The New Girl Part 2

***********
South Jersey did Homecoming a lot differently than my old hometown. I swear our state was divided into two different worlds! I was not sure where I fit in, either. In any case, our old high school always had a hug bon fire and parade but never a fancy dance where people wore floor length gowns.
“Well,” Val said, “I wouldn’t term it fancy, but people do go all out. And no ones goes stag. Ever. AKA find a date, Car!”
“But no one is interested!” I replied, glumly.
“Gary Matthews was talking to my boyfriend about how cute you are yesterday at lunch!”
‘Really?” I replied, surprised. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. It was probably my boobs he couldn’t stop staring at. Seriously.
“Carly. He’s been checking you out for the last month,” Jamie explained. It was now mid-October, and the fall semester kept rolling right along. I couldn’t believe it hadn’t even been two months since I moved, though. I guess time had been playing games on me.
“Maybe my boobs…not me. Let’s face it, girls. Guys just aren’t that into me!” I said, referencing the year-old movie every girl in this town seemed to have seen and were renting on Red box.
“Carly Rissler! Please! You are gorgeous, smart and sweet. Any guy would be lucky to be your boyfriend,” Jamie continued.
Come to think of it, Gary had made small talk with me in history yesterday. He was cute in a roll out of bed, semi-preppy sort of way. I guess I really wasn’t paying too much attention these days. I’d been so preoccupied with other worries that Homecoming dance was not exactly foremost on my mind. Not even on my radar.
“I don’t know…” I began.
“You cannot miss this dance. It would be social suicide,” Val said very seriously. I wanted to laugh right in her face, but that seemed rude. Social suicide? Puh-lease, I thought.
“If Gary doesn’t ask, ask him!” Jamie chimed in as Val and I reached the cafeteria doors to 5th lunch. “Don’t worry, he’ll say yes!” Then she was off toward her next class.
“Seriously, Carly, having a guy, even for one insignificant high school dance is important. But even I’m not going to underplay Homecoming. I mean…it’s Homecoming dance!!! You may even get a boyfriend out of it, you know?”
“I’m only 15,” I reminded Val. “In my old school a lot kids just hung out, you know?”
“Well if you are into just hooking up without a boyfriend…”
“No! Val, that’s not what I meant.”
“Well let me put it to you plainly. You’ve got three options. Here you are either someone’s girlfriend, a slut or a lesbian. Not much room here for single ladies in the house, if you know what I mean?” Val said, condescendingly.
“Well that’s awful! Haven’t you ever heard of feminism? Girl power?” I replied.
“Hmm. That sounds like something your buddy Emmy-Ems would be in to,” she responded very sarcastically.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I fired back, my face red again. I swore my blood pressure must have been sky rocketing, just talking to Val.
“Nothing, Carly. Just think about it. And while you are thinking about that, give Gary and the dance some attention. It is very important!”
“Right.” We had just paid for our pizza and I decided to do something I never did. I was going to visit Miss Smith on her lunch hour to go over an English essay that was due by the end of the week. She always was telling us about her “open door” policy furing her lunch to help us students out and I’d seen a few of my classmates come up over the last few weeks. Even though I disliked some of our early assignments for the class, Miss Smith had quickly become my favorite teacher at Ocean High.
“Carly?” Miss Smith said, signaling for me to come in and grab a seat. She was eating fruit salad and a pack of M & Ms. Good combo, I thought.
“Hi, Miss Smith. I just wanted to go over the requirements for this essay due Friday.”
“Sure. Ask me whatever you want.”
I glanced around the empty classroom and hallway outside. I was glad I was there alone. I knew I was going to be embarrassed asking questions the other classmates seemed to understand already. I was always like that. Doubting myself, worrying, fearing bad grades.
“Well I guess I’m just a little concerned about this poem interpretation stuff. I’m no good at this sort of thing, Miss Smith!”
“Now, Carly. That surprises me! I see a lot of potential in you, actually. Your memoir this month on moving to a new town was creative, well written and kept my interest. Poetry isn’t easy but once you are able to find meaning in it, the whole interpretation will come easier for you. Most times there is both a literal and a figurative interpretation. Start with the literal-what do the words say without ‘digging deeper’ so to speak? After you’ve gotten that, run with the poem! Maybe come up with three different ways someone could interpret and find meaning in a poem. Look for evidence in research to support one of them. But don’t do that before you look for meaning in your own reading of it.”
“You make it sound as easy as 1, 2, 3. Writing a memoir was easier. I wrote about the experience itself and how I was…am…feeling about it.”
“It sounds like you still have more to say about it. Write it out! The poetic form is a great place to release emotion and give it a place. Poetry allows you to do all the same things you mentioned for your memoir. After we interpret, we are all going to become poets. You could continue where you left off in your memoir. The conflicted feelings you’ve been experiencing lately, perhaps.”
“I guess you’re right, Miss Smith.”
“Call me Angela. At least during my lunch hour. It is hard to be 22 years old and be called by such a formal name. I have something to ask you, if you don’t mind me prying?”
If it were another teacher, I would mind. Very much so, in fact. But I felt comfortable with Miss Smith. She turned out to be pretty cool and not at all what I originally had imagined her to be. Incompetent, silly, unqualified. But she was just the opposite. She really knew her stuff, and something about her asking personal questions did not bother me.
“What’s really bothering you?” she asked, point blank. She was direct, but in a caring way.
“Umm…” I said tentatively, thinking that I had avoided asking myself that same question for the past month or so.
“What?”
“Have you ever had a person come into your world and just completely turn it upside down? Everything that was right is wrong and everything that was normal is not at all what you want?”
“A romantic interest, maybe?” Miss Smith asked.
“Oh, no. I mean, whoa, maybe I put it the wrong way. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of me.”
“Go on, Carly. Whatever you tell me is between you and me.”
“Well, I met this friend. This best friend. But she’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever known and she is nothing like anyone I would have ever well, God it sounds snobby but, associated with. And yet she is exactly who I need in my life right now.”
“It doesn’t sound like there is anything wrong then?”
“Well, no. Not exactly. She…well…I don’t really know. She isn’t very popular, which really doesn’t bother me. But I know she is keeping something from me. Something she is hiding from people. At first I thought it had to do with her family or financial situation or something. But I’ve heard rumors about something mental or whatever. I just don’t believe it. And no one really tells me anything more than that she…kind of went missing for a while. At least from school. But this all happened before I got here.”
I realized then that Miss Smith probably knew who I was talking about now. She probably even knew some of the answers to the questions I wanted to resolve.
“Have you tried to ask her?”
“Yes, in about a million different ways. Well not literally. There was this one night where she kind of started confiding in me and broke down but…she stopped.”
“Maybe she is just getting to a point where she can talk? Whatever it is might be hard to talk about. Whether it has to do with something mental or not.”
“That’s true. I guess it is just consuming me, these days. Because I think about it a lot. A lot, a lot. Don’t get me wrong, I have a great time when we hang out. Which we do several times a week. And I have other friends. But it’s not like how it is with her. They don’t really get me. They’re kind of…well…shallow.”
“May I ask you another question?”
“Sure…”
“What do you think happened? Do you have a theory?”
“Hmm. Well…I know she doesn’t have the best of relationships with her mom and because everyone seems to indicate she had some sort of mental break down, I kind of thought she might have ended up in a psych ward or something. But, I don’t know. I just don’t believe that is the whole truth. Even from my other friends, it seems like they think something more was going on than just a mental breakdown. Other than that, I’m pretty much at a loss.”
“Does it concern you that she might not be completely stable? If what they say is true, how does it make you feel?”
“Well…hmm. I guess I didn’t really think about it in that way. If she is unstable, I think she would be destructive toward herself, not toward others. I mean, like, I don’t think she would hurt me. I worry for her, but not about me. Though sometimes I feel like I am just not all completely here either. I’m not sure what I want anymore. I’m not sure who I am, where I fit in. Can I tell you something?”
“Absolutely.”
“Before I met this friend, I never really thought about adult stuff. Like, you know, plans your parents make for you, what I really want to do when I grow up, where I fit in this world, what I want, what’s important about life. I was just as shallow as those other friends I have these days. And my old best friend, Katie, from home was just as shallow as me, I think. I used to think about handbags and designer clothes and looks.”
“What’s changed?”
“Well…being around this person, it just makes me realize that there is this whole world out there and that I don’t want to just be another rich girl marrying a rich guy, being a mom, obsessed with soccer and expensive jewelry. Minivans, mom-mobiles,” I replied, chuckling.
Miss Smith laughed at that moment too. She stared off toward the window for a moment, thinking. I could tell she was thinking or remembering something.
“Well, Carly…it sounds like you have a lot to write about for our poetry unit. You may even find some of the themes you have been musing about in other’s poetry. You never know… I’m going to tell you something, though, because I think it is important. I wish it is something someone would have told me when I was your age.”
I nodded, wanting her to continue.
“Don’t let other people’s thoughts and ideas allow you to ignore how you feel deep down. Follow your heart, your soul. Whatever you want to call it. Don’t do something or say something just because you want to be accepted. I know it is hard. Very hard. It is something I struggle with, personally. You seem like the type of person who wants to please others. There is nothing wrong with that. But you need to remember what is important to you, who is important, and then the rest will fall into place. Don’t hold back on the written page. What you write is held in confidence with me. We will share things in class, but I will not force anyone. It may not all make sense but think about what I’ve said.”
“Thanks, Angela,” I said, reddening because I was using her first name.
“Carly, remember, if you ever need to talk about anything, I am here. Anything. Even things you might think I wouldn’t understand. Remember, I’m only 22. I’m closer to your peer than your parent. I don’t try to make that fact evident in class, but outside of it I want to be here for you students. I was your age not so long ago.”
The warning bell rung at that moment, indicating we had four minutes to get to our next class. Off to Ms. Jacobs’ history class. I just wanted to stay and talk with her. But I knew it was time to go.
“Thanks Miss Smith, I mean…Angela. I really needed to talk. I needed to tell someone.”
“You’re welcome, Carly. You better get to your next class though. I’ll see you tomorrow in class?”
“Yup, I’ll be here. Thanks, again.”
What Miss Smith told me, her advice, really made me think about the situation in a new way. I had been so frustrated with Em’s silence that I barely thought about how difficult it was going to be for her to finally open up to someone. Anyone. Me. And what she said about following your heart no matter what, well, simply put, that had me scared. In the back of my mind, I still figured I would probably somehow end up where Mom and Dad would want me to be and I would be okay with it. Until Miss Smith had kind of put it out there that I should really just do and say and feel what I knew was right, in my heart. The thing of it was, I still didn’t know. I just knew that I cared deeply about a friend I knew for only a few months, a friend other people shunned, a friend whose mysteries I still was to discover.
“Hey, Car! Why are you all the way over here? Weren’t you in the caf?” she said, touching my arm to get my attention. My thoughts were consuming me that I did not even realize Em was there until I heard her voice.
“Oh. Umm…just wandering around, I guess? I left the Caf early. Val was annoying the hell out of me. Sometimes it seems only logical to stay away from her like you do,” I said, smirking.
“What was she up to this time?” Em said evenly.
“Ugh just the stupid homecoming dance. She wants me to go with, umm, Greg I think. Or oh oops, it was Gary. Yeah Gary. I told her he was only into my boobs anyway.”
Em was walking such a fast pace that I now had no fear about being late. Her strides outpaced me. I had to almost jog to keep up. She didn’t say anything at first.
“Well…regardless…do you want to go? And…with him?”
“Umm. Hmm. No. No I don’t.” I was surprised by how adamant I was being about this silly dance thing. I used to adore middle school dances. Even though I rarely even slow danced.
“Want to go to a Paramore concert instead?” Em asked.
“Umm, yes! Seriously? Where are they playing?” I replied, excited. I loved that group! I felt like I related with so many of their songs and their lyrics just seemed to fit my confusing life.
“House of Blues in Atlantic City. My sister actually called into the local radio station trying to win tickets by answering some random trivia question about Gossip Girl and won 4 tickets. My mom, sister and I are going and since you don’t seem so into the dance. I thought I’d offer.”
Em should have been more excited. Instead she acted like this was nothing. But she seemed happy when I gave her a definitive yes (as long as my parents okayed it-that would be a battle I would fight and win).
“Well, if you’re sure you want to come.”
“Em, it’s Paramore. And they are general admission tickets, right? We can go closer to the stage or further way and get away from your mom and sister.”
“Ok I think I am rubbing off on you! You haven’t even met them and I have you coming up with plans to avoid them.”
“Oh, no! I can’t wait to meet them. I just thought…well I just thought it would be fun just you and me there,” I said. She looked at me and smiled her half-crooked smile.
“Right. Yeah it will be great, you’re right. With you there it will be. But don’t go unless you really don’t care about homecoming. I would hate to have you be shunned by Val, after all,” she said sarcastically.
“It will pretty much traumatize the rest of my freshman year, yes but somehow I’m just going to have deal with the humiliation of committing social suicide!”
“Social suicide?” Em said incredulously and then started giggling.
“Yes, Em, she used those very words. She said a girl was either a girlfriend, slut or lesbian at this school. And that if I didn’t go to the dance, I certainly would lose my chance at option one.”
“Well that’s absolutely true, Car. I mean, first off the only ‘hot’ guys who exist in this world go to this school, and without one as your knight in shining armor, you will forever be a slut. It will be a terrible, unforgiveable tragedy. And I will be all to blame. Jeez, I really shouldn’t even let you go with me to Paramore. I wouldn’t want to be an accomplice in your suicide attempt. Social suicide attempt.”
It was at that moment that I realized I was indeed late for class. We had just been standing there laughing about Val and I didn’t even remember the bell ringing. I glanced inside the room and suddenly felt the urge to blow off the rest of the day. The teacher hadn’t seen me.
“You want to get out of here, don’t you?” Em said, watching my eyes darting from where we were to the door to the classroom.
“Yes!”
“But you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because if your parents find out you won’t be going to Paramore or the dance.”
She had a point. Ever since my little outburst with my mom the night Em had opened up for the first time, life in the Rissler household was tenser. My mom seemed more negative on my relationship with Em than she had before. My dad generally received his updates from my mom and James stayed out of it. James had a girlfriend now, Jenny Rineer. She seemed nice enough but not the type of girl who I thought would have attracted him. Jenny was a photography buff and wore long, flowy neo-hippy skirts. My mom was about as fond of Jenny as she was of Em. So James had to deal with his own issues, it seemed.
“Well that’s the truth, I guess. I’m going to have to work on them anyway to be allowed. How are we getting there?”
“My mom’s boyfriend, fiancé whatever will drive us and then just hang out at the casinos,” Em replied. There a harsh edge to her voice.
“Hmm.” I was still thinking of ditching. “I hate history class, Em,” I explained, pleading.
“Just go in, get a tardy and it will be much easier than making up for ditching school,” Em replied, adding “Believe me.”
She sounded like she knew a thing or two about skipping out on school.
“Sure, fine. I guess I can go in there. Well…will I see you after school?”
“Not today. But I’ll call you. Talk to your parents about Paramore, okay?”
“Will do,” I replied. Time to face the wrath of Ms. Jacobs.
* * *
It wasn’t as bad as I thought. I just had to stay late after school and clean her room as a punishment. She knew I had a clean record so she went easy on me this one time.
I called my mom. She would be picking me up at 3:30pm. 10 more minutes were left with this after school detention.
“Miss Rissler, make sure you get all the chalk trays wiped out before you leave.”
“Of course, Ms. Jacobs,” I replied, but my mind was really drifting. I was surprised the chalk trays were all I had left to do.
My mom picked me up promptly at 3:30pm and looked rather unhappy. Great. I’m going to try to convince her to let me go to that Paramore concert, I thought. This will be good.
“Carly, I just don’t understand. You never once had to be punished for lateness in middle school. What is going on?”
“Mom, I got caught up talking with my English teacher.” That was not a lie, really. I looked straight in her eyes before she began the drive home. “Honestly, mom, that’s all it was.”
“Why didn’t you get a hall pass?”
“I just thought I could make it on time. It was stupid of me, I know. It won’t happen again.”
“Carly, you seem so absentminded these days. I really am a bit concerned.”
“Don’t be, Mom! You should be praising me actually-I went up to Miss Smith during lunch period to ask for extra help on how to do a poetry interpretation. I have never done one and really didn’t know where to even start. She gave me some pointers.”
“Well, I have to admit that it is good to hear you concentrating on your studies. I guess you are still allowed to go to the homecoming dance.”
“Well, I don’t have a date and I really wasn’t planning on going anyway. Things are different here. Homecoming is more of a beauty pageant than a school pride thing.”
“And you don’t think you could win a beauty contest, honey?”
“Mom, that isn’t the point. I’m not interested. Plain and simple.”
“Hmm. Well, one of my lady friends from yoga class mentioned that her son, Jonathan, really wanted to go to the dance and didn’t have anyone to go with and I may have mentioned something about him asking you…” my mom said quietly.
“You did what?? Mom, don’t you know it is social suicide for parents to arrange dates for their children? This isn’t the 16th century or something. This is a modern day and I am a modern woman. I will ask out who I want to ask out or wait for the guy to take the initiative.”
“Well, Jonathan very well could get up the nerve. Maybe even tonight.”
“Well, unfortunately I barely know any Jonathans and the one I do know from classes has awful acne and an abnormally large nose. And, he dresses like skater-ish. Not my type.”
“Well, honey, than what is your type?”
“I honestly haven’t decided. But homecoming dance is not where I plan to find out. They are nuts about this dressing fancy for the schmantzy homecoming dance. No thank you.”
“Well no one is going to convince you.”
This did not seem like the right moment to bring up Paramore so I decided to wait until after I got off the phone with Em.
“Daddy, guess what!” I exclaimed as I walked into the living room, where he sat watching the World Series baseball game.
“What is it, honey? You seem super excited.”
“Em just invited me to see my favorite music group! Paramore in Atlantic City, with complete supervision of her mom and soon to be step-dad. Her little sister will be there too.”
My mom stepped in from the kitchen.
“What are you yakking about in there with daddy, Carly?”
“Em just invited me to go with her to a concert! To my favorite group, Paramore!”
“Well that doesn’t sound like the best idea,” My mom started.
For once, my dad spoke up.
“Why not, babe? Carly likes Em, they are best friends, and they love this music group. Parent supervision, not too far from here, sounds like a good idea. A fun time.”
“What?! I thought we were supposed to be on the same page here,” my mom fired back.
“Look at it this way, honey. We can’t just expect everything to be just as it was back in Basking Ridge. The environment is different. And our kids are growing up and we can’t stop them. I think going to a teenybopper concert seems relatively innocent, especially with parents there every second.”
My mom’s angry pursed lips turned into a weary frown. She knew that my father was going to win this one. And she was going take one for the team, and settle down. Every once and a while, my mom was reasonable. I treasured those days.
“Well, if you think it is the children’s best interest to go and do whatever pleases them…then fine.” My mom looked flustered as my dad turned up the volume on the TV a little louder.
“Hon, it’s the Yankees and we are up. And it is the World Series. Please!” my dad begged. My mom stuck her tongue out and left the room. She was clearly losing the fight. Whatever fight it was anyway. I didn’t want to push it, but I did want to ask my mom one thing.
“Mom, can I ask you one thing.”
“What is it now, Carly. Obviously anything I want is way too uncool or 16th century for you.”
“Mom, this isn’t about that.”
My mom snapped out of her frustration and turned around to face me. There must have been something in my eyes when she saw my expression because her own face softened.
“What is it, Carly?” my mom said, this time in a gentle, rational tone.
“Well…have you ever had to write a poem? Like a real, personal poem?”
“Sure, in high school. I think it was Mrs. Williams’ junior year English. I kind of liked it. Not that I’m a talented writer or anything.” My mom never thought of herself as the book-smart academic.
“Well…I’m just worried. I don’t like the idea of having to write down my feelings and emotions for everyone to read.”
“Is that why you were talking with your English teacher? Because of a poetry assignment?”
“Well, yes. I just don’t want to seem stupid when I turn it in. It just seems too hard of an assignment for a 9th grader.”
“It is difficult. It is also difficult to express your emotions and feelings in real life. Sometimes, anyway…” My mom seemed to want to say a little more but she held back. Probably for the better. Something told me I didn’t want to hear about her feelings all the time. “You just need to write from the heart, talk about your dreams, fears, desires, hopes. You can do it. It isn’t easy, but you can do it.”
My mom was being real with me. I was worried though. I wasn’t sure how ready I was to be speaking my heart. Things were getting really confusing these days. I felt like there was something in my heart that I was not even sure of how to describe. I left the table by telling my mom thank you and giving her a quick but firm hug. I had my work cut out for me tonight with this poem. But I had a call to make first.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Em. It’s me. I just needed to talk to you.”
“What’s up? Did your parents cave?”
“Oh…well, yes they did.”
“But that’s not what you want to talk about?”
“That night you were over here and something upset you so badly you starting crying.”
“Yes?”
“I need to know. I need to know what you are trying to tell me because I feel like it will make me understand myself more if you tell me.”
“Carly…” Em sounded worried and unsure.
“I just wanted you to know that you are hiding things and whatever it is, I can take it.”
“You don’t know that, Carly. You think you do, but you don’t. You won’t be my friend if I tell you my…secret. You just won’t.”
“It’s not true! You…you mean so much to me. You are caring, sweet, interesting, honest, funny and intelligent. How could I just throw it all away?”
“You could…and you might. I can’t risk losing you. I can’t risk what we already have.”
“Already have? It could be stronger if you tell me everything. I just…I think about you all the time and what is burdening you.”
“Maybe if you thought about it and I gave you space you could still be friends with me. I just haven’t told a soul. Even my mom doesn’t know why I had my melt down.”
“Em, I am ready whenever you are.”
“Car, you can’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t!”
“Ever.”
“I promise.”
“I like girls.”
“What?” I asked, not understanding what she meant.
“I like girls. I don’t like guys. People already suspect it at school. Like Val, like all her little friends. They want you to stay away from me because they think I am like poison. Because of who I am. Well, one part of who I am.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.” It took me completely off guard that someone as pretty and smart as Mackenzie could be a lesbian. I didn’t ever think about who lesbians were but I thought they dressed like guys. Mackenzie didn’t look like a guy at all. She was gorgeous and athletic.
“You don’t have to say anything. Literally. You don’t have to say another word to me in your life if you believe my life is a sin or something. If you think I am scary and whatever else.”
“No. This doesn’t change things between us. You are my best friend.”
“But it does change things. It always does.”
“Maybe it…” I started, not finishing my thought. My mind was zooming a thousand miles a minute. Thinking of this missing link of the story.
“Maybe what, Car?” Em followed, flatly.
“Nothing. I guess I should get to writing my poem interpretation.”
“Sure, Carly. Good luck with it.”
“Em, wait. Thank you for telling me. You mean everything to me. Sometimes I feel like I can’t be everything to everybody but with you I can be myself.”
“I know, Carly. Goodnight.”