Casey Barnes Eponymous

5



It happened the last week of summer. Until then Casey was away at a performing arts camp in Michigan. The day after she got back she went to the guitar store in downtown Bethesda. She played a Martin they were displaying in the window. She could not afford it and, given the sorry state of her grades freshman year, she wasn’t expecting a big gift from Tricia anytime soon. But a girl could dream.

When she was done playing she gave the guitar back to the guy behind the counter. That was when Alex Deal walked into the store. She recognized him from Walton because his band had played in talent show the year before.

Being in talent show was a big deal. It fell two days before the first football game. Unlike school plays, which were okay to take part in if you were a girl but borderline dorky if you were a guy, (except of course if you were Yull), it was considered cool to be in talent show. And, as the show only had ten acts, it was hard to get in. Kids joked that auditions for it were as much about talent as they were about popularity.

He checked out a Strat. She walked to the counter, picked out a few picks, and paid. He asked how much the Strat was. She watched him. He was tall with longish dark hair, a strong jaw, and big green eyes. He was wearing a Kurt Cobain T-shirt.

She placed a hand on the counter. The guy told him how much the Strat cost. Alex Deal gave Casey a once-over, plugged the Strat in, and played one half of “Heart-Shaped Box.” He placed the guitar back down, put a credit card on the counter, and looked at her. “You go to Walton?”

She nodded. “Freshman?” he asked.

“Was. Sophomore this year.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes. “You’re Yull’s little sister?”

“I like to think of it the other way around.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yull Barnes is my elder sibling.”

He smiled. “But isn’t that the same thing?”

“Don’t be a smart aleck.”

The guy behind the counter handed Alex a receipt. He looked back to her as soon as he signed it. “You play guitar?”

She froze. If she said yes he would ask her to play him something. That was generally how these things worked. And if she played him something and he didn’t like it her purpose for existence in humanity would be put into question. She shook her head. “Nah. I was just looking around for a friend who plays guitar.”

He held his new Strat up. The guy behind the counter gave her a confused look. Alex Deal did not notice. He placed the Strat in its case. She did not want him to leave. “Bet I can tune a guitar faster than you,” she said.

“I thought you said you can’t play guitar.”

She paused. “I can’t. But I can tune them like seriously, seriously fast. We could place a bet on who can tune that Strat faster--you or me. You win, I buy you an ice cream cone.”

“I don’t like ice cream.”

“A slice of pizza?”

“And how about if you win?” he asked, “Do I have to buy you the Martin?”

“Nope. You can save that for Valentine’s Day.” He laughed. “If I win,” she continued, “you can buy me a chocolate bar. Deal?”

“Deal.”

They drove to his house. It was on a fancy, tree-lined street where by day gardeners’ trucks were parked along the side. Inside, he led her past an elegant dining and living room to a large family room with a set of burnished wooden doors. He took her through the doors and down to the basement, where another guitar was set up.

“Right,” she said, “Should I tune first?”

But they never got around to the guitar-tuning contest because as soon as she sat they kissed for a full two minutes. They spent the rest of the afternoon making out, getting to second base, and going to an action flick she already saw. When he dropped her off he asked if she wanted to go to the beach the next day.

That night it was only her and step dad Jim. Tricia and Yull were away looking at colleges. She called Leigh in LA and told her everything. Leigh responded with many Oh My God’s. Casey got off the phone and thought it was all about to change. Come the new school year, she would no longer be Yull Barnes’ under-achieving kid sister, but Casey Barnes, Alex Deal’s girlfriend. Casey Barnes who did well in…well anyway Casey Barnes, Alex Deal’s girlfriend. Yull who?

The next day she and Alex drove to Rehoboth Beach. They swam in the ocean, passed the iPod back and forth, went on boardwalk rides, and split funnel cake. She called Jim and said she was staying over at Leigh’s. They then went to Alex’s cousin’s beach house and slept in the basement, where they got to third base and sat up half the night talking about bands and movies. After he fell asleep, she stared at the ceiling and thought about how the day had, hands down, been the best of her life. From then on her life would be a collection of those kinds of days.

Or so she thought.

When morning came he drove her home fast so they would beat Yull and Tricia. It was Saturday of Labor Day weekend. He told her he had family in from out of town and would call her Monday. She spent the next two days planning her first week of school outfits and imagining every word of her next phone conversation with Alex.

Yull went to a seniors only party Saturday night. Sunday morning she overheard him on the phone talking about who had been at the party. She thought she heard him say Alex Deal.

Monday came around. Leigh called at noon and asked if he had called yet. No, Casey said, it was only twelve, he was probably still busy with his family. She debated whether or not to tell Leigh about what she heard Yull say. She thought better of it.

At dinnertime Leigh texted and asked if he had called yet. Casey did not respond. As they ate Yull went on and on about colleges. Casey excused herself early, went upstairs, and sat in bed with her guitar on her lap. But instead of playing she stared at the phone sitting on the other side of the bed. At nine thirty, she called Alex Deal.

He answered on the fourth ring. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Sorry I didn’t call today,” he said.

“That’s okay.”

He paused. “First day of school’s tomorrow.”

“I know.”

“Workload this fall’s going to be intense, and I have to apply to college.”

“Oh.”

Then he said it. “I’m not really sure I have time for a girlfriend right now.”

“You…?” She tried to process. Did that mean she had become his girlfriend in those two days? If so why was he ending it now? And since when did college applications keep people from having girlfriends? “Oh.”

A moment passed. “I gotta go,” he said.

When she got off the phone with him she cried quick and hard like she was five years old. Then she called Leigh and told her what happened.

“But,” Leigh said, “you guys had a sleepover.”

Another tear ran down Casey’s face.

“I bet he’s just stressed because he’s a senior,” Leigh continued, “They all get stressed in the fall. Maybe when school starts and he sees you around every day he’ll remember how much he likes you and then you guys’ll start going out again.”

“Really?”

“Why not?”



Casey wore her shortest skirt on the first day of school. It was so short Tricia would not let her wear it to school. She placed it under a baggier one for the purpose of escaping the homestead.

All day long she walked through the halls with an anxious look on her face. He had to be there. No one ever skipped the first day of school. Just before the last period of the day, she thought she saw him, down at the other end of the hall. He was walking away quickly and seemed to have just turned.

She did not see him at all on the second day of school. But on the third, she did. It was after last class of the day ended. She took an alternate hallway. He was leaning against a wall of lockers talking to a guy. She slowed as she passed. But he did not pause his conversation. His eyes caught hers and he gave her a half-nod. She quickened her pace and walked away.

On the fifth day of school, the same day she and Mr. Cole had their discourse about N.W.A, Leigh dropped the bomb. She told Casey she overheard that Alex Deal was going out with Melanie Corcoran. Apparently they hooked up Labor Day weekend, on Saturday, at a seniors only party. Everyone knew who Melanie Corcoran was. With shiny black hair, gem-like blue eyes, and designer clothes passed down by her older sister, she was one of the most noticeable girls at Walton.

Casey went to the bathroom and puked, and Leigh declared they would never mention Alex Deal’s name again.

And they had not. Up until that day, anyway.





6



The following day Casey came to the conclusion that Ben’s elbow needed to be surgically removed.

It was the only solution she could fathom. For the past two days he had angled it in a way that made it impossible for her to copy his Spanish homework. That, in turn, translated to three missed homework points. For the first few weeks of the school year his elbow had been perfectly lined up against his rib cage. But that week it began jutting out at an annoying angle. She had a feeling it had something to do with him seeing her eyeball his notebook.

Ben was new that year. He and his mother moved to Bethesda over the summer from California. Everyone in class knew this because on the first day of school Señor Griffin asked everyone where they were from. Everyone, except Aisling Cheng, said Maryland. However Aisling Cheng moved to Bethesda in junior high. It was old news that she was from China and her Dad worked at the World Bank. But then Señor Griffin got to the gawky new kid whose hair stuck up at the scalp line.

Casey also noticed that sometimes Ben put his hand under his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and then left his glasses crooked. Once, during the first week of school, she was watching him eat lunch alone on the far side of the cafeteria and Leigh saw.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

“Just this new guy in my Spanish class. Do you think he’s cute?”

“Not yet.”

Anyway on the first day of school Señor Griffin, in his patriot’s accent, thick as gravy and wielding its roots like a two by four, did the customary ¿De dónde eres? aka Where are you from?, and Ben said he was from California. Heads turned. Señor Griffin sensed the interest and made a big thing out of it. He began asking more specific questions.

Ben answered abruptly. “Northern.” “San Jose.” When Señor Griffin asked about Ben’s parents Ben did not say anything. A moment passed. The entire class was looking at him. Señor Griffin repeated the question more loudly.

“Yo vivo con mi madre. Mi padre vive en Paris.” I live with my mother. My father lives in Paris. Ben’s Spanish accent was miles better than Señor Griffin’s.

“Paris!” Señor Griffin boomed, “¿Por qué Paris?” Then Ben did something that under any other circumstance Casey would have found admirable but that under this one was weird. He pointed to his throat and pretended he could not speak anymore.

Señor Griffin was not happy. Teachers did not like kids who gave attitude on the first day. But Señor Griffin had also been teaching long enough to know that getting into a power struggle with a fifteen year old on day one was the equivalent of being felled by a sucker punch ten seconds into a boxing match. He moved on to Aisling Cheng.

After that day Ben proved himself to be a consistent source of antagonism en la clase de español. But he was also an ace. His accent sounded way more like the Spanish kids who smoked around the back of the school than Mr. Griffin’s did, and he could regurgitate conjugations with the facility of Charo. Sitting behind Ben in Spanish, something Casey did on the first day of school without even thinking about it, was turning out to be one of the few blessings of the school year thus far. She got perfect scores on the two quizzes Señor Griffin gave them, courtesy of the gap Ben left between his elbow and the desk. Even her homework score was flawless.

Until that week, that is, when Ben’s elbow made a precipitous and suspicious shift in positioning. That week she found herself daydreaming about a hallway accident that would leave his elbow significantly smaller but at the same time not hinder his ability to do homework.

Señor Griffin was getting closer. She did not want to lose another homework point. She scooted to the edge of her chair, pretended to stretch, and leaned out as far as she could. This was, of course, in order to see Ben’s homework. Instead, the following results were achieved:

1. She slipped out of her chair and fell on the floor.

2. Everyone turned to look.

3. While on the ground she glanced in the direction of Ben’s bag and saw a pair of drumsticks peaking out.

4. As Señor Griffin asked her, en español, if everything was okay, Ben looked at her and said, “It would take half the effort to do the work yourself. Also, the Cat Power song was a nice touch.”

For a moment Casey remained frozen on the floor, struck by the double whammy of having the whole class see her fall and hearing Ben comment on the playlist she slipped to the skinny blonde in the library the day before.

“Excusem-moi,” she announced to the class, “Dropped my…pen-o.”

Senor Griffin frowned. “Pluma, Casey, pluma.”

“Sí. Yo drop-o mi pluma.”

Senor Griffin walked back to the board.

“You mean your magic copying pen?” Ben said voluminously enough for her to be scared Señor Griffin heard but not so loud that he had.

“How’d you know about that Cat Power song?” she hissed in his ear.

“Por favor!” Senor Griffin snapped from the front of the room.

She dashed off a note in her notebook. How’d you know? HOW? Senor Griffin turned to write on the board and she slipped the note under Ben’s elbow. He languidly picked the note up, read it, and put it down. Senor Griffin posed a question to the class. Ben raised his hand and answered it perfectly. Then, as Senor Griffin focused on another student, he wrote a response. Catherine’s my lab partner. She showed me the playlist the period after you gave it to her. When she described you I knew who she was talking about.

He passed the note back to her. She read and put pen to paper again. Why’s that? His response: Because you were wearing a Runaways T-shirt the day you passed her the note. Not many people running around this school in Runaways T-shirts. She scribbled another. Are you a drummer?

He waited an evil six minutes to reply, in which time he volunteered to put an answer on the board. When the reply finally came back it said Yes. She made a face. She started to write something about playing guitar. But then she crumpled the paper up, stuck it back in her bag, and started again.

Congratulations.P.S. I suggest you hold your elbow closer to your rib cage during class hours. They’ve done studies and realized that holding elbows at odd angles for prolonged periods of time can be a pre-cursor to strokes. She passed it. He shook his head, but did get his next response back more quickly. Nice try. Have fun doing your Spanish homework for the first time tonight.

She held out her middle finger and tapped it on the desk. Before he could turn around and see, the bell rang and class ended. Just like that, he was up and out of his seat in a flash. There was not much time to think about it, however, because two periods later, it happened.

The Return of Alex Deal.





7



She was in the library, her back to the door, observing a set of twins. They were freshman and wearing the same polo shirt in different colors. Their hairstyles were even the same: straightened and parted in the middle. She was thinking a recommendation of Elliott Smith and The Helio Sequence would be a nice start. Perhaps a little PJ Harvey too. But which twin would she slip the list to? Both? As she pondered these questions, she heard it. Alex Deal’s voice.

She turned. He was standing in front of Mr. Cole, pointedly avoiding making eye contact with her. He had on a TV On the Radio T-shirt. Casey pounded a fist against her thigh.

“Where are the books on World War II?” he asked.

Do something, she commanded herself. Mr. Cole pointed Alex Deal towards the far side of the library. He walked away. She let out a stressed exhale.

Mr. Cole turned and gave her a strange look. “What’s eatin’ you?”

She grabbed her bag and prayed she had not thrown it out. A moment later she breathed a sigh of relief. It was there, under her math workbook and the note she exchanged with Ben earlier in the day.

It was stained from coffee and crumpled from having been at the bottom of her backpack, but the playlist she came up with for Alex Deal the night before was still intact. On the other side of the library he took a book down from a shelf, walked to a table, and opened it. One of the twins approached the counter and asked Casey where the books on art history were. She motioned towards Mr. Cole with her head.

She spread the list on the counter and realized it needed to be copied over. She grabbed a pen and paper.

1. Song 1…Alex Deal did not need a pop song to lure him in. He did not need to be told that song #1 was a pop song. Alex Deal was in a different class of music listener than the skinny blonde in the bad sweater or the twins.

1. Song 1 - “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” by United Rhythms of Brazil. United Rhythms of Brazil did an entire album of Guns ‘n Roses covers bossa nova style, of which “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” was the standout. Casey prayed he had not already heard it.

2. Song 2 - “Brothers On a Hotel Bed” by Death Cab for Cutie. She had gone back and forth between two Death Cab for Cutie songs for the number two slot. “Title and Registration” was the other choice. It was transcendent pop, smart and fast. “Brothers On a Hotel Bed” was slower and more emotional. Yet the more she thought about it, the more weight she gave to the following reasoning: transcendent pop would do what it does, i.e. make Alex Deal feel good and continue his day at its typical pace. It might even quicken his pace. But a slower, more emotional song would get him thinking about love and who his next girlfriend was going to be. She glanced up. He placed his book on the shelf and took another one down.

3. Song 3 - “God Moving Over The Face Of The Waters” by Moby. When she first heard this song she listened to it seven times in a row until Yull threatened violence. And so what if she wasn’t sure if she believed in God and Moby was vegan (NOT something Casey approved of in a rock and roller. How far was a plate of seitan dogs gonna get you in trashing a hotel room? Huh?). So what. The song was ethereal and haunting and it made her feel like anything was possible. Even Alex Deal saying the Melanie Corcoran interlude had been a horrible, horrible mistake.

He walked towards them with a book on World War II in his hand. She started to fold the list up but then stopped, grabbed a pen, and scribbled Rehoboth Mix on top. Her heart palpitated like a hummingbird. Mr. Cole went to pick up the scanner gun. In one swift movement she beat him to it. He gave her a baffled look.

“I got this one,” she said. He looked from her to Alex Deal. His face softened. God, Casey hated the way adults got you just when you did not want them to. He backed away from the scanner.

Alex Deal reached the checkout counter. He handed the book and his student ID to her. His eyes lingered. “How’s it going?”

She shrugged as she held the book under the counter to scan it. She slipped the list into the front cover of the book. “You know.”

She handed him the book. He looked her up and down. “Joe Cocker?”

For a moment she was confused. Then she remembered she was wearing a Joe Cocker T-shirt. Oh what those eyes did to her.

She nodded. “Ever heard of him?”

“Of course. Has your new guy?”

She saw it again, in the eyes: A hint of irritation. Alex Deal was jealous.

“Of course,” she said.

He looked her up and down. “Ciao.” He walked out.

She was disappointed, even if his leaving was a reasonable consequence of her telling him about her imaginary boyfriend liking Joe Cocker. But then again he had her list. And she had a feeling something else was going to happen as a result of that list. She just didn’t realize how quickly it would happen.





8



Math class was built over the gates of hell. It began freshman year when, upon entering Walton, Casey scored freakishly well on her math proficiency exam. That in turn caused her to be placed in a math class with sophomores and juniors. She bombed the first few tests but her mother insisted she stay in it and hired a math tutor, a calm Indian doctoral candidate named Raj, whose diligent efforts scraped her through the year with passing grades. But that was the year before. Raj had gone off to Chicago and Casey failed the first quiz of the year. To make matters worse, Maxine French was in her math class.

Awful, queen of the school Maxine French. Was a junior. She had long buttery hair and a face that if not classically beautiful was always coiffed to perfection. Her wardrobe was a pricey argument for school uniforms. Yet despite factors pointing to Maxine being a specific kind of girl, Maxine never scored lower than a 94 on her report card. And, in addition to being captain of the cheerleaders, Maxine was cellist in the classical music ensemble and president of the French club. The year before she was out for the entire fall semester studying with an exchange program in France. Maxine, of course, loved Yull. Whenever she saw him in the hall she shrieked and kissed him on both cheeks.

But woe was the fate of those Maxine chose to pick off. That year there was Genevieve Sayer, unceremoniously kicked off the cheerleading squad when she started dating Brad Hayes, whom, Genevieve claimed, Maxine liked too. Maxine of course refuted the claim. As she liked to remind everyone, she was taking a break from relationships after ending it with her college-aged boyfriend, who in reality was a loser. Not only did he have a DNJ (dude nose job), but he faked a knee injury after he got kicked off the football team for lack of ability. Regardless Maxine scored points for dating an upperclassman when she was not and more still for the vast sexual knowledge he bequeathed her along the way. Most people at Walton viewed Maxine French with a mixture of jealousy, reverence, and disdain. That meant she had everyone’s attention most of the time.

The math teacher Miss Kinsey assigned Casey the seat behind Maxine. Because of this she did not dare cheat in math. But that day, emboldened by her run-in with Alex Deal, she snuck a peak at Maxine’s pop quiz. Maxine did not seem to notice. As soon as the quizzes were passed back up Casey returned to daydreaming about Alex. But when class ended she saw Maxine linger at the desk of Miss Kinsey. Casey headed towards the back door of the classroom.

“Casey,” Miss Kinsey said.

She stopped and turned. Maxine was gone. “Oh hey Miss Kinsey you know I’d love to hang and all but I have history next and Mr. Karp talks about the 60s whenever he’s in a bad mood.”

“Excuse me?” Miss Kinsey asked.

This was not untrue. “Mr. Karp was some variant of hippie back in the day and sometimes we hear about it. But the thing is, when he talks about it, it doesn’t, like, make me want to be a social activist or long for a purer time. I mean Abbie Hoffman killed himself and Jane Fonda married Ted Turner.”

“They got divorced.”

“Good point. Either way, I feel like I’m in a highway rest station when Mr. Karp talks about the 60s, n-o-t not inspired to change the world. And if I arrive late to class, it might put him in a bad mood, which in turn could bring on one of those talks.”

“I only need a moment of your time, Casey.”

She sighed and approached Miss Kinsey’s desk.

“Maxine says you cheated off her on the pop quiz today.”

“Why Miss Kinsey!”

Miss Kinsey fished the two quizzes out of the pile and held them next to each other. After a minute she looked up. “The answers are identical.”

“Well maybe that’s because Maxine and I have the same stellar teacher.”

Miss Kinsey frowned. “I find it suspicious that your answers are the same when you flunked the first quiz of the marking period and never do your homework.”

“Has the thought occurred to you that maybe Maxine’s the one who cheated?”

“No. I’m going to give you a zero on this test and call your parents after school today.”

“My Dad’s dead.”

Miss Kinsey stared for a moment. “I’ll call your mom then.”

In the hall outside the room, Casey was considering how difficult it would be to slip a large, freshly chewed wad of gum on Maxine French’s seat the next day when she heard it. “Hey.”

She froze and then turned. Alex Deal was standing ten feet behind her. He was holding the playlist she put in his library book. “You put this in the book I checked out?” he asked.

A moment went by. “Yeah.”

“Rehoboth Mix.”

She shrugged.

“What’s your new boyfriend gonna think about that?”

She exhaled. “I don’t know.” Which was true.

He smiled. “Do you give song lists to a lot of people, or am I special?”

“I give them to a lot of people.”

“So I’m not special, then?”

“I’m not sure. It’s been a few weeks since we hung out. And now I have a new boyfriend. It’s hard to remember whether or not you’re special.”

She never played poker before, but she had a feeling that if what she just said had been a hand, it would have trumped everything.

“How about,” he said, “you come over after school, we tune guitars, and I show you whether or not I’m still special?”