The Months of Half a Year

         The dining room table rested on tall, slender legs and held a glass jar filled with neatly wrapped chocolates.  Every chance I got, I would run toward it and attempt to climb my way toward its sweet promises. If father caught me, he would scoop me up in his arms and tell me I should learn to sneak around more quietly.  If mother caught me, I got a swift swat on my bottom and time-out on a hard wooden stool. My mother had once told me, she picked the stool out specially to be my punishment chair. It had a crack in it which pinched my skin, and uneven legs which force me to press my feet to the floor to keep from tipping over. I spent most of my toddler days wondering if my mother hated me, I spent the rest of my childhood knowing she did.
         A loud slam startled me from  my thoughts, and I looked up from the journal I had been so furiously writing into. My mother stared at me with cold eyes, but smiling lips. A frozen package of steaks, that she had just beat against the table, were clenched in her slender hands. “I talked with Mr. Dunkan today; he said he really needs some more workers since he expanded.” She said and then began to fill the sink with hot water.
         I stared at her and shrugged as I closed my journal and picked up my various writing instruments. “So…?” I prompted, already knowing where she was heading.
         “So, young lady, I told him you would be there tomorrow to fill out the paper work and get started.”
         “I already told you, I don’t want a job. I tried it, and I hated it. They are boring, time-consuming, and I never have time for my school work. Didn’t you say education is most important?” I argued.
         She slammed her hand flat against the table and her green eyes danced with fire. “Not more important than food, and a roof over your head. If you don’t start contributing to this family then you will start learning how to do without the things I so generously provide for you.”
         I scoffed, “You? Generous? Really, anything you “provide” for me all comes from dad and you wouldn’t give me a thing if he didn’t force you to. You’re too ignorant and lazy to get a job of your own, and mooch of off dad. So don’t you dare start lecturing me about working and providing.” I snapped back and turned to leave the kitchen.
         “If you don’t go to work tomorrow, the next time you come home from school you may find that Racy escaped out of the window you carelessly left opened.” She cool voice threatened.
         I stopped cold. Racy was my grey and white cat that had a tendency to follow my everywhere, including school. I always had to be very careful to make she was shut inside before I left the house every morning. My cat wouldn’t follow me after I’d already disappeared from sight, but my mother could easily drop her off at a shelter after I’d left for school. Then she'd say Racy had run right out of a window I left open and never returned home. I clenched my jaw, until I feared I’d cause my teeth permanent damage, before I replied.
         “What time?” I grumbled.
         “One thirty, don’t be late.” She said with a light tone and began to hum as she prepared dinner. I knew she felt she had won the battle, but the war was far from over.
         When I was six I over-heard my parents having an argument. My mother had referred to me as “that thing” and my father had warned her that she had better not call me anymore names and that she had been the one to agree to “this”. I had leaned against the railing of the stairs and pulled my Bambi baby blanket tightly around my small shoulders. I don’t remember much else until my father woke me from my slumber on the stair case. He carried me to my room and rocked me back to sleep in my much-loved and overly-used rocking chair.
         I poked my rocking chair with my foot as I closed my journal and watched it gently sway back and forth. In a week I’d be starting my first day of 11th grade. I hated school, the classes were boring and too long; the kids were cruel and dramatic; and eating food out of a brown paper bag made it so much less appetizing. I groaned and rolled over on my stomach where my alarm clock caught my eye. It was only 5 p.m. and I had three and a half tortuous hours to endure with my mother before my father would be home. Sitting up I looked at my dimly lit room, from the small bits of sunlight sneaking past cracks in my closed curtain.
         Racy’s large yellow eyes stared at me from the top of my desk. I petted between her ears and she purred softly. “Be good, babe. Watch out for that witch while I’m gone.” I instructed my uninterested cat. Pulling my gym bag off the back of my desk chair I left my room, and crept down the stairs. Whether my mother heard me leave or not, I knew she wouldn’t start bother me unless I missed my curfew.
         We lived in suburbia, with a high-scale gym just two streets down. To release tension, which including getting away from my mother, I’d go to the gym every afternoon. I had a group of “gym buddies” that I met up with and often we went hung out afterwards. When I entered the gym room, I saw Viola tying a pair of new blue and white tennis shoes. “Vio!” I shouted and waved and she turned to smile at me.
         Viola Yule was as close to a best friend as I’d ever had. She was of Mexican descent and spoke English, Spanish, and French fluently thanks to her parents and her highly expensive private tutors. Her mother was a college professor and her father was a gynecologist. She was extremely polite, generous and kind, but had a serious bite and people tried to stay off her bad side. She was also model-beautiful; a stunning 5’10 with a perfectly toned and bronzed body, and dark brown hair that was constantly tended to by a private hair stylist. The only flaw I’d been able to find with her in our 10 year friendship was that she never really let anyone in. She had shallow emotions and attachments, at least that’s what she tended to let people believe.
         Viola came toward me with her arms open and a smile revealing perfectly white teeth. Today she was dressed in black spandex pants and a pink spandex top with her hair pulled back into a sleek pony tail. Needless to say, she was catching quite a few eyes as she made her way toward me. “Jasond, you’re here early. Tell me, how was your day with mummy dearest?” She asked as she gave me a quick squeeze.
         I smiled sarcastically, “It was great. The sweet thing is threatening me into slavery.”
         “Mmm, are you going to give in?” Viola asked, her dark eyes narrowed as she studied my face.
         “My hands are tied, but this has only just begun.” I raised my brows and gave Viola a wicked smile, and then scanned the gym, “Is anyone else here yet?”
         “Considering no one, including you, usually makes here by 5:30 that would be a no. So hurry up and get changed so I can stop focusing on this spandex riding up my crack.” Viola demanded and then a loud smack resounded through the hall as she slapped her pants into place.
         Jogging on the treadmills, Viola and I plugged our Ipods in and enjoyed the private thinking time. Before long, Host and Pryor Reed, and Gabriel Qricket had shown up and joined us on the treadmills. Host and Pryor were brother and sister and their mom, who they had described as a little bit “hippy”, had given them their unusual names. Host was tall and lean with wavy black hair, and wore rimless glasses. Pryor was short, with jagged red-brown hair that she pulled into a short ponytail, deeply sun-darkened skin, and chocolate eyes. Both were dressed in ratty t-shirts and shorts.
         Gabriel wore baggy shorts, and a tight long sleeved shirt that hinted had a hidden six-pack and large biceps. His hair was brown and spiked up with frosted tips. He walked with an attitude of arrogance and self-absorption, which even though he did have he was really very kind deep down. He had the richest family out of the six of us and he had no problem showing off his rich taste and massive allowance.
Gabriel took up the treadmill that was one beside me and flashed a smile of expensively maintained teeth. I looked up at him and raised the one corner of my mouth in greeting and then pulled my earplugs out. “Hey, what’s up?” I asked.
         “Eh, usual.” He responded waving his hand dismissively. “Mom and dad are going to Fiji. Paul is going too, but I’m busy with, you know, college stuff.” He shrugged and I could tell something else had kept him from going. I knew better then to press the matter with him, because Gabriel would tell me if he wanted me to know.
         “Wanna switch?” I asked, wiggling my Ipod in my hand to lighten the mood. He nodded and we swapped Ipods. Gabriel was one of the few guys I knew who would walk around with a pink Ipod and sing out loud to “Toxic” and not be accused of some form of homosexuality. I had typed in his password on his Mp3 and was flipping through his songs, when I heard him start belting out a Kelly Clarkson song.
         I dropped my jaw and stared at him in awe, my eyes wide. He frowned and paused the Ipod, “Something wrong?”
         “No, I’m just amazed. You sounded really great, lessons are really paying off.” I replied with a tone of deep sincerity.
         He grinned, “Really? Thanks.” He paused thoughtfully, “Wait, I never had lessons…” As he finally caught on to my sarcasm, he grabbed his water bottle and squirted me with it. “Jerk!”
         I dodged and laughed, hoping to the floor and taking off toward the door. As I went to grab the handle  I saw Brista-Ophelia Marrone already pulling the door open and  she brushed past me without a glance. Brista was very petite with flawless porcelain-like skin, sandy blonde hair that hung down her back in perfectly ringlets, and creamy hazel eyes. She was nearly the complete opposite of Viola, but still every bit as beautiful. Her mother was from France, and her father had been raised in London.
Gabriel had come up behind me and nodded to Brista. “Ms. Brista-Ophelia, aren’t you up early for a Wednesday?” Gabriel asked.
         Brita gave him a scathing look, and turned her nose up. It was a well known fact that  Brista  would always take a nap in the afternoon, especially if she got up early. “When you two are finished acting like children maybe you can join us.” She replied and then took up my abandoned treadmill beside Viola. Gabriel chuckled and rolled his eyes over toward me, “Should we blow this pop sickle stand?” He questioned.
         “Oh, I didn’t realize you were into blowing. Guess the truth is out.” I said in low tone as I scooted past him and tapped my pink Ipod attached to his waist.
         Gabriel let out a bark of laughter before latching his hand around my ponytail and yanking my head back. “Little boys shouldn’t run their mouths so much.” He reached his other hand around my chest and tickled me as he pretended to grope me and I  struggled against his tight grasp. “Oh wait, I should have said miss as there are buds wanting to bloom here.” He cackled viciously and I elbow him hard in the side and stomped off toward the mats to do crunches.
         “I think I hate you.” I retorted to Gabriel without turning.  “No you don’t, you know you hate me.” He countered and I could hear the humor in his voice.
         When we were all thoroughly exhausted and sweaty we decided to hit the showers and then go out to eat. As Brista, Viola, and Pryor slipped into the showers I stood back shyly. All three girls were beautiful in ways that I was not. Viola and Brista both had perfect breasts that would make any girl jealous and while Pryor’s chest had as hard a time filling a B-cup as mine, she had beautifully tanned skin and a highly confident attitude. Unable to fight my insecurities I moved to a shower at the end of the row and locked the door behind me before I undressed.
         Even though the showers had private dressing rooms, my friends usually would undress as they talked not even thinking about their exposed bodies. I made sure to shower quicker than the others, and was studying my face in the mirror when Viola emerged. Seeing my reflection she moved beside me and studied my face as well. “No matter how many times you try, you will never be able to catch your reflection with its eyes closed.”
         I rolled my eyes at her weak humor and sighed as I turned away from the mirror. Viola put her hands on my shoulders and forced me to look at her. “What’s bothering you my love?” She asked, and I could see the concern in her eyes.
         “I just, don’t feel like I’m that… great looking.” I confessed awkwardly.
         Viola contemplated this for a moment before she spoke. “I think you look beautiful, but I know that isn’t going to make you believe you do. So tell me what you don’t think is pretty about yourself.” That was Viola for you, always knowing exactly what to say.
         “Well, there’s this acne.” I said, pointing to a few pimple that had sprang up on my face. “My breasts,” I pointed toward my unremarkable chest, “this pale skin with uneven tones, and my hair.” I pulled up a strand of limp blonde hair that had escaped the cap and waved a million split ends at Viola.
         Viola nodded, and then began rummaging around in her bag. She pulled out a light tub of concealer and set to work on my face. “For now, we will cover up those blemishes.” She said, emphasizing blemishes, to distinguish the fact it was nothing like full blown acne. “Tomorrow I will help you set up an appointment with my dermatologist, she’s excellent. As for the breasts, if they grow they grow, and if they don’t then they don’t. Nothing to be upset about, you just have to a find a guy who likes a good handful and not a basket.” She gave me a dirty smile and I swatted her for her perverse comment. “Your skin looks fine, but if you are so worried about it then spend some time in the sunshine. As for those split ends, I’ll get you a trim and I have a great conditioner that can help.”
         I gave her a nasty look as I realized she had successfully deterred all the points of my argument. Putting her concealer away, she removed my shower cap and fluffed up my hair. “You are very pretty, and you have a wonderful heart. The inside matters as much as the outside.” She whispered and then moved off to strike up a conversation with Brista and Pryor who had just exited the showers. I turned to exam myself in the mirror again and, with my blemished covered and confidence booted, I smiled at my reflection.
         At the coffee shop on the intersection of Hatch and 4th St, the six of us lounged in metal chairs in the gated outdoor eating area. “So, anything exciting happen for anyone lately?” Gabriel asked.
         “Jasond’s mother has forced her into finding a job.” Viola offered.
         “Gabe violated me at the gym.” I added.
         Gabriel laughed and received a kick from Host. “What? She was gay bashing, I think she deserved it.” He defended himself and I threw a bawled up napkin at him.
         “I was not gay bashing. I have nothing against a person being homosexual, it’s a personal choice, as much as choicing to be heterosexual, that no one has a right to judge.” I spat at Gabriel. He shrugged in a dismissive way and got the rise out of me he was hoping for as I chucked an ice-cube at him.
         “So, you’re going to get a job? Do you have any ideas where to start applying?” Host quickly cut in, as Gabriel and I exchange threatening gestures.
         I sucked down part of my juice and nodded before replying. “Mm, yea. My mom talked to some Duncan guy who owns that produce and garden store beside the pastry shop. I start tomorrow.”
         “Wow, that’s a bummer. Guess you won’t be able to come to the gym as much.” Pryor stated and frowned as she leaned back in her chair. “It’s too bad we don’t go to the same school. I’m going to miss you.” Pryor and Host both worked summer jobs as well, but they were both assistant coaches for children’s sports teams. The job usually ended by early afternoon and didn’t interfere with our 5:30 gym meetings.
         “You don’t have to make it sound like she’s dying. She’s just going to be working a few days a week.” Brista responded. “Besides, I go to school with her and I hardly ever see her there so you aren’t missing out on much.”
         Brista, Gabriel, Viola and I all attended Black Serenity Private School, while Host and Pryor went to Maywood Memorial High School. While we were all great friends, there was a dividing line in our social standing. The four of us at Black Serenity were all from wealthy families would could afford the 30,000 dollar yearly tuition fees. Host and Pryor lived with their single mother and could barely afford their daily lunches, which is why they had summer jobs. The membership to our gym, CanbridgeHealth Club, was also way above their budget, but because they each played for a Canbridge sports team they got free memberships.
         At school there were also some divisions. Brista was a sophomore while Viola and I were juniors so we rarely had any classes with her. Gabriel was a senior, and Viola took advanced classed and often had more classes with Gabriel then with me. Host was junior and Pryor was a sophomore at their school and the only time they knew they’d be sharing this school year was lunch time. Brista, Viola, Gabriel, and I would also be sharing lunch period together, as we had meticulously worked our schedules that way. Viola had also forced us to all sign up for the drama class as our elective, promising I would be backstage as she was head of the class.
         “Come on guys, as if seeing less of this drama queen is really going to be a loss.” Gabriel teased and then winked at Brista. “I’m sure you can fill in for the missing dramatics.”
         Stiffening Brista looked down at her cell phone and muttered a few nasty words before sipping her foamy latte.
         “Hey, Viola, I heard you were running for President for your school’s Council board when school starts up this year.” Host said, quickly changing the topic.
         Viola straightened up in her chair and gave a wide-smile. “Yes, I am. I’ve already picked Gabriel as my Vice President, and if I win I’m appointing Brista-Ophelia to be my Senator for the sophomores. I’ve been trying to persuade Jasond to take a position as well.” Her eyes lingered on me for a moment and I shrank back with a blush. I wasn’t much of a public speaker, and did feel I’d do very well being in charge of anything.
         Even though we attended a private school, it had a large population of nearly 1,500 students. Student council was in charge of more than the average school. They planned field trips, confirmed lunch menus, mediated student conflicts, planned school activities and fund-raisers, decreed punishments, over-saw students admissions, awarded scholarships, and could even expel students for particular offenses. While Black Serenity did have a head master and board of directors, the Student council nearly ran the whole school.
         “You really think Gabriel is competent enough to be a vice president? He can’t even spell foreign.” Brista pointed out.
         “Hey, hey it doesn’t follow the ‘i’ before ‘e’ rule how was I supposed to know?” Gabriel asked in his defense.
         “Actually, Brista you are partially right. He can be a little dense and laid-back sometimes, but he is very popular with nearly everyone in the school so I believe it will boost my campaign.” Viola explained.
         “So, what you are pimping him out?” I asked.
         “Only thing he’s good for, anyway” Brista mumbled.
         “Brista’s comment aside, I am happy to offer my unique skills and taste to Viola.” Gabriel leaned back and waved his hand past his face as if it was on display.
         “What all do you have to do if you run?” Pryor asked.
         “Well, first off you have to get 20 people to sign for you nomination. Then you campaign, give a speech, and participate in a debate. You also have to raise funds, because you are limited on how much of your own money you can spend.” Viola replied.
         “How do they keep people from cheating? Nobody would actually know where the money is coming from.” Host challenged.
         “All the money that is donated is kept by the student treasurer. If someone campaigning wants to purchase supplies or fund a rally they have to withdraw the funds from their account with the treasurer, and the person must submit receipts from all the items purchased or they won’t be allowed to use the items. That keeps people from using personal funds to buy campaign items. Though, none of this stops people from giving money to friends to donate for them to their own campaign.” Viola clarified.
         Gabriel flipped down his sun glasses and puts his hands behind his head, “Mmm, my philosophy is that if you are smart enough to get away with it, then it’s okay if you do it.”
         “Really, so you think it’s okay to murder and rape if you don’t get caught?” Host asked.
         “There is nothing smart about rape.” Gabriel responded as he jerked upright, losing his glasses, and his eyes flashing dangerously.
         “Yea, only groping is cool with you.” I retorted, referring to his gym assault earlier.
         “Oh, come on. I was just picking, I would never seriously feel you up. I’m not that sick.” Gabriel turned his head indignantly.
Viola chuckled before holding up her open palms, “No fighting you two. It’s getting late, anyone have a curfew to meet tonight?” She glanced around the table and everyone shook their heads, except me.
“Dad said he’d be home early, so I guess I should get going.” I explained and then added in an imitation of my mother’s voice, “Dinner is promptly at eight thirty, I will not put up with your selfish and purposeful lateness.”
My friends laughed and then sighed as they looked up at the darkening sky. It was a little after eight, and I didn’t want to do anything that might cause an argument with my mother. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” I stood up and slung the strap of my gym bag over my shoulder. Host leaped up as well and moved toward me. “I should walk you home, it’s getting kind of late.” He offered.
Gabriel cackled, “Even though she always walks home, alone, at this time…” He trailed off as Brista pinched his leg and Pryor scowled at him. I ignored them and smiled graciously at Host, “Sure, better to talk to you then myself.” I accepted.
         “And the woman admits she is crazy.” Gabriel narrated, before Viola gave him a look that demanded his silence. Host and I waved at the others and then started toward my house. It was a very silent walk for most of the way, thought not at all uncomfortable. The thing I like most about Host was that he didn’t like to fill the silence with needless talk, and knew that I didn’t mind the quiet. Tonight though, I was a little bit nervous about having to start work tomorrow and my jitters turned into speech.
         “I’ve only had one job before, and I really hated my co-workers. How do you get along with people at your job?” I looked up at him questioningly.
         “Oh, um, I just act like myself really. If I actually focused on it, I’d probably get really nervous and shy so I just don’t think about it. I act like I’m there to just do my job and nothing else matters and the assistant coaches seem to like my attitude. Just focus on the job tomorrow and you should be fine.” He suggested.
         As we reached the sidewalk in front of my house Host quickly snaked his arms around me and gave me a tight hug. “If you need something just call.” He whispered and then shuffled a few steps back and waved. I was still a little surprised over our embrace and gave a distracted wave and I moved backwards toward my front door.
         After dinner we moved into the living room to watch a movie. I leaned against my dad’s shoulder and slid his arm around me and kisses the top of my head. I could still smell the fading traces of the cologne he’d applied this morning before work. He had short, fashionably cut black hair, stubbly facial hair, auburn eyes, and still dressed in a suit and tie. My dad had long strong arms and masculine, but comfortable and familiar chest. I buried my face against his shirt and smiled. It was so rare for people to have wonderful fathers, but my mine was excellent and I wouldn’t trade him for the world. I’d happily switch his demented counterpart in a heartbeat I realized, as I eyed my mother perched on the white leather recliner.