she's deadly

First hour, I was shuffling through worksheets and packets, and I looked up and found a fortune cookie on my desk. Sam (he sits next to me and likes bicycles and raves and fresh coffee) tried to be stealthy, steal it and hide it on his lap, but his plans were foiled. We joked about the fortune reading something like, "Share this broken cookie with Sam." I unwrapped the cookie and cracked it open, and read the fortune outloud: "Consider gain and loss, but never be greedy and everything will be all right." I gave him half of the fortune cookie, laughing in disbelief.

There was a GLBT meeting third hour. We read an article in a magazine about schools catered towards gays, debated. A freshman raised her hand, her dark hair created shadows across her face, and she apologized for crying. A friend of hers in sixth grade was gay and was taunted and ignored, and the silence was deafening because we knew how the story would end, like flipping to the last page of a mystery novel. He hanged himself in his closet. A few people gave her loose hugs and whispered thank you, but I didn't say anything. I was already crying, and at that point, saying something is like losing a game of Jenga, bricks toppling everywhere. I hear words like "gay" and "queer" and "faggot" and I think of that girl, crumpled in a folding chair, choking on sobs, remembering a boy who died three years ago for no reason.

Last Thursday, Friday, and Saturday my school put on a musical. Friday night, Resa and Greg and I stopped by the cast party at James' house. We kicked off our shoes and shrugged off our jackets and added them to the heap by the front door. It was packed. People picked at trays of cold cuts, pasta salad, cocktail weenies, and sampled cookies and brownies. There was a girl lounging on the stairs snacking on baby carrots. In the solarium, run crew was clustered around a glass table, enthralled in an animated discussion. Most people were downstairs, though. People were waiting in line to be initiated, something about goats and pineapples, no one would tell me. Weaving through the throngs of people, the faces of cast members were caked with make-up, musicians in the pit orchestra were piled on plush couches and chairs. I didn't know anyone on the patio. James introduced us to Ed, a sprawling seven-foot plant, leaves outstretched towards the windowpanes. I took a few brownies, stacked them in my hand, and the adults seated by the dessert table fell silent, fingered their wine glasses nervously, their eyes hot with judgment. Resa and I went home around midnight.

7 DAYS AGO (Sunday)

Sunday, a bunch of us ate pie at Bakers Square, and afterwards we drove to Matt's in separate cars and filed into his basement. I opened and e-mail from Pat, and read that he was planning on moving back to California after the semester was over (without me). Di took me home and I flung myself onto my bed, stripped of sheets and comforters and pillows, and cried and cried. I walked to Pizza Hut even though Pat had told me not to. I found Resa afterwards, feeding peeping birds seed, and we went to Culver's and shared a rootbeer shake. Pat called later and I begged and begged, poking my pink mattress with a safety pin, and he finally agreed to reconsider. I'm scared, but trying to be optimistic. Cross your fingers for me.

5 DAYS AGO (Tuesday)

I left school early to take my drivers' test, and I bought a bag of Chex Mix for lunch to eat in the waiting room, and I barely passed. I came home afterwards and phoned Resa and we made plans to drive to Starbucks, but my dad wouldn't give me the keys due to road construction and rush hour, fictitious reasons to mask his fear and protectiveness. I drove myself to piano lessons that night, though, and I was giddy with excitement and blasted a radio station of my choosing (squeal!). I climbed into bed at seven-thirty that night, but Chance called an hour later and my dad knocked on my door and light flooded in and painted the walls. I cut the conversation short and had a dream that he came to visit me, and Resa and I tried to find a way to the airport, and it unfolded into a big picture book adventure with bus stops and caves.

4 DAYS AGO (Wednesday)

I stopped by Pat's place and dropped off some mail and invited him to see a movie with me on Friday (he later declined). We stood in the parking lot by my car for forty minutes, catching up. I asked if I could hug him and he teased me.

3 DAYS AGO (Thursday)

There was a band/choir/orchestra concert, like different kinds of Play-Doh mashed together. I wore a tux instead of the frilly, satiny white shirt, jagged neckline and puffy shoulders, and the sweeping black skirt. I'm not sure which uniform I like better. At the end of the concert a bunch of students yelled, "HEY, KATE!" and paper airplanes spiraled down from the balcony, so I pretended that I was the object of their affection. I enjoyed an M&M cookie and a cup of red punch after I had toted music stands and mallets back to the band room.

2 DAYS AGO (Friday)

At the GLBT meeting second hour we immediately launched into a discussion about lesbians, and after five minutes two students stood up, gathered purses and backpacks and papers, and left, because they were supposed to be at an informational junior college meeting instead. We laughed at their expense and were embarrassed for them and told all of their siblings and friends about it.

That night I went to a LAN party at Mark's with Resa. I ate Wheat Thins and drank a bottle of Bawls and chatted on Resa's laptop, and we played with this and this. Then Di and Matt and I piled into Di's van, popped in an Incubus CD, and drove down winding roads and past lakes and high schools and produce stands. First I was speaking in coherent sentences, then I was using sentence fragments, then words stripped of context, and pretty soon I just was making noises and laughing at road signs.

YESTERDAY (Saturday)

Resa and Greg and I drove to the mall and perused shops. Greg scoured Hot Topic for a Sevendust T-shirt. I pointed out a Kill Bill T-shirt with a katana and, "Revenge is never a straight line," and on the back was a string of Japanese. Greg nabbed his size from the pile and bought it and changed into it in the back of Resa's car. On the way out we investigated a Nintendo promotional event, something about voting Mario for president. We filled out ballots, folded them up and slipped them into a box, and took free buttons (mine is green with a particularly feminine-looking Link).

Later that night Mandy (a friend of Resa's) drove the three of us to Minneapolis, where Resa and Mandy attended a multicultural dance performance and Greg and I waited for them at an Internet cafe across the street. I ate a banana chocolate chip muffin, called Di and Bendy and Stephen, and suddenly Greg told me a riddle and asked about my most embarrassing moment, and somehow we ended up talking about anime. Mandy and Resa came back two hours later, bubbly and excited, and I told Resa very matter-of-factly that I didn't care. I missed Pat a lot yesterday. (I'm sorry, Resa.)

She gave me a piggyback ride home, though.

ETC.

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday last week, we had mini fifty-minute aikido lessons during Japanese class ("it takes two to aikido"). Steve said something about never mugging my Japanese teacher, my little Japanese teacher who wears petite, striped sweaters and knee-high boots, and I think he said that after she threw me to the floor, but before she sent me spinning and almost dislocated my shoulder and pinned my arm behind my neck.