Angry Diary, by Karin Bishop

Part Two

12/19

I realized that I never got to the ‘not feeling comfortable’ thing. Well, today was a good example. Most Saturdays I would hang with Scotty at his place or mine or the mall. But the last couple of weekends, he’s been busy. He said his mom was making him go to some club because she got a family membership. But it’s not like he’s avoiding me; he’s just not around so much.

It’s just that … we don’t seem to have any classes this year, besides PE, and the Coach is on us so much we don’t get to talk or anything.

I went to the mall anyway, just to have something to do. It was all so beautiful, ready for the holidays, and much noisier than usual because of all the people and all of the displays. I walked around and then got an Orange Julius and just sat and watched.

It’s like I said: Uncomfortable. I saw happy families with kids, and I knew I hadn’t had that kind of childhood. I think I may have blocked a lot of it out or something, so any good memories got lost, but mostly I remember the years and years of my father yelling drunkenly. Or maybe not always drunk but just angry. Definitely yelling, though, and throwing things and then the hitting.

There were clusters of boys and clusters of girls walking around, and by high-school age there were clusters of boys and girls together, or couples. Normally I wouldn’t be seeing any of this; I mean, I’d see it but not really look at it, because Scotty and I would be talking on the way to the videogame store. It was the only place we went in the mall. Now it dawned on me that except for Scotty, I basically had … zero friends. I’d never thought about it before and I was suddenly overwhelmed with loneliness. Looking at the clusters walking around, I wondered what it would be like to be in that cluster, or that group, to be among friends, and I sighed.

Along those lines, I started to consciously eavesdrop on the people as they passed. Not the families so much, but the teens. I tried to imagine being among them, laughing at the jokes, or ‘contributing to the conversation’, which was a pet phrase of Mom’s. And it was kind of weird. I don’t mean weird because of the ‘violating their privacy’ sort of thing, but …

For instance, a group of boys walked by all excited about a new videogame. I knew the game; Scotty and I had talked about it … weeks and weeks ago. I sort of remembered getting excited about it when it was first announced in early summer, but now … not so much. Come to think of it, I hadn’t played any computer or videogames since … October, maybe? In any case, I wasn’t feeling any great desire to play the thing. I had a feeling that even if Scotty was here and we were talking about it, the buzz about the videogame wouldn’t be there for me.

And boys walked by talking about sports, of course; about different teams’ chances for the Super Bowl and another bunch were talking about NASCAR, I thought. I never got into sports like that. Growing up, it’s inevitable that you learn the basics about football, baseball, and basketball, but I almost never played them. Being small I almost never got picked, or I’d be picked last, and nobody ever hit or threw the ball to me. Let’s just say that kind of dampened any childhood enthusiasm for the games. Plus, there were weekends when my father was screaming at the TV and sometimes throwing things when his team lost. So that wasn’t any fun, either.

I liked watching gymnastics and skating on TV; I thought they were well-suited to television. You could concentrate on the one competitor, not a mob running here and there. Swimming was nice, too. But NASCAR? It just seemed to me to be something like five hundred left turns. That’s supposed to be skillful driving? The skill came in not getting clobbered by some macho jerk in the car behind you. So it was like bumper cars at a hundred miles an hour, until there was an accident, and I secretly thought that a lot of people hoped for the accident for some excitement—otherwise they’d realize it was just five hundred left turns.

The other thing boys walked by talking about was girls. Girls at school, girls at the mall, girls they saw on the street … and they seemed to be louder when they talked about girls. ‘Man, did you see the rack on that blonde?’ one guy would crow, loudly. Another would say, ‘Check out the ass on that redhead!’ and parents with little kids would try to distract their kids or even cover their ears.

I also knew—being raised in the world of boys—that it was all about ranking, about being cooler than the other guy. About topping him. About not being thought ‘a pussy’. And so lying was a big part of it, justified by keeping your ranking high.

Did I really want to be in that cluster? In that group?

On the other hand … there were clusters of girls. Once you got through the giggles and the ‘Omigods!’ they were talking about people. About other girls. Yeah, a lot of gossip: ‘Can you believe she went out with him?’ or ‘She thinks she’s so cool!’. But I realized that the girls weren’t talking about sports or athletes that they saw on television. Well, yeah, teen heartthrobs like that new Disney guy. But mainly they were talking among themselves: that is, they were talking about their group intersecting with other girl groups. Inclusive and exclusive: ‘Oh, Jeannie, that skirt looks so cute on you!’ or ‘Heather kept my red jacket’ or ‘Brianna’s such a bitch!’

I knew that there were sharp knives in their conversations as well as warm, friendly smiles.

The thing was, the boys were trying to top one another and the girls were trying to share with one another. Between the two, I thought I’d prefer sharing.

Then I saw a cluster of girls I knew; Susan McMillan, Amanda Joiner, Karen Krugman and Natalie Condolini were walking out of Icing. They’d gotten jewelry and were showing off their new bracelets and rings and necklaces and earrings—sharing their new things with one another—as they laughed and chatted.

Susan saw me and turned to the others; they kind of paused and talked among themselves, looking at me. I saw Natalie shrug and Amanda nod and Susan left them and walked to me.

She said, “Hey” and I said, “Hey” and I thought that was about it. She asked if I was waiting for Scotty; I said no, I was just watching the festivities. Susan looked at me for a moment, frowning.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and there was something in her voice.

I said, “I’m fine” but choked on the last word as tears started. I turned away from her and mumbled, “Gotta go. Bye!” and that was it.

If Susan hadn’t been there with her friends I might have stayed and talked with her, even with the tears. But I knew she was just being nice—she’s always been nice to me—and wanted to be with her girlies.

And I can’t blame her. If I’d been one of her girlfriends, I’d want to hang with them, too.

If I’d been a girl …

12/30

Another gap. I re-read my last entry. Wow. Talk about Holiday Blues!

Not that they ended. I’m just not talking about them so much. Scotty’s family went off to visit grandparents so he’s gone until school starts. I got presents for Mom and Judy last week but that was the only other time I went to the mall—too depressing for me.

Christmas was like Thanksgiving, though. It was warm and loving and just the three of us—what I’m beginning to think of as my new family. There was a part of me that had thoughts of being ‘the odd man out’, with the emphasis on ‘man’. I guess I’m supposed to be proud of being ‘the man of the family’ but I had quite enough of my father as ‘the man of the family’, thank you, very much. No way did I want that position. I kind of felt like I did when I’d seen Susan and Amanda and the other girls at the mall.

I just don’t fit in anywhere.

We had a nice Christmas morning with presents; I got a videogame and had to work at being excited about it; for some reason it just didn’t thrill me. And the things I sleep in have been getting kind of ratty looking, so I got what would be new pajamas but instead was a ‘sleepshirt’, Mom proclaimed happily when I opened it. It was red and decorated with all these holiday images. Mom said I could put it on right away—I had my shorts and tee under a bathrobe—and I did and actually it was comfy and although I sort of looked old-timey in it, I also realized that it required me to sort of keep my legs together. I got on the couch next to Mom and Judy with my legs tucked under me and we had hot cocoa—Judy’s special recipe—and I fell asleep leaning against Mom and woke up in my bed the next morning.

Damn! That sleepshirt really works!

Mom laughed and said she’ll get me more since it went over so well.

They liked my presents; for Judy, I got a book and an old MGM musical DVD Mom said she liked. I got an illustrated book of Gilbert & Sullivan for Mom—she loves them—and a nice necklace with a green stone to match her eyes. My eyes, too; thank God I didn’t get his eyes.

Lots of hugs and kisses all around and then boring days again until school starts.

1/6

What made me think anything was going to be any different, just because it’s a new year?

1/31

Yesterday, Scotty called and I met him at the mall. Maybe because of my time at the mall during the holidays, but while we walked and Scotty was talking, I looked around this time. I saw Amanda Joyner and some girls I didn’t know—probably the dance group she’s in—by the Food Court. She had on a really cute Hollister top, and I suddenly realized that I’d just thought, ‘wow, really cute top’. I didn’t know what to make of that.

The new X-Box game was cool, I guess, but I didn’t get a real rush about it. Scotty said I was ‘off’. I apologized and faked being into the stuff at Electronics Boutique. At one point I was leaning against the display case while the salesman was telling us about some new games, and I noticed Scotty looking at me strangely. I said, “What?” and realized that I had pulled my hair over one shoulder and was sort of braiding the ends, and I had one leg balanced on a toe, my knees touching. I dropped the hair and shook my leg, pretending I had a cramp, and Scotty seemed okay with that. But it had really felt like a natural, comfortable way to stand.

So what?

When I got home, I was kind of out of sorts, and Mom suggested a bath, which I haven’t had in a long time. Sounded like a good idea, and she gave me a jar with some rocks and crystals and told me to put some in the bath—stress relief, she said.

God, it felt good! I must have stayed there nearly an hour, almost dozing. Smelled light and fresh, too, and my skin was moisturized when I got out. I gotta get me some more of that stuff!

2/5

At the start of the year I wrote that school wasn’t any different this year; but now school’s kinda different because Judy wrote a note—as my doctor—getting me out of PE and into Study Hall, starting next week. She told me she was still worried about my ‘endocrine imbalance’ and said that I could always do aerobics to a workout video at home for exercise. So that was as my doctor; and as my mom’s lover and sort-of aunt, she grinned and said I’d probably welcome the chance to not have to listen to the Coach do his ‘Miss Cunningham’ garbage anymore.

PE was the only class I shared with Scotty, but something happened today that makes me okay with Study Hall. The Coach had us running as usual, which meant that Scotty and I were walking in the back of the group like usual, but Scotty kept jogging in place, and then apologized and said he just had to run. Maybe he had too much coffee; maybe his exercises were taking over, whatever, but he took off and man, he left me in the dust!

Screw it.

Oh, yeah; the Coach called me ‘Miss Cunningham’, as usual. But then he got a kind of funny look on his face and walked away. At least he’s out of my face as of Monday.

Crap day.

2/19

Study Hall’s pretty good, actually. No showers, for one thing!

The downside is that I get all of my homework done—it’s the last period of the day—and then at home, I’ve got nothing to do. Well, that’s not true; there are chores and stuff. But there’s a lot of extra time. So I figured the least I could do is get dinner ready for Mom when she gets home from work, so I should learn how to cook. I went to the library after school and checked out some learn-to-cook books, and one of them was in a section for teens. I found a book about ‘what every boy should know about his body’ sort of thing, and there was one for girls, too. So I got them both.

That made for some interesting reading!

2/26

Based on the last lab results, Judy gave me some more shots and I’ve got a new pill. Still falling asleep—I almost did in Study Hall, too—but I’m feeling pretty good. I’ve been doing the aerobics video workouts (the library has those, too!) and checking out all sorts of books. I’m just not that interested in playing games, even the new one Mom got me for Christmas. But I can curl up with a good book and then go make dinner, and then Mom and I sit on the couch and watch TV after. And I curl up there, too, in one of my sleepshirts. The holiday one was such a hit it seemed a shame to put it away until next holiday season, so Mom got me two new ones. One has a blue-plaid pattern that kind of looks like a hospital gown so I didn’t care for it so much at first, but the other is like an oversized gray t-shirt and is super-comfortable and I love wearing it. I curl up next to Mom, my legs tucked under me and pull my shirt down and feel all snuggly and the fact that I’m pretty darned lonely kind of goes away.

3/5

End of a not great week. I feel like crud; think I got the flu or something.

3/10

First day back in the land of the living, sort of. Slept from Friday to Monday, practically. Showered Monday and back to bed. Lots of soup from Mom. Went to see Doctor Judy this afternoon; she gave me another shot and a new or different prescription; I’m not sure what. Kind of woozy; I think I fell asleep on her again but she didn’t say anything. It was weird; she was listening to my chest and the next thing I know Mom and I are hitting the freeway.

Going to sleep again now.

3/12

Damn, whatever Judy shot me with did the trick. I feel human again! Mom doesn’t want me to go to school today—although I’ve missed so much, it doesn’t make much sense just to go for Friday—so Scotty’s going to bring over my homework so far, then I’ll go tomorrow with most of it done. Besides, I want to catch up on the gossip.

* * *

There wasn’t any gossip from Scotty. I looked like crap. I almost didn’t want him seeing me this way; I’m basically wearing sweats and I’m swimming in them. I showered again before he came over, and felt like if I bumped into anything I’d break; just felt very fragile. That’s the only way to put it. I guess it’s all the time in bed.

It was weird seeing Scotty after … well, since the end of January, I guess. I’d seen him in the distance at school now and then, and I’d asked him about what he was eating, but that was pretty much it. Now he was here and kind of embarrassed and I was, too, so I kind of stared at the floor and I didn’t really see him. Scotty filled me in, told me to get better, gave me a strange look or two, and left. I guess I must look like death warmed over, but maybe it was just that my hair’s a mess.

4/2

School was a drag all week. The only weird thing was Scotty. You know how you see something every day but don’t notice it until something makes you look at it differently, and you wonder, whoa, when did that happen?

Okay, that was a confusing sentence. The point is, it was a usual week until Wednesday, when I was talking with Susan McMillan. Our lockers are close; I’d noticed she had a new hairstyle, so I said something like, ‘Great hairstyle’. She thanked me and we talked about History—there’s a project coming up and we were both complaining about it and she joked that ‘misery loves company’ and maybe we should work on it together—and a couple of her girlfriends came up to talk to her.

I turned back to my locker but overheard one of the girls talking about Scotty, so my ears perked up. They were saying he was looking pretty good! Scotty? What the heck?

So when it was lunch time, I looked at him—I mean, really looked at him—and, yeah, he looked different. I noticed that his lunch wasn’t his usual Ding Dongs and pork rinds; he had a small sandwich and carrot sticks. And he was drinking a protein shake! I went out of my usual way to class to catch him and asked if he’d been losing weight, and he laughed and said that all my talking over the months about Mom’s exercising and my exercises had got him to start an exercise regimen of his own. How long had this been going on?

Well, long enough for the girls to notice, I guess.

4/10

Getting dressed today (Saturday morning), I went through my drawers looking for something to wear. I found a t-shirt I’d forgotten I had, from the one and only state fair I went to—my father took us because he wanted to go to the demolition derby.

Then he’d yelled so loudly at one of the drivers, all red-faced and spitting, that a security guard asked him to tone it down. We would up being escorted out of the grandstand by three guards. And that was my day at the fair …

Anyway, it was a yellow shirt with the state fair poster airbrushed on the front. On a whim, I tried it on, and it was way too small for me, practically skin tight, but when I looked in the mirror, I really liked it. The sleeves were so short that they rode up on my arms—I can’t really call them my ‘muscles’—and it was too short to tuck in, so as I moved my tummy winked back, and it was really cool.

I wore shorts when I was younger, but hadn’t worn any for long time because any guys that saw me laughed at my ‘birdy legs’. I don’t remember what the groundhog predicted back in February but it’s gotten warm already. So it just felt like it was going to be a shorts kind of day, and no guys around, so—birdy legs and all—why not wear shorts? I looked for some old jean shorts I’d worn before but couldn’t find them. Then I remembered that I’d been coming back from the library and Jerry Deakins shoved me off the sidewalk and into the street; I’d fallen in some spilled motor oil so there went my shorts and underpants.

And my father had whipped me for ruining them: “I’ll teach you to take care of things!”

There had to be something, I thought as I rummaged around. In a bottom drawer I found my one and only pair of cargo shorts. They were from a few summers ago but I had to wiggle to get them on because they were as old as the t-shirt and I’d grown a little bit. I got them on and barely buttoned, and they were in good shape but seemed really long—almost down to my knees. I know they had to have room for the pockets, but geez, they called these shorts? They were so long that they’d never be cool, and I was never going to use those baggy pockets, so I took off the shorts, turned them inside-out, marked where the pockets ended, got a pair of scissors and chopped ‘em off.

When I pulled them on again, they went on easier and I rolled the little bit of hem up like cuffs, so they wouldn’t unravel, and it made them look nicer, more finished, but even shorter. I really liked the way they felt, and the way my legs looked. I never really thought about my legs other than something to walk on, but the thing with Scotty made me start to look at other things differently. Besides, all of my exercising had made my legs and stomach smoother and flatter. I found a pair of flip-flops and went to breakfast.

Mom gave me a funny look when I walked into the kitchen. I figured it was because of the old clothes, or maybe the association of a time when my father was still around. I just told her I liked the way they looked and wasn’t wearing them because of him.

Mom had some minor spring cleaning chores; her philosophy is to do a little each week instead of burning out by doing it all in a marathon. So we vacuumed the house to a fare-thee-well. I liked helping her, and we talked about school and stuff while we worked.

At one point I almost snapped a toe when one of the flip-flops caught on the rug. Mom suggested tennis shoes; all I have are the big black-and-silver Nikes that I wear in school and I just didn’t like how they looked with the shorts. Mom said she might have something for me and gave me a pair of white Keds, which looked great. I really liked seeing the whole length of my leg, from my shorts to the Keds.

The other frustration was my hair; it kept flopping in my face when I bent over. I kept it in a ponytail at school, tied low and back. It wasn’t in defiance to my father anymore, but still I kind of hid behind the long hair. But here at home, I pulled it back and snapped a rubber band around it as usual, and Mom clucked her tongue and told me the rubber band would wreck my hair. She took a short piece of white ribbon and tied it around my hair, but I thought it might be better if I could wear a scrunchie, like so many girls in my class. Then I could put it around my wrist when I fluffed out my hair. It just made sense to do it that way.

At one point I went to the bathroom, and when I was struggling to button up afterward, I had an idea. I pulled my pants down and tucked my penis between my legs and then pulled up the shorts, and they seemed to fit better. It felt strange, but I experimented with some moves in the bathroom, and actually things felt less constricted, so I decided to keep it like that.

I looked at myself while I washed my hands, and then tried something quickly (didn’t want Mom to think I’d fallen in!) I pulled the ribbon off my ponytail, fluffed the hair and then pulled it up onto the top of my head, the way I’ve seen Susan McMillan and Amanda Joyner wear it. I tied the ribbon around and turned my head from side to side. I loved the way my ponytail swung around.

Just then Mom let out a yelp, and I rushed out to help her. She’d bumped into a table and had caught the lamp, but also grabbed a vase with one hand. And her knee was keeping the table from falling! The thing was, she couldn’t really put things back without dropping one of them; she needed another hand. I helped her and she thanked me, looked at me for a moment, and then declared it tea time.

We had a lovely pitcher of ice tea on our patio, and I was leaning over pouring a second glass when I realized the ponytail was still on top of my head! Mom said, “No, leave it; it suits you.” And so I did.

We finished off the work and Mom made a light supper, just a salad and some soup. Afterward, I was searching through the TV channels when Mom came in with the newspaper and said we could just make the new Sandra Bullock movie if we left immediately. I was torn; we both wanted to see the movie but I didn’t feel like changing into long pants and it would take too long anyway.

I quickly went to pee; when I came out of the bathroom, Mom tossed me a sweater of hers, a white fisherman’s knit cardigan thing, and I followed her, putting on the sweater as we walked to the car.

The evening was a little bit chilly for shorts; I didn’t mind too much but I kept my legs together for warmth and pulled the sweater cuffs down around my fingers. Mom just smiled and I relaxed. It was good to be out with her.

The movie was great; when Sandy’s guy left her I thought I would burst out crying, but held it together until the end, when he came back to her. I could tell that Mom felt the same way. On the way out, she put her arm around me as we both said how much we liked the movie, and one of the ushers said, “G’night, ladies.” Mom and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. She didn’t talk about that on the way home—only talking about the movie—but I kind of wish she had.

End of Part Two