Unlikely hero, p.6
Unlikely Hero, page 6
His mother fought tooth and nail discouraging his father from visiting. She wanted her sons to see their father as a monster. But Jason knew his father wasn’t a monster. He knew the two of them fought, on a daily basis, for several years now. He knew the fault lie with them both. They both were right and wrong. He just wanted Jacob to be a normal happy kid.
His father continued to pay the mortgage, as well as the upkeep, which included landscaping, garbage removal, clothing allowances for both boys and money for food. Somehow the money meant to help their mother care for them made its way into the vodka she needed to get her through one boyfriend to the next.
At one time his father even suggested they come and live with him and his new wife, but of course Jason felt guilty leaving their mother alone with no one to take care of her. He knew he couldn’t do it, and Jacob wouldn’t leave him. Jacob was only three when their father left and didn’t know him enough to want to live with him.
Jason put on jeans and his old faded Coldplay tee shirt, shoved his feet into his old Nikes and went downstairs to made sure Jacob, who was seven now, had breakfast. He went to the store for groceries yesterday and picked up a few things, making sure to get Jacob his favorite cereal, Miniwheat’s, the frosted kind and fresh milk. When he stepped into the kitchen, he saw Jake was sitting in front of a bowl scooping spoonfuls into his mouth as fast as the second hand could move. Happy he had the forethought to get the breakfast cereal, he asked Jake if he had everything, he needed for school.
“You’ve got pencils, a pen right?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve got your spirals right?” Jason asked, “you have your protractor, ruler and whatever else you need for math?”
“Yeah, Jay, I got it. You put it in my backpack yesterday yourself, don’t you remember?”
He had to smile at his little brother’s answer.
“Yeah, buddy, I remember now… Thanks dude.”
Jacob lifted his hand with a thumb’s up and Jason smiled again.
“Well, we’ve got to move it along here. I’ve got to walk you to the bus stop in five minutes.”
“Ok.” Jacob stood and put his empty bowl into the sink along with his glass, which held orange juice five minutes ago.
Then he took off to the bathroom and quickly brushed his teeth. Pulling his sweatshirt off of the door handle he shrugged it on. Then he picked up his backpack slinging it over his shoulder, and stood waiting at the door. He remembered he didn’t kiss his mother goodbye. Jason watched as Jake leaned in and saw him wince as a disgusted look flashed briefly across his face. He leaned in kissing their mother.
“Love you mom. See you later.”
She roused herself and looking quizzically at her son said. “Ok baby, I’ll be here when you get home. I’ll have a snack for us to eat when you get home. Ok Jake?”
Jason rolled his eyes and called Jake, “Ok Jake, time to move it.”
“See ya later baby.”
Jacob turned to wave.
Jason momentarily wished he could see her like he used to, like Jake does, before she had a bottle of vodka hidden in almost every closet. He turned and locked the door, thinking if she could only stay sober to ask Jake how his day went. That would make Jake happy. He didn’t hold out much hope.
Jason walked Jacob to the bus stop and saw him off, then walked to Summit High taking in the spring morning. Hope springs eternal.. yeah right.
***
When Jason got to his first class, there was already the buzz about the “new” girl. The girls were being catty and the guys were showing some interest. He walked into the classroom and hung his jacket on a hook. He slung his backpack over his arm and made his way to his normal chair, straight to the back of the room to the left. He sat down and was taking out his notebook and a pen when she walked in the door. She looked lost and so out of place, that Jason actually felt sorry for her. She walked slowly to the back of the room, avoiding eye contact at all cost, and sat down across the room from Jason.
From what he could see, she was kind of pretty. It was hard to tell when she looked down, her hair formed a barrier around her face. But she looked like such a pitiful creature, so out of her element, obviously overly shy and quite uncomfortable. Jason ignored the girl knowing she wished everyone would.
Every now and then he’d sneak a peak in her direction and caught her looking straight ahead while writing in her notebook. She wasn’t what you would call a raving beauty. She had big pale blue eyes with long dark lashes. She appeared to be thin, but it was hard to tell while she was sitting down. She dressed average, trying not to stand out and from what he could see; she went out of her way to do just that. Unlike all the spoiled girls here, who thought everyday was a fashion show for them to show off their family money and exquisite taste in couture, she seemed like a breath of fresh air.
Jason looked up and glanced in her direction and was caught cold. She reached for her backpack and looked up turning her head in his direction. Jason was blown away to say the least. He was able to see her face to face as opposed to just her profile. His eyes taking in as much as they could in the small time allotted them; her small heart shaped face, full lips, large pale blue eyes, lightly arched eyebrows and pert nose. He noticed the long silver scar than ran from the corner of her left brow to the top of her left cheekbone, but that didn’t deter from her natural beauty. She was scarred but in no way marred.
She was more than just cute; she was pretty by Jason’s standards. He quickly lowered his head and started writing gibberish on his notepad to avoid looking at her until the class ended. When the bell rang she quickly bent to grab her things and nearly dashed out of the classroom. He saw she was thin and petite. He knew right then and there he would like to get to know this girl.
‘I’m sure I’m not the only one.’ Jason thought.
His only obstacle was he was painfully shy, perhaps more than she appeared to be.
Maybe, with a little luck, he’ll have more classes with her. It looks like today isn’t looking so bad after all.
Chapter 7
My day continued much the same as my first class. I knew eventually the “new girl” phase would end for these kids and something new will distract them, and their attention will be focused elsewhere, then I would be ‘free to move about the cabin’ so to speak.
The first part of the day was almost a carbon copy of my first class. I found myself dreading lunch with all the nervous twittering going on in my stomach. Fear set in when I thought about the normal socializing that usually took place during lunch break and prayed no one would try to talk to me.
I chose the lunch table in the back of the room behind the counter very carefully. It was as far as you can get from any other table occupied by other kids giving me some privacy from the constant stares. I was also able to look out the window to the cafeteria courtyard, which was as picturesque as the rest of the campus. It was crescent shaped and the border was dotted with pretty white flowered trees. Pear trees I think. Within the crescent, there were a few tables with bench seats attached.
A few students were sitting outside, eating, talking and laughing. I opened my backpack and took the yogurt out of the small, insulated lunch bag I packed last night. I also grabbed my water bottle, opened it, took a swig, twisted the cap back on and set it down. I looked around the room quickly and saw several pairs of eyes looking my way. So, I opened my notebook and pretended to review the notes I took. I forced in a few mouthfuls of my yogurt and started doodling on my notebook. Looking up now and then to see if I was still the target of their gawking stares, hoping they found something else to distract them.
I noticed the football guy and the blonde girl, along with that group took over the table in the front, near the doors leading outside.
The lunch room was lined with tables, most empty, but there were a few scattered tables with some kids I hadn’t seen during the day. Looking to my left I noticed a girl who was in two of my three classes so far. She was alone on one side of the table and was eating a sandwich with a soda. From what I gathered so far, the majority of girls in this school were clickish and appeared to be a little too into themselves.
I knew I didn’t fit their idea of normal, nor did this girl. We weren’t perfect. I was far too plain and skinny and this girl was tall and thick. That would explain the obvious snickering behind my back. Our eyes met briefly and she smiled weakly. I felt a bit awkward, but I smiled back anyway.
The first thing I noticed about her was that she was really pretty. Her size didn’t detract from her beauty at all. Not to me. And there was something about her warm smile, the sparkle in her eyes. If I wanted a friend in SHS, this girl would be my first choice. Of course, I didn’t want or need any friends. I was too screwed up to put my issues on any living soul let alone this girl with the friendly face and the warm smile.
She was obviously unaware of the blonde haired boy with the handsome face, who was staring over his Civics textbook in her direction every chance he got. At the other end of her table sat two girls, both animated and chattering, and from what I could hear they were arguing about molecules in the air dissipating and referencing their biology class; Science nerds for sure. I looked at the rest of my schedule and figured the rest of the day would be much like the beginning of the day—boring and uncomfortable—with the exception of art. That class may actually be interesting.
I didn’t, by any means, consider myself an artist of any kind. But it would be somewhat cool to see what it was about. I’d never taken an art class before.
***
Art was the last class of the day and when I walked in the classroom, I noticed several kids from the “it group”, were also in this class. That’s my name for football guy, blonde girl and friends. Funny how that never changed, there was always an ‘it’ group, no matter the school, or the year.
As it turns out, thankfully, we weren’t assigned stations, I was happy for that. I looked around watching to see what the other kids were doing then followed suit. We had to get our own supplies from the cubbies on the sidewall of the classroom. I walked up to where all the supplies were and was both blown away and amazed by the choices. There were jars filled with every size and width of paint brush you could image. Water brushes were separated from oil brushes. The smell of the turpentine permeated the small area.
There were so many different color paints, oil and watercolors, charcoal crayons, shading sticks and colored pencils, and empty containers to fill with water for rinsing your brush off. To the side of where I stood, there was a big two-welled sink, both permanently stained with paint colors from art classes taught years ago.
I took some charcoal crayons in black, gray, charcoal, brown and red. Bland colors, like me, I thought to myself. On the wall next to the sink were smocks of all sizes hanging on hooks, also stained with the colors of yesteryear. I quickly grabbed one on the way back to my easel. When I slipped it on, I almost laughed out loud at the fit. It was way too big. I hastily rolled up the sleeves so I was able to use my hands. I must have looked ridiculous, but it was serviceable.
I scoured the room and picked an easel all the way in the back, near the window where I could look outside. I carried the supplies I collected in my arms as I made my way towards my own perfect sanctuary. It didn’t hurt it was away from most of the other kids. The location gave me the obscurity I needed. I took notice there was also a lot of natural light here.
The others gathered around the art teacher, who, as it happens, was a really nice looking guy. To me he looked too young to be a teacher. He wasn’t tall, more like medium height, thin with longer than expected dark hair. ‘Mr. Thomas’ was embroidered across the upper left pocket. I was amazed to see that he looked almost as young as the students. He was smiling broadly and talking animatedly with the ‘it group’.
A couple of girls took stations near the front, I’m guessing to be close enough to Mr. Thomas. They periodically leaned toward each other and glanced overtly in my direction, all the while giggling like little kids.
Very mature.
I guessed I was the target of their laughing.
A boy who had been in my Trigonometry class walked into the classroom. “Sorry I’m late Mr. T; Mr. Herns refused to let me leave until I found the form from the doctor saying I was okay to play the rest of the season.”
“It’s ok Jason.” Mr. Thomas assured him.
***
Jason stood by the sink and glanced around the classroom. His stare fell on me and he smiled. I quickly lowered my head, feeling the flush of embarrassment creep up my neck to my burning face, as I stared at him through my lowered lashes. He nodded at me and I quickly looked out the window willing the red in my face to go away. I saw out of the corner of my eye as he swung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way to an easel two rows over from me and one row up. I breathed a sigh of relief that I had chosen the station furthest to the back and I raised the height of my easel to totally cover my face.
I think I heard him chuckle.
***
I was happy that someone else took the attention of the ‘It’ group off me. I hung my pocketbook on the back of the chair and back, trying to get creative.
Behind the cover of my tri-legged shield, I tried to get my mind off of my discomfort by going over the events of the day and was amazed I managed to get through it’s entirety without anyone, with the exception of teachers and aides, even speaking to me. And that was solely to give directions I solicited.
Throughout the day, I got a few nods, a few embarrassed smiles from kids trying to make eye contact. But I mostly got curious looks and tons of whispering. I felt so out of place it was painful. Like a fish out of Florida. I found myself wishing so badly I could open my eyes and be ‘home’, only home wasn’t home anymore.
Mr. Thomas made it a point telling us, the whole class, what he would expect from us during the remainder of the semester. I knew this must have been for my benefit. I was the only “new” student.
After art class was over, I walked to the sink and cleaned my supplies, then hung the smock I wore on the nearest hook. The bell rang and the classroom emptied in a whoosh of activity. I walked back over to the workstation, gathered my belongings, left school and walked home to the house my family now lived in.
During the walk home I had the strangest feeling that someone was watching me, following me, which was nothing new after today, but I still turned around several times expecting to see someone there laughing and snickering behind their hands. But nothing. There was no one there. No cars, no people. No one. I chalked it up to the jitters of my first day.
I kept walking with my eyes averted towards the ground and was surprised to see our house right in front of me when I looked up. It’s a really nice two story, four bedrooms, three and a half bath house, on a very pretty, manicured street with tall thick trees everywhere. It was the house my mom always wanted. ‘Her dream home’ she called it. In the area we lived in in Bellaire Beach, the houses were all ranches. Somewhat small and we had only one and a half baths. That was tough.
The only stipulation I demanded regarding this whole move thing was that I needed my own space. My own room was a prerequisite but I also insisted on my own bathroom. After sharing one full bath with both my mom and Tim, I wanted my own private space. I was happy for that. As I shut the door behind me and lowered my backpack and purse to the floor, I sighed loudly. I was relieved to be home. My first day was just like I thought it would be. I didn’t know why I was so nervous…stealth. Hmm.
Chapter 8
The next few days were much like the first. No one really bothered with me and I really didn’t mind. The boy in my first class, who also sat in the back continued to stare at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. I know this because I sort of stared at him too.
He was handsome, in a rugged guy kind of way. He had an angular face, with a strong straight nose, nice brown eyes and a warm smile. He seemed very regular and appeared to be as uncomfortable as I was. I found myself wondering if he was a new student here too, but then remembered he said something about being on a sports team to Mr. Thomas my first day.
I wasn’t as uncomfortable as I was the first day. I think it was because he had a kind face and his smile was friendly but not forward. I also liked my new English teacher, Mr. Krome. He had no personality to speak of but we shared the same taste in books, Bronte, Austin and Styron. The class was currently reading Sophie’s Choice by William Styron.
Reading was my escape from reality. I looked forward to going home each day and totally disappearing into the story. That was the thing about reading I loved most, you can become someone else, be somewhere else. Get totally enveloped in the plot and forget who you really are, forget your problems. Forget the past.
“Amber lets go, dinner is almost done, set the table.” Tim shouted up the stairs. “Please.” He added after a momentary brief silence.
The sound of his voice bellowing up the stairs was enough to knock me out of my reverie and bring me back to the here and now. Well, so much for disappearing. I shut the book with a snap, tossing it on the bed. I hastily threw a pair of sweat pants on over my shorts. The smells emanating from the kitchen were actually enticing. Tim must have cooked since mom was just a bit over her head in the kitchen. Thank God for Tim, contractor, handyman and great cook. I think we’ll keep him.
As if I had a choice.
I ran down the stairs and in my quest for plates and utensils, I was forced to open just about every one of the cabinets before I found where my mom had put the dishes and the glasses. I grabbed the three of each I needed and hurried to set the table. I opened three drawers until I found where the silverware was. I have got to rearrange this kitchen. I can’t find anything. The boxes labeled “KITCHEN” with red marker were all thrown into drawers, cabinets and the pantry in a hurry to unpack. Kitchen organization was not my mother’s strong suit either, apparently.
