In 1991, a young schoolgirl was the victim of a horrendous verbal assault. It did not start “innocently” and escalate, it was always on the level of cruelty.
“Hey, cow.”
“Moo!”

The young girl was big for her age, yes, that was true. Although never self-conscious...it didn’t make her feel any better as she walked down the hallway on her second day of school.
“Are you fat and hard of hearing too?”

She turned back to them: two young teenage boys--unknowingly schooled in psychology so ruthless, so painful, it would be considered a crime against humanity if--and only if--it occurred any place else but a junior high school hallway.
“Leave me alone,” she cried as she turned her head to look at them in disgust as she continued walking.

“Hey! I heard what you said about me,” the one named “Kris” said as he ran in front of her and blocked her path. The raven-haired girl stopped short of walking into him.
“And what would that be?”
“That you're a fat, ugly bitch,” the one behind her piped up, the one named “Tom”.

The young girl’s voice quivered as she tried to speak her mind: “Why are you bothering me?”
“Because it's fun,” Kris answered as kept pace with the girl.
“I don't think so,” she replied as she stormed away.
“To think, Kris, that anyone would want to be seen with her.”
“You are so damned ugly, bitch...What, did your mom forget to wipe...that's got to be the only way--”
The young girl stopped...as if she felt the urge to swiftly turn and throw her backpack and the books in her hand at her assailants. She stopped walking, allowing her tears to run and the grip on her books to slack. The books then fell to the floor with heavy “thuds” as they kicked one of texts down the hall.
“--You’d ever be born.”

The tormentors gleefully skipped down the hall, their work done. They had humiliated the young girl...they had made fun of her body, her mind...but in no way would they ever break her spirit.

cor gaudens exhilarat faciem in maerore animi deicitur spiritu

“I think it looks too revealing.”
“No, it lets everything show”
“That’s the problem. Why did I get this?”
“Because I told you to.”

I could not recall where I had purchased the swimsuit that I was wearing. If you asked me, I would have to admit I didn’t recall where I bought a lot of my clothes. I only knew that I liked them...but, as I saw my reflection staring back at me, leaving very little to the imagination, I wished to recall where I plunked down the cash so I could return it and never, ever go there again.
“This looks horrid.” I tried to look at myself at every possible angle, even taking a "squinty-eyed" look--not that it helped.
“You got a figure and you don’t even know how to flaunt it. I should have bought that one.”

I opened a dresser drawer and took out a pair of shorts. I’d wear the bikini...but I wasn't about to give a free show at the pool.
“Fine, I just don't want to look like I'm wearing a sign that says, "look at me, I'm hot."
“Okay, now you're being a confused bitch who doesn't know what she wants: to be left alone or desired.”
“What if I desire to be left alone?”
“Wearing that? Good luck. Well, the shorts help distract a little.”

It was the last weekend before the start of our junior year in high school. A part of me , the naive one, was excited for the new times in life, the joy of learning new things and having a good time...while the other part, which would be the true me, had some major doubts about it all. I would be lying if I said I was completely morose about my life. No, there were positives...like, I had parents who wanted the best for me and, not to be a braggart, but, yes, I had a great figure.
“You stand and complain about your body, why? You're a cheerleader who also works at a modeling agency. Ladies and gentlemen, the envy of girls and the hard-on inducer of guys.
I winced at those words as we walked downstairs and out the front door.
“I mean, I've waited years for these to come...I've gone to the water slides and lost the top of my swimsuit so many times and no one even noticed! Someone even said, ‘hey, little boy, you dropped this!’”
“Kim…”

My best friend, Kim Vestron, was known at school for telling it like it was. Never the one to sugarcoat the situation or give you a politically correct response. Likewise, if you told her something she disagreed with you’d have to fight your way to make her see your point...unless she was your friend, then it was a little easier to get past her defenses.
“But now, I have the body I didn't have as a freshman or a sophomore...I have hit my stride! I have had my period for so long and now I have THESE to prove my womanhood.
“You should thank God I live in the country, because if you said that in town, I swear to him I'd have to kill you”

On the last few days before the start of the school year we had decided to not do much of anything. I had spent my summer at cheer camp and then practices, meetings, and work. Kim spent most of her time at her job or with me. On that day, since it was supposed to be, I guess the “last hurrah” of summer, we went to the pool located at Fairchild Air Force Base. I could care less about the summer or the beginning of school. My thoughts were of the future but at that time, my past was still a bit murky.

“I hope Tom will be there today.”
“Petty?” I asked as I shifted my car into reverse and pulled out of the driveway.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Why?”
“Oh come on, Jazz. He’s really good- looking, popular, funny… He knows a lot of things and there's this way his butt moves when… Well, I think he’s hot.”
“Yeah, whatever.”

One thing Kim liked, loved...um, sought after, was the perfect guy. Of course, we talked about how one’s idea of “perfect” was subjective. Her idea could be rippling six-pack muscles...well, mine could be that too...What I mean is that wherever we went, if Kim saw a guy that interested her, she’d let me know of it. She wouldn’t go up and talk to him but she’d let me know that she was thinking about it.

“It’s not a ‘whatever’ situation, Jazz.”
“Enlighten me, please.”
“Well, he did say ‘hi’ to me on the last day of school.”
“So did Mr. Acuff.”
“That’s not the same.”
“We should hope so.”
“Should I wear my top lower?”
“Uhhh, not unless you want to get us kicked out.”
“Just a thought.”

We arrived at the pool and I parked in the only available spot available, one next to an ancient car with rust caked all over it.
“Well, Tom’s here, at least his car is.”

I nodded to Kim’s observation--unfortunately, the car was there...but there could be hope: Tom’s car had an old “Reardan High School” bumper sticker on it...there was a chance that--
“He needs to replace that bumper sticker. It’s peeling off.”
And so much for that.

Kim ran ahead into the pool area as I looked back to Tom’s car. Yeah, Tom was probably there...and who would be with him?
“Do you see him?”
“I’m not looking for him.”
We stood on the side of the pool, still dressed in shorts and shirts. I planned to stay that way.
“Help me out a bit, I—Oh-my-god, there he is.” Kim pointed out to the diving board in an almost little girl squeal.
“Yes, Kim, point him out and let everyone know you want him.”

Thomas Wesley Petty: one day he’s the guy everyone looks up to because he slammed fifteen opposing football players into the ground and the other times, he’s the guy who, in a violent rage once smashed the door knob off to the room the basketball referees were in because of a bad call. I mean, he was tall, muscular, had the right hair and I suppose I should be one of the girls who would swoon for that kind of thing...but as it has been said...ugly goes all the way to the bone.
“Not too far from the truth.”
I shook my head and left Kim to ogle at Tom.

Since I wasn’t planning on swimming, I took a recliner next to an umbrella and took out one of several novels I was attempting to finish before summer was over. I had not even opened the cover of the book when another shadow-other than the umbrella, which wasn’t really helping to keep the sun away- fell over me.
“You look exceptionally beautiful today, Jazeta.”
“Hello, Kris.”

I knew then who came with Tom to the pool: Kristopher Allen Gersmehl. Kris was a skater in his early years...he was also an expert lock-pick [I suppose that should be read: ‘thief’]. If Tom was considered “the brawn” then Kris was the brains. You’d think that maybe they could make lots of money with that combination and they did at times...but no one ever knew how they did it.
"So, how was cheer camp? Think you could teach me a few moves?"
"Interested in cheerleading, Kris...or just in cheerleaders?"
"I'd be lying if I didn't say both."
"I'd love to see how you'd be at a pike."
"Is that the funky Russian dancing man thing?"
"No."
I returned to my book, without justifying his question, but Kris was never the one to get the hint, as he continued:
"So, Jazeta--busy this afternoon?"
"Why?"
"We're having a kind of end of summer party at Joe's place...near the Rez...Want to come?"
"Are you going to be there?"
"Yes."
"Then no."
"You know, I'm trying to get on your good side here."
"I didn't realize I had to reciprocate your attempts to repair a bridge that caught on fire, exploded and fell two-thousand feet into a chasm."
"A what?"
“Excuse me,” I picked my bag up and walked into the locker room.
“Nice talking to you, Jazeta.”
“And you too Kris, you too.”

Kris and Tom were not Siamese twins but where one was, the other would not be far behind. As I said, both had their good sides but it was hard to see it...it was a solar eclipse: hardly occurs and if you tried to look at it, you’d be blinded. I decided to continue reading near the lockers inside the locker room. It was cooler, the sun was not beating down on me--I had forgotten my sunscreen--and Kris wasn’t stupid or daring enough to simply walk into the women’s locker room. Sanctuary.
However, I knew that I had to come out eventually. Tom would get skin cancer in Kim’s sunlight and nothing, absolutely nothing good would come out of that. Did I want her to be happy? Yes, but not with Tom.
When I emerged from the shaded building I walked up to where Kim stood--which was about where I left her earlier, still watching Tom from afar..
“Have you asked him to marry you yet?”
“Isn’t he something?”
I raised my hands to cover the glare of the sun as Tom took a running leap off of the diving board and made a straight dive into the pool.
“I am so in-love with him.”
“Does he know that yet?”
“Nope.”
“The pool closes at eight and it's only four. So, unless I die of sun poisoning in the meantime, you have about four hours to profess your hormones.”
“Love.”
“Yeah...right.”
"I’m going to ask him out, today”
“Whatever.”
“There you go with the ‘whatever’ again. On the day you get married and you’re asked ‘Do you, Jazeta Amber Daniels, take blah-blah, to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward; and promise to be faithful to you until death do you part?’ are you going to answer with ‘whatever’?”
“That depends: what’s he look like and does he have a sense of humor?”
“You’re not helping, I-” We were interrupted by Tom’s booming voice as he swam over to our location.
“Hey!”
“Hi,” Kim looked down and then to me. She then darted her gaze back to Tom.
“Hey, Jazz.”
“Thomas,” I replied, just because I could.
“You two getting in? How long you been here?”
“Not too long. Kim, aren’t you going to get in?” I asked as I took her bag from her arm. “Don’t make me push you in.” I whispered.
Kim jumped off the side, into the pool and into the smiling jaws of Tom’s wonderful water world.
“I’ll lock your things up.”
“Thank you.”

I walked back to the locker room, thinking that I just sent a lamb in for slaughter. What did she see in him? She knew everything about him that I knew...well, not everything, but she knew enough. Perhaps I was blinded from seeing any good in him. And…perhaps I had lot of hatred for him in my heart. And maybe it was that I simply found him obnoxious. Let’s go for all of the above, okay?
“Jazz!”
I turned back to see Kim walking towards me.
“Towel?”
“No, no I’m going back in the water. But I need to ask you a question.”
“Okay." Most of the time you don't want to know what the question will be when people say 'can I ask you a question'.
“How do you feel about going to a party, tonight?”
“Where?”
“At Joe’s. Tom’s invited us”
“Of course he has,” I replied as I looked to see Tom and Kris talking.
“You don’t want to go, do you? I mean, we don’t have to, but-”
“No, if we don’t, I won’t hear the end of it. Of course if we do go...I still won't hear the end of it, I--”
“So, we’re going?”
“Let me call in and find out if I can...and what about Jamie?”
“She says as long as I’m with you, everything’s cool, you know that.”

This was a case where I thought that she would make an exception to that clause. Jamie was Kim’s guardian...I never really could determine if she was an aunt or foster mother...I admit, I never asked, but she liked me as a friend to Kim--a type of an endorsement, I guess.
I retrieved my cell phone from a locker and called my mom’s work number.
“Mom?”
“Jazeta? Where are you?”
“Base pool. Hey we’ve, Kim and I, have been invited to a party. It's an end of the summer kind of thing.”
“Whose house?”
My parents had long established a "bad cop/bad cop" type line of questioning whenever I asked to go somewhere.
“Andrea, out on the Springdale highway.” I winced as I said those words...as I was telling a bold-faced lie but if I said that it was at Joe’s house, then the next question would be if Tom and Kris were going to be there.
“Are Kris and Tom going to be there?”
I was not surprised that she still asked that question, by the way.
“No, it’s more of a girls-night-in kind of thing with the cheerleaders and a few other girls.”
“When is it over?”
“Well, it’s an overnighter. I think Jennifer is planning on trying to get us to make some insane kind of pancake recipe.” I was putting on such a live performance, you’d think a representative of the American Theatre Wing would walk into the pool area and thrust a “Tony” into my arms.
“You don’t eat grain.”
“Yeah, I may have to leave before breakfast due to work anyway.”
“As long as you’re going to be at her house." There was a pause.. that meant the question I dreaded was about to be unleashed. "Do I need to call her mother?”
“I would like if it if you didn’t--”
“Jazeta-”
“Mom, we’ve been over this...and I’d also prefer not talking about it. Aloud. And in front of people.”
“When does it start?”
“Eight.”
“Call me when you get there.”
“Will do. Bye.”

My ears were burning as I pressed the “end” key. I also thought my nose should have been as long as my shadow. I hated lying to my parents. It was safe to say that something would go wrong before the day was through.

An hour later, a convoy of late and ancient models cars drove down US highway two on the way to Reardan, Washington, when we would then turn and drive an additional 30 miles toward the Rez.
“An actual party, we are going to the end of the summer party...and Tom is going to be there!”
“It’s probably not going to be a real big deal, Kim.”
“You think its destiny we were asked to come?”
“I don’t think the well goes that deep.”
“Do you think they’ll be any beer?”
I nodded as I accelerated--Kris’ driving style was an “anything goes” kind of thing. If it were not for traffic -and physics- laws, he’d be all over the road, and he was not making it easy to keep up with him.
“Remind yourself who’s throwing it and ask that question again.”
“I’ve had a beer before. I hid it in the corner of the refrigerator when Jamie wasn’t home.”
“You’re such a rebel.”
“Tasted like...it was bitter all I can remember and I didn’t really like it.”
“Did you hide the bottle in your room?” I asked as I adjusted my speed. "I swear Kris is driving like this to annoy me."
“I just poured it out in the sink, rinsed the smell out and threw the bottle away. You?"
"Can't say I have. Kris asked me to try some kind of drink one time, didn't care to."
"You don't want to come to this because of him?"
I shook my head in reply.
"How about we stay a few minutes then leave? There can't be that much to do there, right?"
"We'll, that depends on how drunk everyone gets."

We continued to follow Kris down the winding highway until we reached Little Falls Road, where the road straightened out long enough for Kris to floor it. I was able to keep up with him, knowing that Tom's car was so old it couldn't go too fast for too long. I so wanted to pass him to just show him up and bruise the massive ego he had built up...but I really didn't want to get lost in the back roads of Lincoln County.
The trip ended at a large house over-looking Long Lake. I parked behind Tom's car, which was parked behind dozens of other cars.
"I'm willing to bet his parents are not at home," Kim said as she opened her door.
"And you're probably right."

I got out of my car with feelings of dread hanging over me. The first being that I lied to my parents. The second was that I was even there in the first place and the third was the fear of the unknown...and I was definitely in the unknown. It's written somewhere that one should not associate with their former boyfriends and as much as I did not want to be there that other part of me wanted to go play in the mud.
“This is...different,” I said as we walked past several others, some from our school, some not and everyone seemed to be getting into party mode, even though it was only a little after six o'clock. Party mode being doing whatever they wanted.
“Did you see where Tom went?”
“No.”

We walked up the steps to the front door, which was wide open and cautiously entered. The house was huge and decorated with books and knickknacks all over--I went over in my mind about how much of this stuff would be stolen or damaged if things got too far out of hand. Having been to at one of these things in the past, I had learned that the fights never broke out and houses were never damaged because of alcohol or rage. No, just out of people being incredibly stupid. And judging by the keg of beer sitting in the hallway near the kitchen, things -not to mention certain people- would probably get very stupid.

We entered another hallway right as music blasted out of a set of speakers at the other end. Kim looked back behind me, obviously assuming that Tom would just show up and give her the grand tour.
"Do you see him?"
"No!"
"Where do you think he's at?"
I shook my head. I had no idea...still didn't really care either, but as we rushed to leave the "hall of sound" who did we run into, but Tom and Kris.
"Where did you go?" Tom asked, clearly not addressing me.
"I was looking for you," Kim replied with a slight oh my gosh I love you tone to her voice.
"Glad I found you. Come on." He motioned for her to follow him.
Kim looked back to me and I brushed my hands towards her--my way of saying: "Go. This is the reason we came here, right?"
Tom and Kim walked away, leaving me with Kris.
"I'm glad you came too.," Kris said.
"I didn't come here to talk to you."
"But you can."
"Don't really want to," I replied as I wanted to deck him, but couldn't think up a n excuses to tell my parents or Mrs. Humphrey--our cheer coach--how I broke my fingers and why I had blood under my fingernails.
"Yeah, I can tell. It's just that, we used to talk a lot."
"Yes, yes we did."

This was the second time today, after a trending three years, that I had spoken more than a few words to Kris and I really didn't want to break that record.
"Hey, why don't we leave and--"
"No, I'd prefer not to."
"You didn't let me finish."
"If you were going to say: 'talk', then you don't need to. There's nothing to talk about."
"Seeing anyone?"
"Yes, I'm seeing someone."
Another lie there. I was telling more fables than Aesop.
"Who?"
"He doesn't go to Reardan."
"Where's he from?"
"Why, so you can 'talk to him'?"

Kris was never one to really get angry, well, not at me at least. He had a temper and a vocabulary that could have made an Army Drill Sargent cower in a corner and cry, but he never lashed out at anybody he really cared about. Yes, I poking the bear.
"No, maybe so I can see who my competition is."
"Competition? You really just said that?"
"Said something wrong again?"
"Yes." And with that, I walked out of the hall.
"Great talking with you, Jazz. Let's do it again."

As much as I really wanted to look around the house and perhaps see who all was there I had to get out and away from Kris. I kept looking over my shoulder to see if he followed me, but he didn't.
There were people out and about near the lake shore. A few were setting off firecrackers while others were waving their hands around as they told some asinine tale along the lines of: "Dude, check out the scar I got!"
Another guy lugged a watermelon over to the ones with the firecrackers. As much as I wanted to pay attention to the spectacle that was about to occur before me, I was diverted by the voice of someone else that I had hoped I would not see that night.
“Jazeta Daniels, strange to see you here.”
I knew the voice, I just really did not want to respond to it. The problem with ignoring the voice was that she would take my attitude as being a snotty, stuck-up, bitchy, uncaring, thinks-she's-better-than-thou, cheerleader.
“Why do you say that?”
Of course, it didn't really matter; Michelle Bremerton would still think of me as being a snotty, stuck-up, bitchy, uncaring, thinks-she's-better-than-thou person, with or without the pompoms.
“I don’t see you as the type.”
“I’m here with a friend.”
“Kris?”
“No.”
“Oh yeah, you guys broke up.”
“If you want to call it like that, yes.”
“Hmm...You two didn’t seem like the right couple. I don’t know what he saw in you.”

My past experiences with Michelle Bremerton were limited. I knew enough about her to know she was manipulative with the guys and was able to play both sides of an argument between other people. Knowing this, and the fact that I didn’t want to continue the conversation, I walked back towards the house.

I sat in the living room by myself, looking at nothing in particular. I didn't want to get involved...and a part of me wished Andrea really was having an overnighter as anything would have been better than the situation I was in. Technically, being at the party was a violation of the athletic code...well, okay, perhaps that's not exactly true, as the code states one should not be in uniform while at a party...but, as it's known I could sit in the living room reading Sylvia Plath and the rumor would be that I was bombed out of my mind doing the splits on the front lawn wearing only my cheerleading shell. And I would be pronounced guilty with a scarlet letter around my neck.

The only thing that kept me safe was that 95% of the people at most parties either:
Didn't care.
Were too drunk to care.
Were too drunk to care to know who was even there.

Choices "B" and "C" were the most likely candidates as the night went on. Allow me to thank God for those statistics. I walked into the kitchen area as a crowd of teenagers gathered around a table.
Joe Jahn had finally made an appearance at his own party. A Jay Gatsby he wasn't, but everyone clapped for him as he stood at the center of the table in front of several shot glasses, three bottles of tequila and a six pack of coke.

"Thank you, thank you everyone for coming to my home and making it your home. And if you're thinking of stealing any of my family's shit, please think twice on it, as it's my ass that will be grounded in the morning, okay?"
Kris, who sat at the table next to Joe, unstacked the glasses.
“Okay, okay, it’s time to play.”
“Play what?” Someone asked.
“Shots,” Joe replied as he picked up a bottle.
“'What’s that?' you ask," Kris professed in a "carnival barker" tone.
“We fill a glass and you drink it without throwing up.”
"And how do you win this game?” Another someone inquired…and he sounded a bit smashed already.
“Doesn't matter. Winning isn’t everything in this game.”
Joe picked a glass up and Kris poured a large amount of tequila into it.
The crowd chanted "Joe...Joe...Joe..."

Not that he needed the pep talk, Joe downed the drink in less than five seconds. He looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes as his face turned red. I wanted to ask him if he was okay, but I had a feeling that this was all a part of "the game".
Michelle walked in from the side of the kitchen and quietly poured half a shot glass of...well, I couldn’t really read the label at the time. She looked to Kris and Joe and then downed the glass with no effort. Not even a wince or a change in her facial expression.
Meanwhile, Joe’s face had turned three shades of red before he coughed out: “Great.”
Kris reached across the table and picked up a large glass filled with a brownish liquid.
“You are rookie, Jahn. You may kick ass on the field but you’re a bench-warming pussy here.”
He picked it up, looked to my direction and nodded.
“Auld Lang Syne, Jazz?”
“Ask me again on the thirty-first of December.”

He shrugged at my refusal to play with him and downed the entire contents of the glass in eight seconds, perhaps he was pacing himself, or by seeing how Joe nearly passed out he was playing it safe.
“Kris, isn't it’s a bit too early to be doing this, man.”
I turned to the side to see Tom, with Kim standing at his side, holding his hand. She was as happy as Joe was drunk.
“Well, we got bored, and it was no time like the present to get sh’faced.”
Tom sat down at the table with Kim in his lap. Kris passed a glass to him and in a quick motion, he downed it like a fish.
“Ok, ok, ok, new game. Well, it's more like a test, for all you beginners out there, you know who you are. Here's your chance to 'drink responsibly'.”

At this point, if the police were notified, well--not that they would come out as we were so far out in the county...let's just say that I hoped others had designated drivers because I didn't feel like being a taxi for the evening.
“So, all of you who have never taken a straight shot, now is your chance.”
“What about the champions?” Michelle asked.
“Hell, it doesn’t matter.”
“Count me in. I’m going to give it a try,” Kim piped.
I looked at her in shock, but not for long enough for anyone to notice. What had I done by bringing her here?
"You ever had this before, baby?" Tom asked.
He picked up a glass, Kris haphazardly filled it and handed it to Kim…and yes, hearing him call her ‘baby’ got on my nerves the very first time.
“Nope, but I'm open to brand new experiences, so...I just take it like this?”
“Does she want a chaser?”
“No, Kim is warrior, ready to challenge for Reardan Indians. She’ll take it straight.”
“Damn straight I will.”
The room stood in mock-silence as Kim slammed the drink.
“Aguhh, that’s terrible.”
“Another?”
“Yep.”

At that point, my cellphone rang. I walked out of the kitchen and then outside before I took the call."
"Hello?"
"Jazeta Amber Daniels." My mom had used my full name. The call was not going to go well.
"I know, mom, I didn't call. Sorry."
"Why didn't you?"
"We started a little early and I forgot."
"Is Andrea's mother there?"
"Well, no, actually she went out to the store in Airway Heights. I volunteered to go, but-"
An explosion then occurred near the lake shore and watermelon fragments flew everywhere. The question I had earlier was finally answered.
"What was that?"
"Bonfire...someone threw a firecracker into it."
"Are you telling me there are no adults there?"
"Just cheerleaders."
"That wasn't the answer I was looking for, Jazz."
"Mom, everything's fine. We're just outside in front of the fire and later on we're probably going to watch a terrible movie about savage killers stalking cheerleaders and talk about things that we still don't understand and then maybe fall asleep...eventually."
"We need to talk about a few things in the morning."
"Understood."
"Goodnight."

I hung up the phone with my face again feeling flushed. I might as well have been drunk as I felt pretty wasted after getting off the phone. My options were now limited: Stay or go home. Of course, now I would have to take Kim to my house and sneak her inside without my parents knowing she was illegally drunk. Maybe things would be okay, perhaps she only had one drink and stopped after I had left the kitchen for the phone call.

I walked back into the house. It was quieter now...and the kitchen was empty except for Kris.
"Jazeta, where did you go?"
"Where's Kim?"
"Not sure."
“How did 'the game' end?”
"I forfeited and they took it downstairs. You don't want to go down to the basement. It can be rough."
"Is Tom downstairs?"
"No, he went...Oh yeah, he went upstairs with, with…what’s her name, your friend."
"And by upstairs, you mean?"
"Probably...See, I can still read you."

And with that, Kris lowered his head onto the table, hopefully just in a drunken sleep/stupor.

I walked down the hallway, into the living room, stood at the foot of the stairs and looked up to second floor landing. I did not want to think about what or who I would find in any of the rooms. Could Kim be up there? Yes. The only thing to do was to look for her.
No sooner had my left foot landed on the first ascending step did I see Kim at the top of the staircase, partially nude and with a dazed look in her eyes. I ran up the stairs as she teetered back and forth as I did not want to explain to Jamie--or my parents--why my friend was found dead, semi-dressed, and crumpled at the foot of a staircase of a strange guy's house.

“Kyrie Eleison.”

I took my shirt off, revealing the swimsuit top I still had on from earlier, and haphazardly got it onto Kim. I then quickly -as one can while hauling someone in a zombie-like and drunken trance- walked us both outside and to my car.

Kim was zoned out and pretty much asleep as I shifted into reverse and floored the accelerator in an attempt to leave the area as fast as I could without slamming into any of the other cars. After some difficult maneuvers, I was then free to drive out of there.
“Where am I?”
“In a car. Wait, let me clarify that: my car!”
“How did I get in here?”
“You came down those stairs like a ghost with your, your well, your boobs flopping in the air.”
"They don't flop. They're not big enough…I feel dizzy.”
“Please, do not throw up in my car.”
“Yeah...hey, where did you go?"
“Outside. Where did you go?”
"I think I just had sex.”
“You think?”
“Okay, I know we did, I-my underwear’s missing.”
“That’s not the only thing that’s missing. You’ve known him, personally, for how long?”
“I’ve known him for forever...we did and and...And I have no idea how to describe it.”
“Don’t try, please.”
“It was beautiful Jazeera, oh how so beautiful. He touched every part of my body and he massaged every muscle...he was so...uhh…”
“What?”
“Ummm...Jazz, stop the car...now.”
I slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road. Kim opened the door and threw herself to the ground.
“Exactly how many ‘games’ did you play, anyway?”
She then lost it, it being whatever she had ate or drank that evening. I turned the ignition off, got out and went over to her.
“I...I don’t know, I lost count.

The young girl sat alone during the lunch hour. She didn't sit with the other students in the lunchroom. No, she walled herself in the safety of a classroom. While others were out on the field talking and running (one would not dare call it "recess" in junior high) she stayed behind to read a book.
"What are you doing in here, cow?"
She refused to look up from her reading--not wanting to give her tormentor the satisfaction.
"Are you too afraid to be with the others? Or are you afraid you’ll squash them flat?"
"I don’t weigh that much."
"Yeah, and neither did King Kong."
“An original Kris Gersmehl comeback. Better patent that.”
The young girl had learned what her tormentors lacked in tact, they also lacked in knowledge.
"No one likes you here and no guy in this school, let alone the freaking world, would ever want to go out with you. You’re too fat and too God-awful ugly."
"Stop it! Just stop it!"
The girl was close to tears. She had been trying to do all she could to change her life around. She had changed her diet, stopped watching television, gone on hike, walks and runs around her home in the country. Was her tormentor blind or did he just have a depraved heart?
"And what are you going to about it, fat girl!"
“Why do you hate me? She asked with tears streaming down her face. Yes, she had some friends...she had a best friend—the only one who ever came to her aid--but the fact that someone hated her for no reason drained her. But for the first time, he did not have an answer to her question as he looked at her with a puzzled expression and then walked out of the room.

omnia causa fiunt

“I feel dead."
“Well, then rise, shine, and feel the burn, Vampira. We’re going back to Joe’s.”
I tore the bedcovers and pillow away, exposing Kim's face to the bright sunlight that permeated through the window.
“Jazz...it's...it's...what the hell time it is anyway?”
“Eight-thirty.”
“It’s eight-thirty on a Saturday. Let the dying die!”
“Did the dead forget about what she did last night?”
“It’s still pretty foggy.”
"We're going back to Joe's house because...."
"Oh yeah...my clothes."
"Unless you want him to..."
“I vow to never do that again.”
“You’re going to have to clarify what ‘that’ is.”
“To never drink again. Don’t hold me to it.”
An hour later we were once again at Joe’s house. The front yard was a mess: tire ruts in the grass, plastic and paper cups all over the lawn and watermelon shrapnel on a few of the garden gnomes.
“His parents are going to freak out at this.”
“One can only hope.”
I said that not to be cruel, but it would be for the best if he was caught. Joe was like a magician: he would vanish when trouble started and then re-appear without a scratch on him. (Not that I cared too much…maybe I just hated to see people get away with being dishonest.) As we walked up to the house it looked like he was going to need an army of David Copperfields to whisk away the proof of the previous night’s soiree.
Kim stepped ahead of me, walked up to the front door, opened it and stepped right on in.
“You don't live here, you just...can't...walk in.” I suppose if one leaves their underwear at someone’s house, they have some right of sorts to just enter. Some intimate form of imminent domain.
“Tom?”
The front room and hallway were immaculate. The set of soundly stacked speakers were gone. There was also the smell of carpet cleaner and potpourri in the air. The house was now too clean to believe any cover story that Joe would say if asked by his parents “did anything happen while we were away?”
“Tom?” Kim called into the kitchen.
“Yo!”

The voice was not Tom but Joe, sitting at the table with an incredible stack of French toast. His face and eyes showed fatigue; as if making French toast (and hopefully turning off the griddle) was the last thing he could do before his brain melted into a grey mush.
“Where’s Tom?” Kim asked.
I had doubts Joe could say more than a monosyllabic reply.
“Upstairs.” Two syllables. My expectations were shattered.

Kim skipped out of the kitchen and back into the hallway. I thought to follow her, but I had a slight reservation that I would hate to see what I would find up there.
“Why didn’t you join in on the party?” Joe asked just before taking a large bite.
“The thought of purging my guts out the next day and looking a little bit like you right now wasn’t high on my totem.”
“You get used to it…”
“To what?”
“To living on two hours of sleep…Shit, I need to wake up.”
“What’s on your calendar, Joe?”
“Work.”
Joe works? Oh this I had to hear.
“Where do you work?”
“We’re helping a work crew for the summer. Cleaning up and stuff. Last day before the new year.”
“May I ask who the “we” are?”
“Tom, Kris and I”
My mind was racing with scenarios of Beavis and Butthead, plus one; “The Three Stooges” or a scene from “Goodfellas”-esque; shenanigans prevailing. Either the three were clean and diligent in their work in a "Twilight Zone" way or their boss was a major idiot.
Kris entered the kitchen, side-stepped around me and gravitated to the coffee maker. Joe pointed at Kris and flew his hands into the air as he yelled.
“It's alive! Alive, I tell you!”
Kris simply flipped him off, poured a cup of coffee and then sat at the table. No sugar, no creamer, no Irish whiskey…someone was still tired.
“Do cheerleaders date football players?” Joe asked as he took another bite.
“That’s an urban legend,” I replied as I stepped closer, leaned toward his face and with a hint of flirting asked: “Why, Joe? Are you playing this year?”
“Yeah,” he replied with a little bit of excitement in his...voice.
I looked back towards Kris—we had his attention. “--But, sometimes they do.”
“Cool,” Joe replied as he took another bite.

I stood outside on the front porch, surveying the battlefield that was once the front yard. It was either that or stay in the company of Joe and Kris and watch them grunt back and forth like cavemen. I suppose I could have gone on a scavenger hunt through the house to look for Kim, but I thought it best not too…again, who knew what I would find.
We, Kris, and I, had gone to a few parties at one time. These were all impromptu events that sprawled up around us or we were whisked to them by people who could drive. Some were better than others; and for a time, I enjoyed going to them, seeing new people and learning how the other half lived. I know that sounds condescending, but at times I really did feel like Jane Goodall observing the habits of teenagers in the tequila and triple sec mist.
Kim stepped out the door and then skipped down the steps.
“I’m sorry, Jazz, I-”
“Got caught up in the moment...again?” I replied as I followed across the lawn.
“I guess you could say it like that.”
“Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't he just break up with Danielle?”
“Yeah, he did, but she was just a slut who would sleep with anybody, like Michelle...just meets ‘em, greets 'em, eats em.”
“Give me ignorance on that, please.”
“You should see him when he sleeps, Jazz, he's so cute.”
“I hate that word.”
“Why do you hate the word cute?”
“It's not the word, it what it’s used for: A baby is cute. Bunnies are cute. A picture of a baby with bunnies, that's cute.”
“Well, Tom still is cute in my opinion.”
“So, is it Tom who's cute or a part of him?”
“They’re a package deal...emphasis on the package.”

We drove into the closet form of civilization, Airway Heights, where Kim worked at a grocery store as a courtesy clerk, or more commonly referred to as a bagger, go-getter, customer service rep…actually, to hear Kim tell it, she did just about everything but rent the movies out to the customers at the video counter. She lamented on how she hated working until she got her paycheck every Wednesday and then she absolutely LOVED her job and all of the surly shoppers who muttered under their breath about squished bread.
The store wasn’t exactly crowded but shopping carts were strung out all over the lot. I maneuvered the car into a parking space that had at least fifteen feet on any side from a cart, as people were notorious at not giving a care when they unloaded and just shoved it away from them and into a parked car…like, mine…on the first day I got it.

“Alex to the lot please for a cart run. Alex to the front for a cart run.”
We walked into the store, towards the center of the building as the intercom blared for some poor schlep to ferry shopping carts into the store.
“Are you getting anything?” Kim asked. She accelerated her pace as she walked away from me; on her way to the back of the store.
I shook my head; we were there for Kim to see her work schedule for the week and I had no plans on buying a thing.
“No, you?”
“Can you grab an RC for me?”
I nodded in reply as she turned the corner at the end of the aisle. Better a Royal Crown than a Crown Royal.
From out of the corner of my eye, I then saw a brief flash of white, red and black. A nanosecond later I heard a weird “thunk” and found myself on the floor.
“Are you okay?” A garbled voice asked.
"Yeah, maybe I-" My eyes were open but everything was so out of focus. There it was again, a blurry picture of someone dressed in black, white and red. I had to blink a few times to focus before he came into view.
Although I would never put myself as Snow White or any fairy tale princess, for a brief moment, I wanted this stranger, this person who slammed me to the floor, to kiss me like a prince in those stories. But I settled for his assistance in helping me up.
“I’m sorry, really, I-”
“It’s okay, it’s okay, I--”
“Jazz!” Kim’s voice screamed through the air and into my already pounding ears as she raced from the end of the aisle to where we were. “Jazz, you all right?”
“Yes, Kim, thank you.”
“I’m sorry I was just in a hurry to-” the quasi-prince started to say, before:
“Watch where you’re going” Kim, ever the gen-teel one, finished.
“I said I was sorry.”
“Yeah, well, be more careful, you-”
“Kim, I’m fine, really. Go get your schedule,” I replied. “Go.”
She nodded but glared back at him as she walked away.
There was a long silence between the two of us. He looked around, quite possibly to see if a manager or someone else saw the incident—the look of “well, I guess I’m fired” was in his eyes.
“I won’t sue you.”
“It’s not really you I’m worried about, well, I meant-”
“In that case, I’ll have my lawyers call you.”
“Alex Foxx, spelled with two ‘x’s’...in case you need to press charges.”
“Jazeta Daniels. How does it look?”
“Probably feels worse than it looks.”
“Please don’t lie to make me feel better. It doesn’t help.”
“It’s a shiner. Not a world record, but--"
“Might as well be. I have photo shoot this afternoon.”
“Really? Are you some sort of fashion model or something?”
“Or something,” I replied.
Truth be told, I was a model...but not in the runway style, more of the line for clothes and up-close facial shots. I went to an audition and was picked up by Premerton Studios of Spokane, Washington. It was never about a bunch of rail thin models wearing dresses no one "normal" would wear. No, that's where I came in. The picture you see in magazines for the new “back to school” or “Prom Season” photos? Me.
“You know, I’d thought you were a runway model, actually.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, Jazeta, I uhh.”
“Alex Foxx to the front lot please, second call. Alex Foxx—" the disembodied voice on the intercom boomed.
He fidgeted for a minute…as if debating in his head if it would be okay to just blow off work and stay next to the girl he clotheslined. “Work calls. We can run into each other again, sometime, right?”
“Let’s make it figuratively, okay?”
“Of course,” he replied as he ran around the end of the aisle, presumably out the front door, and I stood there, kind of grinning like an idiot.

I barely listened to Kim on the way to the studio. Yes, I was interested in her life, but not too interested in listening to what she thought would be the perfect future: wedding, children, not to mention she thought about what the color of the carpet in their house would be. It was like receiving a verbal “MASH” note.
“You seem to have it all planned out.” I replied after she described the flower decorations for the centerpieces.
“I do.”
“You deliberately said that, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Yes, I did.”
“Taking this a bit extreme, you think?” I asked. When I was younger, I dreamed of princes and being saved from a life of isolation. Growing up, I learned to kind of love the isolation and looked forward to it after school and sports events. My younger self would have stuck her tongue out at me and called me "a mom".
“A little, maybe, but I think it’s something that will last.”
It had lasted for a day thus far. I didn’t want to be the rain on her wedding day, but- “Okay, so when did he break up with Danielle?”
“At the end of school, I think.”
“And he’s solely with you?”
“We didn’t exactly do a blood oath or anything."
"Actually--"

Tom, as I said before, was like a tomcat. He was always on the move (didn’t want to say “prowl”, but there I did anyway) for someone new. His ability to meet a perspective ‘date’ was actually amazing, to tell the truth. He was not entirely handsome, in my opinion; he had a one track mind about things, mainly sex, but he was not shallow enough to deny any of that. So, either girls loved the honesty of his actions; intrigued by his “bad boy on the lam” persona or they thought they could tame the randy beast before them and he would be purring in their laps. I wasn’t about to ask Kim which one she was because she would probably vote for D, all of the above.
We arrived at the studio and went in. Premerton Studios was an adequately sized building on the north side of Spokane, nestled between tall pine trees. It had a non-descript look to it…I suppose it could be described as “ho-hum” on the outside. Inside, however, the building was Hollywood-ish with multiple pictures and works of art in the front lobby.
“Hello, Megan,” I chirped to the receptionist and wife of the photographer, David Locke.
“Hey Jazz, oh, what is that on your head?”
“I was hoping it wasn’t noticeable.”
“Hope springs eternal,” Megan replied as she picked up the desk phone. “Dave, Jazz is here.”

Kim walked to the side of the room and looked at one of the photos on the wall, which was of me, taken over a year ago. It was a face shot with the colors muted. David wanted to use it to test new filters.
Dave walked in from down the hall. He was a "hipster"--if one was called that in the 1990s--with a goatee, long hair in a braid and he always had a monstrous camera around his neck. He waved for me to come with him and we walked down the hall.
“Ah, Jazeta has made her appearance. Are you growing another head? Where did you get that?”
“A guy I ran into.”
“Living dangerously, are we?”
“I thought you wanted to get more action shots?”
"Wardrobe’s ready when you are."
“What is this shoot for, Dave?”
“Nordstrom. They're trying to gear up for the spring line; proms, graduation, new designs. It gets earlier every year."
I nodded and stepped into an adjoining room.
"You have thirty minutes."

Dave kept a tight schedule...but he knew who he was working with: teenagers who had other ideas at times. I tried my best to be a blank slate during shots, allowing the two of us to work together. He was the artist. If you think that I was a prop, well, I didn't think myself that way. Actually, I don't really have a great analogy to compare it to. I just know I enjoyed it, it brought me a bit of money and I never had to ask anyone if they wanted fries with their ‘Papa Joe’.
The shoot took less than forty-five minutes as Dave concentrated on two different styles. His thought were always on not ticking off the model and not sweating "the perfect shot".
"Every shot is perfect...but only one can be absolutely perfect...unless the client pays for two...or more."
I walked into the lobby to find Kim asleep in one of the chairs.
"Kim, wake up."
"How long was I out?"
"Maybe an hour? I'm not sure."
"Gotta crick in my neck." She gripped at her neck and yawned.
I helped her stand up and heard a few small 'cracks' as she stretched her legs.
"Damn, am I old?"
"Only if you feel that way," I replied.

We stepped out into parking lot to see another car next to mine, one that I knew too well: Kris Gersmehl's.
“Kris, what are you doing here?"
“I thought we could talk, you know, like we used to.”
“Fine, " I gave an annoyed sigh. "Let's talk."
“Umm, I'll wait inside,” Kim stepped back.
"No, go ahead and get in the car. This won't take long."
I handed over my keys and she side-stepped away from Kris to the passenger side of my car.
“Why are you really here?” I asked Kris as he took a few steps back in a defensive pose.
“I'm sorry about the party. I guess that's another thing you can hate me for.”
“I can hate you for a lot more than that, but I’m not going to.”
“Is there a chance for us to get back together again?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“If you have to ask me then you have more issues than I thought you could possibly have.”
“I just want to talk about—“
I walked over to my car.
“We're not having this conversation again.”
Kim unlocked the door and I climbed in behind the wheel.
“No, not again, because we never had it to begin with. You yelled at me and then said you never wanted to see me again.”
“And you know what? That still stands!"
“This wasn’t the reception I was trying to get, Jazz.”
“I don’t care Kris. I can move on. Okay? You of all people taught me that. No big deal, remember?” I yelled as I turned the key and cranked the engine.
Kris looked up and over the car, as if staring off into the distance. He would do this when he was angry, obsessed or depressed. I didn't feel like figuring out which one it was at that time.
“I’ve found someone else, Kris. He’s older, dependable and cares about me. He’s polite and I love him very much. So, I hope your senior year goes well without your supposed cheerleader trophy girlfriend.”

I closed the door and backed out of the parking lot, leaving Kris standing next to the now empty space.
"Boyfriend?" Kim asked. "You mean Alex? Oh my God, are you crazy?”
“Un poco.”
“You know nothing about him.”
“You work with him, so tell me about him.”
“I don’t know him. I see him at work and I see him work and work-that’s all he does. He doesn’t talk to people unless customers ask him a question.”
“Sounds like an ideal employee...possibly good boyfriend material. I happen to know he has a sense of humor too.”
“I guess anything's better than Kris Gersmehl.”
“Let’s not lower the bar that much.”

We drove back to the store.
I was on a mission--perhaps one that was foolhardy and incredibly stupid, but a mission nonetheless. I normally didn't go out and do anything like this because I was the one who kept Kim from doing things like this.
“Where would he be?”
“I don't know, I-Jazeta, think of it though, he's older, he doesn’t go to our school. You’ll never get to see him, he-”
We walked down several aisles before we found him; kneeling in front of a flat cart stacked with canned goods.

I motioned Kim to wait as I quietly walked down the aisle.
“Excuse me, where can I find pickled pig’s feet?”
"Yes ma'am, they're--" He turned to see me.
“Hi, Alex.” I said as I knelt down next to him. “Are you busy tomorrow?”
“No, actually, I, well, no, no I’m quite free until Monday afternoon.”
“Great. Do you have a pen?”
Alex reached into his apron; pulled out a pen and a notepad' and then handed them to me.
I quickly wrote down my phone number.
“Give me a call when you get off.”
“It’s not till after midnight.”
“And I'll be up.” I replied.
“I will, thanks. Did you still want the pig’s feet?”
“No. Thank you for asking though. I was just trying to get your attention.”
“Oh, well. I- thought I’d ask. That’s not yet the strangest request for an item I’ve ever gotten.”
“What was the strangest?”
“Rocky mountain oysters.”
“Oysters live in the mountains?”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought at first too.”

The young girl, at last, had broken through the demonic shell that held the young man’s heart. With that, she composed a song for him to always remember her by. She wrote it on the finest parchment she could find, dazzling it with multi-colored inks and unicorns that one only does when they feel they are in love:
And now I see,
What must come to be,
O’ the thoughts I have of you and me.
I long to see your face and without you here it’s a lonely place.
And what I want to say
Will go for my days.
And I want it to be for all time,
I want you to be mine,
Forever in love with you is all that I want to be.

She delivered the decree of love to the young man and he took her into his arms and held her tight.
He made promises to never let her go.
Promises to never allow another man or woman to hurt her,
Promises to hold all his love for her.

They accompanied each other to a dance and held onto their embrace, even though neither one knew how to dance and the taunting that surrounded them. The young girl felt safe and secure as she felt the valiant defender would protect her from harm, even if it meant his own isolation.

Forever, Forever,
Until the end of time and my final rhyme.
Walking along the shore,
With you, life is like a dream, forevermore.
And what I want to say
Will goes for my days.
And I want it to be for all time,
I want you to be mine,
Forever in love with you is all that I want to be.

But love is not a song, it's not a sonnet. The young man was not one of the classic tomes. The girl was not a princess; but both would be in distress, one that would tear them apart worse than anything the Bard could ever come up with.

amantes sunt amentes

“This is the living room.”
“But no one lives, much less ever goes in it, right?”
“Yeah, I think everyone has that one room in their house.”
“My mom's kind of an artsy deco type of person. She has some infatuation with carousels.”
I had invited Alex over, after spending four hours into the morning talking to him. He stood next to me as we took a slow tour of the house. Truthfully, I was taking a huge risk having him there without my parents being around (as they had gone into Spokane...something about replacing the TV). I took a further risk by taking him upstairs to my room.
It was immaculately clean--a requirement by my parents.
“Now you’ve seen it. I thought I’d get it out of the way.”
“You would never want to see my room; looks like the coliseum after a Pearl Jam concert. I see you’re multi-talented: a cheerleader too?
My uniform laid folded up on my dresser…he was a bit too observant, maybe.
“Second year coming up.”
“Is your team into dance routines?”
“We’re into them, we just don’t do them well.” And by that, I meant myself.
“I was good at dance routines-but, the girls thought I would upstage them.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, you mean I didn’t tell you that I created several dance steps for our team?”
“I guess that fact must have slipped my mind. Head trauma makes one forgetful,” I responded as I turned my CD player on.
“Oh, you’re going to put me to the test? With Move This? That's old hat.”
“I want to see if you’re more coordinated than you were yesterday.”
“You’re brutal.”
"Know your counts?"
"Yep."
"Let's see it, dancing man."
I ran through a simple eight count dance and he copied it with little effort. I then stepped it up a bit and added a flourish...and he copied it.
"So why aren't you taking a dance scholarship?"
"Electrical engineering pays more and I'd rather eat more than ramen."
"You seem to enjoy it."
"Well, I have a great partner. Do you have anything slower?"
"Can you actually dance?"
"Waltz, Tango, Foxtrot...the Virginia Reel?"
"That's a square dance."
"Ahh, so you know how to do it too?"
"No," I lied as the track stopped. I switched the CD player off and looked back to him. It was not a good idea to have him in my room...not because of what he might do, but because of what I might ask him to do. I had to find a reason to get us out of my room that did not seem like a desperate move.
"Jazeta," maybe we should go back downstairs, I-"
"Okay, umm--"
"I mean, I think I hear someone knocking on the door."
I walked out of my room, turned the corner and looked downstairs to the front door. Kim looked in from the glass, up at me and waved. Tom was behind her.
"Not a good day for this," I thought to myself as I walked down the steps and opened the door.
“Hey, Jazz. Can we hang here for a little while?”
“Umm, sure. Come in.”
"Cool," Tom replied as he walked behind Kim.
Next, came the Q&A session:
"Is that Alex’s car outside?"
“Yes,” I replied while tying to keep eye contact with her to state that nothing was going on.
“He’s here?”
“Yes.” It was almost like when my parents had me go through a debriefing,
“Where?”
"Upstairs."
“Your room?” Kim asked with her pupils so dilatated she looked like she had Muppet eyes.
“It’s not what you think.”
"I'm sure it's not." She replied with a smirk.
"Can I talk to you outside, please?" I asked.
“Sure”
Tom, not needing an invitation, sat down on the couch in the library. "You two go talk. Whatever you need to. I'll hang here."
I avoided looking at him as we walked to the front door.
"I'll be right back, babe," Kim called out to Tom.
Alex stood at the top of the stairs.
"One second," I said.
He nodded to me as I closed the front door.
"So, what happened?"
"Well, truth be told, Tom’s mom caught us in the attic."
“Caught?”
“Yep, the whole kit-n-condom. Wasn’t the best scene.”
“Ouch.”
“Yes, I made quite the first impression on her. So, we drove over here. Sorry, I know Tom's not your favorite person in the world.”
"As long as he doesn't..."
"He won't start anything with Alex."
I opened the front door to see Tom talking with Alex.
"Tom Petty, how you doing, man?"
"Alex Foxx."
“You don't go to Davenport, do you?”
“No, I graduated from Ferris last year.”
"College?"
"I wish...I'm working to try and pay for it right now."
"Where you work?"
"Same place as Kim."
"The grocery store in Airway Heights?"
"Yep."
"I could hook you up with a better job, if you want."
I couldn't see Alex working construction, as I doubt he had the patience to do the work...but, he did say that he dealt with an old lady who demanded a flavor of yogurt with a specific expiration date on it.
"Thanks for the offer. It's good to keep one's prospects open."
"Cool."
The front door opened and the four of us looked to see my parents. I was so engrossed on seeing someone talk to Tom without referencing a Metallica lyric or an "In Living Color" sketch I didn't hear the car pull up the driveway.
"Jazz?" My dad asked as he looked towards Tom and Kim.
They quietly moved to the front door, walked around my parents and stepped out.
Alex stood in the living room with his hands behind his back.
"Mr. Daniels-"
"One moment." My dad was a stickler for rules and besides the rule that his daughter was to not be away from home at places with booze and boys--the next rule, of course, was that boys were not supposed to at the house while he was not at home.
"I invited him over."
"Yes, I assumed that," he then turned to Alex. "Come with me."
"Yes, sir,"
The two walked outside.
I walked to the door and tried to watch but mom called from the kitchen.
"Jazeta, could you come here, please?"
I walked down the hall expecting the second greatest tongue lashing I would ever receive.
"I invited him over, school starts tomorrow and I--"
"That's no excuse. Why didn't you call?"
"Oh yes, 'hey, mom, dad, can I have this boy I just met yesterday come over while you're not here?'"
"That's true, I think I'd still say no. Especially after the 'I just met yesterday’ part."
"Well, Kim knows him."
"And that's supposed to make me feel better how?"
The front door opened again with my dad and Alex holding onto a large box--I assumed the TV they had gone out for. So, dad didn’t murder him or break his fingers. I was surprised.
The three of us sat together at dinner. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wasn't Rapunzel, but my parents had me on a short leash. I wasn't given a cell phone for my own personal use, it was for them to keep an eye—an ear--on me when I was away from home.
“So, Jazeta, this boyfriend of yours, Alex, what's he like?"
“He's no one really, Dad.”
“If he's 'no one really' then why is he your boyfriend?”
“He's not my boyfriend. He just happens to be a boy who's a friend, who shares similar likes and such...that sort of thing, a boy, friend.”
“Sounds like one to me.” Mom interjected.
And then came the tag team interrogation:
"Where did you meet him?"
“Any scars or tats?”
“How old is he?”
I leaned back, took a breath and responded to the inquisition. “He works at Yokes, I met him there. Not that I know of--but I doubt there are any. Nineteen.”
“Don’t you think he’s a little old for you? Because I do.”
“He’s eighteen and I’m sixteen--two years or maybe one and some odd months. I don't know his birthday yet. I know there are almost four years between the two of you.”
"Jazeta, this is not about me or your father."
"I know. It's about me. It's always about me.”
My mom looked across the table to my dad, reached into her pocket and pulled a small plastic bag out. Shen then reached in and, using as few fingers as she could, pulled out a small metallic wrapper.
"Please explain this."
“Okay, that’s not mine, I mean, it’s not Alex’s either.” I probably shouldn’t have said that.
“Then where did it come from?”
“Kim and Tom were here. It’s probably theirs.” I probably shouldn’t have said that either.
“They were having sex in this house?”
“What? No. No, the two of you arrived less than five minutes after they got here.” I could feel their eyes burning into my inner being, trying to get at the truth. “Can I at least get an attorney?”
“Only in a court of law, not in a parental inquisition.”
“It’s been like, three years and four months. You can’t keep me in a plastic bubble.”
“You’re right, you’d suffocate.”
“I’m suffocating now. I know the mistakes I made were-”
“-Yes, Kris Gersmehl was a mistake.”
“I’m not arguing that at all, Mom.”
“But this Alex guy is different?” My dad asked.
“Well, he didn’t bolt out the door when you came home. Did he?”
“That does place him slightly higher than cockroaches.” he replied. “And we did have a little, chat. He says he’s going to school for electrical engineering and he acknowledged that I could kill him at any time and no one would ever find his body.”
“Like I said, he’s not Kris.”

My parents hated Kris Gershmehl the day I came home school in tears from the relentless and derogatory name-calling. I mentioned Tom’s name as well but they were transfixed on Kris and did everything in their power to tell the school what they thought of him, what they would do to him if he ever talked to me again, and what what they would say about public school in general. Kris backed off and so did Tom, for a while at least.
Kris talked to me a few months later, with a serene sense of loss and sadness. Sure, I believed it. I was in the eighth grade, I wanted nothing more than to have someone else talk to me, even if it felt guarded on both ours sides: I was afraid he was leading me on and I think he was afraid of my father’s gun’s collection. I talked with Kris during school and Kim suggested that I spend more time with him so she deliberately found ways to make sure we met up together like at a basketball game. In a couple of weeks time, we actually were a couple.
I didn’t really know what to do, as someone who never had any experience with boys I did only what I knew I could do: I held his hand and tried to talk with him about things. We didn’t have a lot in common and I think that’s what attracted us to each other; maybe that or confusion about life. If not that , then just hormones.

“Why did you invite him over?’
“I didn’t think it was a good idea to go to his house in Spokane.”
“Good thinking,” Dad said. “Keep going.”
“Well, I thought it would be a great way to break the ice and to have him come over here. We stayed in the living room the entire time.”
Dad raised an eyebrow. I may have tired to sound too innocent.
“Okay, we tried some dance moves in my room. Techno dance. House stuff.”
“He was in your room?” Mom asked. “You mean you’ve cleaned it recently?”
“Funny, mom,” I replied.
“What’s not funny is that you brought a boy to the house while we were out.”
“He is eighteen.”
“You’re not helping your case,” Dad said as he went back to eating.
“Okay, I think I’ve said I’m sorry a few hundred times today about everything. But nothing happened. We were all talking about stuff when you got home, like school starting tomorrow. Not like we were throwing a party.”
“Yet,” Dad replied.
“I would never do that.”
“But you would go to a few?” He asked as he looked at me.

Yes, as I said, I had gone to a party or two or three…four…maybe five , not sure but there was only one time that I came home in the back seat of my parent’s car without remembering how I got there earlier. I didn’t throw Kris under the bus but my parents were sure that he was the reason I was there, at a freshman at a party with a lot of juniors and seniors.
And they were right.

The crisis had occurred.
The young girl sat alone and pondered everything.
Had he played with her heart? Kicked it down the way and left it broken?
Had she placed him onto a pedestal left only for God, and forsaken any divine tribute?
He had not spoken to her for a few days…always finding a reason not to talk, always in the company of the vicious lion, the one she thought he had broken away from, to find his own pride. While the young man did not say anything mean, the constant ignoring was cruel in of itself.
She almost gave up all hope but the young man finally stepped up and spoke to her: He apologized for hurting her.
He chastised others for being mean to her
He told her there would always be a part of her in his heart.
The young girl was at peace hearing this. Perhaps she did have a valiant warrior in British Knights who would always protect her. She decided to give her undying love to the young man, as he promised to her. They would meet in secret, away from the civilization of their families and in the view of nature, they joined together. In their hearts, they were married, so why not in mind and body?

Amor animi arbitrio sumitur, non ponitur

I awoke before my alarm clock went off, not something I normally did so the day was already off to a peculiar start. It was the first day of my junior year and I felt terrified and alone…even though I was still at home. I didn’t need constant companionship and I didn’t need a soundboard to survive but this was the first year that Kim would not be with me when the doors were opened.
I’ll state again that Kim was the only person to even give me the time of day on my first day at Reardan Junior High School. I could hear the commentary from others: “whoa, someone needs to lay off the Twinkies” although I had never eaten a Twinkie. Kim came to help this poor, chubby, sad, and new girl when no one else would. She also stated that she would kick anyone’s butt for me if I wanted her to. Kim was taller than the other girls at the time and even though she never had the right words to say to them when they attacked her, verbally; but she was more than capable of knocking them down a few pegs, physically.
She never saw what Tom and Kris did to me…and I never told her the extent of their harassment. I wasn’t going to use my friend as a “get out of jail free” card; so, I would eventually have to suck it up, transfer out to another school, or curl up into the fetal position and let them continue to beat on me while sending my mind to some other “happy place.”
Our friendship would be considered unique at most other schools; but Reardan was a small town and with that, the school was small as well. There were only 38 members to my class and around the same number in the other grades, give or take, and for some reason, everyone crossed the “clique” boundaries. We did not have, specifically, the “athletes” or the “geeks,” “stoners” or “airheads”. I’ll take the time right now to say that at that time there would be four out of six cheerleaders on the honor roll; an eventual valedictorian who could roll a joint blindfolded (please don’t ask how I know) and a math major who knew how to play electric guitar a la Guns’ N’ Roses’ Slash. Our school was unique like that.
Unique as it was, it still had its issues: for all of the casual students, there were differences between ones who were ‘just there’; the ones who were ‘not aware’ and the ones who ‘didn’t' really give a care’. The latter was the one to observe you as you walked into the school and would make mental notes about your hair, makeup (or lack thereof) and what you're wearing...even though most of us all wore jeans to school--there would always be something.
That was my relationship with the before mentioned Michelle Bremerton. She was a senior that year...which meant I only had to deal with her for one more year and I wouldn't mind doing several reverse summersaults in a row to show my relief of that.
Michelle was someone who never liked me to begin with. I'm not sure what nerve I touched upon when I was a freshman, but she made sure that I knew she had a disdain for me. I asked her one time why she hated me so much and she never responded. It was like some buried anger or something. I couldn’t have reminded her of herself. She was quite thin--and I mean that in a good way--and the guys simply flocked to her. One person even wrote several poems about her. I don’t think she ever saw them as she called him out over his hair being unruly and the pages were left all over the hallway floor.
She had a way to adapt to her boyfriend. If he wore leather, she did. If he wore a cowboy hat, boot cut jeans and some high fashion boots, she did too, Michelle and whoever she was with would become like one person, joined at the hip and the spit cup.
So, we had a kind of snarky back and forth with each other. I never talked ill about her (yes, I know...you're reading this, so...) but that didn’t stop Kim from saying a few things about her. Fortunately for both of us, the news was never linked back to her.
The drive into Reardan was uneventful. I took it a little slow, knowing the Lincoln Country Sheriff Department and the Reardan Police would be patrolling the main highway into town. The scenery was always the same: Farms, farm houses, barns and a stray cow or combine on the road. Sameness is good though, as the highway was never closed due to overpass construction or a new turn lane.
"And she has graced us with her presence."
"As you have my mine, Oh Andrea the Great." Andrea and Jennifer met me in front of the high school. The three of us were the 'younger' girls on the squad. Three seniors and three juniors and we all got along because we allowed the seniors to think they were in charge. We learned during the past summers at cheer camp that it was best to allow the older members of the squad to believe they knew the answers but to covertly run the show from the bottom of the pyramid.
We walked into the school together and tried to not show any attitude except cheer, joy and a “glad to see you” kind of smile. We all waved and said hello to just about everyone we could see, and we meant it. I was happy to see people--I may not have known them (as a few appeared to be freshmen) but I told them I was glad to see them anyway. The three of us were wearing matching maroon and grey headbands, the colors of our school.
We broke rank and went to find our lockers. Mine was located near the end of the hall, second to the last one. I slammed my backpack into the locker, taking only a binder, notebook and a pen to my first period class, which was Spanish II. A class where Tom and Kris were not a part of, as both would need to take remedial Spanish to read the menu at Taco Bell.
Spanish was never a strong point for me. I could read it, but had issues putting it all together. At one time we were to write "I'm hungry" in Español and I wrote 'tengo hombre'. At least the teacher got a kick out of it. I would have preferred French or maybe German, but those languages were not available. No, the only choices were Spanish, Sarcasm, and Innuendo.
Mrs. Daiglar, our Spanish teacher, greeted me at the door with a grande: “¡Buenos días, bienvenidos, Ámbar!”
In Spanish One, we were all given “new” names for the class. Either a Spanish pronunciation of our name or a new one if one did not exist. She took one look at my name, muttered “where do parents find these names for their kids, in a Scrabble game?” and then asked for my middle. So, for the remainder of the class, I went by Ámbar.
“Bueno Dias, Senora,” I replied.
“Find your seat, your name will be on the desk.”
I walked into the classroom as she greeted another student with the same gusto.
My desk was in the far corner, not exactly the best place to be as Mrs. Daiglar would seldom walk over to that side of the room, so if you had a cold or a hearing problem…it was best to learn to read lips—or else fall behind.
I knew pretty much everyone in the class, as I said, our school was small, and it consisted of sophomores, juniors and seniors who were hoping to possibly survive another year of learning a foreign language of trying to convey themselves in a professional manner. That, and learn Spanish.
The class had just about filled up and I had readied my notebook for the language drill that Mrs. Daiglar would unleash on the class when Kris walked into the room.
“No, no, no,” I thought to myself. “Please just say you walked into the wrong class or that you're doing this to gain some type of prank award.”
“Senior Gersmehl, please take a seat.”
Kris sat on the opposite side of the room, in a desk mirroring my own position. Why was he even in the class? He hated Spanish and couldn't pronounce “quesadilla” if his life depended on it. Let's not even get started on saying a phrase like “I look at my face in the mirror”. So, either Mrs. Daiglar was in on the joke or my year of Spanish Two was going to a big old load of caca.
I had to put up with Kris last year in English. We weren’t going out at that time…no that happened earlier in life…back in the dark ages: ninth grade. I could tolerate him for little bits at a time as he would make running commentary on whatever we were reading. He commented that Sancho Panza was always sitting on his ass while Don Quixote did all the work. He then used the lyrics to Chuck Berry’s “My Ding-a-Ling” on our poetry study.
In Spanish One he stepped into a hot fryer when we made fried tortillas and when people asked him what happened he would comment with “nacho problem”. We were usually paired together in assignments and dialogues…which was something I could not stand. While I could tolerate him being in the same state I was in there was no way on God’s green earth that he was going to ruin my GPA.
Second period was no better than the first as Kris was in my Algebra Two class. If I had to guess, I could have sworn he deliberately tried to match up his classes with mine…but that wasn’t possible…no, there were only two possible classes he could have been (first or second) and since he was in Spanish Two…Sic vita est. Fortunately for me, he was in the back of the class and I was in the front. I didn’t have to look at any part of him and that was a welcoming thought.
“Kris is in both of your classes?” Kim asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, Tom’s not in any of mine. We went over our schedules this morning. Kind of sucks.”
“There's always lunch,” I replied.
“Or I could change classes. What exactly do they do in metal shop?”
We sat in the recessed area in the middle of the hallway known as “the pit”. It was the morning break, a ten-minute gap between second and third period. A highly-prized time for the students who smoked. Tom, being one of them, to get in that nicotine fix.
“I mean, I guess we don’t have to spend every waking moment with each other.”
“Sounds like you’re still in the honeymoon phase.”
“What would you say if I told you we we're really thinking about getting married one day?”
“I'd say you're crazy,” I replied as I looked down the hall--Any moment Tom would walk up with Kris, maybe, and a few others; all with the stench of acrid smoke floating around their clothes.
“Doesn’t everyone think about getting married? Don’t you ever dream about it?”
“I call them nightmares, but, please, go on.”
“Tom is a dream. I feel safe and loved by him. The man is my knight in shining armor.”
Shining wasn’t exactly the metaphor I was thinking about.
“Does your dad want to kill us now?”
“No, he just wants to put me on a tighter leash,” I said with a slight sigh.
“So, you have to sneak around to see Alex?”
“No, they’re okay with him. He’s passed that test but I’m sure there will be a midterm he’ll have to study up for.”
No amount of cram studying would ever be sufficient for my parents and I refused to say anything to them further about us.
“We can see him tonight, when I go to work.”
“Tom’s not taking you?”
“I thought you were.”
“I can, no problem,” it really wasn't...it was a better excuse to go and see him than to just go up and see him.
“Let me know if it ever becomes one.”
It was never an issue to take Kim to work during the week. During the summer Jamie would usually bring Kim by my house and I’d drive the rest of the way. Later, Jamie would pick her up from work. So, during the school year, we were to reverse it. It was okay with me and since I got to go see Alex, even better.
Tom walked down the hallway and stopped in front of us.
“Hey, Babe. Jazz.”
“Hey, baby,” Kim cooed as she jumped up and leapt to the other side of the pit.
I could smell cigarette smoke on him and he was still over seven feet away from me.
Tom grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up and over. He had the upper body strength to be in cheerleading but I wouldn’t have wanted to work with him-even if he could lift two fliers at once.
“Shall I escort you to class, m’dear?”
“You shall,” she looked back to me. “See you later, Jazz.”
I waved to her and watched them walk away.
I didn’t like it.
Or I should say I didn’t like Tom. The thought of having to see someone every little hour of the day, thinking about them…having them lift you in the air and think: I’m flying…as I stare into the eyes of someone who cares about me. Not that it mattered. Having an in-school boyfriend was over-rated.
I knew of it. I had one, and we walked all over Lincoln and Spokane county in search of ourselves and other things teenagers only think about when holding hands of someone they’re hot for.
The third period bell chimed and I slowly rose from the pit only to see Kris walk by with Michelle Bremerton and slowly nod his head to me. I wanted to ignore it because I knew what it meant. It was what he would do whenever we had a long conversation; an as you wish gesture he always gave to me when he didn't want to argue and ceded the victory to me. It wasn't really his gesture but more of his eyes, which I would always stare at.
Again, another reason I avoided talking to him as I would have to look at his face and then I'd see his brown eyes.
No, they did peer into my soul but I would be a liar if I said they had no effect on me at that moment. He was looking at me even with Michelle Bremerton at his side. They weren't holding hands and they had the obligatory two feet distance between them.
What. The. Hell. Was I doing?
I turned away from Kris and walked in the opposite direction. I refused to look and see if he was looking back at me. As much as I would have wanted to talk to him again, that ship had sailed and even though I could get into a speedboat and commandeer the vessel pirate style, I knew what would happen if I did.
"You look like you got something on your mind," Andrea asked as we sat next to each other in English. Mrs. Balum, the English teacher had stepped out of the room and requested that we try to keep the noise to a "gentle, low, roar". We attempted to oblige her for the first day.
"Not really," I replied.
"You are, like, aware that Sarah has you lined up, um, to be a flyer this year for the up-rights formation, eh?"
"When was this decided?" I asked, taken aback as Andrea was in line for that position.
"It hasn't been, um, officially."
"I thought you wanted it."
"I do, but-" Andrea was someone who would give you the shirt off her back (providing she had a camisole or a shell underneath). She got physically sick if she felt she was impeding on someone.
"I'm fine with you doing it. I don't want to break my shins in a fall."
She nodded as Mrs. Balum opened the door.
"Thank you, class, I could just barely hear you from down the hall."
English class was going to be great, as Kris was not in it, at least he wasn’t for the first five minutes, right until he walked in the door behind Mrs. Balum.
“Are freaking kidding me?” I mouthed to no one, but Andrea saw my expression and didn’t know whether to laugh or console me.
“That’s three classes with him!” I just about yelled as I stood in the restroom next to the mirror.
“Kris?” Kim asked from behind one of the stall doors.
“Who else? I wonder if he’ll ask Mrs. Humphrey if he can join the squad.”
“I thought he was playing football?”
“Nope.”
She opened the door and stepped out.
“Missing your ‘cheer’ today?”
“You’re the second person to say that to me. I think my cheer meter has hit zero.”
“Sorry.”
“No, no it’s fine,” I replied. “No, no its not. I wish Alex went here.”
“So he could hang with you?”
“Well, not really. I don’t need anyone by my side to me make feel important.”
“No, I totally get it, Jazz, I do. Plus, the first day kind of bites.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
“Okay, you opened that door. Did you know that the coach expected me to run five laps up the stairs and around the gym? I mean like, holy hell, do I look like I ran cross-country all damn summer? I was ready to barf up a lung.”
“And right at lunch too. There goes my appetite with that great mental image.”
“Hey, if I could bottle that and sell it as a diet; I’d be freaking rich.”
I nodded in agreement.
We walked out of the bathroom and down the hall. I hung my head on Kim’s arm.
“I don’t want a relationship. They’re too hard.”
“It’s your choice.”
“But we have a lot that we talk about.”
“We do too. Oh, can I be your girlfriend?”
“I thought you already were?” I asked as I lifted my head up with a slight smile. I had survived the five-minute daily doldrums.
“Of course,” Kim replied. “No one picks on my girl.”
Kim opened the front door and we left the building for lunch.
“I mean, Alex and I talk.”
“And talk, and talk, and talk, I gather.”
“It’s only been a few days, not like I’m planning a wedding.”
“Didn’t we have this conversation a few days ago?” Kim asked as I took a few steps ahead of her.
“Well, I have been thinking, I mean, he’s going to school for engineering. He was a cheerleader at his school and he’s got a job.”
“Perfect candidate.”
“Yeah, but.”
“No,” Kim wagged a finger and shook her head. “We are not going to do that.”
“What?”
“Second and third guess what we’re going. It’s been how many years since you and Kris, three?”
“One thousand, one hundred and seventy-three days.”
“I can’t believe you have that down to the day.”
“Give me some paper and I can give it to you in seconds,” I replied with gusto.
“I’m sure you can.”
We walked a few moments in silence until Kim stopped.
“We’re kind of thinking about it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, we talked about it big time on the way back from your house. After Tom calmed down about your dad’s gun collection.”
“Did he show it to him?” I asked, knowing that my father seldom ever mentioned his guns unless he was trying to sub-consciously driving home the point of ‘I will kill you’ to specific people. If I had known, I would’ve asked him to follow through with Tom.
“No, but he hinted at it.”
“Jamie will too.”
“Oh yeah, Jamie will bring out the shotgun.”
“A real shotgun wedding, Reardan style?” I asked.
“Hey who knows, we could do a double-barrel with both of our families.”
“No, I plan on staying on the free to be me path for a little while longer or until I feel that I need to have someone near me all the time. Which will probably happen by Band practice.”
“Next period?”
“Yep.”
“Maybe Kris will be in Band too?”
“Kyrie, eleison!”

“Maybe he can play guitar?”
“Yes, and then we’ll make him a mascot with the headdress.”
“Sexy,” Kim replied with a slight wink. I wanted to show a disgusted face but I couldn’t do it, for as much as Kris ticked me off, for as much as there were days he should have had something else fall into fryer in Spanish class, I didn’t really hate him in the way I should have-in the way that every magazine and Sweet Valley High Book said I should have. God, I hated those Wakefield twins and that in their lives, everything turned out great by the end of page one-hundred and forty-nine.

We walked to the Reardan Store, a small grocery store that made a lot of money from the sales of candy, cokes and pizza pockets, and picked up nothing but a bottle of diet cola and an apple. I had the soda and Kim repeatedly threw the apple into the air, at higher and higher intervals.
“Do you want me to tell anything to Alex when I see him afternoon?”
“Not really, I mean he knows what I’m thinking about.”
Kim threw the apple higher into the air and looked up to try and see it.
“I mean, I don’t want to look like I’m like crazy for him.”
“You already are,” she said as she caught the apple with one hand and bounced it with her other until she had a handle on the rhythm.
“Should’ve gotten you two.”
“I know, right? I see juggling as my ‘Junior Miss’ talent.”

The Junior Miss talent search was Reardan’s ‘royalty’ in the annual Spokane Lilac Parade in the spring. The winning court also rode on a float in the parades in the other small towns around Lincoln County and beyond. I never really cared to be in the competition even though I was asked by Dave if I would so he could take pictures of the competition.
“You’re going to enter Junior Miss?”
“Yep, even if I’m not a “miss” by the spring. Nothing in the rules says I can’t be married, right?”
“Don’t know,” I replied as she took a bite out of the apple.

Lunch was a little under forty minutes, with very little time to go to the store, or the lunchroom, and then actually come back to work on any schoolwork and even though it was the first day I felt like I was missing an assignment or had forgotten to read something before the afternoon classes. I said goodbye to Kim as Tom found her and whisked her off the floor. I threw on my obligatory cheerleader smile and walked down the hall to the gym. The band room was located on the upper floor, in a hallway that overlooked the gymnasium, one that had runners from a PE class colliding with large pieces of band equipment—the band member usually had the right of way, regardless of the runner’s bad attitude.

I entered the band room to see the familiar faces of fellow cheerleaders Andrea and Jennifer, along with Sarah and Shion. Andrea played the trombone with Jennifer on saxophone; Sarah and Shion on flute. The only one missing from the group was Divina, who decided to not be in the class for that year. Everyone at our school had to multitask. Most of our brass section were on the football team, leaving only six to play in the Pep Band during games. It got worse during basketball as a lot of the woodwinds were either cheerleaders or played on the girls b-ball team.

Mr Cox, the band director introduced himself to the class and immediately delved into what we were playing that year for concert band. A few of the drummers asked what about marching season and he pretended to not hear them. The rest of the time we spend going over the daily playing assignments and introducing the new students to the band program. I felt good about it all as I could once again get in front of a real keyboard instead of the synthesizer I owned at home. Okay, I enjoyed being able to play a multiple of different tones but there’s something in the way the hammer strikes the piano string, the resonance of it all. That, and Kris was not in my class. Two of five classes so far that I didn’t have to acknowledge his existence.

Sixth period was chemistry and I stepped into class with my obligatory smile and said hello to everyone who looked my way, including Michelle Bremerton, who gave me a sneer when our eyes met. Perhaps I should have avoided her, but I thought, for a split-second that maybe people change, I mean, I had, so I could give her the benefit of the doubt, but she didn’t care and just turned her head away from me and said nothing more. I was okay with that.

The only thing that annoyed me was what she doing with Kris anyway? How long? What further annoyed me was why I was even thinking about it anyway! I wasn’t jealous. I was not on speaking terms with him and his attempts to talk to me in every class were on the borderline of annoying me. I had to wonder if Michelle was going to be a bitch to me due to our past…but no, she was always that way to me anyway. I kind of wanted to load a pom-pom up with a brick and swing it at her.
But, what would that make me?

The King was furious.
The Queen was mad but stood in front of her daughter as her husband raged across the castle grounds.
The young prince had been banished from the domain, ordered to never return or communicate to the young princess. She made it her life’s mission to talk with the you first prince whenever she was away form court.
However, on one of their clandestine meetings, the king met up with the king and held a sword of shame upon the prince’s head and was forced to surrender to the king and lead him to his home under an escort of knights. The father scorned his young prince and laid the young man’s future in the hands of the neighboring kingdom.
The young girl wanted to come to his rescue and rebuke her father; that he was wrong to punish the young prince for something that was her decision as well. The king acknowledged this cursed his young daughter with a mark on her hand and ear; so that she could hear him from any distance, from dark cave, to bright field, she would never be without the words of her father’s wisdom.
Whether she wanted it or not.

non semper erit aestas  

Seventh period was American History and it was held in a small room off the side of the computer lab. Mr Acuff taught the class and he was never a teacher who decorated the classroom with anything except for an old map of the Untied States of America on the left side wall. That was it. No test reminders, or some good-natured words of wisdom. Nope, just a political map by its lonesome on a painted grey wall. Everyone took their own seats and I sat down near the back only because I could and readied my notebook to take down notes as I had heard that Mr. Acuff liked to start on day one with either a lecture, a pop-quiz or some kind of reading assignment.
The bell chimed and, as I had been lost in thought about how my day had been so far, I didn’t see Kris sitting next to me until the bell rang.
He didn’t look at me but the fact that he could have chosen the empty desk in the front row made me scowl a little. I almost wanted to tap him on the shoulder and ask how many classes he failed last year but I knew he would either answer me with a smirk or a sarcastic comment that would make me look bad. I decided to not say a anything.
I only wished he would have done the same.

“You’l love Mr. Acuff’s class,” he said as we walked out the door at the end of the period.
“I’m sure I will.”
“Really, he does have a lot stuff up there,” Kris said as he pointed at his head. “There are some days where he repeats himself. Kind of like my grandpa.”
I nodded in reply. Kris’ grandfather suffered from Alzheimer’s and every few minutes he would ask you who you were and then tell you all of these stories, only to ask you who you were again.
Then, the same stories again, unless you reminded him of something else.

I stopped at my locker and Kris went on down the hall. I continued to watch him out of the corner of my eye as he walked further and further away. Good.
“Hey, Jazz,” Kim shouted from behind me. I was so focused on watching Kris leave that my skin crawled in fear for a split second.
“Kim.”
“Looks like we made it. We survived the first day back at school.”
“No detention?”
“Came a little close during sixth period,” Kim replied as she looked down the hall. “Apparently, Mr, Springer is aware of the hiding places in the shop area.
“What were you doing?”
“We were just walking in that direction and he called our names out. It was like freaky that he knew my full name and who I was. I don’t think I’ve ever said like, maybe, three words to the guy.”
“Going to try again?”
“Probably on Wednesday.” Kim replied with a laugh. “Well, I’m going to my house to get my work stuff.”
“Do yo I have a ride home?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do,” I replied with smile.
“Thanks, Jazz.”
“No problem. Now, get to work.”
“See ya, girl!”
Kim ran down the hall.

As much as I hated Tom, and no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I envied Kim. I didn’t want to drag Alex to Reardan and force him to hang out with me all day, but it would have felt great to talk to him about the day and maybe other things. It was okay, I would see him later that night when I went to get Kim, so everything would be cool.
I grabbed the books I needed for the night, threw them into my backpack and then took my purse from my locker. Three teachers, Mr. Acuff included, decided that the first day was just perfect for several writing assignments. If I made good time getting home I could have it all completed before picking Kim up from work.
I closed the door to my car and went to start the engine.
It clicked and clicked, but nothing happened.
I tried again and the engine roared to life, only to die just as quickly.
“No, no. This card is like less than a year old.” I said out loud as I removed the keys from the ignition and popped the hood open.
Dad and Kris had shown me a few pointers about cars: checking the oil and tires, how to avoid fuel backsplashes, and how to avoid driving like a crazy idiot. I learned that by not doing whatever Kris did behind the wheel.
Everything looked fine under the hood, as far as I could see. Battery cables were attached, nothing looked like it was on fire, smoking or melting away. However, that was as far as my knowledge went.
I feared having to call my dad. Not because he would yell, but because I wouldn’t be able to describe what was wrong without sounding ignorant, which I was. I would be able to feel the vein in his forehead grow as I told him what was happening.
I took a few steps back as I pondered when to call Dad. Without my car, how could I pick up Kim or see Alex later on? Jamie could pick her up if she had to and I could always just call Alex later on.
“Car problem?” A voice behind me asked. A voice I didn’t want to hear. Our school had, maybe, three dozen guys who knew what to with a car and HE had to be the one who showed up.
“Yes,” I replied, as I didn’t turn around.
Kris walked up to the car and looked at the engine. “Won’t start?”
“Starts, but then dies.”
“The bane of car owner and the sound of dollar signs to a mechanic.”
“Right,” I replied.
“I can take you home.”
“I’ll just call my parents.”
“I’ll do you one better: I’ll call them for you and let them know you’re okay and, for your dad, let him know the car will be fine until we can come back and look at it.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would. Actually, it may come better from me.”
“Really,” I asked. “You have some nerve to assume I can’t—”
“You’re right, you will so be able to explain what’s happened to the engine as that vein in your dad’s forehead expands over the phone.”
“Okay,” I replied as I held my hands up in a bit of despair, disdain and disenchantment as Kris closed the hood.
We walked to the parking lot on the east side of the school to Kris’s car.
He held the passenger side door opened for me as I laid my backpack in the back seat.

“Hello, Mom. Small problem with the car.”
“I’ll get your father.”
“No, you don’t have to.”
“Hello?” Dad said just a second later. I bit my lip, I really didn’t want to say anything.
“There’s a problem with the car. It won’t start.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m fine. A friend from school is driving me home.”
“Where is the car?”
“In front of the school,” I replied as Kris only nodded.
“Okay. I’ll go out and look at it. We may need to tow it home.”
“Sorry.”
“No, Nothing you could do about it,” Dad replied, but I could hear the tension in his voice of having to come out to Reardan in the dark. “Let me know when you get home.”
“I will. Love you.”
I hung the phone up and laid my head against the window.
“He took that well,” Kris replied.
“Yeah.”
“Hey, I’m sorry about Saturday. It was a stupid idea to go to the studio, but I was kind of moved to go there to talk to you.”
“Moved?” I asked as Kris accelerated to his normal cruising speed of eighty miles per hour.
“Well, something got to me, and I really wanted to talk to you. More so than the day before.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“I understand,” he replied.
“Thank you for taking me home though.”
“You’re welcome. As I said, I’ll go out and help your dad with the car. Someone needs to hold the flashlight.”
“You know more about cars though.”
“I know that and you know that but I’m going to let your dad call the shots.”
“You learned something from him.”
“Yep,” Kris replied as he tapped at the steering wheel; which was something he did when he really wanted to say something but didn’t know how to phrase it.

Kris pulled the car up the driveway and hesitated as he placed the car into park.
“Does your dad still have his gun collection?”
“He added a new one this year…something named after a horse.”
“Okay.”
“He won’t shoot you, since you brought me home.”
“I feel a little better knowing that.”
“Come on, before they come to the door and see us and think the worst.”
Kris nodded as he killed the engine.

I walked to the front door, halfway expecting them to be there, armed, with word of wisdom and sarcasm about the situation. Or maybe with a rifle, once they saw who the “friend” was.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaving Kris on the door step.
“I’m home!” I yelled.
Dad walked down the hall in a pair of jeans, a flannel shirt, and a look of a parent who detected something was amiss.
“My friend can drive you into Reardan to look at the car.”
“No, your mother and I will drive into town to look at the car.”
Mom stepped out the of the living with her purse already on her shoulder. “Dinner is on the counter for you.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “Can you pick up Kim from work too?”
“And then drive her back to Reardan?” Dad asked with a hint of annoyance.
“Yeah,” I replied meekly.
“No,” Dad replied.
“Okay, I have a back-up plan for that,” I said as I opened the door ever so slightly, to not let my parents see who I was talking to. “Can you pick up Kim instead?”
Kris nodded, ran to his car, and started it up.
I closed the door and turned to face my parents.
“Who was that?”
“Her name is Aylesea, she’s new and offered me a ride home.”
Dad looked out the window at the car. I hoped that the glare of the headlights on the glass, the darkness, and my dad’s lack of really wanting to care about who was in the car would be decided in my favor.

My parents left and I sat at the dining room table starting at the dinner mom left for me: mostly vegetables with a small piece of meat. I wanted to eat, but the fact that I was able to spin another lie out of thin air made me feel sick to my stomach. I knew if I continued the vicious cycle I would return to how I was in eighth grade and the summer before ninth: living in the shadows of who I once was. I struggled to rise above those days. Sure, I loved the feeling of the wind in my hair and to have someone close to me at all time, guiding me on how to smoke a cigarette, how to run through the darkened woods like a laughing idiot and how to feel alone when I needed him the most.

My parents learned of the cigarette smoking pretty quickly and wanted to blame it on Kim. I denied it was Kim’s fault, going so far as to make up a group of friendly phantoms who taught me the ways of the mighty tobacco leaf. I gave them names and locations where we went—these being names that I made up, but sounded just local enough to be taken seriously. My clothes were ripped muddy on the nights we ran through the woods without a care in the world—the same woods that were behind my house as Kris lived on the other since of the ridge. I came home with my clothes dirty and torn, along with some scratches and I told my parents that we ran through the woods like madmen, when, in actuality, we were in the forest with some blankets some Kris’s house and there were times when in the “shuffling” that our clothes became muddy ripped. I guess that kind of segues into the feeling alone part as it occurred a few days before school started.

I threw the food into the garbage disposal, went to my room, and threw my backpack to the floor. I wanted to call Alex, but he was at work, I wanted to tell him that I missed him and wanted him with me during the day as everyone else I knew had someone near them. I wanted Alex to deck Kris across the face only because I believed he could do it.
But then Kris would meet him, and maybe tell him of those dark days.
And I had sent Kris to pick Kim up!

The young maiden sat between her parents as they traveled to a foreign place. She was kept in the dark of their destination. It was only the three of them, as the young lord of her dream has become a disparaging memory. He was to stand beside her…to defend her against the unjust; to fight for her honor and to stay united against the dark foe. Alas, the dark foes were their own families and he bowed in defeat to his father than to renounce his name.
The stepped away from the trail and to a glorious castle of white stone and sparkling crystal. The enlightened premises did not lighten the heavy feeling on her heart and at step she took she hoped that her young lord would come upon them and take her away from this place.
“We have been expecting you,” a servant in white stated as they stepped into the grand hallway. “Please, come with me.”
“We were promised this would remain in the strictest of confidence.”
“But of course, sir. Our master lives by the rule of the silent law. We are here to serve you and the next generation,” the servant replied as looked to the young maiden. “Do not worry, for it all be taken care of.”
The grand hall, like the outside, was of marble and crystal and silver plating along the side walls. The young maiden knew there was no going back.
“To go back, to go back would be foolhardy,” said the lord of the citadel, a warlock. His clothes were as soft as velvet and the brightness of his alabaster cloak reflected off the floors, the hallway and the ceiling as the servant escorted the party into the room. He stood before a stone alter and moved toward the girl.
“You have chosen wisely, my liege. Time is of the essence.”
“Can it be done?”
“But of course, sire. So many other deeds have been done. We must move fast, the setting sun.” he pointed to the servant who then moved to his side.
At the snap of the warlock’s fingers, the maiden’s parents were gone; replaced with a quartet of faceless beings.
“We must begin.”
The young girl was placed upon the alter as the warlock stood at her side. He called to the faceless ones, he spoke to the servant and that one, the one who shined in glimmering white, brought forth from his cloak a knife covered in the blood of youth. The servant handed the blade to the warlock as the faceless ones readied needles and threads.
The girl screamed as the needles went through her skin. The arms, hands, legs and feet, all attached to twine, all threaded to the hilt of the knife.
“I am now in control. Her family will sleep well for now on.”

Push the Limits

Alex called around 12:30 that night and we spoke very little due to the lateness of the hour. However for every word I said to him, there were paragraphs I wanted to confess about. Not that I needed to, but more like I wanted to. I didn’t need absolution for my past, I just wanted to hear the words come out of my mouth to a listening ear that were not my parents, my friend or a school consular. I thought that he would take it all in and we could talk it over…and by we, I meant me.
But that would be a heavy load to throw upon someone.
Especially so early in a relationship.
Also, what if he was terrified about the things I had done in my past.
I mean I was afraid of the me in the past—and I always saw her in the mirror.

I woke up the next morning with the feeling of eternal dread as I feared having to ride the bus that morning but found my car in the driveway—the only thing wrong with it was a loose wire under the hood. He took a few minutes to ponder how it may have creeped out before he shrugged and said that if it happened again then the car would have to be taken to the dealership for repairs. I only nodded in approval before I picked my backpack up and drove to school.

I had my phone in my hand as I drove down the highway, wondering if it was too early or late to call Alex-maybe he was still asleep or was on his way to school and wouldn’t answer. I laid the phone back into the center console, took a deep breath, and just drove into Reardan.

Kim stood in the parking lot with an expression that switched between all smiles to one of confusion once she knew I saw her. I hadn’t even put the car into park before she opened the door.
“You let Kris drive though home?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Well, come on, girl, we got to talk.”
“Where’s your shadow?”
“Smoke hole,” Kim replied as she opened the back door and grabbed my backpack. “So, by what I am picking up, for course, it’s kind of obvious, but, Kris still has it for you.”
“Yep,” I replied.
“No, I mean, he is like a wounded little puppy.”
“As long as you don’t say cute,” I said as I closed and locked the doors.
“Well, he kind of is, when his hair’s not going everywhere and no scruff. Oh, come on, you know this.”
“I knew it once, not now.”
“Well, I was kind of surprised when he came into the store to pick me up. I was talking to Alex and he walked up.”

I wanted to ask Kim if they said anything to each other or or if she said anything to them but I also didn’t want to make it seem like I was concerned.
“I said bye to Alex and left with Kris. We didn’t do too much talking he just said you asked him to pick me up because of a problem with your car. He was chatty yesterday during school but last night, just quiet.”
I nodded.
“Ever thought about it?”
“Nope,” I replied.
“Okay, I get it.I mean, he was kind of a jerk to you with the name calling and ignoring.”
I didn’t respond as I didn’t want to rehash the grand lie I told my best friend about my former boyfriend. He didn’t call me anything and he didn’t ignore me. I ignored him and I told him he could go to Hell. Kim took it out on him and he didn’t retaliate. I had to give him kudos once again.

“I think today will be better than yesterday,” Kim gushed.
“Only if Kris transfers out of all of the classes he’s in with me.”
“Ouch girl, that’s harsh.”
“I can think of a lot worse,” I replied as Kim opened the door to the school.

I felt calm that morning with Kim walking next to me—without Tom. There was just something about having a friend by your side when you feel like you’re ready to explode for reasons that you can’t put into words. I didn’t need a guy walking with me to make me feel better, I just wanted my friend.

“Hey beautiful!”
I cringed as I heard Tom calling from behind us as he grabbed and then hoisted Kim into his arms. I took a step away to avoid Kim’s flailing legs. She laughed as she told him to put her down and he did just as she commanded.
“How’s the car, Jazz?”
“Working this morning, Tom.”
“What happened?”
“No idea, we just got it home.”
“Good to hear. Right babe?” He asked Kim.
“Miracles happen.”
I only nodded.

The second day of school turned out much like the first, except without the surprise of seeing Kris in any of my other classes and the first day of cheer practice.
Mrs. Humpherys gathered the six of us onto a pulled out section of the bleachers and sat on the front row.
“Welcome back, everybody to the first day of practice. Glad to see you’re all present and accounted for. As we discussed before camp, we’re going to work more on our unity and dance cheers.”
We all nodded a few times. Some of us with a bit of disdain, others with boredom and others with an attempt to show that we wanted to be positively on fire, in fact, we wanted to find a way to ignite our pompoms and throw the flames of a fiery spirit while on the sidelines. It was usually cold by mid-season so one had to keep their mood high and their bodies warm somehow.
“We’re also going to be working on more aerial stunt work. We’ll cover that during tomorrow’s practice. So, everyone up, and let’s run a few laps.”

No one moaned about running that day, not even Devina, who we all expected to slump her shoulders, slump on her knee, and lament on how hard it was to run laps. She just started running shortly behind Sarah and Divina. I kept a brisk jogging pace in the middle of the pack and traded places with Jennifer and Andrea through the four laps around the gym, up the stairs to the balcony area where the band an choir rooms were, then back down another flight of stairs so you could circle around the gym.

Then, we stretched out and went over the new cheers we learned over the summer. Mrs. Humpherys had several large poster boards with the word written out in what looked like pain-staking detail. Almost calligraphic in appearance. I kind of wondered how long it took to write them out, but decided it was for the best not to as she would ask us to work on a few ourselves.
Practice continued without any other talk about any aerials or who was going to be our flyers for the year as Sarah decided to take her position as “head cheerleader” and to ask if we could not over do ourselves on the second day of school. The others agreed and I did as well, but internally I wanted to do a flip or two, cartwheel across the floor, and then somersault in front of Mrs. Humphrey and tell her I was ready to try anything once.

Unfortunately Mrs. Humphrey decided, instead, we should do a little weight training—which meant we had to share the weight room with the members of the football team who were there. One would think they would all be up on the field, but no, at least ten of them were in the small room that housed the school HVAC system in the back, behind a chain link fence. There was enough room for a few pieces of equipment and maybe seen people. There were five, which meant that two of us would have to steep in while the rest did whatever. I was hoping to be one of the whatevers.

“Andrea, Jazz, you’re in.”
Alas.
“I could use a bit of muscle on the biceps,” Andrea said with a slight grin. “Not like I want to look like Popeye.”
“Maybe we can go out of football next year?
“That! Is like, a great idea. I could be a great kicker. Come in and save the day after a touchdown.”
I nodded as we entered the weight room.
“Plus, I’d be on the team bus.”
“I can’t imagine the smell,” I replied as I tried not to imagine too much.
“It can get raunchy. The smell and the language.”
We stepped over to the barbell and gathered weights.
“And that I can believe.”
“Oh yeah. It’s even worse if they went to Taco Time after an away game.”
“I’ll stay with riding in the suburban or with the band.”
We tightened the clamp holding the weights onto the barbell.
“Oh, you know the band can be just as bad. Do you want to know what happens you chew tobacco and play the trombone?” Andrea asked as she took the position under the bar and I readied myself to be her spotter.
“Not really,” I replied.
“Telling you anyway. It stinks when it finally leaks out of the spit valve. It happened a few years ago and out was like a chew spit cup had exploded. Actually, maybe it was. Ever kissed a spitter?”
“I’m blaming you if I puke before practice is over.”
“Okay. I’m ready.” Andrea grabbed the bar, lifted it off of the stands, brought it up and then basic down. “One”
She lifted it up again and then down as I kept my hands close to the bar.
“To tell the truth, Jazz, Copenhagen is better than Skoal.”
“What?
“It’s kind of minty. You can, like still taste tobacco on his breath, but it’s kind of like, a weak kind of peppermint.”

After a longer than usual shower I gathered my books and ran to my car. I was going to see Alex at work and, if possible, just hang out for a bit as I waited for Kim to get off of work. I mean, I could read a few textbooks at the Taco Time next door if I had to. I had to pace going out so much as my parents would would eventually clamp down on everything.

“You cant’t just hang out at the grocery store.”
“I can sit at the bench at the front, mom.”
I had called my parents to comment on how school was and my plans for the evening. They were not enthused.
“We need to talk a bit more about this boyfriend situation, Jazeta.”
“There is no situation. I mean. I barely see him because I don’t sneak out in the middle of night to see him. And no, that is not future plan.”
“We should hope so.”
“I’m just going to be at Yoke’s. It’s Airway Heights. Nothing happens in Airway Heights anyway.”
“We don’t want you to be the first.”
I wanted to roll my eyes, but that would require me take my eyes off the road for about a minute as I would try to see the back of my skull.
“Mom, I’m just going to hang out a bit, then take Kim home.”
“We also need to talk about the use of gas.”
“Okay.”
“Is Kim paying you for gas?”
“Yes,” I lied.
“Is she really?”
“Yeah, every Wednesday when she gets paid, she gives me moment for gas. I’m not doing it to be her taxi, mom.”
“I know. I know. Just, we need to talk some more when you get home.”
“I so look forward to it.”
“Tone the attitude down Jazeta Amber Daniels.”
“Yes ma’am. Bye.”
I hung the phone up and thought about throwing it out the window when it rang.
“Should have apologized,” I thought as I answered the call. “Hello?”
“Jazz? Can you come pick me up?”
“Kim? What’s wrong? Where are you? Are you at work?”
“No,” she said as I contemplated the millions of places she could have been at that moment. “I’m at Tom’s house, I-Just please, come get me. Please?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be right there.” I slowed down, made my way to the side of the road and turned around. I would have to call Alex later on instead. Tom’s house was a bit out of the way from everywhere and, yeah, it would use a lot of gas to get there but I didn’t think twice as I accelerated to sixty miles an hour.
I thought about calling 911 but it would take forever before anyone else would arrived. I also thought about how I should have had her stay on the line. Thirty minutes and several nerve-wracking pot holes later I was on a dark and rutted gravel road out in the middle of nowhere when I saw Kim walking down the road.
She ran to the car, climbed into the passenger’s seat and locked the door. “Please, just drive!”
I didn't say anything as Kim put her head against the door and cried. Form the tone of her voice it didn’t appear like it was a night of romance. It was dark so I couldn't see if she had any physical injuries and she had her head turned the other way so I couldn't try to see in the second I had when the door opened.
“Such an ass!” She finally yelled.
I just drove.
“We were talking about us, you know, and he brings up some of the stuff that he used to do with someone else, like years ago.”
No response from me, it was better to just let her vent.
“He’s like, c’mon, baby, can we try it? And I'm thinking, no! Not when you start it like that. Thinking about what he did with some ex and wants to try it out with me? Seriously? Isn't that just sick?”
“Where else would he get the idea from?”
“I don't know. Porn or something. He just didn't have to bring up someone else. That kind of changes the whole feeling about it. I mean I don't want to be compared to someone else. Would he like it if I compared him to some other guy?”
I only nodded.
“So when I said I wouldn't go along with it he walked upstairs and went into his room. Leaving me downstairs for half an hour. I started to think of everything and had to get out of there. Thanks for coming out, Jazz”
“So you're okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe you two should hang out at Jamie's more often.”
“Can't. Jamie doesn't like him.”
I always respected Jamie—from that point on, even more so.
“He’ll come back around and apologize. I know he will.”
I pulled the car over to the side of the road.
“Jazz, what are you doing?”
Then, I turned on the overhead light to look at Kim.
She had welts above her lip and one to her right cheek.
“Kyrie eleison!”
“It's fine. It's not as bad as it looks.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me you fell down the stairs?”
“No, I didn’t fall down the stairs.”
“Slip in the shower?”
“We really did get into a fight.”
“About an ex?”
“I asked him where he went today and he accused me of not trusting him.”
“You got into a fight over that?”
“No, that happened after I called him a cheating bastard.”
“Okay. Was this before or after the position talk?”
"It kind of escalated."

Was she dreaming or was she really trapped within a labyrinth.
No, she couldn’t believe either.
At any moment, either the rusted heavy door would clank and rattle, allowing her to leave or she would rustle and scream, causing herself to wake up.
She was both: a prisoner bleeding in her mind and body.
Her desire to escape waned and warped as the pain overwhelmed her.
It was best to stay confined.
To stay safe from further harm.
Life was ripped form her body—it was a small part, but the imprint was there.
A soul torn to shreds.
No, two were in pain.

Her parents said it was would be fine in time.
Her boyfriend was banned from her heart and mind.

The anger failed to go away.
The healers gave her what they thought would be the cure.

Healers…more like thieves…bodysnatchers.
Baby snatchers.

The girl stared in bed for what felt like forever.
And she felt that it should be forever.
So that maybe she could meet her younger self.
The one who was never held tightly.
The one who didn’t fears the tears.
The one who never heard her say goodbye.

perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim
 

“Another first for Kim Vestron. And now I get to look and feel like Hell at school.”
We stood in front of the mirror in my room. Kim’s face didn’t look like a punching bag and I knew that she probably laid in a few good hits herself, but…I kind of wished I knew how to fire one of my dad’s guns.
“I am so going to kill him one day,” Kim muttered and then laughed.
It was a good thing they were always locked.

I had snuck Kim into house to avoid any confrontations with my parents. I wanted to tell them something as I distracted them as Kim went upstairs, but they took that time to lament onto me about my lack of coming home after school and how—if I kept it up—I would eventually change into some form of teenage reprobate.
I came back to my room to see Kim asleep so I got myself ready and went to sleep went to sleep myself.
I never got to call Alex that night.

“I’m going to have to conceal this, somehow. Dammit, why my face? I mean I know it’s a huge target, but, come on.”
“He shouldn’t have done anything,”
“Yeah, I know.”

We got ready for school and went downstairs to the kitchen.
Kim grabbed a box of corn flakes on the counter and graciously filled a bowl.
“We’ll get through this.”
“Okay.”
“I mean, I thought about what he said, a bout the sex thing.”
“Right,” I replied as I retrieved a gallon of milk out of the refrigerator and sat it on the table.
“I mean, this was wrong of him. But I also said a few things to him that were wrong too. You bring things into a relationship form your past. Either good or bad, right?”
“I suppose so,” I sighed as I didn’t like where the conversation was going.
“So, you have to pick and chose what’s going to destroy that couple zone you get into. For me, it’s my mouth. For him. It’s his lack of thinking things though. And so, we’re playing mind games and boxing each other.” Kim poured milk on her cereal and picked up the bowl as flakes spilled onto the floor.
“Saying something is a bit different than physically beating someone. I mean, did you leave any marks on him?”
“Nowhere anyone can see,” Kim said as she ate a spoonful of cereal.
“Okay,” I replied, not really wanting to know where.
“Love sucks, Jazz. Of course, your relationship is going great.”
“Well,--”
“You place all these feelings on someone and then they do this to you and you feel so...empty. It's, it's...it's stupid. Love is stupid, you know?”
“Sometimes.” I said as I sat down next to her.
“And you know what else?”
“Hmm?”
“I hate corn flakes.”

We cleaned up the flakey mess on the table and floor and then drove to school. Kim didn’t talk as much as she normally would. I wanted to say some words of encouragement but only bitter terms of scorn came to mind.
“What are you going to?” I asked after the very long silence.
“About Tom?”
“Yeah.”
“Still don’t know,” Kim replied as she brushed her hair away form her face. “Is it noticeable?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it so noticeable that I’m going to have to answer to every teacher?”
“Dodgeball to the face?” I asked.
“That’ll work.”
“Maybe a work-related accident?”
“Well, yeah, considering we have’t even played dodgeball yet. So, what could have happened? Oh, I’m know.”
“What?”
“Another employee clotheslined me and I fell to the floor.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Kim replied with a smile. Yeah, it was as smile at my expense, but at least it was one.

I parked the car and we walked into the school. I thought Kim would look to the smoke hole area but she didn’t take a glance back. Then, I assumed Tom would be manning the door from the inside, but he wasn’t there either. Either he wasn’t at school or they were serious about breaking-up. Of course, striking her in the face was answer enough, but I assumed he would either try to get back with her or they would trade glares and barbs for the rest of the school year.
“This feels different. Not having someone walking by me, I mean really close by me.”
“Like this?” I asked as I pressed into her side.
“Not the same, but, kind of the same. At least I know you won’t slap me.”
I nodded as we stepped up to my locker.
“Maybe it’s for the best to cool off.”
“It’s best to call it off, Kim. Freeze him out.”
“But it was an accident on both of our parts,” Kim replied.
“A good man will not hit someone.”
“A good woman won’t either,” she said as she finally looked behind her to see if he was there. “I’m for the chivalry. I’m for the candy and roses but I also know that a woman has to work with the man. They’re equal, right?”
“Right,” I replied—while hiding my disdain for the argument.
“I’m going to call his house. Do you have a quarter?”
“Afraid not,” I said. “Maybe, you should let him do the apologizing?”

My soul cracked as I said those words. I didn’t want her to call him. I didn’t want him talking to her at all. Not by phone, folded note, or smoke
signal! And as much as I wanted to slap her—calmly— across the face for even thinking about something like that, I wanted to make sure that she would be okay from all of this. If only Tom had fallen off the the diving board and broke his leg or something.
“I’ll call his house collect, see if he answers and tell him to talk to me, before they charge him.”
“Good plan.” I replied as the bell rang.
Kim ran down the hall and turned the corner. She never stopped at her locker.

I didn’t see Kim all morning. Kris was also missing, along with Michelle. My assumption was that Tom had Kris bring Kim to his house and Michelle went along for ride. I tried to keep calm. I tried to not let it bother me. Failing at that, I thought about writing a few angry notes but dismissed doing anything that could be linked back to me.
If it happened the way I though tit did then I expected Kim to tell me about it later in the day, maybe after work. Continuing on that reckless train of that: I would have another reason to snub Kris more than the ones I already had. Tom would sink further into the hole in the ground he belonged in. Michelle Bremerton? Well, I would just have to hope she hadn’t tried to groom Kim to be her duplicate in some way.

I searched for Kim during lunch but I couldn’t find her anywhere and Kris’ car was nowhere to be found.
“ Kyrie eleison,” I muttered as I stood in the parking lot, possibly looking like I either constipated or in despair. I hated the fact that I was probably right.
I went to my car, took out my cell phone and made a call.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
“Nice to hear form you too.”
“Sorry, what’s up?” Alex asked.
“I’m having friendship issues.”
“Such as?”
“Kim and her boyfriend.”
“Tom, right?”
“Yeah. He kind of beat her up last night.”
“Sorry,” Alex replied as I lowered myself further down in my seat—to hide the fact I was in my car during lunch.
“I’m not even going to try and understand their relationship.”
“Something tells me you’re trying though.”
“I’m in the middle of it, or somewhere left of center. I don’t understand them. I don’t get why she feels she has to be back with him. He hurt her. He’ll do it again. My life will become like an out-there kind of book. Yes, my life has become like the pages of a V.C. Andrews novel.”
“Never read one, do I want to?”
“They can cause irrepressible damage and make you never want to pick up another book; or have an unhealthy infatuation with your brother.”
“I wouldn’t want that for either of us and—uneasy segue here—speaking of crazy things, are you free tonight?
“After cheer practice, when I find out about Kim, and if my parents say it’s okay.”
“Fair enough. I'm not going to tell you where we're going, it'll be a surprise. I don’t keep secrets well…so I’m going to hang up now before I spoil it. Kim will be okay. Either now or later.”
“Thank you,” I replied as a shadow loomed over the car. The principal, Mr. Cain, stood a foot away from the car and looked at me.

I sat in the principal’s office and explained the situation to Mr. Cain. I think I talked for about seven minutes straight in my attempt to not have to take a detention, have my parents, notified or get into some form of trouble with Mrs. Humphrey. Mr. Cain put his hands together in an “A” frame sort of shape and then sat back in his chair.
“I fully understand.”
“And I fully understand the rules too, I just didn’t want to call long distance on the phone or bring it into the school.”
“Do you want to call her on this phone?”
“Could I?”
“Of course. I’ll be in the office.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cain,” I replied as he stepped out and closed the door.
I picked up the phone and called Tom’s phone number.

“Hello?” Tom answered on the fourth ring. I was surprised he answered at all.
“Is Kim there?”
“Jazz?”
“Yes, Tom, is she there?”
“Yeah,” he replied as he laid the phone down.
“Hey, Kimmie!”
I tried to listen to who was there but I could only hear Tom and Kim.
“Jazz?”
“Kim, are you okay?”
“I’m great. We’re great. Tom and Kris picked me up so we could talk about everything,
“Did you tell him to eat glass shards and die?” I asked as I looked out the window into the hall.
“No, I listened to him. I understood why he was so mad-he had a right to be.”
“Are you serious?” I asked with the utmost sincerity while I wanted to throw the handset across the room
“I accused him of cheating, Jazz...Not at first, but-I shouldn't have done that.
“And he shouldn’t have used your head as a punching bag. C'mon, don't give him the chance to make you feel like the guilty one.”
“He's not a bad person, he's just misunderstood by everybody else...kind of like me….which is why I think there's hope for our relationship.”
I was stunned and felt hurt, like I was the one who was physically slapped by Tom. I mean, hefty he had verbally abused me in the past, so why not? “Are you sure about this?”
“Is anybody about relationships?”
“No,” I replied, although I wanted to think one could be.
“Are you coming back to school this afternoon?”
“We’re still discussing things, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You’ll call me is something happens, right? I mean if I have to send the police out there I will.”
“I think it’s going to be okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

I spent the rest of the day in a bad mood but I refused to show it. Again, you could have assumed that I was the happiest person on the planet but inside I was boiling mad.
I wanted to hit Tom with my car—of course it would be as an accident, but even if it was eventually confirmed then I think the sentence would be reduced after I testified to everything Tom had done in the past to the both of us. A jury of my peers would exonerate me.
I think they would find him guilty of causing me so much distress that I had no choice but to eliminate the gas-lighting, condescending, lying, hypocritical, antagonistic…thing!

Cheer practice was pretty much the same as the day before, except I didn’t let anything invade my personal happy space. Although it had taken all day, I finally purged the negative feelings from my mind—because I didn’t have to see Kris or Tom for the rest of the day.
Mrs. Humphrey brought out the double mats and we started on stunt work with myself and Jennifer being used as the guinea pigs.
“I’ll do whatever. Just makes sure you write “she gave it her best” on my headstone, okay?”
“Way to stay positive there, Jazz!” Andrea yelled as I took my position supported by Sarah and Andrea.

The air stunts were never too strenuous. No one was ever flung ten feet into the air as it was against the rules World Cheerleader Council rules for high schools. There were a few who attempted it during practice but I had never seen a squad perform something that would make one believe they could fly. We changed it that afternoon as Sarah and Andrea inadvertently gave too much lift and I flew into the air—just a bit off of the mat. Shion, Divina and Jennifer—who were on spotting on the side—broke into a mad dash. I fought the urge to flail my arms and scream but instead I kept my arms at my side and my body straight as the others barely caught me.

I want to say the past sixteen years of my life flashed in front of my eyes as my face came less than an inch from slamming onto the floor. I want to say that I thought all the way back to the first time I did something wrong or when I said my first word and felt some form of “why didn’t I better myself” kind of feelings. I felt the rush of air against my face and only one word resonated: “Amelia”.

“‘Tis but a myth,” the wise one said.
She was only wise because she was the only one who had ever gone across the great seas and returned to tell the tale to the young women in the village.
“There are no happy endings. No great desires to be quenched or to believe if you allow yourself to be tied down to that kind of life. Nothing good will come of it.”
We believed her.
Although some had questions and the ones with said questions were usually escorted out of the village in the dead of night—-to where, we dared not ask.
Until the day someone did ask: myself.
“Where do they go?”
“The others?”
“Yes.”
“They’re still here, young one. They’re just returned to how they should be.”
“How can they change back to something they never were?”
“You ask too many questions.”
“I want it back as I remember it.”
“It can never be the way you remember it. Because you don’t remember, you embellish. You desire. You craved something that was not right for you. You needed more time.”
“You had no right to do that to them.”
“I have all the right, my child. As I did to you. Don’t you remember?”

I was on the mat for what seemed like eternity and my neck had serious pain.
Mrs. Humphery stood next to Mrs. Long, one of the school administrators and an EMT with the Reardan fire department, as the two talks back and forth about what had occurred.
“You may have some tenderness for a while, “ Mrs Long said as she took a step towards me.
“Great. Can I get up now?”
Mrs. Long’s radio crackled with a muffled voice on the other end. “She appears to be okay. We won’t need to brace her neck.”
That was a relief to hear, at least.
“Do you need someone to drive you home?”
I shook my head and tried to hide the discomfort I felt from it. “I’m good.”
“We’re going to end practice early, everybody.”
I got off from the mat to a relatively empty gym: just the eight of us.
Good,

I grabbed my books and backpack from my locker. I didn’t care to change out of my practice clothes; just wanted to get home, take a lot of Tylenol and crash into bed—after playing an obligatory of twenty questions with my parents, of course.
The drive home was noisy as I yelled about how my neck felt. I thought the pain would go away if I ranted and raved enough, but, like other events, it only made me dive deeper into what caused the pain. I didn’t want to cry. Because, then I would have had to pull over so my red and tear-streaked face could recover. Otherwise, the questions would double.
I wanted to slam my hand into the steering wheel, but didn’t.
I wanted to floor the accelerator—but a Spokane county sheriff department car passed going the other way.
“Just keep calm. You’ll be home soon and you can just go to sleep. No, no you have a chemistry assignment for tomorrow. I should call-in sick.”

I drove my car up the hill to see another vehicle parked in the driveway.
“Alex,” I whispered as I looked at my face in the rearview mirror “Crap.”
I threw my hands up in submission. Oh well, he could eventually see me looking much more worse for wear so I gathered my things and got out of the car.

I opened the door to the smell of something I could not place. A heavy amount of dill and a meat I could not place. Mom came out from the living room to meet me.
“Jazeta? Good, you’re home early.”
“What’s going on?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just that practice was a little rough, and—You know, I’m going to go up and change and then come back down.” I said as I put my book on the first step on the staircase.
“Okay, you do that and then come meet us for dinner.”
“Us?”
“Alex is here,” she said in a whisper, “and he’s impressing your father.”
“Really?” I replied,
“Yes. Amazing, isn’t it?
“I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

I walked up two steps at a time, opened the door to my room, turned on the light and immediately closed the door. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wanted to scoff but thought against it. I wasn’t going to put on a show for Alex. I didn’t need his approval for anything.
“Not like I’m Kim,” I said and immediately regretted it. I wanted to shrivel up and die from those words escaping my lips, let alone the thought of them. I felt like the words would drift into the air and into the jet stream where they would find her and deliver their melancholy cargo upon an undeserving ear.
I shook my head, adjusted my hair a bit and went downstairs in the clothes I came home in.
Alex stood in front of the stovetop on the kitchen island. He looked to me with a smile,“Kalispéra ómorfi.”
“Feliz noche.”
“Den miló ispaniká”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I replied as I walked on the opposite side of island. “What’s on the menu?”
“Gyros”
“Looks like a taco.”
“That’s what I said too. My grandfather laughed for about three hours about how I decimated Greek culture when I called it a ‘Mediterranean taco’. I don’t know, it would be a name for a restaurant, right?”
I nodded as I looked at my parents sitting at the dining room table.
I glanced at Alex who winked at me. He then turned to my parents. “Almost done, folks. The tzatziki should be chilled by now.”
“Can I help you with anything?” I asked.
“No, thank you. Please have a seat with your parents. I’ll get everything on the table.”
I walked to the other side of the bar end of the kitchen and into the dining room. My parents were sitting patiently with their glasses of iced tea.
“Why are you wearing your gym clothes?” Dad asked.
“Practice was a pain and I just felt like coming straight home. Good thing I did.”
“I suppose so,” Mom replied as she took a sip of her tea.

I wondered if practice had continued, then I would have missed whatever was going on. I also still felt a sharp pain in my neck and my nodding and head-bobbing didn’t help. I wasn’t going to mention anything further about practice. I hadn’t lied. I mean, practice did turn out to to be pain. More so than usual.
“Thank you for making dinner tonight,” I said as we walked off the front porch and down the driveway.
“Well, I thought since I didn’t make a great first impression with her parents, that I’d try to make a literal peace meal kind of thing.”
“You did help bring in the television.”
“And it was a great selection, and pretty heavy.”
“He did appreciate it.”
“I did too. So, I thought I’d come and whip up a little culinary magic and wait for them to either slap me down or give me a second chance. I mean, you’re very important to them so I wanted them to know that you’re important to me too.”
“I’m important?”
“Bad choice of words?”
“You’re forgiven,” I replied as we turned onto the road and walked to the bridge that went over a creek.
“Jazeta, we’ve been talking a lot on the phone and I want to move things up a bit, meet with you more.”
“So there was another reason for the dinner?”
“No, it’s all a part of the same thing. I want to see more of you. Perhaps go out sometime. On the days we’re both off from work and I f you want to.”
“Of course.”
“I mean, Kim says you’re really busy with cheerleading and your modeling job.”
“I can make myself available,” I replied as we stopped in the middle of the bridge.
“For some reason, Kim’s been telling me a lot of things.”
“About me?”
“Oh her too. She loves talking about Tom at work.”
“She just doesn’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
“Life, I guess.”
“Nobody understands life. We'd like to pretend we do but who are we kidding, really?”
“Are you majoring in Philosophy and computer sciences?”
“No, but the more we talk, the more I think I should,” Alex replied with a smirk.
“I just don’t want her to destroy herself. I mean, she's had this picture-perfect idea of how she'd like it all to be and it's cracking in front of her all at once, only she doesn't know it. Everything’s a little storybook thing to her. And I get to be her pseudo-fairy godmother.”
“So, is he...what’s the best way to say it without sounding like I’m quoting ‘90210’?”
“You mean, is he cheating on her?”
“That sounds better when you say it.”
“Tom has always had more than one girlfriend at a time and Kim knows this! She's known this since we were in eighth grade. It’s not just out of the blue!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. At least not until it finally clicks. She’s not going to accept it from anyone, not even me and that’s—that’s going to hurt.”
“You’ll think of something,” he replied as he put his arm on my waist.
“I don’t think I can because I know who he is, and she knows I don’t like him. So, I will look like the—the-”
“The bitch?”
“Yep.”
“You'll think of a way.”
“I'm a sucker for friendship.”
“We all are. Shows we’re human.”

“We should plan our day.”
“What? No surprise? No mystery?” Alex asked and then put his hands on his face mock surprise.
“I could surprise you.”
“It is the nineties.”
I nodded.
“ “However that would mean I would have to cancel the limousine and the entourage. The DJ I hired, he was difficult to get ahold of.”
“Are you serious?”
“I mean my car, possibly our parents, and I spent a lot of time making a mixtape that you might like.”

I wasn’t sure if he was being sincere or making a joke. I couldn’t read Alex as well as I could Kris. Alex didn’t raise his eyebrows when he was annoyed and he didn’t laugh when he was nervous. Of course, I had been with Kris so long that I could jump to a specific chapter and verse; but with Alex I felt like I haven’t even gotten past the dust jacket.
“I’m kind of kidding. My parents would like to meet you. Only because I talk about you to them, not because it’s some kind of initiation or trial.”
“Oh, but it is a trial.”
“That’s only by the father of the girlfriend and well, yeah. my grandmother too. She would ask a million questions.”
“Really?”
“I’d think you would pass her cross-examination.”
“Good to hear, I replied.
“So, how about this Friday?”
“We have a game.”
“It’s the first week and your school has a football game?”
“Reardan loves football.”
“Then I’ll come to that. I have the night off from work. I can see how you work it.”
“Do not bring a sign.”
“How about a banner?”
“As long as I can burn it before you display it.”
“Fair enough. It can be used for a bonfire. I have a lot of paper I can use.”
“Sure, why not,” I replied.
“We should get back.”
“Yeah,” I replied with a sigh.
“We could stay longer, but I think you’re dad will be down here with a flashlight and shotgun.”
“More likely the rifle, it has a scope.”
“Seriously?” Alex asked with a sharp desperation in his voice.
“Former Army Ranger, yes.”
“I thought you were kidding about that. Does he has a night-sight lens?”
“No idea.”
“Well, I guess we should head back before we’re both on his wanted list.”
“I already am,” I replied.
“It’s just because he’s looking out for you. To fight against the enemy who would swoop down and take you from him. The wedding day will be interesting to see.”
“I’m surprised you’d think about that.”
“I’ve always thought about it. I mean, when I was in eighth grade we were asked to draw out our dream house. I used graphing paper, of course, and designed the house with an above ground pool, arcade games for the kids and I made sure the report about the house included the name of the girl I thought I’d marry one day. I got a ‘C’ on it.”
“Why that grade?”
The teacher said that an above ground pool-one that was literally above some sections of the house, would never work. I really should have referenced that the upper floor was actually the ground floor and some rooms were underground, reinforced by concrete.”
“What was her name?”
“Who?’
“The girl you were going to marry?”
“Well, there’s the girl I was going to marry and there was the vision of the girl I was going to marry. The two became different once she moved away.”
“What does the vision look like?”
“Dark raven hair, piercing eyes and she has the ability to understand everything I say.”
“I’d love to meet her one day,” I replied with a slight grin.
“Did you know she listens to Technotronic?”

I had the slight thought to hit him, but I moved closer instead.
“I wish these nights would never end.”
“They don’t have to, well, one day.”
“A few years ago I would be rolling my eyes about things like this.”
“Are we moving too fast?”
“I don’t think so,” I replied as I looked into his eyes. There was only the lone street lamp on the side of the bridge so his face took on a dark, older look as we stood in the shadow.
“We should head back. I think I can hear a gun cocking.”
“You’re right,” I replied as I looked to the house but then turned back to Alex and started a kiss that lasted longer than it should have, but I missed the touch of two lips; and as much as I didn’t want my brain to conjure up ghosts of boyfriends past, I could not block the torrential downpour of emotions of the past. Maybe Alex thought I was crying tears of joy or of love. I think it was a 30:40:30 ratio of joy, love and of memories so etched into my skull that it would take a sandblaster to wipe the surface clean.

She had dreamed of a ballroom with the silver sphere above causing a spectacular display of color along the wall. Everyone was dressed to play off the brilliance of that spectrum so that in the darkness they were an illuminated display of art. Even their faces, obscured by masks, sparkled in the low light. It was best to be hidden from sight, as her parents did not approve of her choice.

He was supposed to be nothing but a shiftless drifter. If he was a farmer he would be lucky to grow one plant with maybe one good piece of fruit to cultivate into two for the next year. Her parents were against this as it was unbecoming to step below her, no, their status, in life and to do so would only bring pain.

The pain came about when her parents learned of those nights and they made sure that the separation was as permanent as it could. It ended with a death.

“You seriously asked him to come to the game on Friday?” Kim asked we entered the school. I had spent the entire time talking to her about everything that happened the night before.
“Yes, I did.”
“You are crazy, you know that?”
“Un poco,” I replied with a slight laugh.
“But it’s good to see you like that. Great to see you happy.”
“You too, Kim, you too.”
I felt genuinely happy. For both of us; and for a split-second of time I forgot about everything Tom had ever said to or about me it all flashed away to a dark and locked away closet, only to come outa few seconds later as Tom moseyed up to us with some weird lunge walk. He lifted Kim up, almost to the ceiling, and another fleeting thought, about having having Tom work with us as a base came to mind but I quickly dismissed it as I wouldn’t trust him even if I could fly like Superman.
“How you doin, Babe?”
“I am wonderful,” Kim replied as he lowered her down and kidded her. The PDA was flowing like a river of Dr Pepper.
My happiness faded away as I saw Kris walk down the hallway alongside Michelle. Not that I felt bad for them being together, it was because I didn’t trust Kris with not telling Michelle things that happened between us and he had a plethora of stories he could talk about. Michelle wouldn’t even have to twist anything around: those tales were twisted right from the start.
I didn’t show my disdain to them as I turned my attention back to Tom and Kim; who were so engrossed in themselves the world around them could vanish without a trace without them knowing for…maybe, seven minutes? I regret remembering what Kim said about their “rumblings” as she called it one time.