Leslie's Journal - Allan Stratton [22]
One of the awful things about dating guys is, out of the blue, for no reason, they can just stop calling you. One minute you’re their girlfriend, the next minute you’re not. And they won’t even say why. It’s like they’re afraid to face you and have you get mad at them. So there’s always this scary feeling in the back of your mind. At the same time they’re smiling and laughing with you, they may be planning to split. I know I’m talking like a sudden expert and all. But you don’t have to watch a talk show to prove what I’m saying—just ask any girl in my school.
But Jason’s different. Not only did he catch me later, he was at my locker after class.
We went and studied at his place. (Well, okay, we didn’t really study.) And ever since, well, he’s been after me 24/7. I get nonstop texts. Stuff like, “HOW R U?” or “S’UP?” or “U WEARING PANTYS 2DAY?” First time I got the last one, I blushed, but I have to admit it made me feel sexy.
He wants to see me every night, too. Says he’s afraid to let me out of his sight. Romantic or what? He’s meeting me after school today and tomorrow, and then it’s Friday and the Pigjam concert.
As for Mom, Jason’s psychology trick worked great. I told her he wanted to meet her this weekend, and she chilled right out. She said if I wanted to study at his place she’d hold supper for me—“I’m glad you’re finally doing some homework!”—as long as I was back by seven and his mom was home.
“Deal,” I said. “Oh, and before he comes, will you help me tidy the place up?”
As soon as I said that she got this amused grown-up look.
“What’s so funny?”
“If you want to tidy up, he must be very special.”
I hate it when Mom does that. It’s like I’m a baby or something, this cute little pet put on earth to entertain her. It was especially annoying this time, because she was getting even for all the times I’ve been a slob. Last year she kept complaining my room was a pigsty. I told her if it bothered her so much she should stop looking at it, and got my “Keep Out” sign.
But who cares? Mom can have her little joke if it keeps her from asking questions. Let’s face it, if she knew the truth about me and Jason, she’d have a heart attack. Maybe even die.
Just thinking about Mom being dead makes me freak. Dad might as well be worm meat; he’s out of my life these days. If Mom was gone too, I don’t know what I’d do. Sometimes I imagine myself screaming my lungs inside out or throwing myself out a window or stabbing myself to death with scissors.
Seriously, the idea that Mom could die because of something I did drives me crazy. It’s what I’m thinking about when I step into English today. And—speaking of nervous breakdowns and going crazy—guess who’s back? Ms. Graham. She’s smiling like a maniac. If she doesn’t watch out, her cheeks are going to explode.
The class is so shocked we don’t even talk, much less get rowdy. I mean, eyeballs are hanging out of their sockets, and we just sort of drop into our seats and stare at her, as if she’s a mirage or something.
“It’s great to be back,” she says. “I’ve missed you and I’m feeling much better, thanks, and I know the rest of the year is going to be really special.”
They better adjust her medication. Still, the tremor in her hands is mostly gone, and she’s hardly sweating at all. That is, until she asks how many of us filled out our To Kill a Mockingbird question and answer sheets. We look at her all innocent, like we haven’t a clue what she’s talking about.
“You mean while I’ve been gone you haven’t done anything? Why, every day you were to read twenty pages and answer a sheet of questions. I left instructions!”
Was she born simple, or does she work at it? The average supply teacher has a hard time figuring out how to turn on a TV. You think they can follow instructions? And when it’s a regular teacher supervising, why should they care? They have a million students of their own to worry about.
Ms. Graham starts rummaging around in her filing cabinet, still smiling but definitely getting twitchy. “The handouts were right here.