Youth Lost

(This is the first 3 chapters of a story I've been working on for a while. I'll be adding more later, so give me some feedback)

Looking Back

“What?…What do you want?…Can’t you see I’m trying to write an essay here? Oh yeah, just walk across the keyboard. I have no control over you.” Delia sighed at the invasive little animal. “But cats can’t be controlled anyway.” The young woman sat at her laptop. An articulate essay had been making its way through her fingers until Kip made a little contribute to the piece of work himself.
She scooped the fat bundle of fur into her arms. She stared back at the screen, “I hate college.” A sudden crack rumbled the sorority house. Delia screamed and Kip flew from her grip. With a high-pitched whine, he fell onto the shelf of the desk. Tearing through the books, he pounced onto the couch and hopped behind it. An Encyclopedia plopped onto the keyboard and with a quick flash, the screen fell black. All went silent, except for the thunder storm outside the window.
“KIP!” Delia screamed, “You lost my essay forever!” The student dove for the couch and reached underneath. Her wrath would be executed. The calico squeaked and bolted down the hallway. “Get back here!” The two ran back and fourth until Kip skidded into an empty room. The animal dodged away and finally ran for the overly-packed storage closet.
Kip barreled into the closet, causing her and her room-mates’ boxes to tumble out. Books and ragged clothes fell to the floor. She sighed. Dropping to her knees, Delia began putting back the mess. A tress of auburn hair fell into her eyes but she continued stacking. An old dress went into one box; a series of Stephen King’s in another. Videos. Permanent marker-ridden Converse. A scrap book. She paused, rubbing her thumb across the leather cover. Her knees slid out from under her, and she rested the book on her lap. A smile spread across her face as she opened it. She could smell the oldness of the pages. That smell that comes when you open an aged Bible or one of your favorite books that had been buried in time. In her mother’s cursive was written “Delia.” The beginning entries were taped up with baby pictures and documents of birth. She continued to search and discovered her name written with crayon on a piece of paper. Finding a letter from her father, she translated it from Italian to English. She skimmed the beginning,

“Dear Katalina,
2/4/77
I have been stationed in Passau, Germany. Gary wants you to tell little Delia hi for him. Give her a hug for me. The streets here are made of cobblestone, and the houses are white with brown boards across the exterior. It’s beautiful and simple, not like America. Not like Sicily either…” It went on.
She continued through the scrapbook. She smiled, seeing pictures of her brother and sister when they were young. There was a flat rock taped to a page. Below it was written “From outside our apartment in Charleston Penn.” Delia went on. The entries grew more creative as she got older. As the accounts progressed to her early teens, things began to be scribed in her crude, young writing. A simple yellow feather was glued to a page with small stones surrounding it and she smiled. Her family had many birds in her life, but the only one that she really loved was Chaz, their parakeet.
Suddenly The Invader sprang from the dark closet and into her lap. Delia jumped, then poked him, “Do you like to ruin everything? Because I think you’re plotting against me.” Kip looked up innocently, and she pushed him to the ground. “Okay, look at the rest with me.” she said forgivingly, tilting the book for Kip to see.
She looked back to see movie tickets from the early Eighties filling a page, a collage of her Pennsylvania friends filled the next. She came across a large divider in the middle of the book, that said “The beginning of the rest of my life.” She fingered it a moment then continued. A picture of her new house in Tennessee was taped along side dead leaves with her feelings on moving. She flipped several pages until the last was turned. She paused and stared at it, not stirring.
Eyes stared back at her from the page. Eyes long forgotten. She got lost in the deepness of them. A tattered soul shone out from a sea of pain. “Chris.” The word was unfamiliar and pushed through her lips from the most remote extent of her memory. Chris stood on the side walk. He was half-turned, head over his shoulder. Around the corner was his house. His torment. Notes, a necklace, all sorts of things framed the photo. Her eyes grazed the page.
He had been such a mysterious and painful part of her life, and she forgot him? No, she thought, I’ve been striving to forget. All these years. I can only wonder where he is. If he’s even alive…I think I made myself forget. I couldn’t go on wondering about him. Chris.
Delia remembered everything about him. She could still picture the baggy clothes he wore, draped over the skinny frame. He adorned the same shoes to school everyday. They were dirty and falling apart. He blended into the crowd. Only if you paid close attention did you see his unique demeanor.


Penguin Pride

Why don’t I start from “the beginning of the rest of my life?” That time started when my family moved to a lousy city called Rhetson. Johnson City sat on one side, overshadowing us. Greenville taunted us from the other. When my parents moved to the United States they chose Pennsylvania. All we knew was apartment living, and my mother so desperately wanted to have a real house. So in turn we moved to Tennessee where housing was cheaper. The South wasn’t ready for us. And I wasn’t ready for it. Well, we chose a small place on the edge of Rogers Ave. I was already terrified for school and the next morning I woke up late.
“Delia…Delia!…Hey!” a shrill voice shouted in my ear. My eyes cracked open and the blurry mass of my little sister cleared, “Delia,” she said in that whiney way she always used, “What’d you do with my yellow crayon?”
I stared in confusion, then looked at the clock beside my bed: 9:35. 9:35?! “Mina, why didn’t you wake me up? We have school!” I cried, throwing the sheets off me.
“Cause,” she whispered, watching me do my routine scavenger hunt for clothes, “I was looking for my yellow crayon.”
My bare feet patted quickly across the wooden floor and I yanked my dresser open. I began throwing jeans decorated with permanent marker and personalized shirts dramatically over my head. I finally found my favorite pair; the ones with the red flare and pink stitching. I yanked on the rest of my clothes and in the same sweeping motion, scooped up my little sister.
“You’re lucky I just got my license,” I said running down the winding staircase to the front door. The little bundle of preschooler wriggled under my arm, “Delia, I want my lunchie!”
I scrunched my nose at the annoying nickname, “Lunch.” I grabbed the keys off the dinner table and went out the door, “No time now,” I replied and dropped her inside my little blue station wagon. That baby was dotted with rust holes and dents from roof to wheels, but she was still my only car. Baby Bucket.
I hopped inside and skidded out of the cracked driveway and down the street. Silence filled the car and slow, dreaded thoughts of coming to school late filled my mind. I was lucky, because soon a loud wailing broke the quiet.
“I want my lunchie! I want my crayon! I want Daddy!” Mina screamed from the back seat. I was about to give that child a piece of my mind until she said…I took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel. We slowed to a stop light and I turned in my seat. Mina immediately quieted, thinking I was going to yell, but I reached back and swept the hair from her damp face.
“It’s okay. Mrs. Anderson will give you some lunch. Don’t worry about it Sweetie. And I‘m sure we‘ll find your crayon.”
She paused, realizing the rest of her longings weren’t satisfied. I turned and waited for the green light, “But, I miss Daddy.”
I swallowed, feeling the course lump in my throat burn, “I know…Me too.”

A giant purple penguin greeted me as I walked through the front door, “The Pinkston Penguins…” I whispered to myself, with a smirk. I already knew this school was a bit different. A huge banner was pinned over-head, the school mascot proudly presenting it’s penguin-self. I gripped the small paper in my hand with my schedule printed on it. Jogging to room 104, my backpack jumped up and down on my shoulders. I finished my way to the classroom door and eased it open. The teacher stopped as the whole room fell silent. I froze.
“You must be Delia Colorossi,” the woman said in her Southern drawl, “Come ‘ere Darling.” I barely could move my legs as all those eyes drilled their holes into me. I stood ridged next to the teacher, “My name is Mrs. Holcomb. Everyone, say hello to Miss Colorossi. She’s new here, so let’s be nice.” She smiled down at me with those apple cheeks and overly-tall hair.
A pathetic “hello” was chanted and my cheeks burned from embarrassment. Do teachers really do these things on purpouse? Do they make you look like a silent dope just to say, ‘if you cross the line, just think what I can do to you?’ They do. It’s in the contract.
I shuffled to an empty seat in the corner of the room and let my backpack drop to the floor. The day had only begun. I sunk low into my chair and pulled out a notebook. Scribbling my name at the top I began taking History notes. Out of nowhere something sharp hit my neck. I grimaced and saw a led pencil tip fall. I shot my green gaze around the room, Sure pick on the new girl who already feels like a geek, I thought spitefully.
As expected, a new flying object found its way into my hair. Finally, at the third humiliation rocket, I whipped around it my chair to find a guy sitting next to me; a wide grin was on his guilty face. I narrowed my eyes and all he could do was smile, “Hey.” he whispered.
I rose an eyebrow at the baggily-clad kid. He had to sit sideways in the chair to give his knees enough room as to not hit the desk bar, “What?” I spat.
He laughed loudly and Mrs. Holcomb turned slowly to our corner, “Somebody’s touch-EY. I was just tryin’ to get your attention.” he said, grinning. My eyes were wide and I stared at the teacher who already seemed to have a new found hate for me.
“Am I interrupting your little conversation? If so, I can just leave.”
The boy sighed and gave a serious expression, “Not at all.” I shut my eyes, “But it would be nice if ya quieted down a bit.”
My mouth set in a thin line and I squinted at the short woman. She looked like she was going to explode. Her round face turned into a tomato and her large hair looked about to fly. The class giggled as she went into her desk drawer. Grabbing two extra homework assignments she stomped to our desks and slapped them down, “You two can talk all you want while you do these.”
Once she had cooled down and began teaching again, I glared at the boy, “Thanks a lot, Idiot.”
He grinned, “The name’s Mark Nunez.”


Lunch. It hovered in my mind all morning. Every bell chime brought me closer to that dreaded moment. Fourth hour finally ended and I shuffled to the overly crowded cafeteria. This was my first time switching schools and I comfortably sat at the same lunch table every day since the 5th grade. I got my watered down mashed potatoes and cold bun then looked out at the vast sea of trays and unfamiliar faces.
“Hey crabby!” I know that voice.
“Yo, over here.” Oh Lord, you have got to be kidding me.
“Are you deaf or somethin’?” I slowly turned to see Mark sitting side ways at a lunch table. He grinned and waved, “Hey, sit down over here.”
I narrowed my eyes then paused, Just go Delia. Either sit alone for a month until you find new friends, or go with the annoying kid. I risked being hit in the head with a paper ball and walked over to the boy’s table. I eased down onto a seat next to him and stared back at his group of friends, What did I get myself into?
Mark turned, “Hey, remember me?”
“How couldn’t I.” I suddenly locked eyes with the girl sitting across from me. She leaned back and inspected me with sharp eyes. Her thumb jabbed in my direction, “Who’s the girlie?”
One sentence and I already didn’t like her.
“Her name’s Delia. She’s new.” I looked over at Mark. He smiled at me and I tried my hardest to keep him under the label of “annoying boy” but it began melting away, “Yeah.” I said quietly. My eyes scanned over the small huddle. Mark sat at my left. Strait across the table the girl glared at me. Her hair was messy and wild. A backwards cap controlled her red mane, “That’s Leela.” he said.
Leela glared and looked away, “I don’t think so. I’m Lee.” Mark nodded and continued, “He’s Benny,” I looked and almost jumped. I couldn’t believe how I didn’t notice a lime green mohawk there before. I blinked and gave a nod at Benny. He supplied a quiet wave. The kid was decked out in fully 80’s punk clothing. Mesh gloves, chained ear rings, and a tall, green mohawk.
“And my name’s Teresa.” My gaze followed the voice over to the other side of Mark. A girl gazed at me with wild eye makeup and worn out clothes. She rolled her eyes, “Don‘t know why I sit with these nerds.”
I was surprised at the tone of her voice just to hear Mark laugh, “That’s cause of Chris.”
She managed a smile and shook her head of curls, “You’re right. That boy has been stuck with me since 7th grade.”
I looked around, confused. This group was as odd as the school, “You guy’s are dating?”
The whole table burst out laughing, even Benny. My cheeks burned for the second time that day. And defiantly not the last. Mark continued laughing as Teresa grinned at me, “Oh he wishes.”
Mark sobered up quickly and shot a glace, “I think it’s the other way around.”
They all started teasing her as I sat in total oblivion. I stayed quiet the rest of lunch and watched as they laughed together, Why did I sit here? Why?

I managed to make it through lunch and the rest of the day. When 7th hour ended I shoved my way out the classroom door and to the buses. All I wanted to do was run from that insane school and when I would walk through my front door it would all be okay. I would be back in Pennsylvania with the rest of my family and friends. The great oak in the park would be right outside my window when I would get home. I would go swing and laugh and I wouldn’t have to last another day in Pinkston High.
But when I got there I wasn’t back home. I opened the door to that horrible small house with the wretched rain smell that seeped from the walls. I opened the door to hear my mother yelling at Mina. The dog began barking and the microwave went off. Mother turned, her eyes ablaze, sweat had grown in droplets on her forehead, “Delia! It’s the first day of school and you can’t even make it on time?” her Italian accent flourished in her anger, “And I get home to find Mina with no lunch, the house a mess, and the dog was locked out all day! What is wrong with you?”
I stared. My fingers began to lose their grip and my backpack slipped to the floor. My body grew numb and I shuffled forward, “Sorry Mama…” I went to the stairway in a trance and my Mother froze and watched me walk by.
“Delia?”
I walked to my confined bedroom and collapsed onto my mattress. Pain swelled in my chest that I didn’t even know was there. It rose in my throat and stung my eyes. My body began heaving and tears flowed onto my pillow-case. I heard the slow footsteps of Mother approach and she stood in the doorway, “Delia…” she whispered. Her voice was soft like pedals and made my cries cease.
“Delia, I am sorry for being so angry. I had a hard day too. It’s just when the day is long and you come home to a crazy house…” My body sank down as she sat on the side of my bed, “What is wrong?”
How could I say it? How could I describe the utter hate I had for this house. For this school. For this little town. I knew inside that I wanted to stay back home where the memories of Papa were in everything I saw. He was in nothing here. This Southern place was empty and hollow in my eyes. I wanted to be home.
“School was hard. Don’t worry Mother, I just need to get used to this place.”




Dodge Balls and Beer Cans

I found myself staring down at a large red ball that had found it’s way miraculously into my hands. I had spent all of 4th hour dodging ball after ball. Finally this beautiful, red, sphere of hope might get me my first good grade in Gym. I hunched over, staring past the line at the other side of the gymnasium. Tall, 11th grade boys darted across the linoleum floor. None of them even spared me a glance. They knew just as well as I did that I couldn’t hit any of them.
I squeezed my eyes shut, cranked my arm back, and threw that baby as far as I could. I kept my eyes closed until I heard a loud thump and the room went quiet. To my delight, I opened them to find a boy fall to his Dodgeball death on the other side of the line. I hopped up and practically squealed. Since when had I ever made a single point in this class? But my happiness began to dwindle as the boy stayed on the floor. A slow huddle formed around him and murmurs of, “are you okay?” met my ears.
“Oh no,” I whispered and walked over to the group. I pushed my way through the stinky circle and looked down. Gasping, I put my hands to my mouth. The boy laid on the ground, a round red mark formed in the middle of his face. He opened his eyes and looked over at me. Big…Brown…Eyes… His hair was light brown and was spiked up. He had the bone structure of Tom Cruise and the build to match. To my surprise he gave a small smile and pushed his way up.
I felt my knees go weak as he looked over at me, “Don’t worry about it, I’m okay…” he must of noticed the utter horror still plastered on my face, “Are you?”
I stared a moment. Words formed poetic sentences of his beauty in my mind, but all that came out was, “Sure.”
He grinned, then suddenly something hard smacked into my shoulders and I hit the floor, “You’re out!” the teacher called. I looked up at the boy and I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. He bent down and took my hand, (all in slow motion of course) helping me to my feet. I grinned and made my way to the wall.

I floated into lunch. I had never wanted to go eat cold food more in my life. I got my tray and before I could sneak away, Mark flagged me down. Reluctantly, I sat down next to him and listened to the chatter of the group. My eyes scanned over them, but all I could think about was him. He had smiled at me. Actually noticed me, Well how couldn’t he? You did throw a ball right in his face. But he talked to me…
“Hey, Delia!”
I jumped and gripped my spork in surprise, “What?” I turned to see flying salsa headed my way. Before I could duck, it splatted in a tiny glob onto my nose. I narrowed my eyes and looked over at Mark. He laughed and almost fell into his food.
“Guess you’re better at throwing than dodging.”
I hadn’t even wiped the salsa off when I looked over at the girl across from me. Lee narrowed her eyes and her smirk challenged a response. The rest grew quiet and I slowly cleaned my face. I looked around at them, “Guess I’m not even wanted at the Loser Table.” I spat and stood with my tray. I began walking quickly away. I wouldn’t let them see the tears. I could hear Mark yelling after me, but I only quickened my gate.
“Come HERE.” I heard him yell and finally grabbed hold of my arm. His grip was so strong, my whole body whipped around to face him. By that time we had raced out of the cafeteria and past my locker.
“Why won’t you just leave me alone?” I felt my voice crack and hated myself for it.
“Delia, I know what it’s like to be new. I just wanted you to have friends so you weren’t alone. It’s just that…” his gaze traveled away and his features grew gentle, “Leela…She’s not used to people just accepting her. She feels like she has to do the same. She’s been hurt too many times. I don’t think she really means those things.” he looked back at me and his eyes were so fixed I had to look away, “Just come back. We all like you and…plus,” he smiled, “you haven’t met Chris yet.”
I locked eyes with him in wonder. He turned and began walking back. I stood for a moment then followed. Carefully I sat back down but I couldn’t look across from me.
“Delia, meet Chris.”
I gazed down the table. Sitting across from Teresa, a boy stared at me. I hadn’t even noticed him sitting there. I waved. His dirty blonde hair was ruffled and curly atop his head. He was hunched over and before we met eyes, he slightly looked away. The boy looked like he had just come out of a dirt pile. His clothes were baggy and worn. I wondered if his smell could reach across the table to me. He waved back and continued talking to Teresa.
“He seems friendly,” I whispered to Mark in my best sarcastic voice.
He rolled his eyes and smiled, “He’s just a weenie. Too shy that’s all.”
I giggled and continued eating.

I pulled books out of my locker and piled them into my backpack, Math book needed. Did I get any Spanish homework? Yeah, yeah. And here we go, History book. And…Hey dumb shadow get out of my reading light…Dumb shadow? I looked up to see a looming Mark.
“Hey girlie.”
I smirked, secretly wishing that tall shadow had been someone else’s, “Hey, I have so much homework tonight.”
He leaned against the next locker, “Yeah, I do too, but I’m still goin’ to Teresa’s party. You coming?”
I zipped up my backpack and looked down, “I wasn’t…uh, no.”
His mouth opened to say something, then froze. His eyes shifted nervously then he grinned, trying to cover it up, “Well you should.”
Mark suddenly took my arm and reached in his pocket. I stared at him as he pulled out a pen and started writing things on me, “What are you doing.”
He gave me back my appendage and I looked down:

4270 Thompson Avenue. Turn from the McDonalds near the police station, down Lincoln, then right on Thompson.

I smirked and looked at him, eyes narrowed. He just smiled back. I turned and we walked in silence to the buses. I waved to him and got on my bus. I sat there, a grin plastered on my face. I felt acceptance ready to surface. And apparently Teresa was friends with a lot of people. This party could be my way up the ladder to meet that wonderful boy.

Sitting on the bathroom counter, I carefully stroked mascara on. Van Halen blasted from my brother’s room next door. I cringed. I finished my eyes and scooted off the counter. Walking over to the stereo, I turned on my tape. I cranked up the volume on the Beatles and smiled, listening to my brothers angry yells through the wall. Feeling accomplished for the day, I finished my make-up and ran downstairs.
Mother began steaming the vegetables in the kitchen. Creeping to the door, I slipped in my high heels and opened it.
“Where are you going Delia?”
I winced, looking over my shoulder, “Uh, out to see friends Mama. Bye!”
“What?” she popped around the corner, eyes wide, “You made friends? I’m so proud!”
I forced a smile, keeping the lower half of my body out the door. “Fine. You can leave just this once. Next time, you wait for dinner.”
“Yeah, okay.” I said, shutting the door and running to the car. I was dressed in a black mini skirt. If she had seen the thing I would of been peeling corn by then. I had a modest purple blouse on to balance out the skirt. I scooted into the car and looked in the mirror. My dark brown hair was being held back by a thin headband. I carefully pulled small strands from it and then started driving.
“Thompson Avenue. Thompson Avenue.” I repeated, watching for the streets. The houses started getting smaller and closer together. Front yards turned into curbsides as I passed the police station.
Pounding music came into my car window as I turned down the street. I didn’t need the house number to figure which one was Teresa’s. Cars and trucks surrounded it like a football huddle. I parked Baby Bucket near the curb and got out. As I went up to the door, it swung open and a boy collapsed onto the stoop. I stared, my mouth gaping. I looked into the doorway to see a mass of bodies swaying and folding to rap music.
I stepped over the boy and into the house. A blast of humid air hit me and I started squeezing through the people. I made my way to a food table. Doritos and beer cans littered it and I picked a can of Coke.
Sipping my drink, I stood in a corner. I studied the smokers and drunken teens. I hadn’t expected Mark to be at this type of party. He just seemed like a different kind of guy. Not like this. He seemed more like me than I wanted to admit. I had never been to a party with beer and weed. I didn’t belong here. I sighed, realizing this, and I set down the Coke. Turning to walk out, a hand grasped my shoulder.
“Hola Delia.”
I turned to see Mark’s typical grin. I smiled back, knowing I was stuck now. He leaned against my wall and stared down at me, “What’s this gorgeous girl doin’ all by herself in the corner?”
My smile lessened and I stared out at the dancing mass, “I just don’t know anybody.”
“You know me.”
I paused then looked over, “Well…”
“Oh,” his long features turned solemn and he looked away, “so you don’t know me, huh? I get it.”
I laughed, “I know you-”
“No, you said you didn’t! I’ll leave then, since I’m not known in this general region of people-meaning you.”
“Mark!”
He whipped back around and a mischievous glint settled in his eyes, “So you want to know me now?”
“I already know-”
“Okay,” he crossed his arms, cutting me off, “ask me anything your little Italian heart desires.”
I stared at him a moment then copied his gesture, “Fine. Have you always lived in Rhetson?”
He gave me a look between ‘are you kidding?’ and ‘boring!’, then rolled his eyes, “I live with my mom and mi tontos hermanas.”
I rose an eyebrow in confusion.
“My stupid sisters. We used to live more North, then we moved here when I was in Second Grade. Now can we get interesting, or do I need to leave?”
“No, no, I’ve got it now: what’s the scariest moment of your life?”
I saw his expression grow somber for the first time since the cafeteria incident. His brown eyes flicked away from me suddenly and he paused, “Uh…”
I felt a lump grow in my throat as the loud pump of the bass filled my ears, “You don’t have to answer that ya know.”
A fake smile stretched across his face, “No, I was just thinking. Um…” his eyes squinted. Most likely making something up, I thought sadly. “One time…” his gaze traveled to his Converse, “my friend got hurt by someone. Really…messed up. He came to my house and I helped him get better. I thought he was gonna die. It scared me so bad.”
Suddenly the music wasn’t so loud. He wasn’t a stranger any more. He wasn’t the annoying boy. He was Mark.
“I mean,” he continued, “he had to recover over a bunch of days. I could barely go to school I was so scared. He just seemed to be gettin’ worse and worse over time. But one day, I got home and he was better again.”
A silence grew between us. I stared at him but he wasn’t there with me. He was with whoever it had been that got hurt. His eyes showed me that. Suddenly he looked up and all sadness was gone, “But that was a while ago, and it’s all done with.” He must of seen my concern, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Sorry for bringing it up.”
“As I said, it’s fine. You got to know me better now didn’t you?”
I couldn’t help but smile and reluctantly nod. We talked for God knows how long, then went out to find people. He introduced me to other crazy guys I had never met before. I stuck to him the whole time; he was my social life line. Eventually we found Teresa and she was pissed. I felt a little better knowing there wasn’t supposed to be drugs or beer here.
In the middle of Teresa’s ranting, a loud crash erupted through the house and silence engulfed the party. A suction in the crowd was created at the doorway to the kitchen We quickly made our way there. Teresa let out a screech as we spotted the problem.
Shattered plates and glasses were all over the kitchen floor. Two drunk boys stood at the cupboards, trying to brush the mess under the table. Mark and I slowly looked over at Teresa. I would have laughed at her expression if the room hadn’t been dead quiet. Her round eyes were now slits and her ebony face was tinged a bright red from anger. She was a short girl but looked ten times larger with her chest puffed out and hands made into fists.
“OUT NOW!” she cried and the gathering grew into an animated frenzy. The teens shuffled out the front door, leaving me, Mark, and Teresa in the room alone. Food and cans were scattered everywhere, along with the occasional sleeping body. I bit my lip to suppress a nervous giggle.
“Poor Teresa.” I heard a strange voice say.
We all turned to see a boy in the doorway of the kitchen. Chris. He smiled at her and her anger seemed to fizzle. He wore the same shabby clothes from that day. But his face seemed more defined in the yellow hanging lamp. His eyes I hadn’t noticed before too. They were almond shaped and shone like green orbs from some far away place. I blinked in surprise.
Mark hopped over to the boy and swung his long arm around his shoulders, “Let’s help the poor girl clean this place.”
Teresa managed a smile then looked at me. She gave me a questioning glance. She knew they would help but she barely knew me. I smiled and nodded, “I’ll go wake up the drunk people.”


He Likes You

Why she had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say
I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday

Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play
Now I need a place to hide away
oh, I believe in yesterday

“Delia!”
I jumped and yanked my headphones off. Mother stood in the doorway, one hand propped on her hip, the other holding the phone, “I said, phone is for you.” she grumbled and held it out.
The sound of the Beatles still blasted from my dangling headphones. I sheepishly reached for the phone but before I could grab it, she snatched it back, “Delia, it’s a boy…” she said like the opposite sex was an alien kind.
My eyes got wide and I tried to grab it, “Mother!”
“Oh, and you need to clean your room.” she said, visually inspecting it.
“Okay.”
“And do the dishes today while I’m at work. I work on Saturday’s now.”
My face contorted and I held back from saying anything as I took the phone, “Hello?”
“Oh, and Honey, feed the dog. Remember last time you left him out-”
“Okay!” I said harshly.
She turned and glared at me, about to lecture. I smiled the best I could at her and she stopped. Sighing, she shut the door behind her.
“Hello…” I said, trying not to sound embarrassed.
I heard familiar laughing then, “Your mom is just like mine. Got a lot of stuff to do, huh?”
“Hey Mark. How’d you get my number?”
“Student directory. They already got you in there. You wanna do something today with me, Teresa, and Chris?”
I grinned and stood up off my bed, “Sure, but I got to do all these chores first.”
He explained the latest Bruce Willis movie out. I was more of a “16 Candles” sort of girl, but anything to get out of the house, “Okay, let’s meet at the 3:40 showing. That one theater by the library? Okay, see ya later.” I hung up and threw the phone onto the bed. Stumbling downstairs, I started on my chores. How did I make friends so fast?

Slipping money under the glass, I looked up at the show times, “I’d like one ticket for Die Hard.” The clerk lazily grabbed the money and took her time printing out a ticket. She handed one to me and looked up gravely, “Don’t ever take this job. Believe me.” she popped her gum, “All I do all day is hand out tickets. Don’t do it if you want to stay sane.”
I carefully took it and stared at her through the smudged window, “I’ll…keep that in mind.”
I stood before the Red Rope of No Return as my Pennsylvania friends would of called it. Once you buy a ticket and go inside, there’s the guy who gives you your stubs at the rope. Once you go past him, there’s “no going back.”
After a few minutes, a high energized trio of teenagers bought Bruce Willis tickets and walked up to me. Mark towered over the rest of us as we got our ticket stubs. He passed the snack bar and raced towards the movie doors. Teresa, Chris, and I continued walking behind him. Teresa had her curly brown hair pressed back with a headband. We locked eyes and her usual wild make-up held my glance. Bright green eye shadow matched her green pumps and made her auburn eyes pop.
She smiled at me, “You don’t look like a ‘Die Hard’ type to me.”
“Neither do you.”
She eyed the fleeting figure of Mark, “I gave in. That boy somehow gets his way every time.”
We walked into the theatre. The smell of buttered popcorn lured me forward and we picked seats at the very top. Chris sat in the aisle seat, then me, Mark, and Teresa. I half expected some foul smell to rise off of Chris, but only popcorn filled my senses.
When the movie ended I was disappointed and angry at the wasted allowance money. Mark grinned at me, “Don’t you love seeing things blown up? Cause I do.”
I forged a smile, “Yeah…Was great.” I eyed Teresa for some reassurance of a crapy movie but she only stared back. Walking into the aisle, I heard my name from the bottom of the theatre.
“Delia!” I whipped around to see the guy I had hit with the dodge ball in gym. My heart lurched into my throat, He knows my name?! Teresa crammed next to me and elbowed me in the side. I blinked then shot my hand in the air, “Hey!” Too enthusiastic Delia. Act like you don’t care. No wait, then he’ll think you don’t like him. Okay just be cool, but be friendly.
He jogged up the stairs and his friends paused for him in their seats. He had on a Pinkston Penguins sweatshirt with matching purple shorts. He was as tall as Mark and smiled at me.
“Hey, remember me from Gym?”
Smile at him. Nod. Oh no, long silence. Say something interesting. Everyone’s staring at you Delia. Say something. Say anything!
“I like your shorts.” He rose an eyebrow and I could hear a stifled giggle come from behind me, I like you shorts. I like your shorts? What’s wrong with you? Were you dropped on you head as a child? I like your shorts.
“Um, yeah thanks. Just wanted to say hi.” I was mesmerized. “Like the movie?”
I nodded. There was a silence then Mark cleared his throat, “Oh!” I said, remembering where I was, “These are my friends. Teresa, Mark, and Chris.”
His gaze traveled over them briefly and he smiled. Looking back at me, a smirk tugged at his lips, “See you at school then.” His brown eyes stayed locked on me a moment more (an eternity in Delia Land) then he turned and joined his friends at the door.
Teresa’s shrill giggle broke me from my trance and she grabbed my shirt sleeve, “Girl, he likes you.”
I felt about to collapse on the floor, “I don’t even know his name.” I whispered.
“Jason Anderson.” I heard Chris’ voice say flatly. I just caught the spite in his tone, but was too preoccupied with the thought of Jason Anderson liking me.
Teresa’s face was constantly animated with her thoughts and she squinted her green painted eyes at me, “He’s so big and cute.” Her voice emphasized “big” and “cute” like it was a new discovery. I had found that out a long time ago.
“Yeah, but he ain’t much underneath.” I turned around to look at Mark. I was so surprised he would say something like that, and I considered his advice for a moment. The thought of Jason Anderson being any less wonderful then he seemed was silly and I quickly threw the notion away.
Teresa waved a disapproving hand at them and started leading me down the stairs, “Don’t you worry about those two. Let’s talk about those big brown eyes of his.”
“Delia! Delia!” My little sister ambushed me as I came through the front door. I was still hypnotized from what happened that day at the theatre and walked right past Mina. She grabbed the bottom of my tee-shirt and dragged behind me, “Delia!” she screeched.
The horrible, ear-splitting voice tore me from my dreams of sitting on a hill top with Jason Anderson under the stars. I glared at her for awakening me, “What?!”
She paused and her small pink lips quivered. My eyes softened but my face stayed angry, “What?” I said quieter.
“Where’s my yellow crayon?”
I squinted at her in disbelief, “You still haven’t found that thing?” She shook her head sadly. “What do you want with it anyway?”
Her pudgy face lit up and she ran into the kitchen. Within seconds she skidded back into the room and held up a drawing. I carefully took it. Drawn in a messy 4-year old fashion were five stick people of different sizes standing in front of a house. Her tiny finger crept over the top of the paper and pointed at a figure with short brown hair, “That’s you.” She pointed to the next tiny one, “That’s me…That’s Robby…That’s Momma.” Finally her finger touched the head of a tall stick figure with messy hair, “And that’s Daddy.”
A sharp pain gripped my chest and I imagined a clawed black hand squeezing my heart until it burst, “Why do you need the yellow one?” My voice quivered slightly.
“For the sun.”
I looked at a big empty circle at the top of the paper that stared down at the smiling family. It was just a big hole. An empty void that vacuumed all the happiness out of you until your father finally dies. I knew what that back hole was. I knew what to call it, but I wouldn’t let myself think the word.
“It’s beautiful.” my voice had regained its strength.
She stared at me in wonder. I never liked her scribbled art work and usually ignored it. A big smile shone from her face and she hugged my waist. Mina grabbed the paper and skipped off to her bedroom with a new found pride of the drawing.

The rest of the weekend passed quickly and soon I found myself staring at the Gym teacher, waiting for him to blow his whistle. Then we could hit the showers and Lunch would be next. We were preparing for the Mile Run that was coming in November. Sweat poured down my face and I felt the Gym shirt I had on sticking to me. Thirty-some students jogged around the field. Instead of focusing on the running body ahead of me, I looked past them and to the forest. Pennsylvania had never been this beautiful in the Fall. I could see rolling hills of a distant forest that lay behind the inner city. Tall run-down buildings began to block the Fall colors as I turned the corner of the football field.
Mr. Larson’s high pitched whistle rang out and I bolted for the locker room. Jogging towards the building, I felt someone beside me and I looked. That chiseled jaw. Those perfect teeth. Those big. Brown. Eyes. Jason Anderson. I almost tripped over myself.
“Hey, doesn’t Gym suck?”
Before I could say anything, the realization of my looks hit me. My pony tail must have been falling out, strands of hair sticking to my forehead. Sweat droplets all over my face and I must of smelled like a sweaty Delia. My face was already red so he couldn’t of noticed me blushing, “Yeah, I hate it.” I said out of breath.
“Uh, I was wondering…” he slowed down and it forced me to stop jogging. “Do you wanna sit with me and my friends at lunch today?” he smiled.
I just stared.
False disappointment grew on his face, “Oh, it’s okay, you don’t ha-”
“Yes!”
He grinned and jabbed a thumb at the boy’s locker room, “I got to go, but I’ll see you at lunch.”
I can’t believe this. I was frozen in the middle of the football field, I get to sit with Jason Anderson! I squealed in excitement and ran to the showers.

After getting my lunch tray filled with “mystery meat,” I realized a small problem. I had no idea where Jason sat. I scanned the cafeteria, trying not to look worried. I started looking for his clique. The whole 10th Grade was divided into lunch groups. The geeks. They sat at lunch doing homework and discussing the Theory of Evolution most likely. The next group of lunch tables was the tough guys. You wouldn’t want to ask where the nearest bathroom is from them. Across from them were the…Oh no.
“Hey, it’s not like we switched tables or somethin’.” Mark called out with a smile.
I slowly walked over and stood there.
“You can sit.” I looked surprisingly at Lee. She didn’t smile, but she looked strait at me. I felt my heart sink slightly, “Uh, guys…”
“Delia!” I whipped around and Jason Anderson was waving to me from across the cafeteria. Hundreds of eyes followed his wave to me, and I timidly waved back. I turned around, feeling their glances piercing my back.
My friends’ eyes were just the same. I looked at Mark, feeling the safest in his gaze, “I’m gonna go sit with Jason today.”
He half smiled, nodded, then went back to prodding his food. The table was silent and I knew as soon as I left, they would start talking about me. I slumped my shoulders and made my way to Jason’s table. But as soon as I saw him beaming at me, I couldn’t help but feel excited again. I plopped down next to him.
I suddenly heard an over emphasized gasp, “Who are you?”
A girl sat across from me with crimped brown hair and a tight pink and white ensemble. I blinked, “Delia.”
“I’m Lucy.” Her lips curled into a giant smile with bright white teeth to match her bright white pants, “That’s Buck down there and next to me is Suzie.”
Buck was even bigger than Jason and had bleached blonde hair. I turned to look at Suzie, meeting her two glaring blue eyes. When the table looked at her, the gaze melted into cheer and she made a giant-toothed grin like Lucy. I could have stared at her glare, I could of stared at her teeth, I even could of stared at her blonde pig-tales. But I didn’t. I stared at the big, brown, drawn-on mole next to her mouth.
“I think your shirt is completely rad.” her Southern drawl sounded odd with the fashionably stupid lingo.
“Uh, thanks.” I pulled my eyes away from the fake mole.
Lucy giggled and pointed, “And I know you’ve met Jason.”
I felt some cheerleader-like giggles waiting to come out as I looked up at Jason. I suddenly felt his big arm rest around my back, “She sure has.”
Goosebumps shivered up my arms and I smiled. Teresa’s voice came into my mind, Girl, he likes you. For the fist time I met his gaze without falter, He really does.