Falling (Bits and Pieces, Book 1) (20 page)

“So, Liz…” I couldn’t believe Becca was speaking to me. “Are
you
going to Homecoming tomorrow?”

“Uh, no. I’m not.” I shook my head. Thank goodness.

“That’s too bad.” Somehow I didn’t think she really felt bad for me. “Don’t worry, I’m sure some day you’ll find a guy who thinks your…” She looked me over, rolling her eyes. “
Style
, is… cute.” Only she could be so condescendingly bubbly. Her smile made me think she actually thought she was being nice.

“Of course, she will.” Patrick smiled and shrugged. He seemed to think as if that wasn’t so far-fetched. I thought so. What guy would want the mess that was me? “Lots of guys think you’re cute.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, right.” I highly doubted that.

“Joey sure thinks so.” He teased.

Ugh. Joey.

“Joey is so annoying. He used to always come up from behind me and make these disgusting noises.” Cassie cringed at the memory.

“I know! Same here.” Emily agreed. “He doesn’t seem to get that that does not make girls like him. He needs to grow up.” I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who thought so. “It’s too bad though. He’s kinda cute.”

“Hey!” Bobby exclaimed.

“Don’t worry. You’re cuter.” She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

I couldn’t picture Joey as cute, only as irritating.

* * *

I was glad when half time was over and the focus was on the game instead of me. I may not understand the game of football and what was happening, but I was still having fun. I cheered when the crew cheered. That got me by. I usually was able to piece together what happened after the ball stopped moving. I faked my way through the game until some point in the fourth quarter. That’s when I got so confused.

“I don’t get it. The ball didn’t move, but the players are switching. I thought the Mustangs had the ball. Why do we get it now?” I wanted to know what just happened and why everyone was cheering.

Patrick and Tony tried to explain it to me. I still didn’t quite get it. Something about it being the fourth down, not punting, going for the play, but being incomplete.

Becca looked at me with an air of superiority. “It’s not that hard to follow. Paddy I thought you said she was
smart
.”

Patrick turned to look at her. His voice was soft but firm. “She is. Come on, Becks. It’s her first game. Leave her alone.”

“Fine.” She pouted.

“Don’t be that way.” He wrapped his arm around her and squeezed. Becca leaned her head on his shoulder, then looked up at him. She lifted her head up to him and kissed him. When Becca finally let him up for air, he turned a little to face me. “Don’t worry about it. That kind of play doesn’t usually happen. I understand why you’d get confused. The important thing is that we get the ball now.” He smiled.

That was a little comforting. It was nice to know that I wasn’t a complete idiot, just a partial one, especially when it came to football. I tried to put Becca’s comments out of my mind and focus on the game and the crew. Nothing else happened that required me to ask for clarification. Thank goodness.

I did understand the final round of cheering. It was because we won. Tigers 28. Mustangs 20. I was up on my feet with everyone else cheering along. Tony and Patrick put their hands up for high-fives. Ugh. Here we go again. I carefully slapped their hands in the air, making sure not to miss. It was great to be in the middle of celebration. I guess, it
was
a big deal that we beat Rio Vista.

* * *

Over the next week or so, I started to hang out more and more with Patrick and the crew. I was starting to feel like part of the crew. Cassie, Emily and I were getting closer. We’d sit together during basketball practice and talk. I was still closest to Patrick, of all of them. He always made sure I was doing okay. We’d walk to some classes together, when Becca’s class was in a different direction. On days when I was down, even if her class was in the same area, I’d sometimes walk with both of them. I was the third wheel. Patrick wouldn’t let me be by myself, if he could help it. Becca remained cool to me, which was the way she treated all the crew, so I didn’t take it personally. In fact, it made me feel like I belonged in the crew. Like Bobby said, it was like I was initiated as one of them.

We presented our “Physics in the Real World” project and our lab video to the class. School life was good. I was feeling normal – at least what I envisioned normal high school life to be like for me. Mr. D announced our next big project for his class – a science fair project. We had the choice to work with a partner or by ourselves. Patrick and I had a similar overall topic, but there were different specifics we were interested in. Mr. D suggested that we work together doing our background research and initial experimentation and see where it led us. That way, we had the benefit of bouncing ideas off each other and learning more than working solo. It sounded good to us.

Life with my family was about the same. My mom still bugged me about stupid stuff – blowing things out of proportion. She seemed a little glad that I, at least, had friends. But she didn’t like it when I went out with them. Make up your mind already! Geez. She was driving me crazy with her hypocrisy.

* * *

Last night was bad. My mom found out about my solo in the winter concert. She knew I was in choir and I had told her about the concert itself. She was okay with it, well more like she didn’t care to give me a hard time about it since I supposed to be blended in with the rest of the students in the choir. But when Mrs. Marshall ran into me and my mom at the grocery store, she found out. When I saw Mrs. Marshall, I tried to make sure that they didn’t run into each other, but that didn’t happen.

“Mrs. Mariposa,” Mrs. Marshall extended her hand out to my mom. “It’s nice to see you again. We met during open house. I’m Liz’s choir teacher.”

“Oh, yes. How are you doing, Mrs. Marshall?” My mom never forgot my teachers’ names.

“Fine. Fine. You must be so proud of Liz.” Mrs. Marshall looked so excited to talk to my mom about me.

Normally, I didn’t care if my teachers talked to my parents. I was always a good student and my teachers always raved about me and my work. This time wasn’t all that different, except I didn’t want my mom to know about the ‘great thing’ I did in class. I tried to plead with my eyes at Mrs. Marshall to stop and not say anything, but she wasn’t focused on me, she was looking at my mom.

She continued, “She has such a beautiful voice, that it was an unanimous decision to give her the solo.”

The blood drained from my body. My mouth tasted like acid. My mom turned to me and glared. Her voice remained even as she addressed my teacher, “Oh really? That’s nice of you to share. I’ll be sure to tell her dad as well.”

Now, I didn’t want Mrs. Marshall to go. I didn’t want to be left alone with my mom. I didn’t want to get yelled at, talked down to, or chastised for something that wasn’t bad. I knew it wasn’t bad. I knew they didn’t like it, but that still didn’t make it wrong. But Mrs. Marshall left to finish her shopping and my mom didn’t say anything to me until we got into the car.

She screamed at me the whole ride home. I tried to tune her out, to disconnect from my body. That was the only way I’d be able to get through it. Every so often, I’d listen to the words she said. It was the same old stuff – don’t waste your time, you should focus on your studies, you’ll embarrass yourself and the family, you’re not good enough to sing in public. I tried not to pay any attention to it, but it was hard. I mean, as much as I disagreed with it, she was still my mom and I was brought up to listen to my elders, especially my parents.

When we got home, my dad was there. She had me unload the groceries while she filled my dad in on the
trouble
I got myself into at school. He had this look of disappointment on his face. He didn’t yell at me, no, he always left that up to my mom. He just looked at me disapprovingly and talked about how I disobeyed their wishes.

After I finished putting the groceries away, while my mom still read me the riot act, I went to my room for the rest of the night. I knew they would never understand. I knew this would happen. That didn’t stop it from hurting or from me being torn between obeying my parents wishes and doing something I wanted to do. Something I was good at. Something that wasn’t hurting
anyone
. They acted like I doing something against the law like robbery or murder. Singing didn’t hurt anyone. Why couldn’t they see that it made me happy?

13. SLIPPING

I was still upset the next day. I didn’t sleep much. I felt like things were starting to spin out of my control again – just when I thought things were getting better. Maybe I was stupid to think that my life could change. Patrick knew something was wrong with me when I walked into class. I didn’t feel like talking about it, so I immediately pulled out my notebook and pretended like I was reviewing my notes. Mr. D was lecturing today, so we didn’t have a chance to talk during class. When class ended, I didn’t say anything and I just grabbed my stuff. Patrick put his hand on my backpack and stopped me from leaving right away.

“Liz, what’s wrong?” He was desperate to get in my head.

“Nothing.” I shrugged my shoulders and avoided his eye contact.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.” He still wouldn’t let go of my bag.

“Don’t worry about it.” I glanced at him and forced a smile on my face. “I got to get to class.”

He let go of my bag. “Okay. But remember, you’re not alone.”

* * *

I purposely walked in as close to the bell ringing as possible for choir class. I didn’t know how much Mrs. Marshall had seen or realized from my mom’s reaction last night and I wasn’t going to give her the opportunity to bring it up. When we started singing, I tried to put my mom out of my mind. But I could hear her, yelling at me, being mad at me. I was doing what I said I wouldn’t do – let her ruin this for me. But it was all still so raw, that I couldn’t help it. I tried to get lost in the music and just sing. But I knew I wasn’t singing my best. And
that
drove me crazy. I was sending myself down this downward spiral. I knew I was, but I felt like I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I hated this feeling.

Mrs. Marshall had to notice the difference in my singing too. I could tell she wanted to say something to me, normally I was open to constructive criticism but I couldn’t bear to take the feedback at the moment. So, I rushed out of class once we were dismissed, purposely avoiding her. I heard her call my name as I bolted out the door, but I didn’t look back and pretended not to hear her.

When I saw Patrick next in English class, he was watching me closely. Mr. Ludlow let us pick our partners to work with on the day’s assignment. So, Patrick came over and sat next to me. I stayed focused on the assignment and didn’t pay attention to much else. We didn’t have, what had become, our usual banter and chatting during the work. I just didn’t have it in me. I think that made Patrick worry more.

When it was time for lunch, I slowly got my stuff together. I knew that Patrick wasn’t going to let me leave by myself. He walked out with me to lunch and didn’t say a word. I wasn’t in the mood to hang out with the crew. I didn’t want be around others with expectations of carrying on a conversation. I started to head to my tree.

He stayed right by my side. “You don’t want to sit with the crew?”

I shook my head and sat down against my tree. “Not right now.”

“Do you mind if I stay?” He politely asked, but I could tell that his mind was racing of what to do if I said no. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We could just sit here.”

“No. Go ahead sit down.”

I put my head on my knees. We sat there quiet for a few minutes. He broke the silence, “So, don’t forget there’s a scrimmage game today after school.”

I looked at him and blinked.