich shop, like you said, and we talked a little bit after that.”
I continued getting undressed. Krys avoided any eye contact with me but she also didn’t even attempt to make a move to leave the room.
“Did he brag about himself?”
“No, not at all.”
“Did you ask him about James?”
“Aye,” I replied.
“What did he say?”
“It all made sense in a way. He didn’t think anything about James, except he was there and was an easy target.”
“And you accepted that?” she said and scoffed. “He’s lying and just telling you what he knows you want to hear.”
“How would he know if I knew James?” I asked as I stepped into the shower and closed the door.
“Okay, well he would say the things that he would think you’d want to hear.”
“You mean if he makes an arse of himself he’s not going to get very far?”
“Did you kiss him?”
“Aye,” I replied.
“What?”
“Small peck, as a thank-you for the evening.”
I didn’t dare state how many I wanted to give him.
“Why?”
I turned the water on—it was way too cold.
“Unlike this water, I didn’t want to be look like an ice princess to him. Besides, he was trying so hard to be a gentleman. Oh, yeah, he did indeed order the meatball sub.”
“I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
She left the bathroom and closed the door. Not the strangest conversation I ever had in the shower…but usually those were with myself.
“Can you drive a stick shift?” I asked as I sat in the passenger side of my car.
“Of course.”
I decided to let Krys drive my car for our trip downtown…only because she hinted several times that she could drive a manual transmission, no problem.
“No, seriously, can you drive it without throwing a spanner?”
“Throwing a what?”
“Grinding the gears?”
“Yes, I’m good. Seatbelts,” She started the engine and the car immediately died.
“Clutch, Krys...the other pedal.”
“I know. I got this. I got this.”
She applied the clutch and started the car again.
We made it to the block end before Krys ground the gears while trying to shift.
“Am I going to break your car?” she asked as he accelerated.
“Probably. So I hope you’ll help me buy a new one.”
My car was a dark red 1993 Plymouth Duster. I wanted to get an automatic but Grans was stern in getting a manual in case I ever hit a patch of ice on the road, so I could downshift and slow the car down. The engine would whine, like it did when Krys missed the shift pattern that morning.
“Can I write you a check?”
“Lots of zeroes, please.”
We drove downtown and parked in the garage at the River Park Square—a mall connected by skywalks over the city streets. Fortunately, Krys did not hit the wall going up the ramp to the parking area.
I brought my sketchbook with me as we walked into the shopping center. It had been over four years since the last time I came to the downtown mall due to one time being slammed against the wall by a gang of skateboarders. We stopped at Nordstroms’s and the Bon Marche’ before stopping to eat at a small bistro.
“You didn’t take many notes.”
I nodded as I laid the book on the table. “Nothing really interested me.”
Which was true. River Park Square’s stores were all pretty good but none of them had anything that impressed me.
“Come on, that skirt was cute.”
“Yeah, but I can make that without taking notes,” I replied as I took a small bite of a croissant.
“What about re-doing the cheerleader uniforms?”
Krys had ordered a loaded sandwich. I hated her metabolism.
“That’s a little expensive to do.”
“What about adding some touches to them?”
“Now that I’ve been thinking about,” I said as a group of men and women wearing suits and dress attire walked by. One of them held a “Team Kane” binder in their hand.
I got up from the table and followed the group. I had asked Damon to find out about the campaign, and here I was following some pawns—maybe back to their king. The group took an escalator to the ground floor and then walked through a door to the street level. I followed them down the block and onto the grounds of a political rally.
The street was littered signs plastered with my father’s face. It was like one of my most vicious nightmares had been plucked from my mind and given life. His grin was everywhere and, like the Joker, it appeared to be laughing at me with a suspiciously sadistic smile. I moved my way through the gathering crowd until I reached the front and found myself standing behind him. Dad was talking in low tones to a few people next to him: an older, bald man who kept handing him note cards and some other guy who fumbled through papers in a binder.
I wanted to reach out and grab his arm, or at least say something to him, but instead I held back as he walked forward and took the stage.
“Jen!” Krys called from within the crowd.
“I’m up here,” I replied without looking back.
“So much for Damon getting that address for you.”
“I’ll still ask him for it,” I said as my dad stood in front of the microphone.
“Thank you, Spokane. My name is Daniel Kane—”
My expression went from surprised to not impressed as he talked about why the people should send him to the capital.
“I am a family man. I have a wife and two daughters.”
“Two daughters?” I asked myself.
“And I, like you, want to make sure that the machine in D.C. works for the people and not as some politician’s money-making machine. I know what you’re thinking: but Danny—”
“Danny?” It has always been Dan or Daniel or his supreme greatness. Where did the grammar school moniker come from?
Then, from the side of the stage came a young woman and two little girls, about six years old. The three stood next to him and he picked one of the girls up.
“—how can we trust you?”
“Yeah, Danny…how can we trust you?” I asked under my breath.
“Our children and grandchildren are important. We can’t allow Washington to write blank checks and saddle the next generation with debt.”
The crowd applauded.
“I stand for family values—”
“I guess that answers that question,” Krys noted.
“Family is the most important thing to me.”
The girls looked about six…the woman looked to be about twenty-six, give or take. So, either they were being rented for the event, he adopted all three from their mother, or he was married to the woman on stage—or was at least living with her—at the same time as Mum. So, when I was about eleven he had two other children and this was what Mum tried to shield me from finding out. I wanted to storm the stage and tackle him. What was the worst thing that could happen? I’d get arrested—but at least it would make a pretty interesting article in the local paper, The Spokesman-Review.
We left the rally before it was over. I had heard all that I could stand from the man who was once my father. He had a replacement family. It was pretty much a done deal that he would not be invited to my wedding, child adoption, or even my funeral—assuming he outlived me—and if I had it my way, he would not have lived for thirty more seconds.
How could he say all of that with smile on his face? Joshing with the crowd? Saying the bond of the family was the strongest thing, and that government should have no say in how the family is. Indeed, because why should the government smash the hopes and dreams of children when their parents can do a bang-up job on their own?
Krys drove us home and the transmission was probably stripped by the time we reached the interstate but I didn’t care. I was mad…so stupid mad that if I saw my dad on the side of the road, injured and being attacked by a bear, I’d throw a few jars of honey at his feet and head, just for bloody good measure…after I struck him with the car, of course.
We arrived home to see another car in the driveway—my uncle’s.
“I guess Dad’s back from his business trip.”
I nodded. I thought I had at least another week before I had to go through explaining things to him. I sighed and tried to gain my composure.
We walked into the house and my uncle immediately looked at us from the living room.
“Krystal!” he yelled as he dropped his travel suitcase on the floor .
“Hi Dad. Welcome home.” She went over and hugged him.
“Thank you.”
He then looked at me.
“’Ello, Uncle Alan.”
“Jennifer.” He walked over and put his arms around me. “Glad to see you.”
“Thank you,” I replied as I hugged him back.
He let me go and took a step back. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you for letting me stay, Uncle Alan.”
“You’ve always been welcome,” he replied as he turned to Krystal. “Have you already involved her in everything?”
“Of course, Dad.” Krys said as she picked his suitcase up and carried it down the hall.”
“Let me guess, cheerleading?”
“Aye,” I replied.
“Accent sounds, Welsh, right?” Uncle Alan pointed his index finger above his head and closed his eyes, as if to pluck his words out of thin air. “Let’s see, a greeting. Uhhh, I hope you have a good day, Dydd da.”
“Diolch,” I replied.
“Thank you. Yes. I spent a few days with a man from Cardiff. Nice guy.” Uncle Alan clapped his hands together. “Lyd, I know it’s early, but, I am starving. Airline food is not fit for human consumption.”
A few minutes later we were eating an impromptu early dinner of soup, sandwiches, and some form of pasta.
“So, I hear Daniel’s campaign is picking up speed,” my uncle stated to the table.
“We saw the rally,” Krys chimed in.
“Did you hear anything that interested you?”
“We saw that he has a new family,” I answered, looking down at my food.
“Did he bring them on the stage?” Uncle Alan asked as I put my hands in my lap—in a desperate attempt to not slam them on the table.
“Yes,” Krys replied, “all three of them.”
“I’m not sure if that works, bringing the family on stage…especially if its—” He looked at me and stopped. “Sorry, Jennifer, I—”
“It looked fake to me. Like a soap opera,” I quipped, to the surprise of Krys.
“Exactly. Welcome to theatre of American politics. Doesn’t matter about your past or your present. It’s just what you can say to pacify the masses into voting for you again and again. I’m sorry. It’s not polite or proper to talk about people like that. Let me just finish by saying that I’m not going to vote for him.” For the first time in my life, I actually had a conversation with my Uncle.
Around six-thirty, Matt showed up at the door. I wasn’t too surprised. He knew where I lived, so I stepped outside to meet with him.
He took a step back as I walked onto the porch. It was like he was afraid.
“Hey, I don’t have your number and um—”
“You thought it best to make a personal appearance?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Matthew?” My uncle stepped out of the foyer.
“Umm, Mr. Laberdee,” Matt took another step back. “I was saying hello to Jennifer.”
I walked back to the house. My uncle’s expression—which was a bit south of pissed—was not lost on Matt.
“Would it be okay if we went walking?” I asked.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Around the block, just a small walk, there’s a little bit of light left. If that’s okay?”
“I would like you back in thirty minutes.”
“We will. Thank you.” I walked toward Matt and took his hand.
Krys stood behind her dad; she too had a look of disapproval on her face.
We held hands as we walked down the street to the park.
“How was your shopping trip?”
“Not eventful. Didn’t find anything that I liked on me.”
“Interesting that you say that,” he let go of my hand, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a kind of small, white box. “I actually went shopping too, and I got you something.”
He handed the box to me and I slowly opened it to reveal a pair of gold and amethyst earrings. They appeared Native American in fashion with loops and long amethyst rods.
“I can’t take this from you,” I replied as I handed the box back.
“Why not?” he held it out to me
“You’ve only known me for a week, you can’t buy things like this for me.” Even though they looked gorgeous.
“I think I’ve gotten to know you now, don’t you think?”
“Not all of me,” I replied as he picked one of the rings out of the box and motioned it towards my ear. I took the earring and proceeded to put it on. I then followed through with the other one.
“They’re beautiful,” he said. “Just like the rest of you.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you. I’m not good at relationships. I don’t really know what keeps them together. I don’t want to be distant but I don’t to come across as clingy either. I want to be truthful though.”
I nodded and looked at his face. He was very boyish, cute, as he tried to show a softer side. He rambled on for a few moments before I reached out and placed a finger on his lips.
“Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“That’s the true heart of Matthew Tracker, opening up from its enclosed space. Most likely for the very first time.”
He grinned at my little commentary. I removed my hand from his face. “I was waiting to see when it would come out and say hello.”
“I really like you.” He took no time in holding my left hand.
“Do you really?” I asked as I touched the earring in my right ear.
“Yes, I don’t know how to fake how I feel. I’m not Abraham Lincoln but I’m not good at hiding feelings when they want to break out and the one I have had for the past five days is that I absolutely adore you,” he said as he squeezed my palm.
“You said like…” I could think of a few other synonyms, if he needed any.
“I think I need to build it up to you, to show I’m serious.”
“How serious?” I asked as he looked at me in almost a trance-like state.
“You want the moon? I’ll give you the moon.”
I had to laugh at that. “Not the most original thing to say, but can I still hold you to it?”
“You can hold anything you want on me…as long as I’m holding onto you.”
I moved to hug him. I’m very sure why I did…there wasn’t a question in my mind. Maybe there should have been. The last time we were that close he had told me in very specific terms he would really kick my arse. I would never know the actual day, but he said it would happen.
I took his other hand; we were entwined and I looked to his face. The hands that once flicked my ears or shoved me to the ground were now holding mine without a glimmer of regret. I should have hated him. I should have spat in his face or even better, slammed him to the ground. I could’ve gotten away with it once. He probably would not have fought back. After all, he said I could take a shot. Then I could wail a bit on Damon and Chris and then stand at Tyler’s grave and spout out a bit of piss and vinegar toward him—or what was left of him. But, while I was pondering all of this Matt had let go of my hands and wrapped his around my back. I found myself doing the same. I couldn’t fight him if I wanted to. I gave into the emotion I had felt for a long time. I was always in love with Matt. I took a moment to give him a deep kiss before I stepped away from him.
“I think we should take it slow, I mean, yeah, I said I adore you and I do, it’s just that—”
“You’re right. We should.” I nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, but, how slow?” he asked with a look of bewilderment on his face. “I don’t want to smother you or push you away. I actually had something kind of prepared, but, then I got the earrings and I—”
“Let’s take it a bit at a time.”
“So, the earrings are a bit too much then?”
“Would you prefer to give them to me at a later time?” He reached out and touched the right-hand earring.
“No. Later for me would be ten minutes from now, so it’s best that you keep them on.”
“I will, for you,” I replied with a reassuring smile.
He started to say something but I stopped him with a kiss to the lips.
 

I woke up several times during the night. I sat up and looked out the window each time. There wasn’t anything out there, it was a quiet night. No storms but I continued to wake up every hour or so. The only reason I could come up with that I was dreaming of Matt—although I wasn’t sure if they were dreams or nightmares. I could tell him on Monday that I was thinking about him all night and I wouldn’t be lying.
I walked over to my desk, turned on the light, and sat down in front of my notebook. Could I make a dress for myself for prom? I had never been to a dance before. I didn’t even know how to dance. I’m sure Matt didn’t know either, but I was stacking all of my dreams on him and, maybe, I was losing myself in the process.
I wanted to take it slow with him but I wasn’t being very successful. I had a lot of faith in him that he could act like a gentleman...I just wasn’t sure I wanted him to.
The clock radio read 4:30 AM. I supposed it was time to head out on my run and clear my head. However, with every step I took, the random thoughts kept coming at me: How long could I keep Matt in the dark? Was he in the dark? Was my father just a bastard bigamist? Did I forget to put socks on that morning?
I arrived back at the house to see my uncle sitting at the kitchen table.
“Bore da,” he stated through the paper. “That is good morning, right?”
“Aye. How did you know—”
“No one else in this house gets up before seven on a Sunday morning.”
He lowered the paper to look at me; I didn’t feel very comfortable as I was all sweaty and ragged from my run.
“Well, again, good morning.”
“Thank you.”
He then raised the paper back up and I walked to the staircase.
Krys stood at the top of the staircase. “Did you know you snore?”
“No.”
“You do...like a wild boar.”
I suppose that was the real reason I kept waking up at night.
“Lindsey wants us to come by today, are you up for it?”
“Spending time with Lindsey? I’m fine with it.”
“I mean, do you have anything planned with Matt?”
“No.” Although I wished we had planned something, I never bothered to ask if he had any ideas after our beginners snogging session.
“We’re going to go over some new dance ideas.”
I nodded as I pointed to the bathroom door.
Krys nodded in reply and swiftly closed her bedroom door.
An hour later, I walked out of my room in jeans and my flannels, but with the earrings in my ears, and a backpack with a change of clothes. I joined the family for breakfast.
“What’s your agenda for today?” My uncle asked.
“Going to Lindsey’s,” Krys answered. “Working on some new routines.”
He nodded as he took a bite of bacon.
“Daniel’s rising in the polls.”
I feigned ignorance to what was said. I simply acted like the man meant nothing to me—just some twisted cheat of an American politician who would say whatever he wanted, and no one would bother to dig a little deeper to see what happened in his past. No one would look for the kid who was left in the rain after he told his little league coach, “Don’t worry, my dad’s coming for me”.
We drove a few miles up the street and passed the school on our way to Lindsey’s.
“I get the feeling that cheer practice may have to wait,” Krys sighed.
“Why? I asked as I saw Lindsey sitting in the front yard with a miserable look on her face.
“Let’s find out.”
We got out of the car as Lindsey got up and laid her head on the hood.
“Just run over me, please.”
“Come here, Lin,” Krys grabbed her hand and went to hug her. “What’s the issue?”
“I hate my life,” she mumbled into Krys’ arms.
“Who doesn’t?”
“No, I mean, I really hate it,” she whined. “I’m going to be alone for my senior year. Might as well go out and buy a few cats and start early.”
As much as I wanted to say something, I remained quiet as I followed Krys and Lindsey to the house.
The Nichols’ abode looked like an ode to the life of a hunter. The foyer had a stuffed squirrel on a shelf. The living room had more trophies on the wall than were animals at a petting zoo. Maybe it was a good thing that I never tried to ask Lindsey out—her father obviously had a few high-powered guns, so he could have killed me at any time and no one would’ve ever found my body.
Lindsey’s room was pretty much like Krys’—except with a lot more clutter. It made me feel like I owned nothing at all. Lindsey closed the door.
“Okay.” She took a deep breath.
I set my backpack on the floor and sat down on the bed next to Krys.
“Okay, you see...I feel like I’m being left behind.” Lindsey threw her hands in the air in frustration.
“How?”
“Look at me, Krys! I still look like I’m a freshman! You’d think in three years....”
“Think what? That in three years you’d become a completely different someone?” Krys glanced at me for a moment with a horrified look on her face. I simply shrugged at the comment. “I mean, you look fine.”
“Fine? That’s the one word I didn’t want to hear.”
“Lindsey,” Krys began, as she stood up and turned Lindsey towards a mirror. “Here’s your biggest critic, right there. Now, tell her the problem.”
“Well, some of us are not as smart, tall or endowed as others.”
The two of them looked at me through the mirror.
“What?”
Lindsey continued. “Maybe I should dye my hair.”
“Why?”
“Like you said—to be different, Krystal…to be different.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be you?” I asked.
“And look where that’s gotten me.” She turned around and stood in front of me. “Can I be like you?”
“You don’t want to be like me,” I replied.
“Well, at least the hair color, how about that?”
“Ummm, okay.” It didn’t matter if we disagreed.
“I bought some hair dye and….” Lindsey picked a plastic bag off the floor as I looked over at Krys.
She took a small box and handed it to me.
“It’s a deep red and I think that James—”
“Lindsey, is this all about James?’
“Well no, I mean, if he happens to show up…I mean. It’s just that I thought all that time…he was just…too shy and maybe…maybe if I had tried harder—”
I wasn’t sure if she had tried too hard or not enough. During that time, I was too depressed about the world and life in general to notice . She could have worn a swimsuit made of seashells and dental floss and I probably would have never batted an eye—even if I wanted to. Anyway, the issue was to get her out of the emotional grave she was hurriedly digging herself into.
“Lindsey, boys are stupid,” I said as passed the box to Krys and put my arm on Lindsey’s shoulder.
“Yeah, they are.”
“More often than not, they’re thinking with the wrong head and if not, then they’re not thinking at all. Don’t let them control what you want to be. Forget about the bachgen.”
“The what?” she asked.
“The guy, boy…umm…James, right?” Her eyes looked like she still was on the verge of tears.
“Yeah.”
How could we ever break it to her that he was never coming back? “I’ve never met him…but he’s in the past and I think you can do better, eh?”
I patted her shoulders, turned around, and nearly collapsed in a heap. Krys turned to Lindsey.
“Let’s get started.”
Lindsey’s hair went from a mousy brown to a dark red that afternoon. It looked like the Lindsey I knew had gone away, at least in an emotional sense it seemed. Out with the bubbly, questioning girl with the toothy grin and in with a serious young woman—who tried to hide said grin.
Lindsey then had us work with her to go through just about every stitch of clothing she owned.
Too kiddie.
Too junior high-ish.
Too preppy.
Too cute. Apparently, the cute factor was low on her totem pole.
“I should have done this last year. Look at this.” She held up a poodle skirt that I never saw her wear before. It did look cute…and because of that, it was promptly thrown into a large black trash bag.
“I’m going to have to buy some new clothes.”
“Or wear your cheer uniform more often.”
Lindsey looked back at the mirror several times.
“This looks great!” she said with a slight squeal and the grin—there was the Lindsey we all knew! “Okay, time to move on and get on with my life. Come tomorrow, I am going to be a new person. I’m going to go out, meet people…maybe find that right guy.”
“Your life does not revolve around finding the right guy, Lindsey,” Krys stated as she tied up one of the bags.
“I know, but it can’t hurt. What do I do?”
“I suppose, being yourself is out of the question?” Krys asked.
Lindsey jumped in place a few times. “Who’s up for cheer practice?”
We stayed at Lindsey’s house well into the evening hours—just about to the point that I was ready to fall asleep as I got behind the wheel of my car.
“We created a monster,” Krys stated as Lindsey waved at us from the porch.
We both waved back to her as I started the engine.
“Maybe she can be used as a force for good?”
“Nope. She is going to walk into school tomorrow in something that is either going to send her grandmother to an early grave or have every guy staring at her. Both is more like it.”
“Isn’t that what she wanted?” I asked as I looked behind me for cross traffic.
“Yeah, but-but this is Lindsey.”
“I think she’ll be okay.” I thought it went okay. We didn’t spill hair dye everywhere, the house didn’t explode, and—a bonus—no one was killed.
“I just think this is going to end badly.”
“Badly as in....” I turned the car onto the street and shifted it into first gear.
“She never kissed Chris.”
“And one doesn’t have to have a physical relationship with someone to enjoy their company.”
“Really?” Krys asked with a glare. “So can you forego doing anything whatsoever with Matt?”
“If I wanted to.”
“Would he accept that?”
“I think he would. I can’t speak for—” No, he probably wouldn’t, but I really didn’t want to tell her.
“And that’s the problem.”
I clenched my hands around the wheel and fought the urge to floor the accelerator to get home—I was that tired.
“Think about it Jen,” she continued. “She still has Hello Kitty underwear. Let’s take a five-year-old, stick him in a doctor’s office, and tell him he’s old enough—he’s experienced enough to crack someone’s chest open and rearrange some organs.”
“She could be a social prodigy—the butterfly that breaks from the cocoon and takes flight.”
“Only problem with that metaphor, Jen, is that you’re not supposed to help the butterfly.”
“What’s the plan then?” I asked as I turned onto our street.
“We’re Lindsey-sitting. I’ll take first shift.”
I nodded as I pulled the car into the driveway.
Aunt Lydia met us at the front door with a cordless phone in her hand. “Jen?”
“Yes?”
“Tell Matt to stop calling every hour, on the half hour.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll—”
And, the phone rang.
“It’s for you,” she stated as she looked at the display on the phone.
I took the phone upstairs to my room and closed the door.
“I think I called one time too many.” Matt’s voice sounded almost timid, like a wounded puppy.
“We’ll have to coordinate the time.”
“How was your day?” he asked with sincerity.
“Thank you for asking. Umm, we were over with Lindsey working on some cheers and, you know, the boring things girls talk about. I was thinking about you though.”
“Great minds think alike.” And there he was, trying to be witty—so desperately cute.
“Quite.”
“So what are you doing now? Besides talking to me?” I looked at my desk—it was stacked with textbooks and several spiral-ring binders.
“Feeling tired…but still working on a dress.” I also had three pages of Trig and a chapter on The Ottoman Empire that I had ignored all weekend.
“For what?” he asked.
“Prom, of course. You asked me to go.” Did he really think I’d say no?
“All right, or should I say all way?”
“Either way you like,” I replied with a laugh as I opened my math book.
“I love that accent...and the rest of you too.”
“You’re sweet.”
“Thank you. I feel different with you. I can be myself”
I quietly closed the book. Cosines could wait. “It’s a good side to you.”
“Can I meet you in the morning at school?”
I wanted to tell him he could meet me right then, anywhere he wanted me. “I’ll see you.”
“Good night, Jen.”
“Nos da.”
“What does that mean?” Matt asked.
“Sorry, it means good night.”
“Nos da,” he attempted to say it, but failed miserably.
“Keep at it. I have another one for you to try though.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“Dw i’n dy garu di.”
“Gesundheit.”
 

My morning run that day never happened, at least not in a physical manner. I had several dreams that I ran all over the city, the country, maybe a bit of the world. I wasn’t avoiding anything. No boogieman or demonic figure was chasing me down—and by that, yes, I meant my dad. I was moving toward something, but I never saw what it was.
I decided to wear a long blue dress that day, as I wanted to match the color in the earrings. I could’ve taken them off—but I refused to, even the day before when they were striking against my ear and the side of my face. Except for when I took a shower, they remained on.
I had to read The Canterbury Tales as part of my homeschool curriculum so I researched the styles of the time and came up with a dress that was almost floor length, albeit a few inches to spare for shoes, which were going to be flats. I still—for the life of me—cannot find pumps that fit my feet or allow me to not topple over like a pissed clown . that maybe, just maybe, Mrs. Myer’s would faint at the sight of it. We drove to school and no sooner had we walked into the building we met up with Lindsey—or at least someone who sounded like Lindsey—but didn’t look like her. The new girl was quite beautiful, as was her fashion taste. Different enough to take the Mrs. Myers Dress Code Abomination of the Day Award away from me.
“How are you?” I asked.
“It’s going good. I like it...and that’s all that really matters.” Lindsey wore what could be considered a medieval princess gown. No sequins or loud sparkles, just blood red and it too ran to the floor. I was sure it was not in her closet the day before.
“Anhygoel, umm, fantastic” I replied as Krys adjusted one of Lindsey’s earrings.
“I mean, I feel different, and that’s good. Like I get to be a different someone, but it’s me, you know?”
Damon walked up next to us, his eyes darted back and forth. “Is the drama department performing Holy Grail?” he asked no one in particular.
“Damon, ’ello.”
Damon reached into his back pocket. “I got those addresses you wanted.”
“All of them?”
“Yeah, it was a little hard to get the one for Kane, but I found his campaign office is located on Riverside…he lives in a large house on the North Side, near Windermere.” He handed a piece of notebook paper to me.
“Thank you,” I replied.
“I’ll see you in class.” Damon took a short glance at Lindsey before running down the hall.
“Thank you very much.”
Damon came through. He had written down the address and phone number to my dad’s campaign office, along with the other candidates…and their personal homes. Overkill? Maybe. I only needed one particular address, but if I said I only needed that one it would be a bit too suspicious. There was also another number at the bottom of the page, all by its lonesome. Most likely it was Damon’s phone number.
“He looked cute,” Lindsey whispered.
“That’s Damon Mercer and I thought you hated cute.” I folded the note to make a crease.
“Cute clothes. Guys, that’s something else. What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing, so you should talk to him. Here.” I ripped the section off and gave it to Lindsey.
“It’s a little early for Valentine’s Day, Cupid,” Krys mused as we stopped at her locker.
“Couldn’t hurt,” I replied.
“Should I call him?” Lindsey asked as she stared at the page.
“Go for it. But be prepared for him to not know what to say at first.”
“Did Matt know what to say?”
I had a few thoughts to share but I glanced to see Matt appear from the side hall.
So I broke away from Lindsey and Krys and walked over to meet him.
“Good morning,” I said as we shared a short hug.
“Oh, you’re speaking English to me?”
I didn’t want to let him go. “Dw i’n dy garu di.”
“Yeah…you still have to write that one down for me”
“I will,” I replied as I took his hand and lead him back to Krys and Lindsey. Matt attempted to avoid looking at Lindsey but didn’t succeed. Lindsey noticed and her cheeks immediately flushed a bright red. I could tell Krys noticed as well but played it off that she didn’t.
“Lindsey, right?” Matt asked. “Are you two doing a report on the Middle Ages?”
“Yes, I mean, no. No, it’s something I put together.”
He squeaked out his reply. “You look, you look...you look nice.”
Of course, I would have to feel a bit jealous if he continued to shower her with compliments, which he did not as he turned his attention to me.
“And you look, beautiful. May I walk you to class?”
“Thank you and you may,” I replied as we turned around and walked ahead of Krys and Lindsey.
The four of us looked rather unique. Lindsey and myself appeared like we were going to a Renaissance Fair, while Krys and Matt were dressed for…well, school.
“I’ll see you later,” I replied to Matt as he handed over my books.
“You shall,” he replied as he gave me a quick hug. I moved in and gave him a short kiss.
Krys moved past us and into the room.
“See you at lunch, Lindsey?”
“Yes, I may be a little late, I—”
I nodded to her, waved to Matt and then stepped into the room as I didn’t want to get run over by everyone trying to enter.
“I see you got him trained,” Krys stated as I sat down at my desk.
“I’ve been giving him a few pointers.”
“Did you ever think we’d see the day?”
“No,” I said with a slight laugh, which was ironic because everything he did in the past was as funny as being impaled through the spot between eyes by a rusty knife covered in Tabasco sauce.
Matt’s biggest adventure that didn’t include me up to that time revolved around stealing three cars and driving them to different locations on the north side of Spokane. He then took a cycle, rode through downtown and onto Sprague Avenue where he tore down the streets at a frightening speed before pulling the bike into the parking lot of the University Mall and leaving it parked in a space as he went inside.
Mrs. Myers shuffled to her desk. As she took her time to sit down, her eyes loomed over the classroom, possibly thinking, “What will Miss Ryan surprise me with today?” Our eyes met for a brief moment and I looked down at my desk. Mrs. Myers made a sound, something like a hmmpf just as the bell rang.
I walked with Matt to my second period class. I was pretty sure that he could be a gentleman, as I said…but, could I really be a lady about it? The issue gnawed at me. When would I tell him? Did I really have to? Could we live our lives together so unbalanced, secrets-wise? I had all the cards—I knew just about everything about him and he knew next to nothing about me unless I told him. Of course I had to tell him; it wouldn’t be fair to leave him in the dark, and if he ever found out through some surreptitious method then it would either crush him and he would attempt to crush me.
We said our short goodbyes in the hallway and he turned back down the hall.
“Matthew!”
“Yeah?”
“Dw i’n dy garu di .”
He then took a few steps back toward me.
“About that, exactly what does it mean?”
“I’ll tell you once you’re able to say it correctly.”
“It may remain an unsolved mystery. Can you drop me a hint?”
“You’ll figure it out,” I replied and ducked into the room.
I sat with Krys at lunch; Matt’s homeroom was at a different time, so we could never enjoy it together—well, for maybe two minutes during the switch, but, alas.
“That crazy, eh?” “Would you be satisfied if I said we both bonkers?” I asked.
“Slightly.” Krys held her thumb and first finger close together as a visual on how this close I was to being committed.
“Fine, we’re both bonkers, mental….”
“Would you like a thesaurus?”
“He’s unique.” I piped up, for no reason at all.
“There are over five hundred guys here, and all of them are unique—some even more so.”
Two could play that game. “I don’t you see you vying for any of their attention.”
“My tastes are a bit different.”
“You mean older?” Krys—for the longest time—thought high school boys were immature. In a way, she was right, but she wasn’t exactly a grown up herself.
“Maybe.”
There was a lull in our conversation, one that was usually filled in by Lindsey. “Where is Lindsey?”
I looked across the lunchroom and saw her sitting with three guys I did not recognize. “We threw her to the wolves.”
“I think she can handle it.”
“We should go over—”
“Feel free. I’ll watch from here.”
I got up, brushed my hair back from my face, and walked toward Lindsey’s table.
The three guys were all attentive to her, even as she repeated a like or um for the sixth time.
“’Ello, Lindsey.” The table turned toward me.
“Hey, Jen. Guys, this is one of my best friends, Jennifer.” I was kind of thrilled to be elevated to best friend status and I smiled at the group.
“Are you the British chick?” one of the guys asked, clearly the smartest one in the group.
“Welsh, you were this close.”
“Sit, sit down,” Lindsey waved at me to sit across from her and to the left of Mr. Geography.
The three guys turned their attention to me for a moment until Lindsey spoke.
“Well, we were talking about how there is never enough time to talk to people at school. We have like three minutes to get, uh, from one class to the other and when in class we’re all told to, like, sit down and shut up. How else can we get to know everybody in such a large school?”
If I hadn’t known better, I’d think Lindsey was drunk...on some form of medication or hypnotized by watching some news show on PBS. She was talking social commentary. She was making good points, but with entirely the wrong audience as they were staring at her chest and not looking at her face.
“You should have run for student council,” I stated as Lindsey glanced at one of the guys.
“A little late for that.”
“Maybe, but you could bring it up so it could be considered at the next meeting.”
“Hey, are you with Matt Tracker?” the one to Lindsey’s right asked. The one on her left side continued to stare at her chest.
“Aye,” I replied.
“Why?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I didn’t get defensive or pissy. I really wanted to hear his thoughts.
“Because he’s crazy,” stated the good Dr. Phil.
“Off his chain,” said Mr. Geography.
“Raced a stolen car and killed someone,” mentioned Señior Cleavage, as he went from looking at Lindsey’s to mine.
“Really? Well, thank you for looking out for me.” I stated as I looked across the room in my attempt to avoid eye contact. “Okay, well, Lindsey, Krys had me come over to ask you something....but you know, I can’t recall what it was, so, if you gentlemen would please excuse us?”
“Okay,” she replied as we both looked at Krys, who was reading a book. “See you guys.”
We walked a few feet away before I put my arm on her shoulder and whispered. “You should avoid the wolves...especially the ones with only a quarter of a brain amongst the three of them.”
“But they were so nice.”
“Yes, nice and dumb.”
Lindsey spent the remaining time during lunch rehashing all of the compliments she had received as well as gushing over how she wanted to borrow my dress.
“I’ll make you one,” I volunteered.
“And Krys too?”
“Sure, if she’ll want to wear it.” We both looked to Krys and awaited her reply.
She dog-eared the page in her book. “If it’s okay with two of you, I’ll pass. I don’t want to feel like I’m at a Robin Hood audition.”
Lindsey continuously looked over her shoulder, as if searching for someone.
“Who is it?” Krys asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re looking back so much you’re going to get whiplash. Who are you looking for?”
“Damon,” she replied, with a full-toothed grin.
“Why…because you think he’s cute?”
“Well, yeah, he is.”
“Do you remember what he did to James?”
Lindsey stopped looking and turned back to Krys, as did I.
“He did a lot of things, of course, with Matt.”
Lindsey looked at me, as if to see what I was going to do about what she said. Would I defend or defame?
“People change,” I stated.
“Yes, they do,” Krys replied with slight tension in her voice.
“As much as I would want to not talk to Damon…I mean, Chris did some things too…I remember the bleacher thing but if I let the dumb things they did in the past get in the way…then, well, I don’t want to think what they could fire back at me.”
Krys glared at me while Lindsey spoke. I wasn’t sure what her problem was but I knew to not bring it up at that time. Krys’ ability to move from hot to cold was kind of a legend in the family. She was more like my mum than I was—something I never told her, because she would explode in a rage and deny it. The time to talk about it would be during cheer practice, where she could do the least amount of facial contortions, lest she stopped being cheery.
However, I never made it to cheer practice that afternoon. Matt found me in the hallway, placed a finger to his lips in a shush motion as he took my hand and lead me out the front doors and to the parking lot. We walked to his car and I stopped to look back at the school…I thought I was back at the library in Missoula.
He unlocked the door and I took that as my cue to get in and throw my books into the backseat.
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace pretty cool…at least I think you’ll like it. I’d have given you a blindfold but that makes this look even more like a kidnapping.” He started the engine and quickly pulled out into the street.
“You look like you enjoy nature,” Matt stated as he accelerated the car.
“I do.”
I must have said something wonderful because he gave this bright, beaming smile I had never seen coming from him in my entire life. “Like flowers and rivers?”
“Very tranquil.” Unlike the drive, as Matt veered across lanes and took multiple short cuts.
“Then, my dear Jennifer, you will love this.”
Four minutes later, we had arrived on the lower side of the South Hill—Manito Park.
I stepped out of the car and looked ahead at the trees and the landscaping. It was October but there was still wondrous color in the park’s tree lined garden—the displays of reds and yellows were simply amazing.
“Shall we?” he asked.
“Aye. Of all the places to skip school and go to.”
“I know, right? We could fly all over Spokane and raise Hell or make a trip out west to Seattle and be back in the morning.”
“And instead we’re here. It’s beautiful.”
“So are you,” he replied as he took my hands.
“Dw i’n dy garu di.”
“I have not had enough time to find out what that means yet. Can I have that hint now?”
“Maybe,” I teased as we walked up the steps and into the inner garden.
“Dw i’n hapus iawn!”
“Can you at least tell me what that means?”
I ran up to a lone horse chestnut tree and stood beneath its golden leaves.
“It means I’m very happy. What about you?”
I walked back to him and took his hands.
“It doesn’t really matter what I think—” he replied.
“Shhh. Do you hear that?”
“What?”
“Listen….”
Matt moved his head in an attempt to hear whatever it was.
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Because you shouldn’t be talking,” I whispered.
We moved closer together and looked into each other’s eyes. I was staring into his pupils—not in fear or in pain—in complete and total devotion.
“I have a few other things to show you,” he said as he stepped away, still holding onto my hand. “Come on.”
I nodded as we walked through the grounds and the vista changed with every step. We passed by what would be a rose garden in a few months and I thought how wonderful it was going to be to see them in full bloom with the two of us taking a wanderlust waltzing through that wonderland. The garden was a long section of the park with a path leading to a stone cut fountain in the center. The grass was a light green, which contrasted with the dark colors of the fir trees that boarded the perimeter.
I looked at him every few seconds with a beaming grin on my face and it got brighter as we approached a secluded area with a pond and a Japanese-style wooden bridge spanned over it.
“This is so beautiful.” The multi-colors of the leaves—shades of pink, red, and purple danced around in the slight breeze. “I always wanted to get married in a place like this. Maybe to someone like you.”
“You’re definitely thinking farther off than prom, eh?” I asked as we stepped onto the bridge and walked to the middle.
“I used to never think ahead…just lived for the day, no matter what happened…to me or to others.”
“Others?” I asked as he looked down at the water.
“I had a friend named Tyler. Good guy, you probably would have thought he was kind of funny, well, I did at least.”
We stood at the center of the bridge and looked out over the water. I swear I saw a fish.
“He…he died…and I think I may have had something to do with it.”
I turned my attention back to him “How would you have anything to do to with it?”
“I could have been a bit more of a friend. I didn’t listen when he asked for help.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He had this...this friend...” he stammered for a moment. “Well, more than a friend, named Alex. We all thought he meant Alexis, because, because that’s what he called her...but one day...Alexis...really, Alex, was beaten down. Kind of torn apart by some worthless assholes...sorry.”
I took his hand and tried to look at his eyes, but he had them closed.
“They left him in a ditch to die...Tyler tried to help him...but they slammed him down a few times. Ty, well, he was a big guy and smart in a fight so...so they weren’t able to pummel him...but they hurt him. I killed him though.” His eyes teared up.
“How did you kill him?”
“I told him I wouldn’t help him with his revenge...as pissed as I was at what happened, I wasn’t going to do that.” Matt sniffled a few times but kept his composure. “He yelled at me...told me what he thought of me, said I was no different than those guys and I had the memory of a gnat if I couldn’t remember all the crap I used to do to James and then not help him. He said...he said he’d take care of it himself.”
I looked to the deck of the bridge with a knot in my chest; yet another secret to add to my morbid collection.
“Alex died a few hours later...Tyler...didn’t take it well. We were all in the car with him, Damon and Chris. The last thing he said was, I don’t blame you, man...I don’t blame any of you. Thanks for trying. And after that, he floored it and-and we ran into a tree. Ty died...and I-I took the blame for it—or at least I made sure no one would find out how it really happened. I couldn’t let his parents know why he did it. If I told his parents that he killed himself over the death of his boyfriend, his mom would have had a heart attack and his dad would have knocked me on my ass for saying it.”
I put my arms around him. “You didn’t kill him, Matthew. You were his friend.”
“You’re the first person I’ve told that to,” he replied as he crossed his hands over mine.
“Thank you for telling me.”
“I think I ruined the mood.”
“No, you just proved you have a heart,” I said as I patted the center of his chest.
“Thanks...so...are you going to tell me what that means?”
“What what means?”
“The phrase I could never say if your life depended on it.”
“I don’t know about that. Give it a try,” I replied as I took a step back and rocked on my heels.
“Dw i’n dy garu di,” he stated, much to my shock.
“Excellent.”
“Don’t ask me to try again. It’s not like Spanish. Sorry, breaking the mood again.”
I walked back to him and took his hands.
“I’ve never had anyone pay attention to me as much as you .”
“Someone like you?” he asked.
“It’s hard for me to talk to people.” I replied as I looked to the ground.
“You can share anything you want with me. I’ll understand.”
Oh, how I really wanted to believe. “I can’t hold you to that.”
I looked at his eyes and I had to step away…and I then took another step away and then, I ran.
“Jen?”
I ran from the bridge and back to the rose garden. If I wanted to, I could run all the way home but I stopped. There was no way to delay the inevitable. I could hold onto that one, special moment—a mental snapshot that would stay forever…but, I had to give my life to him.
“Jen!”
Matt caught up with me and I turned to face him with tears streaming down my face.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” He held onto me with a deep hug.
“I have to tell you—something. But I—”
“You have a boyfriend back home?”
“No. And if I did, he could never compare to you.” He repeatedly tried to pull me closer to him as I tried to push him away but it was so hard to do so. Not because he was forcing me, it was due to my inability to want to make him move away.
“So if that’s not the problem, then—”
“We’ve met before.” I closed my eyes and every muscle in my body tensed up.
“What’s wrong? So we met before…although I don’t remember you.”
“Actually, you do remember me.” I took that moment to move out of his amorous, emotional embrace and stood a few feet away. Matt looked at me with a quizzical expression on his puppy dog-like face. “If we’re to make this work, we need to be honest with each other. Aye?”
“Yeah, honesty is important, but—” he stated as he took a step toward me and I took a step back.
“But nothing. I’m about to tell you something that will either bring us closer or you’ll never want to talk to me the same again.”
He sighed. “Okay, tell me.”
“You used to humiliate me and you pretty much helped to make sure that my life was completely miserable. You were very successful at the time.”
“So, what was your name, Gertrude?”
“James Kane.”
He shifted his eyes and stifled a small laugh. “Is this some sort of revenge plot that Krystal put you up to?”
“If only it were that simple,” I replied.
“I know you’re like, smart and all, but don’t you think this is kind of an over-the-top way to show it?”
“Stop being a pussy, Kane. That was your popular missive.”
He put his hand on his forehead. “But you have…you’re….”
“Reconstructive surgery, there’s a longer story behind that, but, Matt—”
“James Kane?” he asked with a bit of disdain to his voice.
“Aye,” I answered.
“But now, you’re not?”
“I’d want to think I never was. Does knowing change anything?”
“Yes, it changes things a Hell of a lot.” He clenched his fist; I wanted to believe it was just a stress reaction.
“I know it’s a huge step—”
When Matt’s hand lashed out and struck the side of my face, it hurt, but not as much as the pain I was seeing in his expression.
“Matthew, please I—”
He struck me again and this time he put a lot more force into it. I fell to the ground in front of him.
“James, James Kane? The James Kane? You’re still a pussy.”
“Please don’t say that.”
“I can’t believe I fell for this. How long did you have this planned?”
“I didn’t plan anything,” I answered as I slowly stood back up.
“So, so, so you leave Ferris go to Montana and go all Rocky Horror and you come back to do some sort of perverted test?”
“No. Anything bu—”
Matt then lunged and tore the earring from my left ear. The pain was immense and I screamed out. Matt then walloped me across the face.
“That’s for tricking me with this, this...shit!”
I cupped my bleeding ear in my hands but kept my eyes on Matt.
“I don’t know what to call you. James? Jen? Transsexual homo?” He threw the earring to ground.
“Matt—”
“Well, James, I said I’d give you a chance to hit me. You asked me what I’d do if I saw you again.”
“I don’t want to fight you,” I cried.
He then reached and ripped the other earring out. I had a stream of blood on both sides of my face and fell to my knees in pain.
“This is just sick.”
“I didn’t want to tell you, but you opened your heart about Tyler and I wanted to be truthful with you. No secrets.”
Matt turned and walked away.
I started to get up when he swung around and threw me back to the ground.
“Why the Hell did you pick me?”
“Because I love you.”
“That’s bullshit!” he screamed as he threw the other earring to the ground.
I calmly looked into his eyes as he continued. “Why tell me now? You could’ve had more fun playing with me.”
“It’s not a game, Matthew. I had to tell you. I wanted to tell you the first day I came back, but I didn’t know how you felt about me.” The pain in my chest was greater than the pain in my ears.
“I feel nothing for you. Don’t you say a word to anybody. Don’t you say one damn word about anything!
“If that’s what you want.” He refused to look me in the eyes.
“Freak!” He stormed away.
It took a few minutes before I tried to get up. Matt had left me. I picked up the damaged earrings he threw to the ground—the crystals were shattered and the metal star pattern that made up the body was twisted and bent, kind of like how I felt.
I like to think I heard him crying somewhere…but I couldn’t hear a thing through my own tears.
 

The truth hurts. We’re always told to be up front with others: don’t play with anyone’s mind or heart, honesty is the best policy, give a little bit of heart and soul and all that, eh?
Mum could leave out a few small, relatively speaking, details and feel she didn’t do anything wrong. Dad could just flat out deny things—and people—existed and everything’s still bomb. Not a care in the world. I never inherited those genes. A part of me always wondered if I was adopted. Either that, or someone held a gun to their heads and forced them to copulate.
But I had held secrets too. Not that I was afraid of them; it was just no one really needed to know—or maybe they needed know certain bits of information. If only I could have compartmentalized those thoughts. Tell this, but not that; let him on to this, but not that; and to maybe, just maybe wait for that “right one” before delving into major snogging. And maybe the wait requires receiving a wallop or two to the body to clear one’s head—or to at least see what you’re up against.
I didn’t want to have it end like this—to walk five-miles up the South Hill in silent, shameful sadness. My ears ached and as much as I wanted to scream out in pain and cry all the way home, I couldn’t do it. I also felt the excruciating painful fact that I had to admit to Krys it happened. The wrenching feeling that the plan I had did not work out the way I wanted.
I walked into the house without a word.
“Jen?” Krys called from upstairs.
I closed my eyes…I had two choices: try to walk past her and say nothing or tell her everything. She walked halfway down the steps, unintentionally blocking my pathway to the sanctuary of my room.
“Where did you go? I had to walk home and—”
“Don’t want to talk about it, Krys,” I replied as I slipped past her and climbed the stairs to my room.
“Oh my God. What happened?”
“Not talking about it,” I replied as I closed my door. Not that it stopped her as she simply walked in anyway and her sights instantly zoomed in on my ears and face, and the fact that my clothes screamed out that I had been in some kind of fight.
Bloody hell, I was a strong-willed woman. I wanted to be so strong I didn’t need a shoulder to cry on…but my resolve crumbled.
“I told him, Krys. I told him, and….”
I leaned on Krystal and just let it all out. I cried. More than I ever had before. The tears just wouldn’t stop.
“You told him who you were?”
“Aye.”
“Did he hit you?”
“Aye,” I sobbed into Krys’ shoulder.
“Did you hit him back?”
“No.” I had to smile a bit at that.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.”
Why did I tell him? Did I think it would all end in sugar and rainbows?
I stepped in front of my mirror. Puffiness. My face looked like Hell, and my ears looked like Hell’s dogs had gotten a new chew toy. Just as well—it was time to just face the facts.
“I was completely honest with him and I deserved what I got.”
“No, you look at me. You did not deserve it. We need to call the police.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “No. No, it’s over. It’s better for all this way.”
“What?”
“Relationships end—”
“And that doesn’t worry you?”
“It terrifies me,” I replied as I set the earrings on my desk and took off my dress, “but I don’t think he’ll say a thing about it.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m putting too much faith in him, eh?”
“Yeah, just a bit,” Krys said as she attempted to touch my ears. I shied away from her hand.
I sighed in defeat. “I have to though. I don’t have any other options.”
“Why?”
“I just do,” I replied as I sat on the edge of the bed. “Killing him would cause too much of a panic.”
I had come across as such a strong-willed person and here I was completely gutted and almost back to the status of James.
“Are you going to be alright?” she asked as I took out a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from my dresser and then sat back down on the edge of the bed.
“Peachy...may take a bit.”
“You should throw those away.”
“Not yet...it’s too early.”
She moved forward and forced me to stand up.
“Let me know if you want to talk more.”
“Thank you.”
She gave me a large hug, and I will admit I felt a little better. The hole in my heart wasn’t growing any larger at that point. Sure, it was real huge—one could drive a truck through it, but it could heal over time. Krys left the room, closing the door as she walked out. I picked my dress up. It was ripped and tattered, particularly at the knees.
“Damn.”
I threw the dress on the desk and then walked over to my dresser. What was supposed to be a wonderful start to a real relationship had crashed. I wanted to think of it as a kind of a false start—and perhaps there would be a chance to do it over.
“Give yourself time, Jen,” I whispered, “and him too.”
I got dressed and tried my best to hide the damage to my ears by covering them with medical tape and using my hair, but Aunt Lydia saw through the ruse, and she wasn’t too pleased.
“He ripped them out?”
“Aye.”
“Both of them?” She asked, clearly seeing the cuts.
“Aye.” I replied as she took a penlight out of a kitchen drawer.
“Whatever we do, it’s going to hurt…” Aunt Lydia continued to prod and poke at my ears until she brought out a medical kit.
“I know, if I don’t do anything they’ll get infected—”
“I was referring to Matthew.”
The injury didn’t warrant a visit to the emergency room, but she was determined to do something about it. She applied several types of ointment…all of them blazingly hot and stinging . She also spat out several things she wanted to do to Matt and all of them, like the ointments, were unpleasant, blazingly hot, and stinging.
Aunt Lydia drove us to the high school to retrieve my car after dinner Krys drove home as I had left my backpack—along with my license—at the school.
“When you didn’t show up for practice I thought you had gone off and eloped or something.”
“Really? And I thought I was moving too fast,” I said as Krys shifted gears and stalled the car.
“Yeah, or at the least thought he took you out on an afternoon ditch.” She tried to start the car and it immediately died.
“He did, we went to the park. Very beautiful. Put it back into first, and use the clutch, Krys.”
“Riverfront?” She asked as the car roared back to life.
“No, Manito. We walked all over the park, near the fountain…and a small bridge over a pond.”
“And then the punching started?” The engine revved loudly.
“A slap or two and that,” I replied.
“And...he just left you there?”
“Yeah, yeah…he did that too.”
“I’m going to tell him off tomorrow. You know I will.”
“Please don’t.”
“You have got to be kidding me!
“It won’t do you or me any favors. Ignore him…I’m sure he’ll attempt to ignore you. I’m not going in the morning. I just can’t yet.”
“I thought you might say that,” Krys replied as we pulled into the driveway.
“Could you maybe see if he at least dropped off my books?”
“Okay.”
I spent the rest of the evening in my room attempting to repair the dress. At the time, I was sure I would never wear it again, but I wasn’t going to throw it out or use it for scraps. Perhaps I should’ve bronzed it to remember the day or placed it in a mirror frame and hung it on the wall.
If I had wanted to, I could have taken Matt down, or at least allow him to sing high tenor in the school chorus. I could have also not said a flipping word. And let it all continue on with him blindly never knowing the truth.
The side of my face was still tender and I had marks on my chest and legs. Tragically, I couldn’t say “Yeah, but look what I did to the other guy” because Matt would not have a scratch on him and no one would bother to look at his slashed heart—no one thinks that way. I stood in front of the window, looked out at the dark sky, and tried to think of pleasant memories. My talks with Grans, my first earrings, meeting Mike, feeling what I felt for Matt. Life was not going to be a cakewalk and I couldn’t simply remove him from my mind and call it a day. I went back to my desk and opened the sketchbook, which wasn’t the best thing to do as I turned it to a new prom dress design.
There it was. A green and white, German-inspired short dress, complete with ruffles and billowy sleeves. I had it all planned out, but had not bought the materials for it. I couldn’t destroy the design, but I couldn’t finish it either. It was designed for one person to see—and if he didn’t want to see me, there was no sense in continuing.
I closed the book and sprawled out on my bed. Why did I feel like I did? It was one part depression, two-parts acceptance, and a whooping share of confusion. I wanted this to work out. I wanted it to happen like it should have—the carriage, the mice turning into horses and coachmen; my mother and father working in the dungeon with their eyes poked out….
Or maybe I could find a way to bring them together. Could it happen even with the younger model wife that he had on the side? That still gnawed at me—the man was as bitter as wormwood with a temperament that screamed piss off. I had to wonder what she actually saw in him. Was she a tart? An innocent bystander? Was she in on the whole thing? Wipe the slate off, Danny Boy and everything will be ours!
The let’s get them back together plan would never work—in any way, shape or form. I doubt they could even tolerate seeing each other’s picture. The only way they could possibly be in the same room with each other would require them to be dead, and I would have to be in a coma to be able to live with them once again.
I had his home and office address, so why not take a small trip out to the north side of town? It was too late to drive around a strange neighborhood, and Krys would never want to go with me.
I skipped my morning run the following day. I wanted to skip the entire day, actually. Just sleep it all away, but I couldn’t do it. For one, it would be lazy of me; two, I wasn’t good at just doing nothing; and three, Krys had taken my car to school that morning and I feared it would not return in one piece.
The house was empty when I walked down the stairs, wearing nothing but a large shirt—didn’t really care who or what saw me. Well, I cared a little. There was a bit of freedom in being there by myself—a calmness that was never in my parents’ old house or when I stepped into Mum’s path at Grans’. No, I was kind of free to let my mind go—very Zen-ish.
I walked back up the stairs and grabbed the note that Damon had given to me the day before listing the-man-who-helped-give-me-life-but-for-some-reason-hated-me’s campaign headquarters. It was eight-thirty; maybe someone was there. I still find it strange that I was able to call his office without feeling afraid. I had always felt like I was doing something wrong if I tried to talk to him at all—like the time I was sick at school and Mum was not available.
“Hello?”
“Dad?”
“What’s wrong?” He replied, in what was actually half a question. The other half understood as “Why are you calling me to bitch and complain about it?”
“I’m sick at school.”
“Call your mother. I’m very busy.”
What were the odds he would personally answer?
I dialed the number to his campaign office and a woman with a chirpy voice answered.
“Thank you for calling the campaign office of Daniel Kane. This is Abbie, how can I help you?”
“Thank you, Abbie, my name is Jennifer Ryan and I’m writing a report for school on the American system of government on the state level. Would there be a possible way to snag in a few minutes of candidate Kane’s time to ask a question or two?”
“One moment please.”
“Thank you.”
The hold music came on the line. I was hoping that maybe he would talk to me because I sounded foreign, and maybe because there was a budding scholar out there that was reaching out to him to learn the ways of how American government worked. The sad part about that was people working at that office and the thousands of potential voters out there knew only Dan, good ol’ Danny Boy…and not the jerk that was my dad…excuse me, my former dad as he had family two-point-oh now.
“Miss Ryan?” Abbie came back on the line.
“Aye?” I asked. Abbie’s tone of voice was still cheerful, so I hoped she had good news for me.
“Mr. Kane has an opening for tomorrow at two o’clock.”
“Excellent. Thank you very much. I will try to take as little time away from his schedule.”
“Do you have a contact number?”
“Yes,” I replied and confidently gave her the house phone number. I figured he would not be the one to call me back if an issue came up and I doubted Abbie knew of anybody with the last name of Laberdee.
My uncle never got along with him They were always on opposite sides of a room at any given time. Uncle Alan referred to him as being stubborn as Hell and the one time he said that in front of me, he tried to apologize for it. I simply shrugged. I wasn’t going to say I agreed with him, because I couldn’t. I would have had to say he was as stubborn as Satan’s flaming, blind and fat donkey from Hell.
But, I would be repeating myself.
It started at my uncle and aunt’s wedding when Dad decided he absolutely hated the location of the wedding—which was at a small church. They wanted a simple wedding and he said it was stupid and they should go all-out on the happiest day of their lives. The logic was lost on me too, as this was a man who would make me recycle my tennis shoes for years until someone bought me another pair from the kindness of their heart.
I would spend a lot of time at Krys’ house or at the park down the road rather than be at the halfway house—I mean, home. I thought very little of it at first—that’s just how families were, and one goes on their merry Kindergarten way. However, I grew older, and saw how the rest of the world is and I hoped one of them would be there to wipe away the tears when I fell or to say they loved me. I never heard that from my parents. I had never heard it from anyone who I felt said it sincerely. Sure, I’d get a Valentine from someone in elementary school that said I love you…but it was a Participation Valentine. A thanks for coming to school on February 14th, here’s a card with an empty message. Try not to chip your teeth on the candy, eh?
I met Lindsey in ninth grade through Krys and I really wanted to talk to her more than simply agreeing with her and listening to their conversations. She would walk home with us sometimes and then, since Krys’ house was first on the way back from Ferris, they would say bye to me and go on in. I would stand on the sidewalk, not really wondering why they wouldn’t invite me in—I knew why. They would talk about things they thought wouldn’t have interested me: guys, clothes, what to do with oneself after high school, and if Johnny Depp would still be a hot actor in fifteen years.
I tried to not think about Lindsey too much as the thought of her with me was depressing. I didn’t have anything to offer her, and she could see on a daily basis how popular I was at school with everyone. A school of over 1300 students and teachers, and I didn’t register in anyone eyes except for Krys and Lindsey. I guess I could say I was the lucky one.
Of course, as much as I thought about Lindsey, I thought more about wanting to be like her—outgoing and not afraid of diving into strange situations, no matter how insane they appeared to be. Maybe I never had actual feelings for her—just a girl crush, I suppose. Hard to say, and I never talked to Doctor London about it as she would have probably declared me insane or at least in need of several bouts of intense psychotherapy.
I remember taking one of my designs off the machine, standing with it in front of the mirror, and thinking This would look good on me if I adjust the color and, well, adjust myself. I had to hide what I felt because I wasn’t exactly sure what it was at that time. I spent so much of my freshman year confused on what to do and trying to avoid Matt and the quasi-stooges three everything just fell to pieces.
But in Missoula it was all new. No one knew me. No one had ever heard of James, so I could simply flip that switch and yell goodbye. The irony that I had to be pummeled by my former boyfriend was not lost on me, but I like to think of it like a phoenix rising from the ashes. A red-hair with black streaks phoenix with quite the body.
I could have come in on my first day and taken charge as the foreign chick, and started my own clique who embraced strange clothing styles and would guarantee Mrs. Myers a heart attack every other period. I didn’t choose that path though. I just wanted to be me—an honest self and try to not sit back and try to stay invisible. I still could, providing Matt would keep his end of the bargain.
“If you say one damn word about anything!”
“If that’s what you want.”
I didn’t want to say that to him. I didn’t want him to say all of that. The hitting I could deal with—it was the words. Why did I tell him I loved him before I told him about everything? He told me everything about him, so in that light I thought it best to be honest.
If only to get rid of the memories.
Krys came home that afternoon with Lindsey in tow, at least that’s what she said when she walked into the house.
“Lindsey’s in the car. Everything cool?” she replied and then tossed my keys to me.
“That depends. Do you want me to lie or tell the truth?”
“Well, she’s here to work on some science homework with me and—”
I threw my head back and took a deep breath before I answered. “As long as we don’t talk about Matthew.”
“I just said you were sick. She’ll ask about him, won’t she?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Are you still going out with him?” Krys walked back to the door and waved her hands in a come on motion.
“Wow, I’m going to have to write a novel just to cover this afternoon, eh?” I replied as I picked up a coffee mug from off the end table.
“Well, you don’t have to mention anything. Not like that’s the first thing she’ll ask about.”
“I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I’ll have to face the inevitable tomorrow. Might as well get a head start.”
Lindsey walked in a few seconds later.
“Jen, are you decent?”
“I’m fine,” I replied—I had since gotten dressed—as she raced toward me with an expression that looked like I must have appeared dead. I admit, I hadn’t done anything with my face or hair since the previous day.
“What happened to your ears?” she asked as she peered at the bandages.
“Allergies to nickel plating.”
“And sick too? Did you get food poisoning on your afternoon date?”
“No, no nothing like that. We just went to the park.” I should have asked Krys about the extent of my sickness. I mean, was the student body raising money to buy me a new kidney?
“He took you to the park? Like, was it his idea?”
“I helped with it,” I replied with a shrug.
“How can I get Damon to do what I want him to do?”
“Lindsey, biology. Chapter test. Study?” Krys motioned toward the stairs.
Lindsey took the hint and I followed behind both of them to the dining room.
They took out their schoolwork and Krys handed over my books—they were left at the office by a party unknown. I skimmed through them, seeing no defacements, no out of the ordinary underlines or highlights, no notes. I was kind of disappointed he had not placed an apology or some form of communication. I guess no was going to be the final answer.
“Hey, Jen?” Lindsey asked, snapping me from my thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“I have a question that I have been wanting to ask you since the first day of practice but—it’s a little personal.”
“Okay,” I replied as I stood in the door.
“Don’t get mad….” she began as she took her school work and laid it out on the table.
“I can’t until you ask.”
Lindsey pointed at me. “Are they real?”
“Are what real?”
“Your boobs, Jen,” Krys stated while staring at her notes. I, for one, was surprised that anyone would wonder, let alone ask.
“Yeah, are they?” And to think I worried if she noticed my eyes were more a shade of green than blue—I’d left my contacts out.
“No.”
Lindsey’s jaw dropped. “Really?”
“No, they’re not…but—”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. Just curious.”
“Okay,” I replied, not really sure where this discussion was going.
“How much does that cost and does it hurt?” So much for not asking….
“A lot and like Hell.”
“Oh, I guess they’ll have to knock me out,” she answered.
I went into kitchen to place the coffee cup in the sink, glad that this interrogation had ended.
“Do you have any tattoos?”
“Lindsey!” Krys screeched—more because of the sound of shattering porcelain from the dropped mug.
“What? I said I was going to make some big changes.”
“Yeah, but—” Krys began.
“What made you do it, Jen?”
It was almost like being on the witness stand.
“Lack of hormones. It’s a genetic thing,” I called from the kitchen as I grabbed a broom.
“Oh. So it was medically necessary?”
“Not exact—” Would Lindsey understand if I just said I’d like to plead the fifth?
“But you wanted to?” Lindsey walked into the kitchen and helped to pick up the pieces of my cup while she unknowingly chipped away at me.
“Yeah, I—”
“See, Krys?”
“Nope,” Krys replied and she never looked up from her papers. Most likely, she was trying to stifle a grin and laughter about the genetics comment.
 

My Wednesday morning run felt like the re-reading of the last few pages of a horror novel, or more to the point, I kept re-living Monday over and over; thought about what would happen two hours later. Was it to be a day of blue skies, unicorns, and cotton candy or one of pent-up anger, confusion, and possible humiliation that would come to an agonizing apex? The thought that this would be my last day of school at Ferris was heavy, and on my way back I stopped in front of the old house.
“Shouldn’t have said anything. Everything would still be....”
There I was, contemplating could’ve, should’ve, would’ve once again. I had never felt this out of sorts. One would assume I would have had similar thoughts about the surgeries, pain, and drugs I had to go through each day. One would think that if I had no fears during the time my genitalia was flipped six ways to Sunday, everything afterward was a cakewalk.
I decided to dress a bit more conservative that morning, to give Mrs. Myers a break from thinking up more phrases for that is not acceptable. I had to wonder if she wore a skirt with several petticoats, a corset, and an impossible hat on her head when she went to school. Either that, or she wore less than I did, was considered the tart of the town, and was trying to redeem herself by taking it all out on me.
Krys stood at the front door as I walked down the steps.
“Whoa, who is this?” Krys exclaimed with her hands on her cheeks in an Oh my! expression
“I know what you’re doing.”
“No, seriously, who are you?” It was apparent she had a heaping bowl of sarcasm that morning,
“Okay, Krys.” I almost wanted to tell her she had to walk to school.
“Dead girl walking.”
“Point made,” I replied.
“Can I have your car?”
“Yeah, because I’m going to have to ask you to help move a body.”
“Matt’s?” she asked and threw on her jacket.
“Not sure yet,” I replied as we walked out of the house. “What’s the school policy on bringing a baseball bat and possibly hitting someone?”
“Suspension...but fingernails are not on the list.”
I nodded as we got into the car. I fastened my seatbelt but didn’t turn the key. I just sat there.
“Jen?”
“I’m fine,” I replied as I took out my keys.
“Doubt that.”
“Okay. I’m afraid. Don’t want to be.” I contemplated staying at home for the umpteenth time.
“We could skip.”
“Lindsey would be lost if we... I’ll drop you off and I’ll just go—” I could have just let her drive to school again, since it came back with without any noticeable scratches.
“Go where?”
“Bonkers?” I replied as I finally jammed the key into the ignition.
“A little late for that.”
Yeah, it was a little late for that, so I started the car.
“If Matt comes up to you, what are you going to do?”
Run away? Run him over? Run into his arms? I had no idea what would happen if we saw one another. “I’d like to say we could talk—set up sides we don’t cross and life goes on.”
“I told you to ignore him from the start,” she replied with told ya so intonation.
“I know.”
We arrived at the high school and I sat in the car and looked straight ahead, not wanting to face the inevitable. This was so much not like missing a test or fearing rejection. I had never missed a test and I had gone through rejection all of my life by one person or another
“You coming?”
“Yeah,” I replied.
Ferris High School looked like a frightful, foreboding fortress of despair. All I needed to see were the guards standing at the gates. Krys grabbed my hand to prevent me from shuffling my feet to the front door.
“Snap out of it. You said that he’s not going to do anything, so—”
“That’s wishful thinking.” I wanted to pull my hand away, not to walk in on my own power but to not go in at all.
“You have yet to prove me wrong.”
The front doors were devoid of Matt, or any of his underlings. I entered unscathed—but this was Matt. He could have something planted in my locker, or classroom. I wouldn’t put it past him to go to my car, hotwire it, and somehow drive it to the center of the track field—adorned with various terms of endearment. I almost stopped to go back to the parking lot.
The hallway had a heavy feel to it, like it was haunted and filled with a doomed spirit—not me, but another sort of specter. Krys still held onto my hand as she led me on.
“If I let go of your hand, are you going to actually go to class?”
“Aye,” I replied as I opened my locker with a bit of caution. Maybe there would be something in there. Not a bomb, but some form of slander or perhaps a dead rat or a severed horse head.
“He is not going to booby-trap your locker.”
“Maybe…” I said as I closed my eyes and opened the door.
“Boom!” Krys yelled. “See, nothing.”
And, true to form, only my other books. No nasty surprises…for the moment.
“I’ll see you in class,” Krys said as she walked away.
I placed my books and backpack in and picked up what I needed for first period.
I closed the door and walked by myself down the hall. I felt alone even though there were over 1299 other students and teachers around me.
“Hey, Jennifer.”
I turned around and thought, This is it. Here it comes… as Chris walked in step with me.
“You doing good?”
“Aye, thank you.” I gave the best “happy look” I could.
“You sure?” he asked with an actual look of concern on his face.
“Just a little sick. Thanks”
“Think you could race me today?”
“Is that a challenge, Chris?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I think you’ll win, but, yes, it is.”
“Can I think about it?” I asked as Krys walked up to the other side of me.
“Sure, I’ll see you later then?”
Chris took notice of her and stepped back. He was apparently caught off-guard before he could say anything else.
“Maybe, thank you.”
Chris waved and walked the other way.
“Looks like someone’s noticed you’re not attached,” Krys whispered.
I smelled a conspiracy. Matt would use Chris to gauge my mood—to see if I was distraught. Then, if I weren’t agitated enough, he would have Chris check on me again during PE. They would notice my confidence growing and he would lay down the coup de grace by the time cheerleading practice came around...and holy crap...I was becoming like Mum!
First period started quietly. Mrs. Myers droned on about topics I could not reason with. I turned to the side to glance at Damon. He was busy taking notes. It took guts to come up to Lindsey. I mean, by following my past experiences. I never walked up anybody. I was afraid of what they would say. I couldn’t even ask one of them to help me with studying for fear they would think there was something more to the question. For some reason, they would think if I asked, “What was the date of the Boston Massacre?”, it was obviously code for, “Would you like to get a café mocha with me sometime?” I was pretty sure any girl I asked out would flatly refuse me anyway—and why not? James was a loser and everyone knew that. Everyone but Lindsey, apparently.
I wasn’t interested in Damon. Don’t get me wrong, he was a fine, upstanding guy—now—but I only knew how he used to be. Sure, we could be in a study group, and yeah, I’d talk to him in the hall, but I couldn’t start a relationship with him…because of how my track record was going up to that point, for starters…and Lindsey was with him.
I had nothing against Chris either, but I also had nothing for him except our little chats during free play in P.E. He was the kind of guy who I might have turned into if I hadn’t slit my wrists earlier in life or decided it was time to change plans or maybe he would still be holding me over a toilet bowl in the locker room.
“Where’s Matt?”
Lindsey would have to be the one to ask—with Damon at her side on top of that.
“You’re not…with him?” Damon asked.
“It’s a work-in-progress,” Krys answered.
“It’s none of my business, sorry,” Damon responded.
“Thank you.” I replied. I had to admire his manners. It appeared Damon Mercer had indeed grown up to be a quasi-gentleman in his own right.
My eyes caught the form of someone I wanted to meet and avoid for the day. Matthew. He didn’t look back and continued walking down the hall.
“Excuse me.”
“Jen, where are you going?” Krys moved to grab my arm but I slipped through.
“Sorry, but if I don’t find out one way or another, my days will be ruined.”
I shoved my way through the masses but I had to admit defeat—I had no idea where he went, or if I had imagined seeing him in the crowd like Where’s Waldo I reached the main hall and I couldn’t find him. It was funny he knew my schedule; he had taken the time to know just about everything about me and I knew so little about him.
I left the main hall to go to my Trig class. If only I could get bogged down in equations and clear my head—but I couldn’t, as it was too easy compared to the massive story problem that had become my life. I kept going back and forth about looking for him or not—and how if I had just said nothing, everything would be—
“If I truly love you, I need to be honest with you. Aye?”
“Yeah, honesty is important, but—”
A lie.
I sat with Krys and Lindsay I didn’t bring anything with me, as I was sure I wouldn’t be hungry. Fortunately, Krys had packed an extra salad—just in case.
“Sorry to hear about you and Matt.”
“What have you heard?” I asked Lindsey.
“Nothing, but he hasn’t been with you all day. He didn’t come to school yesterday either.”
“We’re working on a few things,” I replied as Krys handed over a rectangular-shaped box and a fork.
“Krys said that too when she went out with him.”
“Lindsey!” Krys hissed as she looked at me.
“You didn’t tell her? I’m sorry, I—”
“I know about it. Krys just doesn’t like to talk about that week of heavenly bliss,” Lindsey said as I opened the box and took a bite out from a large leaf of romaine lettuce.
“It was not blissful. It was confusing, aggravating and—and it was nothing. Like studying poetry.”
“I love poetry,” Lindsey replied.
“But it doesn’t work in the real world,” Krys argued.
“It can show how people feel.”
“They could just come out and say it.” Krys stabbed at her salad with such force the table shook.
“Yes, yes they could,” I replied.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Krys replied as she finally captured an elusive radish chunk.
I nodded as Lindsey looked between the two of us.
“I’m a little confused,” Lindsey said.
“So am I,” I replied as I put my head down. Krys patted my head.
“Does Matt write poetry?” Lindsey asked.
“No,” I replied.
“Sooo….”
I brought my head up with a sudden jolt. “I need to go and talk to him.”
“Jen, just let him come to you.”
“I can’t do that…I—”
“Yes, you can. You both said you need time to think.”
“Is this about sex?” Lindsey asked.
“If only,” I replied.
I skipped my fifth period class—wish I had told Chris—in an attempt to find Matt before I left for the man formally known as Dad’s office. It wasn’t too hard, as the halls were not heavily patrolled and I casually played the role of a student walking the hall. Since I wasn’t with someone else or standing around idle, no one ever asked me what I was doing in the hallway during class.
The blood rushed to my ears and my face as I thought through the possible scenarios—and they were all bad. I couldn’t see a good ending coming my way, but there had to be some type of ending—whether it was a constant barrage of shite each day until graduation or being ignored which was just as bad to me as the first option. It just had to come to an end.
I walked out of the sciences wing and into the quad area and ran into Matt. It only took a few seconds for me to feel like I had made yet another big mistake. He looked at me and then past me. It was like he was set to finish what he started on Monday and, I ran back into the building, out the other door, and into the parking lot. If he called out for me, I didn’t hear it through the heavy drum of my heart beating in my ears.
“I’m here to see Mr. Kane, please, I’m his two-clock appointment.”
The receptionist’s desk sat in the middle of what might have been an upscale shop or eatery within the River Park Square Mall. Now, the space was made up of glass walls and conference rooms. It didn’t have the appearance of boiler room politics, but he was always for keeping up appearances.
“I will let him know you’re here.”
She picked up the desk phone and made the call as I looked around the room. He had a lot of staffers and they were all running back and forth like bees dancing for the queen—or something like that.
“He will see you now, follow me, please.”
We walked through the hive as the workers bent and moved around us until we reached a set of double doors, in the one room that was not a fishbowl.
“Mr. Kane?”
“Yes, Abbie?”
He sat at a rather large desk with every note, paperclip, and pen in its proper place. There were ideas for campaign posters, signs on the wall, and a rather short—if I were into stereotyping—mafioso-looking man standing to the far side next to an office chair. His handler? No, more like a campaign manager. His expression was dour. Either he didn’t like me or someone was in need of more fiber in his gut.
“Miss Jennifer Ryan.”
“Thank you, Abbie. Please, come in.”
Abbie closed the door as she left and I was once again in the realm of a condescending parental figure.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Kane.”
His grip was firm, in a I’d shake the talons of a convocation of eagles if they’ll vote for me manner.
“Are you looking to start in politics?”
“No, I’m more into business, small start-ups,” I said as sat in a set of chairs in front of his desk.
“College?”
“High School,” I replied. Either Abbie failed to tell him the reason I was there or he had forgotten.
“It’s great to see that drive in a young person. How can I help you?”
“I just have a few questions, if you don’t mind.” I actually had questions, but failed to write any down. I had to rely on my brain to recall the softball questions I had planned to ask before dropping the bomb.
He looked at the man in the corner who nodded before he answered. “Yes, ask away.”
“Why did leave your family?” Unfortunately, my heart spoke first
“Excuse me?” he asked as he leaned over the top of his desk.
“Your son and first wife. If that’s too personal, let me ask a different question. Were you ever going to tell him that he had half-sisters?” Not exactly subtle, but after all, I was winging it.
The campaign manager now stood less than two feet away from me. For an old guy, he was quite stealthy.
“Who are you?”
“Interesting that you ask that question, Dad.”
Dad put up two fingers to stop him. He took a step back.
For the first time that I knew of, my father was at a loss of words.
“What’s wrong, not going to yell? Not going to put me down? Does that go against Danny Kane’s family values tour?”
“James?”
It was like he had to remember what my name was.
“James, what are you doing here?” he asked as he stared at me. He was actually looking at me. I had his full attention for the first time since I accidentally scratched the car with my bicycle.
“Hmm, just like Mum. You two are so much alike. I used to think that it was just you keeping secrets. Now, you both do.”
“James,” he stated again, he just couldn’t let it go.
“Jennifer.”
“Officially?”
“In more ways than I think you would want your prospective voter base to know,” I replied.
He looked to the handler in the corner, both of them pondered what to do with me.
“James....”
“Jennifer.”
“What do you want?”
There it was. The stern jaw, the uncaring gaze, and the unwillingness to answer my questions. He was back in form once again.
Damn.
“I don’t know, Mr. Kane. You’ve never asked me for my opinion before. You never asked me how I felt.” I stepped away from the desk and to the window before continuing. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you write me out of your life?” I demanded the answer, damnit.
“Your mother.”
“Convenient scapegoat,” I replied with my back turned to him.
“Your mother was difficult to live with.”
“How would you know,” I shot right back. “You were never home. Oh wait, you were at your new home.”
“You were difficult to live with.”
I turned back to face him, to maybe see his resolve fade, to see some form of an apology but he merely straightened his tie and adjusted his suit—as if I were no longer there.
“Sorry that we didn’t meet your expectations. What are their names?”
“Whose?”
“Your daughters. The ones who meet your criteria. Have you batted them around a bit yet?”
He looked to the old guy—whose face was so red I thought what little hair he had left was going to start burning. They both turned their attention back to me.
“What’s with the accent?”’
I walked to the other side of the room with my arms flailing away in frustration.
“Way to distract from the question! You’ll do so well in Olympia.”
“Jennifer?”
I turned to face him; he was now a few feet away from me. The feelings of wanting to tear him limb from limb were in direct conflict with wanting to throw myself at him and cry.
“Yes?”
“You need to leave.”
The campaign manager picked up the phone on the desk.
“Or what, you’ll call the police? That will make for an interesting front page of the Review, eh? How will they write the headline? Family Friendly Candidate was married to two women at the same time? Or maybe I can tell them about myself? I’m very sure the DNA test will be all they need. Sure, all of our lives will be screwed, but you know what? I think I could turn around from it. How about you?”
“Emily and Erica. Their names are Emily and Erica.”
“And they don’t know anything about me?”
He shook his head.
I took a step toward him.
“I have nothing more to say to you except that I will never forgive you and I hope you go to your death knowing that. Father!”
I slapped him across the face, knowing full well that he wouldn’t touch me for a multitude of reasons. He only stared at me with a face that was a cross of sheer shock and anger. True to my word, I walked out of his office without a sound.
I said nothing to all of the worker ants either, although I guess I didn’t need to, they would think of their own answers as to why my facial expression went from pissed to tears in less than fifteen seconds.
I drove back to Ferris to continue classes and for cheer practice. The still ever-present thought to look for Matthew attempted to take over, but it was best to ignore that little voice and continue on with life. After all, I had made peace with my dad.
“How did it go?” Krys asked as we dressed down for practice.
“It went well.”
“You didn’t hit him, did you?”
“Hell yeah, I did,” I replied as I took off my dress.
“But before you did that, did you have a little talk?”
“A bit. He didn’t really want to tell me anything.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to….”
I shuffled through my locker for my clothes and shoes.
“S’Okay…I have no emotions for him. It’s done. He burned the bridge while I was standing on it in that office.”
Krys closed her gym locker and sat on the wooden bench between the lockers. “I’m sorry.”
“No, he’s the one who should be sorry. I have two sisters who will never know me. There’ll never be that little sliver of excitement they could have had if I was in the picture. It wouldn’t have mattered if I came to that office in any form, he still wouldn’t have cared. Of course, like this, I left him speechless when I left.”
“So, you’re okay?” Krys asked as she stood up.
Yeah, I felt okay about the visit. Pure closure and hey, if he wanted to come and get in my face I could at least think, See? We’re finally bonding over the fact that we can’t stand one another. Ain’tcha proud? I learned it all from you!
“About him? Peachy. Everything else…not so much.” I had moved my car to another location. Matt would have to play a game of hide and seek if he planned to key it.
“Are you the new Lindsey?”
“Funny,” I replied.
“I’ll see you on the field.”
“Aye,” I replied.
She was right though, I was becoming like Lindsey—at least kind of like the old one. There she was, gaining newfound freedoms and being who she wanted to be while I stood back and felt bad for myself again. I didn’t want to be; this wasn’t how I wanted to feel.
I spent ten minutes going over the reason I wasn’t at practice on Tuesday with the cheer coach. She was aggravated about it, due to the coming game on Friday and our limited time for practice but I assured her everything would be okay and I wouldn’t let the squad down. I also mentioned I could add a bit to the uniforms if she wanted to go over the details at a later time.
Lindsey and Krys lead the group in the new routine—or I should say Lindsey took the lead. She was a different person. Did she owe it all to Kris and me, or would it have been more correct to say she was like that all along and just needed the push to just go out there and be who she wanted to be?
We left Ferris at five thirty and drove back to the house for a quick dinner with my aunt and uncle. Lindsey sat with us for that evening.
“So, how was the meeting with Daniel Kane?”
“It was fine. He went over some of the things he wanted to do for the new generation and how the old one was not up to his standards.”
“You went to see James’ dad…on purpose?” Lindsey asked.
Uncle Allen held back a small laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like a politician: Out with the old and in with the new…as long as the new is what I say it is.”
“Yeah, we didn’t see eye to eye on that either,” I replied to Uncle Alan with a slight grin.
“Do you think he will win?” he asked and then took a sip of tea.
“He’d never have my vote, if I could.” Krys replied as Lindsey stared at the rest of us with a glazed look in her eyes. Other families discussed sports or what was on TV the night before, we chose politics.
“No one is asking him the right questions. He’s for family values but what did he do for his family?” Uncle Alan stated with disgust.
“Oh, but he has or had two,” I replied.
“Exactly. No one looked at that. No one asked what happened to his first wife and son.”
I nodded.
We spent most of the evening in Krys’ room listening to the radio and going over each other’s homework. Krys and Lindsey sat on the floor and I at her desk. Nothing too big—the average steps of asking each other what we got for question such and such. We all had different teachers for our classes, except for Krys and my first period, and every teacher was on a different page and addressed the curriculum differently. Between the three of us, we each had three different viewpoints on certain subjects.
Then, there was a loud knock at the front door. I mean it boomed through the house a la a Saxon raid with a battering ram.
Krys looked up with a scowl and reached to turn the radio down…or up, I wasn’t sure. We didn’t hear the door open but we did hear a yell.
“James Fitzgerald Kane!”
Mum’s voice sliced through the air with such a heavy force that the dead could have heard her scream.
“Bloody Hell,” I muttered as I got up from the chair. I looked back to Lindsay and Krys. Krys stared blankly at me but Lindsey’s face was a mix of question and happiness. It was like, James is here, yeah! But, wait, what is my friend mad about and where is she going?
Krys grabbed her by the arm.
“I’ll be right back,” I replied as I walked out of the room and closed the door.
“Rachel, can you ratchet your voice down a notch or two? What’s happened?”
“Everything!” Her voice was three decibels shy of a Soundgarden concert during a power ballad. “James!” The shrilling call reverberated through the house. It was just like being back at home.
“James isn’t here,” Uncle Allen stated.
“Yes he is.”
“That’s not her name, why are you—”
Mum put her hands up, as if Uncle Allen was four years old rather than forty-two.
“Allen, please, you don’t know— You need to just stay out of this—”
“It’s nice to see you too!” I called out from the stairs. Mum raced from the foyer to the foot of the stairs.
“What did you do?”
“I’ve done a lot the past few days. Do you want the Cliff Notes or a fully-detailed report?” I asked as I stepped down to the middle of the stairway.
“I’m talking about the complete…sh-sh-situation you put us in by going to see your father!”
“I went to see the man who was formally called Dad, in order to ask him about the American political system and on how it screws with the people!”
“James,” Mum began as she took a step up the stairs and I took one step back toward the top. “Do you know. How. Many. Lawyers. I have calling me?”
“Is this a rhetorical question or would you like me to take a stab at it?”
“I’ll give you the damn answer,” Mum yelled and slammed her hand on the banister. “Nine!”
“Only nine? He’s losing his touch.”
“No, James, you’re the one who has lost touch!”
Aunt Lydia stepped in from the hallway and stood next to my uncle. I turned around to see Lindsey standing at the top of the stairs.
“You still think I did all of this because of you or Dad? Mum, there are so many things wrong with that—”
“Do you know how we were able to afford all of this?” She threw her arms out at me. “All of the surgeries? The tutors? The pills you take?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked as Mum calmly lowered her hands to her side.
“The reason you’re not a mangled freak was a part of the divorce settlement! He paid for all of this, this drag show! You were to not have any contact with him. I. Told. You. That!”
“I-I don’t believe you,” I stammered
“He wants to have me arrested!”
“Over me?” I laughed. “Oh, I feel so important now. No, it’s not about me. It’s about his campaign. You know what he can do with it? You know what you can do, Mum?”
“What?”
“Mynd i ffwcio chi eich hun!”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means go fuck yourself, Rachel,” Uncle Alan answered.
I turned around to face Lindsey and Krys. They stepped back as I ran up the stairs, into my room and slammed the door.
I locked the door behind me. No one was going to come in and talk to me. In fact, no one was going to get an answer from me that evening or the next morning. I looked out the window. I had left a situation in the middle of the night twice…it was time to do it again.
 

No one came up to my room. No one came to the door. I don’t know if I really wanted anyone to or not. For as much as I might have wanted someone to ask if I was okay, I’d have someone—like, Lindsey, ask me a barrage of questions like….
“When did you do this?”
“Why did you do this?”
“You’re the guy I used to kind of like and you’re now my friend and I didn’t even notice?”
I didn’t pack any clothes or take my sketchbooks when I left by dawn’s early light. No note. Nothing. I just wanted to get away from everyone and not want to deal with it.
At four in the morning, I climbed out my room window, dangled over the side and dropped to the ground floor while breaking my fall by a doing a few short jumps. I didn’t look back to the window or the house as I hurried to the driveway. There were only three cars parked—my aunt and uncle’s and my car. Mum must have left, perhaps after Uncle Allen told her off. My car was clear to back up and out of the driveway. I got in, shifted to neutral, and backed out by the sheer force of gravity. When the car was out in the road, I turned the engine over and slowly drove down the block and onto Freya.
The drive was lonely. The feelings I had a little under two weeks ago were fleeting away. I didn’t really care anymore. Didn’t really feel like I belonged anywhere.
Assuming that Mum came back in the morning, if she did at all, I would have less than two hours before anyone knew I was missing—since I normally took my runs in the early hours only a glance at the driveway would clue anyone in.
Did I feel a bit of guilt for leaving? A bit.
Did I feel lost? Yep.
Could we have gotten it all straightened out by talking about it? I didn’t know. Talking didn’t work with Matt and I couldn’t even look toward Lindsey. It was a great idea to change my name entirely as I was on my own at that point, but there was one place to go and I was on my way there—back to Missoula.
The sun was low over the mountains when I arrived in Missoula and took a little more time to drive out to Gran’s house. I pulled up to the house to see Grans stranding in the carport.
“Everyone’s been calling,” Grans said as she held up her new cordless phone.
“I thought they would be,” I answered in defeat. “It’s a big mess, Grans.”
“I’m sure it is, but I want to hear it from you.”
The phone rang. She waved for me to follow her inside as she answered it.
“Hello? Yes, Lydia.”
We walked to the dining room and Grans sat in her chair and motioned for me to sit next to her.
“Is Rachel there? Don’t put her on the phone, just tell me if she’s there. Never mind, I hear her in the background.”
I looked around the dining room and wondered if she would let me stay. Of course she would, but I would have to lay everything down on what happened.
“Lydia, could you go into another room, I can’t hear you, dear.”
Maybe I would be lucky and get away with just saying that I hated me dad and that would be all I needed to say.
“Is there a way you can tie your sister up or at least keep her busy and not have her call every few minutes since six?”
I felt at my ears—I still had the bandages on them—and Grans would never fall for an allergy excuse.
“Yes, she is. She’s right in front of me.”
The conversation was now about me.
“No, I do not think that’s a good idea.”
I had to wonder how much of the story she already knew.
“Lyd, don’t get me started on the crazy things you did when you were a teenager.”
Did she know the terms of the divorce settlement?
“Yes dear, I know. Give us a few hours.”
I held onto my arms in fear.
“She’s wearing jeans, a white blouse, a large shirt over it and her ears are cut….by an idiot boyfriend if I recall correctly.”
I had to blush at that.
“We’ll think of something, Lydia. Thank you. Goodbye, dear.”
Grans hung the phone up, sat it down, and crossed her arms as she looked at me.
“You slapped your father and didn’t bother to take a picture or tell me?”
“I didn’t plan on doing it, it just happened.”
“What kind of man signs away the life of his kid anyway?”
“I know, right?” I said as I put my head down on the table. “I just wanted him to look at me. I wanted someone to look at me for who I am.”
“Everyone does. Just remember your parents are…let’s call it like we see it. Your mom is an idiot. As her mother, I can say that. Your father is a fool. A rich, belligerent, cold-hearted, cheater I’m sorry, dear, I could probably go on all day on what to call him.”
“I’ve turned a lot of people away.”
“Like who?”
“Friends, family….”
“Did you tell your mother to fuck off?”
“Grans!” I never heard her swear before.
“And Alan told her off too?”
I nodded.
“I wish I could have seen that too,” she said with a slight grin.
The grin faded away though as I sighed and laid my hands on the table.
“I told someone who I used to be.”
“Did he ask you?”
“I didn’t want to keep it from him, I mean, I didn’t have to…it didn’t matter but—”
“What’s his name?” she asked as I pushed the chair away from the table.
“Matthew,” I replied.
“Didn’t a boy named Matthew used to pick on James?”
The phone rang.
“Same one.”
“Oh.” Grans looked at the screen, pushed a button and the ringing ceased. “And he didn’t like what he heard?”
“I don’t know…if you saw the look on his face it was more like hurt and confusion. He said he didn’t want me to come near him again.” I paced around the table. “But I can’t do that, Grans…I-I tried to talk to him, I—”
“You didn’t try hard enough. When you were in the hospital, battered, broken and bemoaned, did you just lie there and give up or did you push?” Grans stood up and blocked my path around the table.
“I-I couldn’t just lie there, I—”
“Damn right you couldn’t. And the surgeries, you got through those,” she said as she reached up to put her hands on my shoulders.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’ve gotten used to balancing those on your chest, right?” She poked me, hard, to drive her point.
“Aye,” I replied as her words soaked in.
“You were born again into a world that didn’t know you—and you went out, right?”
“Aye.”
“So what’s stopping you now?” She lightly slapped my arms. “You lived through Hell; you survived a metamorphosis, learned, how to swear in whatever that language you talk in is…and slapped your father! Consider those achievements.”
I nodded but then bit my lip.
“But what about Matthew?”
“What about him?” she asked as the phone rang again.
“I love him.”
“Then go talk to him.” She reached for the phone, opened the back, and pulled the battery out before setting it back down. “It’s obvious he’s just as stupid for you as you are for him. He’s a boy. They react with punches and muscles and reflect with the heart and badly written poetry.”
I tried to smile but felt like crying.
“If he says no, then you’ll know. You can love him all you want in your heart, but you’ll have to put it all out there to know the truth.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” I replied.
“You’re a woman, Jen…you can do whatever the Hell you want to. Now, are you hungry? Let’s go get something to eat. And even if you’re not, I am. You can drive us.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Two hours later, I placed the battery back into her phone, said my goodbyes to Grans, and drove back to Spokane. I could live through Mum’s verbal assault…and Dad’s legal attacks, assuming he would actually want to pursue such a fool’s errand. My aunt and uncle would probably ground me for running out like I did, but I could deal with that—in fact, I hoped they would take me car away for a bit. Hopefully, Krys had talked it out with Lindsey—maybe tell her all the good and maybe some bad and hopefully she could look at me in the same light as Krys did. And the time had come to face Matthew once again, perhaps for a final time.
I drove up to the house to see Mum’s car was not there—and I hoped she wouldn’t be coming back. Krys stood on the porch and walked over to the car. She stood a few feet away as I got out.
“I don’t know whether to hug or hit you,” she said with tears in her eyes.
“You can do both.”
“Come here,” she ordered and I stepped over.
It was a hug.
“Why did you leave like that?”
“I saw Lindsey’s eyes, yours…you know, I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry.”
“Just glad you’re back,” Krys whispered.
“Thank you.”
“Come on, come inside. Oh and Mom says you’re grounded.”
I kind of hoped she’d say that. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
We walked into the house and into the living room. My aunt and uncle were there along with Lindsey, who I didn’t expect to see. She ran up to me and smiled the original toothy grin I remembered.
“Jennifer. Will we be expecting you at practice tomorrow?”
“Aye.”
“You owe me five laps around the track.”
“Not a problem,” I replied.
“I don’t care about who you used to be. Yeah, James was my friend and—well you know maybe a bit more, but you’re my friend too, and I will personally kill you if you leave like that again.” Lindsey held her hand up in a fist.
“I won’t go away again,” I said as the three of us huddled together.
“You better not. I’m not sure I could survive another day without both of you nearby.”
“Jen, I’ll need your car keys,” my uncle stated.
“Yes sir,” I replied, “walking works for me.”
I went upstairs with Krys and Lindsey. We went into my room and we were all quiet for a brief time as I took my flannel shirt off and placed it in a laundry basket.
“So, are you going to talk to Matt?” Krys asked.
“I’m going to try.”
“Damon told me he’s been sad for the past two days,” Lindsey added as she sat down at my desk.
“Really?”
“Yeah…and that he had a gash over his eye. A fight or something.”
“Still sounds like the same Matt,” Krys stated as sat down on the edge of the bed.
I looked to the floor and then up to them.
“No, it’s a new Matthew.” I clapped my hands. “I’m feeling daring. Let’s say we embellish our uniforms before basketball season, eh?”
I woke up in the morning covered in cloth and other materials. I had dragged out every stitch, pattern, and design I could think of to work on the new uniform. I looked out the window at the darkness but I saw a light out there—the sun peeked through the clouds in the sky. Maybe I was being a hopeless optimist, but I didn’t care, because I was back to who I wanted to be.
I went out for my run, knowing full well I would be walking up to school less than an hour later, so I kept it short and fast. I even ran by my old house but never acknowledged it—it was no longer looking at me, no longer screaming in agony. Or there was no longer a little boy trapped in that house, that home life. He had moved on. Good for him.
“We’re walking?” Krys asked me just as I stepped into the bathroom after my run.
“You don’t have to,” I replied as I closed the door.
“Going to anyway. Have you seen my running shoes?”
“So it took me being grounded for you to run with me?”
We left the house overly dressed for the cold weather.
“I kind of got used to you driving us.” Krys shivered as she spoke.
“I can take it, how are you holding up?”
“Freezing.”
“It will get better,” I replied as I felt the cold against my cheeks.
“Not until the spring.”
We walked a block in silence until Kris cleared her throat. “Jen, I have to say something.”
“Okay.”
“You remember…when,” Krys hesitated for a moment, “when I came to help James out of whatever was happening at the time?”“Everyday. I never thanked you for that.”
“I didn’t expect you to.”
“Right,” I answered.
“And I thought that I’d have to still look after you, but then it didn’t seem like you needed me to, so—”
“I’ll always need you, Krys. One day I’m going to do something incredibly stupid, and I’ll need to call you for bail money.”
We started walking.
“You won’t be able to. I’ll probably be in the cell next to you. We’ll need to call Lindsey.”
“Nah, because she’ll be there too,” I replied.
I stopped and spun around on my heels.
“You are way too excited at seven-thirty in the morning.”
“I know, right?” I exclaimed.
“I hope it’s not contagious.”
“Of course it’s contagious, Krys, and it’s going around. I—” I stopped as I looked ahead to see Lindsey standing next to Matt on the corner in front of the school.
She ran toward us, grabbed my hand and whispered, “Someone’s been waiting for you.”
“How long has he been there?”
“I don’t know, but judging by the color of his cheeks, a long time. So, Krys and I will walk this way,” she pointed to the side of the school, “while you walk over to him.”
“Do I have Damon to thank?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied as she pulled Krys away.
“Don’t hit him too hard,” Krys hinted as I looked at him standing on the corner. His face was red and his ears looked like they were about to fall off—so I guess we matched in that way.
I took a deep breath and walked over to him.
“’Ello.” There was a moment of silence as we just looked at each other, to see who would speak first.
“Can I talk to you?”
“Of course,” I replied.
“I’ve been-been thinking about what happened and I don’t expect you to forgive me, I—”
“I do forgive you,” I replied.
Matthew’s face showed shock. “That’s-that’s good. I mean, I’m sorry for what I did, I— There was no reason for me to….”
“I’m sorry too,” I replied.
“For what?”
“I didn’t tell you from the start,” I answered as I took a step closer to him.
“Kind of hard to do, I mean, I wouldn’t have believed it until—”
“Until you were thinking straight?”
“That hasn’t happened for a long time.”
He held his hands out to me in offering and I took them.
“I’ve been thinking that—this is so hard for me to say—I’ve made so many stupid mistakes. I’ve been putting on an act, I—”
He let go and moved a few feet away and I moved up to him. Matt turned away, and in that time, something seemed different about him. I could no longer see the person he was two years ago—that person didn’t seem to exist in my mind anymore. He turned back to me and gazed into my eyes.
“I didn’t want to leave you there, but I was just so angry with myself and what had happened or was happening that I just drove off. I didn’t go home…just parked a few blocks away and sat in the car…looking at something between me and the windshield. Spent the last few days trying to figure out what to do. Figure out who I am and who we are. And I went and talked to Tyler’s Dad.”
“I see that…he didn’t take it well?”
“All I could do,” his voice seemed to quiver, “was tell him the truth. Like you did.”
“You did good,” I replied as I held back a few tears.
He moved in and hugged me. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry…for everything I have ever said or have done to you.”
“Can you still give me the moon?”
“You’ll need to give me a little time for that. Would you settle for a walk under it?”
We stood on the corner not saying anything—just looking at each other.
“I learned something over the week. Can you tell me if I’m saying it right?”
“Okay.”
“Ray’n die garoo di. It still sounds better when you say it.”
“And what does that mean, Matthew?”
“It means I love you.”
“Yes, it does.”
“How would I say I love you forever?”
“Rwy’n dy garu di mi cariad am byth.”
“I’m not sure I could ever pronounce that.”
“Then don’t, just feel it.”