Authors: Christopher Hoskins
She
slapped me playfully on the thigh and focused back on her driving with a
beaming, ear-to-ear smile. And after a second’s pause, she spoke again. “What
I’m saying is this, Damian: If she did
all
that,
just
for you,
without
any
ulterior motive, she likes you. Easy as that.”
“Moommmm—”
“Now
don’t get me wrong,” she interrupted, “I’m not saying you go playing big man on
campus or anything like that. Don’t go asking her out right away. You’ve got to
make sure—”
“
STOP,
Mom. I get it. I’m not—”
“I’m
just saying, Damian. Don’t go at it too aggressive, but don’t go sitting around
waiting her to do all the work, either.”
I
just wanted her to stop. I couldn’t think of anyone else who took love advice
from their mother, and I wasn’t about to be the first to start.
“Can
we just end the conversation, Mom? Really. I don’t want to talk about it
anymore.”
“That’s
fine. But you just remember what I said: Play it right. Make her
know
you’re interested, but don’t go scaring her off.”
“Alright,
Mom. I get it. Chill out. I don’t even know if
I’m
interested or not, yet.
Plus, I
highly
doubt she is. Catee can have any guy she wants at school.
There’s no reason she’d pick me.”
“Fate
works in mysterious ways, Damian, and you’ve got a lot to offer. And I’m not
just saying that because you’re my son. You just wait and see. I’m right about
this girl.”
“You
don’t even know her, Mom.”
“Well
then maybe it’s time I meet her. Why don’t you invite her over for dinner
sometime next week?”
“Are
you out of your mind!?”
“I’m
being very serious.”
“Haven’t
you heard a word I’ve said? We’re
locker
partners
. That’s it.
Nothing more. And I’m not bringing my
locker
partner
home to meet
my parents; that’s just stupid.”
“There’s
nothing stupid about having your first girlfriend, Damian.”
“Arrrgghhhh!!!!
Are you even listening!?” I yelled in frustration. “I told you a hundred times
already! She’s not my girlfriend!”
Mom
smiled contentedly, outwardly pleased with her ability to get me going. I
watched the side of her head as she focused on the road, and I waited for her
next line.
“Okay,
Damian.” Her eventual response was a placating one. “I’ll keep my lips zipped
about it. But before I do, let me just say one final thing … ”
“What,
Mom?”
“An
instinct is
always
right. And my instinct says I’ll be hearing a lot
more about this girl, soon enough.”
“Fine,
Mom. Whatever. Let’s just end it, okay? Are we done now?”
“We’re
finished, Damian.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
“Excellent,”
she turned, smiled, and laughed.
“Magnificent.”
“Splendid!
“Perfect!!”
I laughed. “Period. Done!”
We
ended the conversation there, but true to instinct, she was right. Moms
generally are. What began as a simple invitation to share a locker would grow
exponentially, and in short time, Catee would embed herself so deeply in my
heart that there’ll be no getting her out—ever.
And
my mom’s instinct, as attuned as it was to issues of love, proved equally
ill-equipped to see her own train begin its derailment from the tracks. As much
as she prided herself in the power of instinct, that same insight eluded her
when it came time to choose her allegiances.
Instinct,
logic, and rationality abandoned her when she left us all behind.
September
10
th:
That
first weekend of the school year was the longest I’d ever been through. They’d
always passed so quickly before then, racing by to Monday morning when, like
clockwork, Mom would fight me from bed in time for the bus. But after an
endless weekend of anticipation, that Monday morning was different.
For
one of the first and only times, I woke before my alarm. And I was actually waiting
for the bus instead of racing down the street to catch it. Something had
changed in me, and I was actually excited for school. In spite of all the crap
that came with it, I knew there was something good waiting inside its
judgmental walls: there was possibility, promise, and Catee.
I
thought I might finally have a place in Madison High and that whatever
chemistry we’d developed in week one, would only flourish from there. And
despite my mom’s words playing their own, small part in my revelation, it was
the weekend to myself and alone with my thoughts, that brought me to the
single, obvious conclusion my heart had suggested from the start.
Of
course, I had no intention of telling Catee how I was feeling back then. I
wouldn’t have known the first place to start. We’d only met a week before and
saying what I was feeling would’ve only come across creepy. And in my weekend
of rumination, I decided to keep everything to myself for a while longer and to
feel her out more before I made any move toward something more substantial. I
needed to see if she made any more moves my way. Sure, the locker was a first
sign, but she could’ve just been being nice—her instant popularity
suggested the explanation was totally within reason.
As
I saw it, I didn’t have any choice but to sit back, at least for a bit, to see
how she acted around me—to see if she made any moves, or gave any signs
for me to make mine on her. The eternal weekend of thoughtful planning brought
me to a single, definitively passive course of action: I’d stick by Catee like
glue, and I’d give her every possible chance to make her intentions known.
I
ran into her in the lobby, before homeroom bell. She was with a group of girls
… and Justin, who lurked on the perimeter of her cluster, just behind her and outside
her circle. My mind worked to rationalize the situation, but it was helpless to
stop my body from pushing forward and into the cluster, brushing by him in the
process.
“Hey,
Damian!” Catee was quick to acknowledge my arrival, and I appreciated the instant
reception. A flash of worry crossed my mind about what would happen if she’d
said nothing at all, leaving me awkwardly standing in a group of girls who I
didn’t know, like some out-of-place screwball who’d lost his way.
She
introduced me to everyone, but I forgot each name as soon as they were
exchanged. If they were at all relevant, I knew I’d have a chance to hear them
again. My focus was fixated on Catee that morning. Well, mostly. I cautiously
kept a small percentage of it on Justin, too, who’d stepped closer to the
circle to stand behind her, like a gun-toting farmer who’s sensed a wolf in his
flock. His eyes said what his mouth couldn’t. I looked away, but my feet held
firm.
“Sam,
this is Damian. Damian, this is Sam.” We shook hands in formality. “And this is
Mara, Tristen, Sarah, and Audrey,” Catee’s finger moved around the tightly
clustered group, giving faces to the list of names spat.
“Damian.”
I answered. “My name’s Damian.” I smiled and waved to the group.
“We
were just talking about the game this Friday,” Audrey clued me in. “We’re all
going to watch Ryan in his tight pants. Are you into that?”
“What?!”
My face cringed. “Tight pants? Ryan? Gross! I’m going to throw up!” Not only
did I
not
care about watching
football players, I could’ve cared less about the game, and I had only disdain
for the guy who was somehow the focus of their adorations. “That guy’s a total
loser. A GIANT douchebag.” I would’ve landed myself in instant hot water had
any of them
actually
known him, but they didn’t, and I was off the hook.
“NO.” I added. “I’m not going to the game, and I’m not supporting a group of
a-holes.”
Each
of them looked horrified by the sudden vehemence of my response, and they
looked to each other to be the voice of reason that would pull me into the high
school norm. Catee spoke before the rest.
“I’m
with Damian on this one. Ryan’s gross,
and
he’s a bit of a prick based
on what I’ve heard. Being massive doesn’t make you a god, and I’m pretty sure
he’s small everywhere else. His humongous ego is just his way of compensating.”
The
group looked even more alarmed by Catee’s response than mine, and they said
nothing in trade; they didn’t have the chance to before chaos erupted.
Without
warning, Justin leapt from behind them with a sucker punch that landed square
into my jaw and snapped my head sideways. It happened so fast that I didn’t see
it coming, and there was no chance to dodge it.
It
reeled me two steps backward, and I stood with my mouth in my hand, looking up
at him and trying to set myself right.
That’s
when Catee made her attack.
She
slugged him right in the face.
And
it wasn’t one of those girly slaps either. This was a full-on, fist-clenched,
knock-out-style punch, square to the nose. She’d gone for the kill.
His
hands rose to deflect her spiraling arms, but the blows rained down, and he
could only play defense in a girl-on-boy fight, in front of half the school.
“What
did I tell you about coming near me! What did I say about messing with my
friends! Why don’t you just crawl into a corner and die!” she screamed and
struck again. Arms spiraling, her blows were relentless and angry.
And
when the pummel of fists subsided, Justin hunkered with his arms cocooned
around his head.
“Get
the hell away from us!!!” Her words rattled the quieted lobby.
“But
Catee—
“Get
the hell away!!!!” she screamed again, at the top of her lungs.
“But
I—
She
shoved him back. “Don’t ever come near me again!!! You’re an asshole, and I
don’t want you near me or any of my friends, ever again! Get the clue and get
lost!!”
By
that point, the front office had cleared. Secretaries, who’d been punching
passes and signing in students, leapt to their feet. Armed with the full,
administrative team, they vacated their desks and rushed to join the lobby’s
riotous turmoil.
“What’s
going on here!?” Mr. Smithson demanded. Catee and Justin had already separated,
and his stance between them was cautionary, but unnecessary. Justin wasn’t
about to counter with an attack on her.
“The
both of you! In my office, NOW!” Mr. Smithson ordered.
Contented
that she’d finally made her point abundantly clear, Catee smiled and led the
way through the quieted, parting crowd. Mr. Smithson followed behind, with
Justin trudging, head hanging behind him. The rest of the faculty hung back and
made quick check-ins with surrounding students to gather eyewitness accounts, but
they said nothing to any of Catee’s friends or to me, as we stood stationary and
in silent disbelief.
Apparently,
the new girl wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Somewhere inside her was a monster
that raged to get out, and it had done so on Justin. She’d put him in his
place, and it was enough to gain her even more respect from the masses that had
already come to admire her, based on mystery and looks alone.
And
with Justin out of the picture, there was nothing and no one left to stand in
the way of what fate had so calculatedly brought together.
Catee’s
undivided attention would finally be mine.
September
13
th:
Following
her one-day suspension, I kept as close to Catee as I’d promised I would. I met
with her and the increasingly familiar faces of her friends in the lobby each
morning—still only able to name a couple of them—and I made the
move from solitude at my lunch table of outcasts, to the graces of hers and to
the company of everyone else who’d been drawn-in by her gravitational pull. I
made sure to linger just long enough at our locker during transitions to make
sure we’d cross paths there, too. And even though I can’t say I was fully
in
yet, the steps I’d made in such short time were unprecedented. They were
totally out of character for me, but character, as I knew it, didn’t exist
anymore. I no longer aspired to be part of the Madison High periphery. I wanted
the spotlight. I wanted Catee’s. I had since the first time we’d laid eyes on
each other.
Whether
we understood it or not, we’d been brought together for a reason. And though we
didn’t realize it, fate had already carved out a significant and nefarious path
for the two of us: one that would test our allegiance to each other, to our
families, and to preserving a life that seemed troubling then, but that I’d
fight, kill, and die for, to reclaim today. And when we weather this storm to
find light on the other side—if there still is another side—we’ll
have shown fate that united, we are stronger than anything it throws our way.
I
waited as long as possible before I left our locker that afternoon, and Catee
still hadn’t shown up. I’d miss my bus if I didn’t get moving, and I
really
didn’t want to have to call my mom for a second ride home in under a week. I
slammed its door shut with a clang that echoed down the mostly empty hall and,
while making my way toward the bus, I ran smack into her at the first corner.
We broke into immediate laughter at the clumsiness of the encounter and, after
I helped pick up her books, she asked what I was doing after school the next
day.