“Oh, look what you did,” a woman in a baby blue terrycloth robe said to me while looking down at the mess. What I did? “I was just coming to pick that up, and you made it a big mess.”
Then I heard the barking. I looked to the woman’s front door, and saw Roxie on her hind legs barking her head off. She clawed at the glass door, begging to come out and tear me to shreds. Cujo!
On instinct, I started running again. I didn’t want to be around when the lady opened her door to go inside, and Roxie was set free to get me. I faintly heard the lady say, “Thanks a lot!” As if I was the one who made her dog go on the sidewalk!
The rest of my run was uneventful and stinky. After attempting to scrape off the dog feces from my shoe, I dragged myself into the house and waved to Gram who was sitting at the kitchen table, eating her usual breakfast of toast and eggs while sipping a cup of black tea.
“What’s that smell?” she asked as I crossed through the room.
“My life.” I replied.
****
When I arrived at school, I scanned the hallway for Zoe, but there was no sign of her. If I didn’t catch her before first period I wouldn’t see her until English class much later that day. I had to try to find out if Brandon was in school today or not. The bell rang as I was sending Zoe a text.
Hey, u here? U know if Brandon’s here?
I had just sat down at my desk when I felt my phone vibrating in my purse. Casually, I peered into my bag as if I was searching for a pencil and looked at the return text Zoe sent me.
Out sick. Me I mean. IDK about Brandon. Lemmie text Darren.
Great. I hated dealing with the cafeteria without Zoe. Not that I was some sort of outcast or something. It’s just you have your “socially-assigned” seating going on in the lunch room, and when that delicate balance is thrown off, it tends to make me edgy. My phone vibrated again, and this time I had to fake that the pen I had in my hand had stopped working so I needed to check my purse for another one. Zoe’s text blazed at me.
Yup, Brandon there today. U gonna talk to him?
I was just trying to skillfully type my reply when Mr. Crooger walked up to my desk.
“Here you are, Marissa.” He placed two brand new ballpoint pens down on my desk. “Now, I trust we can get back to American History if that’s all right with you.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Oops. I had to wait until halfway through class before I asked for a bathroom pass. That’s when I sent my text back to Zoe. Which simply said:
IDK.
For the rest of my morning, I was pretty out of it. Luckily I didn’t get called on by any of my teachers. Good thing too, because I wouldn’t have been able to answer any of the questions they might’ve had for me. I was too busy thinking about Brandon. Questions raced through my mind as I walked into my last class. Would I run him down again once he got out class at the end of the day? Would he even give me the chance to apologize to him? I had to say something to him. My hand covered a yawn that escaped my mouth; I had been up half the night just trying to think of it from his perspective. How would I have felt if I had been on the receiving end of getting that letter returned to me? Most likely, I would have broken down. But, that was how it was after my mom passed away.
****
I had never been inside a cemetery before the day we went for her burial. There’s not much I remember about that day. It’s kind of a fog. We all got herded there from the church ceremony. Marc and Gram and I sat quietly inside our limo. That was also the first time I’d been inside a limo, which I thought was odd. I’d always pictured my first limo ride being to my prom, not to my mother’s funeral.
It was November, but it was an unseasonably warm day. We stood at the gravesite, and the sun was beating down on my face. I remember thinking that my mom was somehow responsible for the sun; she wouldn’t want us all standing there in the pouring rain. She loved the sun, and it was bright and powerful that day. The casket was covered with flowers, and I tried to focus on what types of flowers were in the bouquets. It was a way to stop my mind from going crazy, a way to stop it from thinking about where I was and what was happening. The priest was wearing sandals, and I was obsessed with his toes, which were disgusting. He was saying some prayer, and my brother was squeezing my hand, and all I
