Chapter Five
My pulse is pounding against my temples as I climb out of bed. I’m in dire need of my own box of altoids. My entire body is dragging from hours of alternating between crying and inadequate sleep.
I make a quick pot of coffee and sit down at the bar and drink it in silence, as I dread the day that lies ahead of me.
Kel eventually comes in, wearing his pajamas and darth vader house shoes. “Morning,” he says groggily as he grabs a cup out of the sink strainer. He walks over to the coffee pot and proceeds to pour coffee into the World's Greatest Dad cup.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask him.
“Hey, you aren’t the only one who had a bad night.” Kel climbs onto a stool on the opposite side of the bar. “Fourth grade is rough. I had two hours of homework,” he says as he brings the cup to his mouth.
I take the coffee out of his hands and pour the contents into my own, then toss the mug into the trashcan. I walk to the refrigerator, grab a juice and place it in front of him.
Kel rolls his eyes and pokes through the hole at the top of the pouch, bringing it to his mouth. “Did you see they delivered the rest of our stuff yesterday? Mom’s van finally got here. We had to unpack the whole thing by ourselves, you know,” he says, obviously trying to guilt me.
“Go get dressed,” I say. “We’re leaving in half an hour.”
***
It begins to snow again just as I drop Kel off at school. I hope Will is right about it being gone soon. I hate the snow. I hate Michigan.
When I arrive at the school, I go straight to the administration office. Mrs. Alex is powering on her computer when she notices me and shakes her head.
“Let me guess, you want 'C' lunch now?”
I should have brought her Kel’s coffee.
“Actually, I need a list of third period electives. I want to switch classes.”
She shoots me a questioning glance. “Aren’t you in the Poetry elective with Mr. Cooper? That’s one of the more popular electives.”
“That’s the one,” I confirm. “I’d like to withdraw.”
“Well, you have until the end of the week before I submit your final schedule,” she says as she grabs a sheet and hands it to me. “Which class do you prefer?”
I look over the short list of available electives.
Botany
Russian Literature
My options are limited.
“I’ll take Russian Literature for two hundred, Alex.”
She rolls her eyes as she turns and enters the information into the computer. I guess she’s heard that one before. She hands me yet another ‘new’ new schedule, and a yellow form.
“Have Mr. Cooper sign this and bring it back to me before third period and you’ll be all set.”
“Great,” I mumble as I exit the office.
When I successfully navigate my way to Will's classroom, I’m relieved to find the door locked and the lights turned out. Seeing him again was not on my to-do list for the day, so I decide to take matters into my own hands. I reach into my backpack and retrieve a pen, press the yellow form up against the door to the classroom, and begin to forge Wills name.
"That's not a good idea.”
I spin around and see Will standing behind me with a black satchel slung across his shoulder, keys in hand. My stomach flips when I look at him. He’s wearing khaki slacks and a black shirt, tucked in at the waist. The color of his tie matches his green eyes perfectly, making them hard to look away from. He looks so, professional.
I step back as he moves past me and puts his key in the door. He enters the room and flips the light switch on as he places his satchel on the desk. I'm still standing in the doorway when he motions for me to come in.
I smack the form face up on his desk. "Well, you weren't here yet, I thought I’d spare you the trouble,” I say, defending my actions with a defensive tone.
Will picks up the form and grimaces.
“Russian Lit? That’s what you chose?”
“It was either that or Botany,” I reply evenly.
Will pulls his chair out and sits. He grabs a pen and lays the paper flat, pressing the tip of the pen on the line. He hesitates, though, and lays the pen down on the paper without signing his name.
“I thought a lot last night…about what you said yesterday,” he says. “It’s not fair of me to ask you to transfer just because it makes me uneasy. We live a hundred yards apart; our brothers are becoming best friends. If anything, this class will be good for us, help us figure out how to navigate when we’re around each other. Besides,” he says this as he pulls a paper from his satchel and shoves it forward on the desk. “You’ll obviously breeze through.”
I look at the test I had completed the day before, and it’s marked with a ‘100.'
“I don’t mind switching,” I say. “I understand where you’re coming from.”
“Thanks, but it can only get easier from here, right?”
“Right,” I lie. He’s completely wrong. Being around him every day is definitely not going to be easier. I could move back to Texas today and I’d still feel too close to him. However, I still can't come up with a good enough argument for my conscience to convince me to switch classes.
He crumples up my transfer form and chucks it toward the trash can. It misses by about two feet. I pick it up as I walk to the door and toss it in.
“I guess I’ll see you third period, Mr. Cooper.”
I see him frown out of my peripheral vision as I exit.
I feel somewhat relieved. I hated how we had left things yesterday. Even though I would do whatever it took to rectify the awkward situation we’re in, he still somehow finds a way to put me at ease.
“What happened to you yesterday?” Eddie says as we enter second period. “Get lost again?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Issues with admin.”
“You should have texted,” she teases in a sarcastic tone. “I was worried about you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry dear."
“Dear? You tryin’ to steal my girl?” A guy I have yet to meet puts his arm around Eddie and kisses her on the cheek.
“Layken, this is Gavin,” she says. “Gavin, this is Layken, your competition."
Gavin has blonde hair almost identical to Eddies except in length. They could pass for brother and sister, although his eyes are a chestnut compared to her blues. He is wearing a black hoodie and jeans, and when he moves his arm from Eddie’s shoulder to shake my hand, I notice a tattoo of a heart on his wrist…the same as Eddie’s.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says as he extends his hand.
I eye him curiously, wondering what he could have possibly heard.
“Not really,” he admits, smiling. “I haven’t heard anything at all about you. That’s usually just what people say when they’re introduced.”
He turns toward Eddie and gives her another peck on the cheek. “I’ll see you next period Babe. I’ve got to get to class.”
I envy them.
Mr. Hanushek enters the room and announces there's a chapter test. I don’t object when he hands me a test and we spend the rest of the class period in silence.
***
As I follow Eddie through the crowd of students, my stomach is in knots. I’m already regretting not having switched to Russian Literature. How either of us thought this would help make things easier, I don’t know.
We arrive in Will’s class and he's holding the door open, greeting the students as they arrive.
“Mr. Cooper, you look a little better today. Need a mint?” Eddie says as she walks to her seat.
Javi walks in and glares at Will as he slides into his seat.
“Alright everyone,” Will says as he shuts the door behind him. “Good efforts on the test yesterday. Elements of Poetry is a pretty mundane section so I know you’re all glad to have it out of the way. I think you’ll find the performance section more interesting, which is what we'll focus on the rest of this semester.
“Performance Poetry resembles traditional poetry, but with an added element; the actual performance.”
“Performance?” Javi asks, disdained. “You mean like in that movie about the dead poets? Where they had to read crap in front of the whole class?”
“Not exactly,” Will says. “That’s just poetry.”
“He means slamming,” Gavin adds. “Like they do down at Club N9NE on Thursdays.”
“What’s slamming?” a girl inquires from the back of the room.
Gavin turns toward her, “It’s awesome! Eddie and I go sometimes. You have to see it to really get it,” he adds.
“That’s one form of it,” Will says. “Has anyone else ever been to a slam?”
A couple of other students raise their hand. I don’t.
"Mr. Cooper, show them. Do one of yours," Gavin says.
I can see the hesitation in Will's face. I know from experience he doesn’t like being put on the spot.
"I'll tell you what. We'll make a deal. If I do one of my pieces, everyone has to agree to go to at least one slam this semester at Club N9NE."
No one objects. I'd like to object, but that would require raising my hand and speaking. So, I don't object.
"No objections? Alright, then. I'll do a short one I wrote. Remember, slam poetry is about the poetry and the performance."
Will stands in the front of the room and faces the students. He shakes his arms out and stretches his neck left and right in an attempt to relax himself. When he clears his throat, it's not the kind of throat clearing people do when they're nervous; it's the kind they do right before they yell.
Expectations, evaluations, internal evasions
Fly out of me like puddles of blood from a wound
A fetus from the womb of a corpse in a tomb
Withered and strewn like red sheets on the bed
Of an immaculate room.
I can't breathe,
I can't win,
From this indelible position I'm in
It controls the only piece of my unfortunate soul
Left to fend for itself in this hollowed out hole
That I dug from within, like a prisoner in
An unlocked cell sitting in the deepest pits of hell
Unencumbered he's not in his sweltering spot
He could open the door 'cause he don't need a damn key
But then again,
Why would he?
Circumlocution is his revolution.
The silence in the room is deafening. No one speaks, no one moves, no one claps. We are in awe. I am in awe. How does he expect me to transition if he keeps doing things like this?
"There you go," he says matter-of-factly as he walks back to his seat. The rest of the class period is spent talking about slam poetry. I try hard to follow along as he goes into further explanation, but the entire time I’m simply focused on the fact that he hasn’t made eye contact with me. Not even once.
***
I claim my seat next to Eddie at lunch as we set our trays down. I notice a guy that sits a couple of rows behind me in Will’s class walking toward us. He is balancing two trays with his left arm, and his back pack and a bag of chips in the right. He positions himself in the seat across from me and proceeds to combine the food onto one tray. When that task is complete, he pulls a two-liter of coke out of his backpack and places it in front of him, unscrewing the lid and drinking directly from it. As he is chugging the soda, he looks at me and places it back down on the table, wiping his mouth.
“He was in a terrible accident,” Kel says seriously before he and Caulder break out into a fit of giggles.
Will and I look at one another, and for the first time in a week, he smiles at me.
“Wow, I need my camera,” he says.
"I’ll grab mine,” I say as I head back inside.
So this is what it’s going to be like from now on? Conversing under false pretenses in front of our brothers, avoiding each other in public? I hate the transition.
When I return with the camera, the boys are still admiring the murder scene as I snap a couple of pictures.
“Kel, let’s kill a snowman with Will’s car now,” Caulder says before they dart across the street.
The tension is thick as Will and I stare excessively at the snowman in front of us, not knowing what else to look at. He eventually glances toward his house at our brothers.
“They’re lucky to have each other you know,” he says quietly.
I analyze this sentence and wonder if it has a deeper meaning, or if he was simply just making an observation.
“Yeah, they are,” I agree.
We both stand there watching them gather more snow when he takes a deep breath and stretches his arms out above his head.
“Well, I better get back inside,” he says. He turns away.
“Will, wait.” He swings back around and puts his hands in his pockets, but doesn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. About my mom,” I say as I stare at the ground between us. I can't look him in the eye for two reasons. One, the snow is still blinding me; two, it hurts for me to look at him.
“It’s fine, Layken.”
And we’re back to the official first name.
He stares at the ground where the ‘blood’ has tinted the snow and he kicks at it with his shoe. “She’s just doing her job as a mom, you know.” Sadness spreads across his face as he speaks. “Don’t be so mad at her. You’re lucky to have her.”
He spins and walks back to his house. Guilt overcomes me as I think of what it's like for them to just have each other, and here I sit complaining about the only parent left between the four of us. I feel ashamed for bringing it up. I feel more ashamed having even been mad at my mother for what she did. It was my fault for not talking to her about it sooner. Will is right, as usual. I am lucky to have her.
***
The shower in my mother’s bedroom is running after lunch, so I heat up some leftovers and make her a glass of tea. I place them at her usual seat at the bar and wait for her. When she finally emerges from the hallway and sees the food, she gives me a slight smile and takes her seat.
“Is this a peace offering or did you poison my food?” she asks as she unfolds a napkin into her lap.
“I guess you’ll have to eat it first to find out.”
She eyes me cautiously and takes a bite of her food. She chews for a minute and takes another bite after she fails to keel over.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I should have talked to you about it sooner. I was just really upset.”
She looks at me with pity in her eyes so I turn away from her and busy my hands with the dishes.
“Lake, I know how much you like him, I do. I like him too. But like I said yesterday, this can’t happen. You have to promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
“I swear, Mom. He’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with me, so you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I hope not,” she says as she continues to eat.
I finish up the dishes and return to the living room to continue my affair with Johnny.
6.
“Your heart says not again
What kind of mess have you got me in?
But when the feeling's there
It can lift you up and take you anywhere.”
-The Avett Brothers, Living of Love