Writer – Ivory James

I've got stories to tell.

  • Jenny

    Not Jenny, the cousin, Jenny the neighbor.

    We thought she had everything. She had all the things we could ever want.

    We were especially envious of all of the Barbie clothes. All of the Barbie houses. All the Barbie stuff.

    But we didn’t like her. Why? Who knows. But we didn’t. OK,

    “I’ll be the lookout, and you go get the stuff.”

    “OK. If someone comes home, I’ll do something. Go through the side gate, Jenny said it’s always open. Then go into the garage and into the house.”

    “Will the door be open?”

    “Yes, and the doors are always open. Remember when we were talking about whether or not our families locked doors? Get good Ken, three good Barbies, and the Corvette and some clothes. Then we can go back to my house. OK? Go.”

    “Oh no. Red alert. Red alert.”

    “Let’s go Jenny‘s. Mom is here!’

    “Hi, I… we were just getting some Barbie stuff. Jenny told us we could come in to get some stuff whenever we wanted.”

    “Tell Jenny to come over when she gets home. Yeah, to Gabby‘s house.”

    “Or we can just Bring the stuff back tomorrow?? Yes. Thank you.”

    “No, I think we got everything. Yeah?”

    “Yeah. Bye. And thank you.”

    Thou shall not steal.

  • Please Take Me Home

    I don’t know why I did it. I’m not even sure it’s that big of a deal. No one knows. No one will ever know.

    I hate where I live now. Before now, my house was big. It was white and we had an upstairs. We had a pool, a pool of our own. Not a pool that is downstairs and around the corner, between two buildings. Not a pool where everyone can see me in my bathing suit. One we didn’t even have to share.

    We had a laundry room – in the house. Not a laundry room where I have to take someone’s underwear out of the dryer, someone I don’t even know.

    I had my own room, not one I had to share with my brother when he comes to visit. Not a room I have to give up when my uncle comes to stay with us.

    A house that had a kitchen, but not like the kitchen I have now – full of cockroaches. Cockroaches that won’t let me get a snack in the middle of the night because they are everywhere when the lights are off.

    A house with a backyard, big enough room to play soccer and have a tetherball court and a basketball court.

    And backyard with trees, not a balcony with a bunch of ignored and dying plants.

    A place I didn’t have to pretend we don’t have a cat.

    A place that I didn’t have to pretend anything.

    So, when my friend said, “We can take you home”, there was no way I was going to take them there. There, to the place where my life sucks and my hopes die. There, where I fight with my mother because she is as unhappy as I am.

    So, “Yes, I would love a ride home. Take me to the top of the hill. Yep, this is my house on the one on the right. Oh yes, thank you it’s a nice house.”

    No one knows I don’t really live there.

    “Oh, but no, you don’t need to walk me to the door. No one will ever know. Ha ha, thanks for the ride. You can go. I guess my mom isn’t home yet.”

    No one knows.

    I’ll check if the side gate is open. See you tomorrow.”

    And there I will sit and wait – five, ten minutes. They will have gone and now I will walk myself back. Back down the hill. Back down to the busy street. Back, across the street from the McDonald’s. Back into the dark apartment where the cockroaches live and the only one to welcome me home is my cat.

    I am 10 and I don’t know why I did it, but it feels wrong.

    Forgive me, father.

  • SPED

    Middle school is a precarious time for all. At your local middle school, there is a daily struggle occurring. It’s not between the students, not between the administration and parents, it’s a struggle no one talks about. 

    Mrs. Lydia Welch, who has dreamed of becoming a teacher since she was a child, has recently been plagued with indecision. From the wacky colleagues, to the unrelenting parents, to the elusive administration, is the love of the students enough to keep her in the teaching profession?

    The new school year is here, and she has decided to give it another shot, but as soon as she pulls into the parking lot something is amiss. What? Someone has taken her parking spot. Strike one. Next, the first familiar face she sees is of Old Horny History Teacher Phillips. He made it through another summer? Strike two. And now the second face she sees is of Hot PE Teacher? Oh, she is so obnoxious. Strike three?

    Wait! It can’t be strike three yet, Mrs. Welch hasn’t made it out of the parking lot!

    Ah, a saving grace! Mrs. Stewart has just saved her morning. With her best friend in tow, she surely can make it through this school year, or at least make it to the office.

    Just Like Goldilocks and the Three Bears

    It was a blustery Monday morning when Mrs. Lydia Welch gathered her bags and sluggishly got into her car for the first day of the new school year.

    “Ok,” she thought, “school bag – with copies for the day, lunch bag, Clorox wipes, paper towels, water, Diet Coke, and coffee. I think I’m ready. I can do this!” She could certainly do it, but she was not at all happy to begin doing it. She did a quick look in the rearview mirror, and she was ready to go.

    The 11-minute drive to work was not long by any means. She was actually very lucky to live so close to work. And her new car made it even better.

    “Wow,” she thought, “This car has it all, but man, it doesn’t make going back any easier.”

    It was a kind of consolation prize for having to go back to Sutter Middle School this year. She had worked there for 10 years of her 43-year-long life. She always could remember the exact number of years she worked at Sutter because she was pregnant with her daughter when she started, and yet the years still seemed to blur together. Funny, she never wanted to teach middle school, actually deathly afraid of teaching middle school. She knew she had always wanted to be a teacher, except for that short time in college. Teaching wasn’t seen as a noble profession among her classmates.

    “What do you want to be? Poor?”.

    Or, “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you like money? Why would any smart person go into teaching?”

    And the one she heard most often, “Jack of many trades, master of none. Those who can’t, teach.” Ouch. Yeah, for a short time, she had lost her focus, kind of like she was losing her focus now.

    She began teaching her stuffed animals when she was young, lining them up in rows. She even had a chalkboard installed on her bedroom wall so she could play school in the afternoons and the weekends. She had given each one a name, Rocky, Johnny, Tabathia, Sarah, Bunny…, she took attendance and collected milk money. She would come home every day after school and reteach the lessons she had learned that day.

    “Aaron, do you want to play school with me?”, she would ask her older brother. “Huh? You can be the teacher!” Who could pass up such an enticing offer?

    “What?!”, he would snap back. “Why would I want to play school? I’ve been at school all day! I don’t want to play stupid school with you. Lydia, you’re a freak!”.

    Unfazed, and deciding her brother was the freak, Lydia practiced her daily routine of playing school, every day after school.

    “Now class, don’t listen to Aaron. He is in the principal’s office. Shh, he’s a bad boy. He doesn’t even like school.” 

    Even when she was forced to play outside, her fun revolved around school. Her bike became a school bus and she would ride around the neighborhood picking up imaginary students.  When she was in the backyard, she played her favorite recess game, tetherball. Even when she set the table, thoughts of helping out in the cafeteria danced around in her head. Little did she know the real inner workings of being a teacher.

    When she started student-teaching, she often thought dreams do come true. Once in a while, she got chills while she was up at the whiteboard teaching her students like she had dreamed of doing. After her student teaching, she began teaching elementary school. She taught kindergarten through sixth graders in her first five years. She was so young then. That was before she and Carl had gotten together. She learned quickly that teachers were not what they seemed. Happy hours that turned into happy hour sleepovers, skinny dipping, and sex toy parties is not what she had expected.

    After that mess, she left for the big leagues, high school. Now, that was a jump! And the high schoolers were great, in their own way, but a bit too cool and aloof for Lydia. It was then she was warned, “Oh, no, no! You never want to go to middle school. Those kids are horrible! They almost are even humans. Yuck!’ 

    So Lydia tried to stay away from middle school. But her yellow brick road was being laid, brick by brick. She married Carl and then took two weeks off to go on her honeymoon. Definitely not a good move in the eyes of Mr. High School Principal. She knew it was a lot of time away from work, but that is the exact reason she chose February 28th, a Monday, to go to jury duty. Aren’t Mondays supposed to be slow? How was she to know that on that Monday, the Monday she had chosen, she would be called to a five-month trial? Five long months away from her new high school job. Five months making her principal seeth and despise her. Poor Lydia, newly married, a new high school teacher, and already despised. And then, boom, another bomb. Lydia was pregnant! Surely the principal would be sympathetic to this situation. Kids, it’s all about the kids in schools, right? Lots of teachers become pregnant. He must have worked with so many, especially with such a large staff. Maybe he would be happy for her and her new growing family. Isn’t it endearing? The Principal was a father as well, surely he understood, right? 

    “Mr. Principal, I am excited to tell you I am pregnant!” she exclaimed with joy. And all he heard was, “I’m going to need more time off!”

     And that’s the reason why when Lydia did come back. After Max was born, Lydia wanted to come back to work. Give her school-age students any time; this baby stuff was for the birds. But when she asked Mr. High School Principal for a part-time position, his reply was, “Part-time? Nope! There are no part-time positions here, none, nope, but I hear middle school has part-time positions. Good luck!”

    That was nine years ago, and now she was here. The start of year number ten. Middle school didn’t turn out to be horrible at all. Teaching middle school reminded her a lot of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Elementary school was like the porridge that was too cold, and high school was the porridge that was too hot, but middle school? Middle school was neither too cold nor too hot, it was just right.

    Chester McPhillips

    Lydia pulled into the parking lot. She was a mixed bag of excitement and dread. It was the first day of a new school year and that was always exciting, but she also wondered, “How many years can this go on?” And then she realized someone was in her spot. Not that she owned it, but she had parked in the same spot for over 3 years, at least.

    “What?? Wait? Who’s raggedly old van is parked in my spot?” She glared at the van as she pulled into the spot under the tree, in the spot next to her spot. 

    “It’s fine. It’s ok. It’s going to be ok. It’s going to be great. This is absolutely no indication of what today will be like,” she thought to herself. “It’s all good.”

    But she knew.  She knew it was not going to be all good because she knew she was ready for something else. 

    “Lipstick? Check. Hair? Check. Outfit? Perfect for the Meet and Greet before school. I can’t wait to meet all the new mommies and daddies”, she thought to herself sarcastically as she forced a clenched-teeth smile in the rearview mirror.

    As Mrs. Welch got out of her car and walked towards the trunk of her car, a wind suddenly lifted up her ultra-proper teacher dress exposing her legs and her Spanx.

    “Whoa!” she looked around anxiously. “I hope nobody saw that,” she thought as she opened her trunk, again another breeze lifted the back of her skirt. “Oh my god!” she quickly grabbed her Diet Cokes, Clorox wipes, and paper towels and added them to her already full arms.

    “When did I turn into a bag lady?” she whispered to herself.

    And then suddenly seemingly out of nowhere, she heard, “HAHA! I saw that, Mrs. Lydia Welch. Looking gooood, my friend. Looking gooood. Ready for the first day of school?” It was Chester McPhillips.

    Mr. Chester McPhillips was also known as old horny Mr. Phillips or Chester the Molester. That was just a nickname he earned long ago. Nobody thought he ever did anything inappropriate with any of the students. He was just a completely, inappropriate man. A man from another era, a man with a mustache in the shape of handlebars. A man from a time when you could smoke at your desk, pat women on the behinds, make dirty racist jokes, and keep a bottle of booze in your desk. He was kind of fun to watch, but not so much fun to interact with. He had a lovely wife who also taught, but not at Sutter. She taught at a prestigious elementary prep school and was quite well-respected in the field.

    “Oh, no,” Lydia thought. “The first person I see is Chester? Strike number two. And where was he? I didn’t even see him. Oh goodness. Why is he coming this way? Do I have to wait here? It’s going to take him forever to get over here? ”

    “Hey, Chess. How ya doing? How was your summer?” she threw her voice down the parking lot as she tried to wave hello.

    “Wait, wait, wait. Let me help you with your things. It’s the least I can do for the show you gave. Hahahahaha.” Slowly Mr. Philips shuffled his way to Lydia’s car. Shuffle, drag, shuffle, drag. Chester was making his way. Finally, he made it.

    “Yeah, yeah. Not as fast as I used to be. Let me give you a hug hello,” he leaned in with his big hairy arms, giving Lydia and all her items a big hug  hello. “Well, well, well, you got quite a load. Let me help you.” And as he took the roll of paper towels, it slipped from his hairy fingers and slowly rolled down the parking lot. They both watched as the wind slowly took it this way and that. Lydia thought it wasn’t worth throwing all her things down, running down the parking lot, looking like a fool for one roll of paper towels, and she wasn’t even the one who dropped them. Chester just knew there was no way he was going after the paper towels.

    “Ha! Hope you didn’t need those. Come on, just leave it. Nobody will know. Oh, I’ll take these. If they slip out of my hands, they will still be usable.” As he took the Clorox wipes, they turned towards the school gate.

    Courtney Lovejoy

    And before they could take three steps, someone leaned on their horn three times, beep, beep, beep!

    “Good mornin’ losers! Welcome back!” shouted someone out their car window.

    It was so unexpected it made Lydia jump, “What the hell?”

    Welcome strike three, Ms. Courtney Lovejoy. Lydia remembered back to the first time she met Lovejoy thinking is this woman for real? First, whose name is Lovejoy? That’s a lot to live up to. Second, is it really appropriate for a teacher who looks like that to teach middle school? It was completely fitting that she was a Physical Education teacher. Tall, toned, tan, busty, and blonde, and she was always dressed slightly inappropriate for school, but she always wore very little very well. It seemed to fit her, being half naked. The day Lydia met her she was wearing shorty short bike shorts and a crop top, and this turned out to be her uniform, rain or shine. Someone had asked if she was allowed to wear that to work and Lovejoy’s reply put all other questions to rest, “When the district is ready and willing to pay for my clothes, they can tell me what to wear.” Lydia thought that was a perfect response and with that, no one ever questioned what she wore again.

     From a short distance, she looked like a character off any of the Baywatch productions. But when you looked a bit closer, things weren’t as they seemed. Always tall and always toned, but the tan with the orangish tinge looked like it was rubbed on each morning, in the dark. Some parts were missing or rubbed off by the time she got to school. Yep, she maintained that youthful blonde hair color, but the hair was dry and colored more like the color of hay. She always wore a steel whistle and was chomping on a fat wad of gum. And boy was she loud. Louder than anyone she ever met. Lydia figured it was from Lovejoy’s time in the army. Courtney Lovejoy was strong and fit, loud and slightly obnoxious, but she also had a heart filled with love and joy, and she was pretty to boot. The name did fit her very well.

    “Hey wait. I’ll walk with you guys.” She pulled her very large SUV into a compact space, jumped joyfully out of the car slammed the door, and joined McPhillips and Mrs. Welch. Of course, she was wearing her standard uniform, bubblegum pink bicycle shorts, and a crop top of the same color.

    Lydia could hear McPhillips breathing rather heavily as he said, “Did someone get a new outfit for the first day of school?” She couldn’t tell if was from the walk to the other side of the parking lot or Lovejoy’s new outfit, probably both.

    “Oh, yeah, it’s new. I can’t start a new year with a new outfit. Why do the kids get to have all the fun? You know it just gets so hot out standing in the sun all day. I need to wear something I can get a tan in. You know what I mean?” Lovejoy said stroking the side of her waist down to her thigh.

    “Oh yes, I know exactly what you mean,” McPhillips replied.

    ‘Hey, let me help you carry some of those things,” Lovejoy said as she took most of the items from Lydia’s arms.”Have you heard about the new crop of kids we have coming in this year? I heard some of them are real doozies. Like a sixth-grader straight from juvie. Fun! I can’t wait to whip these kids into shape!” Lovejoy was always eager to work with the toughest of the students. Sometimes she missed the mark on how to handle them, but she always gave it her best shot.

    A Saving Grace

    And then quite unexpectedly, a saving grace appeared. It was Mrs. Stewart’s van pulling into the parking lot.

    Mrs. Grace Stewart was Lydia’s work bestie. They didn’t start off that way, as a matter of fact, it took over five years of working together to realize they could trust each other in this school. Grace was married and had two children with one on the way. She taught the most impacted children on campus in the Autism program. She and Lydia often worked together because Lydia’s specialty was working with students with disabilities, as well, but in the general education classes. Grace was a firm and direct, yet caring teacher who loved her students and her classroom aides. However, most of the teachers and most of the students got on her nerves, probably because they had no desire to know about her, her program, or her students.

    “Oh, hey, you guys, I’m going to go help Grace. I’ll catch up with you later,” Lydia said as she quickly walked past McPhillips and Lovejoy. She was headed towards Grace’s car. She had parked next to Lydia, in the other spot under the tree.

    “I’ll leave your stuff in the office!” called Lovejoy. Lydia gave her the thumbs up and quickly arrived at Grace’s car door.

    “Hey,” Grace said as she slowly exited the car, “Whatcha’ doing? Making new friends?”

    “Shut up. Oh, hey lookee there. You’ve grown a lot,” Lydia stated flatly.

    “Thanks. You calling me fat?” Grace clapped back. Grace Stewart was now six and a half months pregnant, officially in her third trimester, and growing bigger each day. “I can’t believe I’m this big already. With the other two, I was never this big at almost seven months.” Suddenly she noticed the pavement.

    “What the hell? Why is the parking lot such a mess? Did someone just throw those paper towels down on the ground? Isn’t admin trying to present well, at least on the first day?” Grace asked as she looked at the seemingly extraordinarily long roll of paper towels strewn down the parking lot.

    “Oh my god, that’s what it looks like when Chester tries to help. Those are my paper towels!” Lydia said as she gestured towards the ground.

    “I see you’ve already had a morning. You know it’s going to be great when you walk into school with McPhillips and Lovejoy. And, someone took your spot?”

    “Yep,” Lydia said shaking her head. “Do you know whose van that is?”

    “Nope. Looks scary though. Are stabbin’ cabins even allowed near school campuses? Must be someone new. I see Lovejoy’s looking like her usual self, wearing her standard uniform” she said as they walked around to the trunk of her proper mom minivan. “Look at my new wheelie crate! Are you jealous? Just put all your stuff in here. I’m going to ask if I can start parking in the back of the school. I can’t be schlepping all my stuff to my class and back to my car every day.”

    “That’s a great idea. You think Pat will let you do that?”

    “Sure, why not? Doesn’t hurt to ask. She lets what’s her nose park back there because of her leg or foot or whatever. Why not the pregnant lady too? You should ask her if you can park your fancy ride back there too.” Grace said as they closed the trunk of the van and pulled the cart towards the front gate.

    Effing Parents and Finger Guns

    When they arrived at the front gate Pat Reuben was talking to a few parents at the front gate. She turned quickly away, opened her arms, and welcomed them with a hearty “Welcome back,” and a strong hug, one for each of them. 

    Pat had a warm spot in her heart for Special Education teachers as she had worked in sped long ago, but now Pat Reuben was the school’s principal. She was a stout woman with short red hair and long red nails. She was friendly, warm, and very approachable. Many thought she was only amiable because she was new to being a principal. This was her second year as principal of Sutter Middle School and still learning the ropes. Last year she had earned the respect of many of the teachers, the very active PTA, and most of the students. But last year she hadn’t tried to implement any of the thousands of ideas she had for her new school. This year she was sure to make some waves, but Pat felt ready. 

    “Welcome back, welcome back, welcome back. Wow, how I have missed you guys!” Leaning in closer, Pat whispered, “These effing parents are already driving me cra-zee!” 

    Leaning out, but still touching Lydia’s shoulder, “Are you ready for the Meet and Greet? Ready for your first day? We will get started in 15 minutes. The parents are so excited to meet you two,” she said through clenched teeth. “No worries! You guys look great. Go on now. Get yourselves ready. Go on, get! I’ll see you in a few,” she said this as she swooshed them along. “ Grace, you really should just park in the back. We can’t have any accidents with our precious pregnant teacher!”

    “How’d you know I was going to ask?” asked Grace.

    “Oh you know, I’m the principal; I just know things!” Pat said as she walked back to the group of parents.

    Lydia and Grace walked along the pathway that led into the school, past the group of parents, and towards the front office. As they approached the steps, Guy Lepree came jogging down the steps.

    Guy Lepree was Sutter Middle School’s vice-principal. He was a tall man, in his mid-forties, wide-build. Guy was heavily into football, classic rock, and hanging out with his buddies. He had been vice-principal for many years, something that was virtually unheard of. Usually vice-principals are prompted, let go, or reassigned within two to three years. Guy was something special. He was an okay vice-principal but seemed to lack the respect of Pat Reuben to get him the endorsement that would get him a principalship. He didn’t seem to mind.

    “What’s shaking ladies? Nice to see ya. I gotta go save Pat from mommies and daddies. See you at the Meet and Greet!” he said shot them with finder guns and flew by.

    “He seems excited!” Grace stated. “Come on. Help me. Lift the back of the crate,” and they made their way up the stairs into the office.

    Mama Rosa

    * * * * * * * * * *

    Mrs. Stewart reached the office entrance door first. She pulled once at the door handle, and then she pulled again, but it was locked.

    She turned and looked at Lydia, “What the hell? The office door is locked?”

    Suddenly, someone pushed the door open from the other side. The school’s office manager was the beautiful, smart, and caring Mrs. Rosa Diaz. Lydia and Grace thought of Rosa as their school mom. If they needed something, really needed something, Rosa would make sure they would get it. If anyone didn’t need it or was full of nonsense, she would send you away after a good tongue-lashing. And no one was beyond her control. Unfortunately, not everyone understood her caring nature, but that only meant someone had much to learn. She truly ran the school, and everyone that worked at Sutter knew it. 

    “Hurry up and get in here! Before the parents realize we are sitting in here,” she whispered-yelled. “You should know better than to come through the front door on the first day of school. We do not unlock the door until after the Meet and Greet, and it’s too windy to have this door unlocked. You want the wind to blow our office apart?”

    “Ok, ok, ok. It won’t happen again,” Grace said sheepishly.

    “Oooo look at you. You look so beautiful, Mija! I can’t wait till that baby comes. We need a baby around here. Did you find out what you are having?” Rosa asked as she rubbed Grace’s belly.

    “Yes, I found out this summer. I’m having a girl!” Grace said with glee.

    “A girl! Oh, so wonderful! She’s going to be so pretty just like her mama. OK, but how much longer are you going to be working? And why are you coming in the front? You should have parked in the back. You can’t be carrying all this stuff to your room pregnant!” Rosa started sounding like a sergeant. 

    “I know, I know. I saw Pat outside and she told me to park in the back. I will start tomorrow,” said Grace.

    “Right, good. And you – Lydia, when is the baby shower?” Rosa asked looking over the rim of her glasses.  We need to put it on the calendar. You know the calendar is filling up. We have the Talent Show, the Fall Festival, Halloween, Thanksgiving lunch, music competitions…”

    “I talked to Grace, and she said she doesn’t want one,” Lydia said looking at Grace.

    “What? Oh no. No, no, no – every baby is special and every baby needs a shower. We need a baby shower. I will send you the open dates. I’ll send them to both of you. I want a date by the end of the week. Ok-I gotta go. You gotta go. Meet and Greet is starting in the gym at 9:00 am, be there by 8:50 am for a short meeting before we let the parents in. Bye, bye,” and with that Rosa turned away and went into her office.

    “I guess we are having a baby shower,” Lydia told Grace. “Come on, let’s go.”

    Meet and Greet, Part I

    “Attention all staff. It is now 8:45. Please make your way down to the gymnasium for Sutter’s Annual Meet and Greet. Again, all staff, make your way down to the gymnasium now. Parents, please remain outside the gymnasium until the doors have been opened. Again, parents, please remain outside the gymnasium until the doors have been opened. Thank you.”

    It was the cattle call for this morning’s Meet and Greet premeeting. Reluctantly, the staff emerged from wherever they were, frantically getting ready for the first day of school. The Meet and Greet was the first of many changes Mrs. Pat Reuben was prepared to implement. Although her intentions were good, a Meet and Greet scheduled in the morning on the first day of school at 9:00 am when school starts at 9:30 am was not an idea that went over well with teachers. Pat was sure it would be a light and breezy gathering of students, staff, and parents with tables and tables of coffee and donuts. And now was Pat’s last attempt to convince the staff that this was a good idea.

    “Good, good, good to see everyone for the start of another fantastic year at Sutter!” Pat continued to talk as the staff entered the gym. 

    New and old faces began to appear. Lovejoy and McPhillips were already drinking coffee and eating donuts. Lydia and Grace came in together. 

    Another duo made their way into the gym, Laura and Aurora. Much like their names, Aurora and Laura were similar in almost every way. They sounded alike, dressed alike, and shared the same humorless, irritated mood. Today, dressed in gray, they were looking as pruney-faced as ever.

    “Good morning, ladies,” Guy offered as they walked in.

    “Good? I wouldn’t go that far,” one said.

    “Will this take long? We’ve got a million things to do, and what is that smell?” the other said, looking around pinched-faced. “Does anyone else smell that?”

    “I smell it. It’s gross. How can we invite parents and students in when it smells like garbage? Foul, just foul.” 

    “Must be the hot coffee and the delicious donuts we brought in for you. Go ahead and get yourselves something. Pat’s going to say a few words, and then we will let the parents in,” agitated and mumbling to themselves, Laura and Aurora made their way past Guy.

    Away in the corner was a bearded face no one had seen before. The length of his beard was to his chest with a mixture of light and dark browns. Silently, he stood, leaning against the wall while he watched everyone. Lydia noticed him first and nudged Grace. Grace looked at him, turned back to Lydia, and mouthed, “Van.”

    “Oh, the owner of the van,” Lydia commented.

    “What gave it away? The beard, the glasses, the patched blazer, or  Birkenstocks?” Grace asked. “Does he have a bumper stick on his butt?”

    “I’m going to introduce myself,” Lydia said.

    “Why? Wanna tell him he took your spot?” Grace said.

    “Nooo, I have to find out, all dick and no brains?” Lydia gave a questioning look with a grin.

    “Really?” Grace replied while shaking her head unapprovingly.

    “Yep, he looks like a dick, but we’ll see,” glancing over her shoulder, “Oh my god, Lovejoy is on the move. Look,” Lydia motioned her head toward the newie and Lovejoy, who were now both in the corner. Lovejoy was laughing, touching his elbow patch, and flipping her hair. Flirting was at a level 10.

    “I’ll be back. I gotta see what’s happening over there,” and Lydia walked away.

    As soon as Lydia walked away, McPhillips approached Grace. He was walking towards her, pointing at her pregnant stomach with a closed-mouth smile.

    Taking a deep sigh, Grace said, “Hi there, Chester. How ya’ doing? Did you have a nice summer?”

    Still looking at her but not saying anything, Grace asked, slightly annoyed, “What? What are you smiling about?”

    “Naughty, naughty, Mrs. Stewart,” Chester said, shaking his head. “I know what you have been doing,” he said, looking down at her pregnant belly.

    “You’re gross, Chester,” Disgusted once again, Grace walked away from Nasty Chester McPhillips. He bit his lower lip, nodded his head, and watched her ass as she walked away.

    * * * * * * *

    “So, Atticus, that’s an unusual name,” Lovejoy said while touching her hair.

    “Really? You think the name is unusual? Are you not familiar with it at all?” he replied.

    “No, should I be?” Lovejoy asked.

    “Well, the name Atticus happens to be one of the most beloved protagonists in American literature, known for his courage and integrity,” seeing the blank expression on Lovejoy’s tanned face, “Seriously? To Kill a Mockingbird? Does that not ring a bell?” Atticus asked.

    Lydia approached the two, smiling. “Good morning again, Courtney, “ she said, looking at Lovejoy. Then, turning to Atticus, she reached out her hand and said, “Hi, I’m Lydia Welch.”

    “Hi, I’m Atticus Grecian,” he said, shaking Lydia’s hand.

    “Well, welcome, Atticus. I didn’t mean to interrupt you two; I just wanted to thank Courtney for carrying in some of my things. Did you put them in the staff lounge?”

    Suddenly, a voice called out to the room.

    “Good morning, everyone! Good morning. Come gather around. Clap once if you can hear my voice,” Pat called out to the room. Nobody claps, but the staff draws a wide circle around her.

     “I am so excited for Sutter’s first day of school and our first-ever annual Meet and Greet! Woohoo! Can you feel the excitement? Yes! Well, welcome back. We are going to get started here in just a minute, but before we do, I would like to make a few announcements. I see Courtney and Lydia have met our newest staff member, Mr. Atticus Finch. Ha! Just kidding, his name is Mr. Atticus Grecian. He comes to us from the high school English department. He will be teaching English and social studies here at Sutter.  Atticus, could you please wave? Nice. Would you like to say a few words?”

    “Greetings and salutations, everyone,” he said, raising his arm. “Good morning.  And so I don’t have to repeat this again and again, my name is Atticus, Atticus Gree-shun, not Finch. Clever, Mrs. Reuben, I’ve never heard that one before. The name Atticus, in addition to being the name of one of the most famous protagonists in American literature, means ‘of Attica,’ and it is meant to go with my last name – Grecian, meaning from or of Greece. I’m sure everyone can now see the connection,” he said, eyeing Courtney. “Thank you, everyone. I’m glad to be here,” almost waiting for applause that never came, Atticus bowed his head slightly while stroking his beard.

    Over on the other side of the crowd, Laura and Aurora were already annoyed. Side-eyeing each other, one said, “What does he think we are, idiots?”

    “Well, thank you for that, Atticus. Welcome,” Pat continued. “I would also like to welcome Mr. Pat Reuben from our district office. Pat is the Assistant Superintendent of Fiscal Resources and is also my husband. Mr. Reuben, could you wave hello?”

    Atticus looked around the room. He wondered if he was missing something. No one seemed unfazed that Pat Reuben, the principal, was introducing Pat Reuben, the Assistant Superintendent of Fiscal Resources. 

    Turning to Lydia, Atticus quietly asks, “Did I just step into the Twilight Zone? Did Pat Reuben just introduce Pat Reuben?”

    “Oh yeah,” Lydia said, nodding, “I could see how this could be confusing. Patricia Reuben, our principal, is married to Patrick Reuben, our district’s Assistant Superintendent of Fiscal Resources. She used to be Patricia Ilbanez, but now they are married, only about two years now, and they both go by Pat.”

    “I see. I thought this was some new progressive shit, and she made him call by her name. You know, like here is Mr. Pat.”

    “Well, it is kind of like that. She definitely runs the show. Some say she only married him to get ahead, but you’ll see, and you can form your own opinion. It’s fascinating.  Am I off, Lovejoy?” Lydia whispered to Courtney.

    “Oh, no. Pat really busts Pat’s balls, but not in a good way, and yeah, it’s interesting all right.”

    Pat continued her introduction, “And lastly, I would also like to introduce our new PTA President, Helen Holt. Many of you may have had one of Helen’s seven children, that’s right, seven children in your class or classes, and she has served our school in many ways, but this year, her last year, she is our PTA President.”

    Helen stepped right up next to Pat. With a guitar strapped to her body, Helen gave a strum and a wave to the crowd.”Thank you very much. I’m just happy to be here and serve our school this year.” She looked at Pat and said, “Yeah, I think that’s it.”

    “All right, everyone, I think that sums it up for me. Remember, this is just a meet and greet, coffee and donuts. If anything gets too heavy, send parents to Guy or me.” then, suddenly caught off guard, Pat noticed Jennifer Glass standing in the back of the gym, just inside the closed door. “Have a great morning,” and Pat, becoming very heated, abruptly ended her speech, and headed straight to the back of the gym. “Open the doors,” she yelled.

    Meet and Greet, Part III

    The first group to enter the gym was the Associated Student Body, the ASB kids, led by Laura and Nora. This group was appointed the up-and-coming leaders. There was something about the students that didn’t seem to fit the scene. The teachers could feel it, and the other students and parents could sense it, but they couldn’t quite understand why these students made them feel just a bit off. They were all dressed in their Sunday best, smiling, and ready to hand out the fall festival flyers.

    “Hi, kids!” Lovejoy said enthusiastically. “Everyone this is Mr. Grecian. He will probably be your teacher for either English or social studies. Can you say hi?”

    “Hey Mr. Grecian, nice to meet you,” said the group. 

    Then one student stepped up and put out his hand. “Good morning, Mr. Grecian. My name is David and I will be in your third-period English class. Welcome to Sutter Middle School.”

    “So very nice to meet you, David.”

    “If you’ll excuse me, I must hand out these flyers. See you in third period,” and with that, David was off.

    “Wow, what a delightful young man,” Atticus said , very impressed with David’s mature and engaging personality.

    “Oh yeah, that’s Chinese David,” Lovejoy said nonchalantly.

    “Excuse me, Courtney, David is not Chinese. He is Korean,” Mrs. Welch slightly disgusted. “And should you be referring to anyone by their nationality?”

    “Well,” Courtney began with a side-eye look,” I suppose that’s true. Is that true? But that’s what everyone calls him.”

    “No, that is not what everyone calls him, Courtney.” Lydia said, shaking her head. “I’m going to refill my coffee. I will see you later. Very nice to meet you, Atticus.” Lydia then stepped away.

    “So, are you married or have a girlfriend or a boyfriend?” Lovejoy asked Atticus.

    More students, parents, and others flowed into the gym as soon as the doors opened. The excitement was palpable. Warm exchanges between previous years’ students, parents, and teachers filled the gym. The award-winning band and chorus, along with Helen, began playing The Ramones’ I Want to be Sedated at the request of Mr. Lepree. Nobody seemed to notice the song may not be appropriate for a middle school’s first day. Lepree was very happy with his choice, rocking out as he mingled with the crowd.

    Then, quite unexpectedly, a hush fell over the room as Waylon Wallace and Jordan Wallace walked into the room. Waylon Wallace was a combination of a McSteamy and a McDreamy. He was tall, but not too tall, with a chiseled jawline of a Greek Adonis. But no one could really make out what nationality he was. Maybe he was Greek, maybe he was Asian, maybe he was Hispanic, maybe he was white. It was very difficult to tell. He had a muscular build under olive skin that one could tell was soft to the touch, even if one never had the chance to touch it. He was someone everyone noticed when he walked by. He was one Hot Daddy.

    His son Jordan Wallace was a brain. He was certainly not as handsome as his dad, but he stood out just as much. He was a FLK – funny-looking kid. This was a term only known by few teachers, offensive to some, but a term of endearment by those who used it at Sutter. He was small for his age, wore glasses, and was a bit hairy for such a young man. He was also an awkward kid. He spoke in a halting and didn’t talk much. He was twice exceptional – had learning difficulties but was also supremely intelligent. Birds, birds, birds. He could scientifically name all the local birds and had a unique ability to work the subject of birds into every conversation. Jordan was constantly drawing birds. Jordan was a student of Grace Stewart’s for most of the day. He could be hard to manage at times, but give him time to draw some birds, and he was good. He had no friends, but that didn’t really bother him. It did, however, bother his dad. In order to help his son, Waylon had also signed his son up for track. Jordan was a fast runner, impressing his teammates and teaching them tolerance but not gaining any friends of his own.

    As for Mrs. Waylon Wallace, mother of Jordan, no one knew for sure. There was a Mrs. Waylon Wallace on the school records, Elizabeth Wallace, but nobody had ever seen her, and neither Waylon nor Jordan ever spoke of her. Some speculated she was a businesswoman always on the go, others thought she died many years ago, and some even conjectured she was in prison or died, but whatever the case, no one ever asked. Mr. Waylon Wallace was able to manage all the parenting duties on his own. He was financially well off, which allowed him plenty of time to support Jordan at home and at school.

    Just inside the gym doors stood Jennifer Glass. She was the resident pain in the ass at Sutter. She was always nice enough on the surface but the kind of woman who was never quite satisfied with herself or others. She earned the name The Barreler last year. It began when her daughter, Mia, started Sutter Middle School in 6th grade. Mia was having trouble in math right from the beginning. Jennifer demanded she be tested for math disabilities. The school didn’t agree to testing, so Jennifer brought in her hotshot attorney husband, Franklin Glass.

    Pushed into testing, the school found that she did have some attention issues and characteristics of dyscalculia but didn’t think a segregated class was the right fit, so the Glass family and the school agreed to accommodations in her math class. However, Jennifer was never confident that “the hip-a-dee, dip-a-dee math teacher, Ms. Lolly Poppy,” was implementing the accommodations that were noted in the paperwork. When Jennifer was unhappy, which was most of the time, she would speed into the parking lot, flying over the speed bumps in a giant, old Mercedes Benz. She would screech to a halt, jump out of the car, slam her car door, and barrel into the office, demanding meetings with teachers and administration. That is how she earned the name The Barreler. Hours and hours of meetings were held. It was a whole mess. She finally calmed down as the summer break approached. Pat could tell Jennifer was ready to take up the battle again the moment she saw her in the gym.

    Mrs. Pat Reuben was walking straight for Jennifer when suddenly, one woman and one gentleman joined Mrs. Glass. Both were dressed in suits and were holding briefcases. Before Pat could say anything, Jennifer called out, “Good morning, Mrs. Reuben. I would like to introduce you to my legal counsel.” The woman already had her stretched out as Pat approached.

    “Good morning, I am Leslie Steele, from ABC Law,” the woman said.

    “And I am Michael Powers, from ABC Law,” the man said.

    “What is this all about, bringing two attorneys to my school’s Meet and Greet?”

    “Well, you and your school couldn’t seem to support my daughter in the way she needs, so I thought that maybe you could use some…counsel. And I see Mia has Mrs. Poppy again. Is she here? I would very much like Mr. Mike Powers and Ms. Leslie Steel,” Jennifer said in a demanding, belittling tone, looking around the room with beady eyes and pursed lips.

    “I can’t allow you to do that, Jennifer. This is a meet and greet, a time for coffee and donuts, not a time to intimidate my staff with your legal counsel. So, if you wouldn’t mind, I am going to ask you and your team to leave my campus now,” Pat said sternly, glaring at Jennifer.

    “I will not leave. I pay taxes. This is my campus, and I guess you could say you work for me, wouldn’t that be right?” she asked, looking to her legal counsel.

    “Actually, Mrs. Glass, she doesn’t work for you, and you do not own this campus,” said Ms. Steele, leaning into Jennifer, and speaking softly.

    Shocked at Ms. Steele’s response, Jennifer cocked her head back and glared at her, “Well, I know you work for me. Would you mind letting me do my business?”

    “That’s an interesting approach. Mrs. Glass, can we talk to you privately?” Mike Powers asked sternly, his eyes penetrating into hers.

    “Mrs. Reuben, I want you to stay right here; we are not done,” with that, Mr. Powers, Ms. Steele, and Jennifer Glass turned their backs to Mrs. Reuben and huddled a few feet away. Pat Reuben quickly walked away and headed straight for Mrs. Poppy.

    Mrs. Lolly Poppy was an older teacher at Sutter Middle School. She was a relic left over from the 1970s. Once stunningly gorgeous, she had worked at many of the TV studios in the 1980s, partying it up at Studio 54 and marrying an NFL player. She found a second career teaching math and science when her husband retired, and they moved to the suburbs. She liked to smoke weed, drink red wine, talk to kids about whatever was cool, and teach about the secret wonders of math and science. The Golden Ratio really got her excited.

    Pat could smell Mrs. Powell before she could see her. Her scent wasn’t overpowering but was always present, lingering in the air when she was around. A unique mixture of marijuana, Chanel No 5, and some type of incense, but very few people could pick up all three scents.

    Poppy had made her way to Atticus, and they were engaged in a conversation about their travels over the summer. They both vaguely recognized each other from Burning Man.

    “Good morning, Poppy. I’m glad to see you are back and well and that you have met Atticus. I wanted to let you know Jennifer Glass is looking for you, soooo you may want to be aware. You can scoot out early if you’d like. She has brought two attornies with her,” Pat said urgently, almost running out of breath.

    “It’s all cool. I am fine with her, and you know I just love Mia. She is such a sweet girl, not like those fucking asshole boys I had in period 1 last year. You know what I mean? I have PTSD from them, I almost took mental stress leave” Poppy shared.

    Atticus had a look of shock as he jerked back his head, listening to her. He could hardly believe a teacher would call kids fucking assholes.

    “Now, are those boys here, Huey, Duey, and Louie? Because I do not need to deal with that shit on day one before class. You know what I mean?”

    “Huey, Duey, and Louie? Are those their real names?” Atticus asked.

    “No, oh my god, how old are you? That’s just their nicknames. You’ve never heard of Donald Duck’s nephews? Their real names are Harold- a do nothing, Doug – headed straight for jail, and Luis – can be so devilish. Seriously, how old are you?” she asked again, turning to Atticus to get a good look at his face.

    “Mrs. Powell, I think it’s okay if you go. I did see Harold, Doug, and Luis shoving as many donut holes in their mouths as possible over at the coffee and donut table.

    “Oh, their names aren’t actually Huey, Duey and Louie?” Atticus commented.

    Quickly Poppy said, “No, but you’ll see what I mean, you, will, see, what I mean,” and walked away.

  • Communion

    I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed up. I am sorry I did it. I know I was wrong. Will Jesus and God forgive me? Can I still have a good life?

    It wasn’t that hard, really. And she knew she would eventually get caught, but what was she supposed to do? Was she to sit in that pew every time everyone got up to receive communion? Her shame and embarrassment on display for all the world to see. Stay back and admit that she was the only 8th grader at a Catholic school that still hadn’t received her first holy communion?

    To hell with that!

    Come on, look at those second graders. She certainly knew more about religion, the church, and how to behave while receiving the body of Christ. God could forgive her, right?

    It wasn’t her fault that her parent’s divorce caused them to lose focus of her sacrament of Communion. It wasn’t her fault that now she had to switch schools for the 6th time. It wasn’t her fault that the only decent schools in her new neighborhood were Catholic schools. It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t realize she would now have to take care of things herself. 

    But yes, she knew this would eventually be an issue. 

    Going to Catholic school and not being communionzed? Sin. Her parents are divorced? Sin. Living with her single father? Sin.

    One of these things is not like the others. And it was her. A leper.

    But she would give it her best shot. She would study. She would learn. And she would take Communion without having her First Holy Communion..

    So, the first time her new class went up to receive the sacrament, she stayed back. Oh, no, not today. I just don’t feel like it. But she watched. Watched very carefully. 

    OK, number one: stand in line. Look very solemn. Clasp your hands, maybe intertwine your fingers. Look at the ground, look at the person’s hair in front of you, but look like you’re coming before the Lord. This is very serious.

    Number two: when you get to the front of the line mouth something. Shit! What is it that they are saying? Is that what they teach you when you officially become initiated? Do they teach you the magic words? I’ll have to fake that part.

    Number three: raise your hands up to the man. No longer intertwine, but this time cup your hands. Yes, just like that. See, it’s not hard. 

    Number four: receive your bread. He will put it in your hand. But if you really want to get sexy just open your mouth and have them place it on your tongue, in your mouth. Wow. Not for me. Are they chewing? I wonder what it tastes like? No, you can’t chew the body of Christ. I’m thinking about this too much; it’s making me sick. I can’t do it, but I have to do it.

    Number five: allow the man to say something, blah blah blah. He’s gonna know.

    Number six:walk away, but as you do make the sign of the cross. It’s like a promise. Seal the deal. You’ve done it. 

    But there is an extra credit step. Do a curtesy in front of the altar or before you enter your pew with another sign of the cross. 

    And you must pray when you get back to your seat. No standing; you must kneel.

    And if you follow these steps, no one will ever know you are a faker, a sinner. Except you, you will know.

    Lying to God in the House of God. Lying to his face. What kind of life can you hope to have now?

    You must not confess this one. You will eventually get caught. 

    Forgive me for what I have done and what I have failed to. 

    Do you really take away the sins of the world?

    Have mercy on me.

  • Through That Wall

    The wells of anger still pooled in her eyes and gut, as he spoke to her. 

    “Do you know if I did what you just did, my dad would ram my head right through that wall.”

    How dare you even speak to me, she screamed in her soul. 

    The night had started as most nights, she fed herself dinner. She went to a room to eat, to do her homework, and watch TV. And around 9 PM she went back to the kitchen, put her dish in the sink, turned off most of the lights, except for the one by the front door, she took her cat to her room, went back to her room to settle in for the night. 

    Her mom was on a date. A date with Lonnie. She had a real knack for picking losers. Lonnie, the chainsmokers from Missouri. A tow truck repair man with no education and no social skills. Her guess was that she was trying to pick someone as different from her dad as possible. She was sure where they met and did not care much. Probably in the program, but she didn’t care much.

    It was late night or early morning when she heard the sounds. She must be home, she thought. Ignore. Go back to sleep. But the sounds had turned into noises. Groans and moans. And now she was awake. Conscious, trying to figure out what those sounds were, and where they were coming from. The moans in the groans were coming from her mother’s room. Sounds of sex. She knew them from TV. The pools of rage began to swell. And as they grew, her breath turned to panting, and her mind raced. How could she do this? 

    Will. She. Never. Stop?

    Sex in her house with a man that’s not her father. Sex in her house within hearing distance of her 9 year old daughter.

    Shameful. Embarrassing. Disrespectful. Disgusting. 

    A woman of the church.

    So she began to throw things at the wall they shared.

    Hangers and books hit the wall but the moans and groans kept coming. 

    She left her room, slammed the door and went to the kitchen. 

    Controlled chaos. Controlled rage.

    She threw one glass in the sink, and as it shattered, a small droplet of anger was released.

    And then another. And another. And another. 

    And a plate on the floor. Another plate. And another glass. And now she stood there in her rage and sadness at the ready with another plate. 

    The doorbell rang. The doorbell. The sound of the doorbell. The shattering glass and porcelain was louder than the sex sounds and the doorbell was louder than the rage.

    She opened the door with tears and shame running down her face. It was the police. Lonnie and her mother in robes came to the door. 

    “You, go sit on the couch.”

    “Yes, ma’am. We received a call of some sort of disturbance going on here.”

    “Yes, my daughter is upset. We don’t know why, but she has decided to smash all the dishes in the kitchen.”

    “Everything is all right. Yes, we will keep it down.”

    “Can we speak with her? “

    “Yeah, she’s right there on the couch.”

    “I heard them having sex.”

    “So, you decided to break the dishes? Well, you need to keep the noise down. Your neighbors called us because you were making too much noise. I see you are upset, but you need to keep it down. Ok? Is there someone you can call?” 

    “Sir, ma’am, you need to get this under control. We don’t want to have to come back.”

    “Dad, dad, you have to come get me. I can’t live here anymore. I heard Mom and her boyfriend. I heard them having sex. I hate it here. I hate her. She doesn’t know how to be a mother. I feel stuck. I can’t breathe. 

    OK. Tomorrow. OK. Call me. OK. I love you too.”

    “You sit back down. I don’t even know what to say to you. The wells of anger still pulled in her eyes and got as he spoke to her. You know if I did what you just did, my dad would ram my head right through that wall…”

    …I fly unto thee, O Virgin of virgins, my mother; to thee do I come, before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful. O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, but in thy mercy hear and answer me.

  • And so she spoke.

    And so it listened.

    The stories, absorbed by the dark, ornate walls of the wooden box.

    But the Confessional knew more about her life than she did.

    O My God, relying on Thy infinite goodness and promises, I hope to obtain pardon of my sins, the help of Thy grace and life everlasting, through the merits of Jesus Christ, my Lord and Redeemer.

  • Kiss Me.

    He did it again. 

    But it’s OK, he is my father now. 

    Come here. Sit next to me. Kiss me. 

    No, not like that. 

    Kiss me on the lips. Like you do your mother, but lick your lips first, and then kiss me. 

    Our lips touched. A shock.

     

    Then Mom came in. Nothing to see here. 

    A father kissing his daughter. A daughter kissing her father. 

    But why did he say it’s best to kiss when mother wasn’t around? 

     

    Mother said she was tired of me. The teenage me.

    “Confess,” she said. 

    What did I do?

    “I’m taking you to church. Confess your sins. Maybe, then you’ll be fixed.”

    So, she’s mad at me. 

    All the time, mad at me.

    Maybe it’s the hormones. People say when you’re pregnant you can become emotional because of the hormones. 

    Yeah. It’s probably just pregnancy hormones. 

     

    You take away the sins of the world, have mercy on me.

  • The Beginning.

    It wasn’t like she ever felt the need to confess. Ever. 

    She rather much liked her secrets, her past. Tucked away tight in the recesses of her mind and heart. She reveled and was disgusted in the memory of them. She thought of them often, when she was feeling happy. when she was feeling sad, when she was trying to connect to others.

    But to confess, never.

    And then it happened. How did she ever come to the mission?

    Some sort of  mistake. Maybe fate? Maybe destiny?

    Who would’ve guessed that the old door led to a mission?  One unassuming door, on one busy street. 

    But she walked in and there it was. A wooden box. Ornately carved, a beautiful thing to see. It stood by itself in a cold room, behind an unassuming door on a busy street. 

    She admired it from afar, but it pulled her closer.

    She admired it from close-up. And it continued to embrace her. And then she found herself inside the wooden box.

    It was waiting for this moment, waiting for her, but first, before it would tell her its stories, it needed to hear her confessions. And so she kneeled, she sat and she stood, confessing all she had done and all she had failed to do. She did it in hopes that in turn it would share its stories with her.

    Penitential Act (Confiteor)

    i confess to Almighty God
    and to you, my Brothers and Sisters,
    that i have greatly sinned,
    in my thoughts and in my words,
    in what i have done and
    in what i have failed to do,

    Pray while striking the breast three times
    through my fault, through my fault,
    through my most grievous fault;

    therefore i ask blessed Mary ever-Virgin,
    all the Angels and Saints,
    and you, my Brothers and Sisters,
    to pray for me to the Lord our God.

    Please Take Me Home

    I don’t know why I did it. I’m not even sure it’s that big of a deal.

    No one knows. No one will ever know.

    I hate where I live now. Before my house was big. It was white and we had an upstairs.

    We had pool. A pool in the backyard, not downstairs and around the corner in between the two buildings. Not one where everyone can see me in my bathing suit. We had a pool we didn’t even have to share.

    We had a laundry room, in the house.

    I had my own room, not one had to share with my brother when he comes to visit. A room I didn’t give up when my uncle comes to stay with us .

    A house that had a kitchen, but not a cockroach filled kitchen like the one I have now.

    A house with a backyard, with enough room to play soccer. A backyard with trees, not a balcony for a backyard with a bunch of ignored and dying plants.

    A home where I didn’t have to pretend we don’t have a cat.

    So, when my friend said, “We can take you home”, there was no way I was going to take them there. There to the place where my life sucks and my hopes die. There where I fight with my mother because she is as unhappy as I am.

    “Yes, I would love a ride home.”

    Take me to the top of the hill.

    “Yes, this is my house on the one on the right. Oh yes, thank you. It is a nice house.”

    No one knows I don’t really live there.

    “You don’t need to walk me to the door.”

    No one will ever know.

    “Thanks for the ride. You can go. I guess my mom isn’t home yet.”

    No one knows.

    “I’ll check if the side gate is open. See you tomorrow.”

    And there I will sit and wait five, or ten minutes. They are gone and now.

    I will walk myself back. Back down the hill, back down to the busy street, back, across the street from the McDonald’s, back into the dark apartment where the cockroaches are waiting for me.

    I am 10 and I don’t know why I did it.

    No one will know, but it feels wrong.

    Forgive me, father. 

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