Strays Page 9

  “He’s a manager at a juicing facility,” I said.

  “And your mom?” asked Talbot’s mom.

  There was a certain look people gave me when I told them my mom was dead. I could see the pity in their eyes. They’d stare at me an uncomfortably long time and conjure up a specific smile that said both That is so awful and I’m so glad I’m not you. I wasn’t interested in inviting these pity-party smiles to ruin my perfectly good dinner at Talbot’s.

  “She’s a librarian,” I said. It was just easier to speak about my mom in the present tense.

  “Oh really! Where?” asked Talbot’s dad. “Thaddeus, stop playing with your food!”

  Talbot’s brother disassembled the vegetable village on his plate.

  I struggled to remember the name of the library in the center of town that I had walked by so many times. Then it came to me. “Central Branch. On Church.” Little did they know that since my mom died, I avoided libraries like the plague.

  “So you must be an avid reader then,” said Talbot’s mother. I didn’t mention I had failed English.

  “Yeah, and an avid batterer of English teachers,” said Talbot, under her breath.

  “What was that?” asked her dad.

  “Nothing,” Talbot said.

  I shot her a look.

  Talbot’s dad wiped pesto off of his lips. “See that, Talbot, some people your age actually enjoy reading literature.”

  Talbot rolled her eyes and said to me, “He thinks I should do better in school.”

  “Better is an understatement,” added her mother.

  I was sitting there privy to a conversation that was meant just for the three of them. It didn’t quite feel right, and I could tell it was making Talbot uncomfortable.

  Hoping to change the subject, I turned my attention to Thaddeus.

  “Did you know that in Thailand they eat grasshoppers?” I said.

  “Cool! I want to go there!” said Thaddeus.

  But Talbot’s mom brought the focus back to me. “So what are your college plans?”

  “Hopefully, I’ll be at Brown. It’s where my mom went,” I said.

  “You set your sights high. I like that,” said Talbot’s dad. “I wish someone else would do the same.” He looked over at Talbot, who refused to make eye contact with him.

  Even though it was easy to say I was going to Brown, I knew that in reality, it all depended on my grades and whether or not I’d get a student loan approved at the bank.

  “Any idea what you’ll study?” asked Talbot’s dad.

  It was beginning to feel as though I were back on trial with all these questions. Did they always hound Talbot like this? I suddenly appreciated my dad’s silence.

  Talbot forked her food. “Dad’s a psychology professor. He’s way into the thought process.”

  “Or in some cases, the lack thereof,” her dad said and shot his daughter another look.

  They were coming down hard on Talbot, and I could tell by the way she threw down her bread that she’d had enough.

  I answered his question. “I don’t know what I’ll study yet. I’m a big science person, but I’m not sure where my focus would be.”

  “It’s important to make goals, Iris. Know what you want,” said Talbot’s dad.

  “Yeah, be sure and have a plan for everything and be bored the rest of your life,” said Talbot. “That’s our family’s credo.”

  “That’s enough, Talbot,” said her mother.

  “What, aren’t I entitled to my own crappy opinion?” asked Talbot, throwing her fork down.

  “Enough!” yelled her dad. “You, young lady, can go to your room.”

  Once Talbot was upstairs, her dad apologized to me. “She’s just been so difficult. I’m sorry about this.”

  We sat in awkward silence for the rest of the meal, including when the berry cobbler came out. I was happy not to have to make conversation. I didn’t think I was very good at it anyway. After dinner I was allowed to go upstairs and found Talbot in her room, playing music and looking at a magazine.

  “My parents are such jerks,” she said.

  “It’s okay. Mine are, too.” I felt weird making it seem as though Mom were still alive. But I didn’t know how to get out of it now. I went on and on in elaborate detail about what awful things she had done to me in the past few months, mostly stolen from Sierra’s former tirades. Talbot listened with a sympathetic ear.

  “We’ll be out of here soon enough,” she said.

  “Where do you want to go to college?” I asked.

  “College? It’s not for me. At least not right away. I’m taking a year off to travel across the U.S. I mean, there’s so much to see and learn through experience instead of learning it in a classroom.”

  “That’s so cool that your parents are letting you do that!” I was jealous of her freedom.

  “Well, they don’t know about that plan yet,” said Talbot.

  “Oh.”

  “But what can they do? I’ll be eighteen—a full-on adult. Then they won’t have control over me anymore,” she said.

  I imagined, just for a second, what it would be like to ditch my Brown University plans and hop in a loaded car with Talbot, cruising the highways, meeting people from all over the globe, living a very different kind of life.

  “Kevin is so hot,” said Talbot, applying bright red lipstick at her vanity. When she finished, she leaned in toward the mirror and kissed her reflection—leaving a stain of lip marks.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Kevin. Dog trainer Kevin.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He was good looking, in a stereotypical Santa Cruz surfer kind of way.

  “I bet he gets a lot of girls,” Talbot said, wiping the lipstick off her lips and replacing it with a frosty pink hue.

  “Maybe.” I hadn’t really given it much thought.

  “Do you think he could be into me?” she asked.

  Was she serious? “Talbot! You’re like ten years younger than him. That’s illegal!”

  “First of all, I bet we’re only around seven years younger than him, and besides, it’s not like it would be the first time.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I mean, older men. Forget lame high school boys. I’m talking about a real man,” she said, moving on to a dark eyeliner.

  “You’ve done that?”

  Talbot got up and locked her bedroom door and cranked up her stereo. “I had to promise I’d never talk about it again. As if they can control the words that come out of my mouth.” Talbot rolled her eyes. “So last year, I was totally hooking up with my science teacher, Mr. Ettinger.”

  “Was it serious?” I asked.

  Talbot nodded her head. “Very.”

  “So what happened?”

  “We got caught.”

  “No.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Who caught you?”

  “Stupid senior girls. They all had crushes on him. They were just jealous that he was giving me all his attention. They claimed they had questions about some science assignment. I figured he had locked the office door behind him, but then all of a sudden, those senior girls were there. They walked in on us kissing. They must have stolen the key from the receptionist. They totally sabotaged me.”

  “Did you get in trouble?” I asked.

  “By the school? No way. In their eyes I was the victim of the whole situation. Poor, ignorant underage girl being seduced by the predatory science teacher. Mr. Ettinger was fired on the spot, and that was the end of that. The next thing I know I’m thrown into some weekly counseling group, and some woman named Ms. June is my new science teacher.”

  “Did your folks freak out?” I asked.

  “They were such jerks. They pressed charges, and I guess Christopher is doing time somewhere in San Jose.”

  “Christopher?”

  “Mr. Ettinger. He’s not allowed to come within three hundred feet of a school of any kind. And he’s never allowed to have contact with me again. I’m st
ill mad at them.”

  “So the dog rehab isn’t related to that?” I asked.

  “It’s completely related. I stole my parents’ car. I had been at a party, and I’d had a few drinks, and then I just had to see Mr. E., but my parents called the car in as missing, and the cops were looking for it, and then I crashed on Highway 17 before I could even get to him. My parents could have dropped the charges. I am their daughter. But they thought it would ‘teach me a lesson.’ All it taught me was that high school boys are way lame and Kevin is so hot!”

  Would she think about her actions differently if she had known it was a drunk driver who had ended my mom’s life?

  I couldn’t believe that after all she had been through she seemed willing to risk everything again. Kevin was cute and all, but he was our teacher, our superior, and I would never even have thought of crossing that line.

  Talbot added some glittery eye shadow. “Whatever. Just one more school year and we’re out of here, right?”

  I shrugged.

  “Sorry. I mean, I’m out of here. You’ll be on your way to college, but at least you’ll be out of high school. What’s Santa Cruz High like?”

  “Big,” I said.

  “You’re lucky. At Clark, we only have fifty people per grade. I’ve been stuck with those same fifty people for the last six years. I can’t stand it anymore.”

  “Yeah, but my school is so big, I kind of feel lost in it,” I said.

  “That’s good, though. I’d love it if I could walk down the halls without someone knowing about what happened and calling me some awful name.”

  I didn’t know how to tell her that sometimes I didn’t want to be lost. In fact, it was just the opposite. Sometimes I wanted nothing more than for someone to reach out and find me.

  “What’s up with you and Sycamore?”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Oak. I call him Sycamore. Sometimes I call him Redwood. Any tree will do. His parents must be total hippies. You are aware that he’s totally into you.”

  Here I was wondering whether or not Oak’s coffee proposition was romantic, and Talbot had him all figured out. She seemed to know a lot more about how to read a guy than I did.

  “Well, he asked me to coffee,” I said.

  “That’s a weird date activity.”

  “I’m kind of a caffeine addict,” I explained.

  “That means he’s paying attention!” Talbot moved to her bed, and I followed. “So what did you say?”

  “I told him I didn’t have time,” I said.

  “Worst answer ever.”

  Talbot was right. What was I thinking? He’d never make that kind of effort again. I needed her expert opinion. “I was busy! What was I supposed to say?”

  “You’ve got to give a guy something to hold on to. A promise of what’s to come.”

  With all her experience with older men, it couldn’t hurt me to heed her advice.

  “So what should I do?” I asked.

  She grabbed her phone. “You call him.”

  “I don’t have his number,” I told her, relieved.

  “I do.” Talbot removed a piece of paper from her bulletin board.

  “Let me guess—you got his number from Kevin,” I said, remembering that was where she got mine.

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t just get his—I got the whole class. I’ll dial.” She began pressing buttons.

  A rush of excitement and embarrassment ran through me.

  She handed me the phone, which was already ringing on the other end.

  “What do I say?” I panicked.

  “Hello?” It was Oak.

  Talbot was making kissing sounds, so I shooed her away.

  “Hey. How’s it going?” I asked.

  “Who is this?”

  “Oh, sorry.” Why didn’t he recognize my voice? “It’s Iris…from dog rehab. I’m the one who has Roman.”

  “The Iris who has Roman. I’m glad you explained it to me that way because I know so many girls named Iris, I really can’t keep track of them all.”

  I laughed. Okay, I guess I had gone a little far in qualifying who I was.

  “What’s up, Iris?”

  “Nothing much. Um. Can you hold on a second?” I put the phone facedown into a pillow and looked over at Talbot.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to him.”

  She grabbed the phone.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered.

  “I’ll speak for you,” she said.

  I flashed back to reading the play Cyrano de Bergerac last year in Schneider’s class. Things in the story went south quickly when Cyrano started speaking for Christian.

  I grabbed the phone back. I might not have known what to say, but I certainly didn’t want anyone else speaking for me.

  “Hi, sorry about that,” I said.

  “What’s going on over there?” asked Oak.

  “Nothing. I’m at Talbot’s. She’s being difficult,” I said, laughing.

  “She’s lying!” shouted Talbot.

  “I’ve heard she’s trouble,” said Oak. I hoped he wasn’t referring to the Mr. Ettinger incident. She was the victim in that situation, and it would really piss me off if he was claiming otherwise.

  “Ask him to the bonfire next weekend,” mouthed Talbot.

  “What bonfire?” I mouthed back.

  “Just ask him!” She egged me on.

  “So, I was wondering…” How was I supposed to put this? “Do you like the beach?”

  “Nah, breathtaking views kind of make me queasy,” he said.

  I had done it again. Why did I have to make myself look like a complete idiot?

  “Yes, I like the beach, Iris with the dog named Roman,” Oak said.

  Here went nothing. “There’s a bonfire next weekend, and I was wondering if you wanted to go.”

  Talbot gave me two thumbs up.

  “Sure! Sounds great,” said Oak.

  That had been so easy!

  I heard the sound of a car honking through the phone. “Hey, Iris. I gotta go. My car is blocking my dad in the driveway. But I’ll see you on Monday.”

  “Okay. See you then.”

  “So?” asked Talbot when I had put the phone back on the charger.

  “He’s in,” I said.

  “Now there’s just one thing,” Talbot said.

  “What’s that?”

  “We need to plan that bonfire.”

  I’d assumed when she told me to invite him to the bonfire that there was an actual bonfire to attend. “What are you talking about?”

  Talbot opened her laptop and began typing an invitation over e-mail. Her recipient list was huge.

  “Who are all those people?” I asked.

  “Just a bunch of high schoolers from Harbor, SC, Kirby, Clark…people who know how to get the word out.”

  I couldn’t believe she knew so many people.

  “I just have to hit send and…” Talbot moved the cursor to send and clicked. “Consider the bonfire planned.”

  *

  Later, when it was time to go, I put my shoes back on, and her whole family walked me to the door.

  “We hope you come back again soon!” said Talbot’s mother.

  Her father said to Talbot, “This friend is good for you.”

  Thaddeus shot me with his toy gun on the way out. I fired back with my finger.

  I wheeled my bike outside and headed for Bay Street. I was looking forward to coasting downhill all the way home. In this moment, the waters within were ripple-free, like a glassy lake. Only the sound of my bike wheels spinning accompanied me home.

  eight

  I really didn’t want to be the kind of girl who thought about boys all the time. I wanted to rise above the tug and pull of attraction, but I found myself constantly thinking about Oak. I even whipped out my yearbook from the previous year and searched for him through the pages. His class photo was missing, but I saw him in the b
ackground of other pictures: In one, he was sitting in the library with his hood covering his face; in another, he was wearing gym shorts and holding a basketball with a hood over his face. I saw his frame, tall, lanky, but I wanted to know more. Who was the boy beneath the hood?

  It was the morning of Dad’s promotional interview, and I could tell he was nervous. He kept fidgeting with his new suit, rearranging his tie, and checking his watch. Before I could tell him he looked nice or wish him good luck, he was out the door, forgetting to pour the coffee he had prepared, leaving me with the entire pot all for myself.

  In class, Perry was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that read Reading Is Sexy. Apparently, they eased up on the dress code over the summer, even for teachers. I helped a few of the other kids with our morning ritual of placing the chairs in a circle.

  “Thanks!” Perry said.

  Once we were all gathered, class began. A few of us had opened our notebooks, pens poised between fingers, when Perry interrupted.

  “Why don’t you put the pens down?”

  We all complied.

  Perry circled the room. “I find it’s much easier to really engage in a conversation if you aren’t worried about writing everything down and you focus more on really listening.”

  A teacher who didn’t want us to take notes? Another first for me—but then again, Perry definitely had her own way of doing things.

  Once our notebooks and pens were out of service, Perry continued, “What do you think of when I say fairy tales?”

  A few hands cropped up, none of them mine.

  “Don’t worry about hand-raising either. Just pretend you’re in a real conversation.” She paused and stared off into space for a second. She had a habit of getting lost in her own thoughts. Did I look the same when I did that?

  “Scratch that,” Perry said. “Don’t pretend. Just be in a real conversation.”

  “Bedtime,” said a girl from the softball team.

  “Good versus evil,” said one of the guys.

  “Happily ever after?” I half-answered, half-asked.

  Perry walked to the front of the class. “These are all great ideas. Keep ’em coming.”

  “Unfulfilled desire,” said another girl, a theater geek.

  Perry furiously scribbled everyone’s ideas on the whiteboard.

  Monsters, forests, not reality—the list continued. Perry practically danced around the room in excitement as answers flew out of our mouths faster and faster.