The Cat That Went to Homecoming (7 page)

I started to walk home feeling too sorry for
myself to look around, which was a big mistake. I barely made it
past the end of Cindy’s driveway when I felt myself being shoved
from behind. I fell forward with my hands extended and landed flat
on my stomach, scraping the skin off the palms of both hands in the
process. The left side of my face hit the pavement. I could feel a
burning pain spread across my face and tasted blood.

I tried to stand, but was knocked back to the
ground and immediately kicked in the ribs. I curled up into a ball
to protect my ribs and covered my head with my hands as the kicking
continued. I screamed for help.

I heard footsteps pounding the pavement and
peeked through my arms to see Cindy and Brandon running to my
aid.

There was a break in the beating which
allowed me to sit up and see who my attacker actually was. Brandon
was behind Darcel holding her arms behind her like chicken wings
while she shouted obscenities at him.

“Let me go, queer boy!” she screamed. He held
her arms tight while Cindy helped me up.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cindy
shouted at Darcel.

“Stay out of this Cindy, and tell your fag
friend to let me go.”

“Cindy, take Ellen home.” Brandon said, “I’ll
hold this one back.”

Cindy brushed some of the gravel from the
shoulder of the road off me and linked her arm in mine. I was so
stunned by the ambush attack that I never even had the chance to
cry! Cindy tried leading me in the direction of my house, when I
heard Darcel shout, “That’s right, take that big loser home! She
can’t hide forever!”

I had been verbally bullied by Darcel and so
many others for years, but never had I been physically attacked.
This attack was an escalation in her bullying. I felt that if I
didn’t stand up for myself right now, the bullying would never
stop.

I pulled away from Cindy. I turned and faced
Darcel and my whole body filled with a rage like I had never felt
before. I felt it running through my veins, feeding toxic anger
into every organ in my body. I was silent as I looked at her, but
I’m pretty sure my face showed her my anger.

“You made a big mistake, Darcel,” I said in
an even, confident tone I didn’t know I had.

“Oh and just what mistake is that,
Watermelon? Are you going to have your mom come beat me up?” She
mocked, still being held back but trying like hell to get out of
Brandon’s grasp. She looked at Cindy and added, “Her slut mom got
me kicked out of Summerfest! Watermelon can’t even fight her own
battles.”

“You just started World War Three,” I
replied, and started to walk away.

“How do you think a person like YOU can
engage in warfare with a person like ME? Don’t you know who I am? I
have more friends than you have fat cells!” she shouted.

“It’s not the certain number of friends a
person has in their life that matters, it’s the number of friends
that person can be certain of that does.” That comment came out of
Brandon’s mouth, and completely stunned me.

I faced Darcel, who was considered the most
beautiful girl in the school. She was the head cheerleader and
school slut. I took a really good look at her and truly noticed her
for the first time. Why hadn’t I ever noticed the acne covering her
cheeks? Or how over-processed and straw-like her hair was? Could
she be using her bravado as a shield to cover her own insecurities?
I wanted so badly to use any of her imperfections as a weapon to
smash her shield into smithereens, but found myself feeling sorry
for her. She was no better than me. She herself had certain
insecurities, she just chose to point other peoples’ imperfections
out as a way of preventing her own from being discovered.

I looked at Cindy, who had been trying so
hard to be my friend, but I kept pushing her away. Why? So Cindy
could be like Darcel? I looked at Brandon, a boy who had just met
me and knew nothing about me. I thought about my mom, about Jane
and her husband, Stan.

I could have used Darcel’s acne as a weapon
to inflict some pain on her, but instead I thought about the good
people in my life and realized I wanted to be like them.

Brandon let go of Darcel’s arms and came over
to take my left hand while Cindy took the right. My two friends
then escorted me home.

“Thank you. I think the two of you saved my
life!” I said to Brandon and Cindy as I stepped onto my front
porch.

“She’s a real bitch,” Brandon said about
Darcel, “I’ve heard guys talk about her in school, but I’ve never
met her.”

Brandon went to a private Catholic high
school and was not a part of the public school scene. Apparently
Darcel’s reputation crossed all borders!

“Are you going to be okay?” Cindy asked,
looking cautiously at my scraped face and fat lip.

“I’m just a little banged up, nothing too
serious. I’ll be fine. Thanks for walking me home.”

“Call me if you need anything,” Cindy said as
she backed away from my porch.

I gave them a weak smile and waved goodbye
before walking through the front door. Only when I was behind the
closed door did I allow myself to cry. Hershey climbed onto my lap
after I slid down the door and sat on the floor sobbing. He tried
to lick away the tears, but there were too many.

Chapter
Eleven

The left side of my face was an angry red and
bloody abrasion. My lower lip was swollen to almost twice its
normal size. The palms of my hands looked like my face, only there
was gravel embedded in places that I had to pick out with tweezers.
There were painful spots all over my rib cage and stomach that I
was sure would be bruised in a matter of hours. I was a mess! I
wouldn’t be able to hide any of this from my mom, who would be home
in just a few minutes.

As I gingerly blotted hydrogen peroxide onto
the raw skin of my scraped face, I tried to come up with a scenario
that my mom would buy. During the cleaning of my face, I stopped
and looked at myself. I saw the abrasion and the fat lip
immediately, but the reason I put the cotton ball down and stared
was because my face didn’t look like my face to me. It wasn’t as
full as it used to be. I only had one chin! I slowly turned my head
from side to side, taking in my new appearance. Were those cheek
bones?

My gaze ventured to my neck. I pushed my
shirt aside and, to my surprise, I could see my collarbones! They
weren’t as prominent as those of a starving actress, but they were
there. Wow! How did all this happen? I knew my pants were getting a
bit baggy on me because I could actually pull them down to go to
the bathroom without unbuttoning and unzipping them, but I hadn’t
really thought much of it.

I didn’t really make any dietary changes, but
I had been working for Jane for over a month. Most days I rode my
bike the six miles to her house and back. On those days, Hershey
had to stay home, but on the days Mom was able to take me there, he
came along. The first few times it took me almost forty-five
minutes to get there, but lately, it wasn’t more than a half-hour.
And while there, I spent a good four hours sweating in the sun
bending and kneeling and hauling debris to the roadside.

Jane’s current animal handler teams had to go
through the same test that Hershey did to recertify for their Pet
Partners registration every two years. On days when she was
recertifying her therapy animal teams, I would help her by acting
out roles. I was an old woman in a walker, or a person in a
wheelchair. When Jane wasn’t there, I didn’t eat lunch, but when
she was home, she insisted on feeding me. She made fabulous salads
with fresh vegetables and greens from her garden and her own
dressing that was to die for!

I was pretty sure the job with Jane was
responsible for my drop in weight. I wished I knew how much I had
lost, but I didn’t even know how much I weighed to begin with. Mom
had a scale in the bathroom, but I was like a horse with blinders
on when it came to the scale.

If I don’t see it, it can’t hurt me! Just
call me The Queen of Avoidance
.

I looked over at the scale. ‘Should I?’ I
thought. I pulled at the waistband of my jeans and folded it over,
trying to judge just how much extra fabric there was. It had to be
at least two inches. I stared into my own eyes in the mirror and
shook my head. “No, I’m not ready for that,” I told myself.

I heard Mom bustle through the front door and
call out to me, “Ellen! Could you please give me a hand?”

I ran out of the bathroom and raced to the
front door because her voice was so urgent. I couldn’t imagine what
was wrong, what she needed help with.

When we met, we both stared at each other in
disbelief. Mom was carrying a brand new printer! What the heck?

“What the heck?” Mom echoed my silent
comment, nearly dropping the box. “What happened to you? Let me
take a look at your face.” She plopped the box on the floor and
rushed to me. “Who did this to you?”

I tried to brush it off. “Mom, it’s nothing.
I just fell off of my bike,” I said, but she looked at me with that
‘LIAR’ look.

“Did you clean this wound?” she asked as she
inspected my cheek.

I raised my palms and said, “Yes, and these
too.” I hoped the scraped hands would make it more convincing that
this was a bike accident.

She held my hands out and shook her head,
“How in the world did you fall off your bike?” she asked.

“I was distracted by an animal crossing the
street. A squirrel, maybe a chipmunk, I don’t know which. All I
know is, I was watching it run past me and the next thing I knew I
was on the ground. It looks worse than it is, really Mom.” I hoped
she would believe this story. I was too ashamed to tell her the
truth, despite the fact that I actually stood up for myself.

“Let’s at least have a doctor look at you and
make sure you’re okay,” she said.

“NO!” I said in too loud a tone. “I’m sorry,
I didn’t mean to raise my voice. Mom I’m just fine, I swear. No
broken bones, see?” I said as I waved my hands and danced around to
prove it. I ignored the screaming pain in my ribs, and I must’ve
been successful because she believed me.

“Well then at least let me put some
antibiotic ointment on these scrapes so they heal faster and don’t
scar,” she said as she headed for the bathroom.

I picked up the printer and put the box on
the kitchen table, wondering where the heck it came from when Mom
returned with the ointment. I sat in one of the chairs and let her
apply the ointment to my face.

“You’re wondering where the printer came
from,” she stated matter-of-factly.

I nodded in agreement.

“I bought it for you,” she said.

“How could you afford it?” I asked.

She finished applying the ointment and sat in
the chair next to me. “There are two issues I never discuss with
you, child support and your father. I don’t want to do anything or
say anything to impact your impression of him.”

“He has not come to visit me or called me in
over three years! He has damaged my impression of him on his own.
There is nothing you could say that would make it worse,” I barked
back at her.

“Well nevertheless, there has been a change
that is going to positively affect our living situation, and I feel
that you have the right to know what is going on.

“The state has found your father, and I am
finally receiving child support.” She went on. “He and I have to
appear in court next week. I think he may want to see you while
he’s here.” She looked nervous and I must have looked apprehensive
because she said, “Ellen, our divorce had nothing to do with you.
After it was all said and done, he moved to Ohio and began a new
life. I’m certain that he never meant to detach himself from you.
Time has a way of getting away from a person, and sometimes a year
or two can go by without a person realizing it.”

“Did you speak to him? Is that what he said?
Time got away from him?” I was angry. I could understand a person
becoming so absorbed in their life that some time goes by, but when
a holiday like Christmas comes around, or a birthday, wouldn’t that
jolt a person back to reality?

I stood up and pushed the chair back into
place. Hershey was rubbing my legs and flopped onto my feet. I
squatted down to pet my boy and give his chin a rub. “I won’t be
seeing my dad when he comes to town. I have other plans. Please
excuse me, Mom, but I need some time alone.”

I left the kitchen and headed for my bedroom.
Hershey raced me to the room and he naturally won. He was lying
across the foot of my bed when I entered and I quietly shut the
door. I was upset, but slamming the door shut was not going to make
me feel any better, plus it would just frighten Hershey if I did.
It wasn’t Mom’s fault my dad was such an ass. It wasn’t my fault,
either.

I had to absorb the information my mom just
shared with me. My dad had not paid any child support since he
left! That felt like a slap in the face. Why wasn’t I important
enough to him? I understood the purpose of child support. It was
money the non-custodial parent paid towards the living expenses of
their child for food, clothing, and shelter. My mom was not the
kind of person who would squander support money on herself. She was
a hard-working, dedicated woman.

As I passed my vanity, I caught my reflection
in the mirror and stopped. The abrasion on my face was red and
shiny from the ointment. I looked like the Phantom of the Opera
wearing a red satin mask. I leaned in close to the mirror and
looked myself in the eyes.

“It’s time to change your life around,
Ellen,” I said out loud to my reflection. “Are you ready?” Hershey
was suddenly on the vanity rubbing up against me, purring.

“Are we ready Hersh?” I asked him. His
response was a head butt against the good side of my face.