They May Not Mean To, But They Do - Chapter 2
JB - November 2, 2010
A sudden sharp rapping on the closet door made Skip hold his breath, as if not breathing would make whoever was on the other side of the door go away.
“What the hell are you doing in there? If you’re having it off, I don’t want to know; if you’re not, then open the damn door.” Skip recognized the voice, having just fled from it to the safety of the closet. Lindsey Buckingham Palace had obviously followed him, but why? Hadn’t she done enough damage to his bruised and battered soul during their first encounter? Was she back to finish him off?
“I mean it. If you don’t come out, I’ll come in after you. Don’t be such an ass.” Any fleeting images he might have had of Lindsey as a delicate young girl quickly jumped ship from Skip’s imagination. Would she talk this way in class? Part of him rather hoped she would.
“Why should I come out? Is it more fun for you to insult me to my face?” The safety of the closed door made Skip sound braver than he felt. He knew all of the tricks kids used after years of being teased. She probably had some of his other tormentors out there with her, ready to grab him as soon as he came out.
“Don’t be a baby. Are you coming out or am I coming in?” The door handle jiggled and Skip instinctively knew she would follow through with her threat. He didn’t want anyone to violate the sanctity of his closet, especially someone who by name alone should be his ally. He braced himself for his exit.
Slowly, he opened the door, stuck out his head, scanned left and right to make sure Lindsey was alone, and stepped out into the hall. He brushed bits of dust from his sleeves; this gave him a few seconds to compose himself for whatever she had planned.
She stood there in all of her eighth grade girl glory: arms crossed over her chest, head tilted, weight shifted to one leg, and her other hip cocked out insolently. Did all girls learn this posture, or was it ingrained at birth? Skip snapped back to attention when he realized Lindsey was addressing him.
“…and then you jumped up and ran away, so I figured I’d better make sure you were okay. I didn’t mean to be such a bitch. I tend to blurt out whatever is in my head; my ‘rents say that I have no filter. Anyway, I saw you leap into this closet…”
“I didn’t leap.”
“Whatever, and thought that was weird, so I followed you. So what’s with the closet?”
“It’s where I go when I want to be alone and think.”
“Hide.”
“Think.”
Lindsey looked him up and down, as if she needed to reassess and adjust her opinion of him. He waited out the silence, wondering whether she would hug him or hit him. He really needed to learn more about how girls worked. Then again, he had a feeling Lindsey was not like other girls. She probably came with her own special manual, and the manual was probably written in some alien language. At last, she spoke.
“So you’re a thinker. Who would’ve guessed?” She shifted her weight to the other leg and moved her books as if to balance herself out. She seemed to be waiting for a response.
“Yeah, I’m a regular Albert Einstein.” Her silence made him uncomfortable. “I guess we need to go to class. I mean, we’re already late, but it’s the first day, so they’ll cut us some slack. They’ll probably cut you slack for a few days since you’re new here and don’t know the buildings well yet.”
“Stop babbling. You don’t have to talk all of the time. Do you walk or ride a bus?”
“What? I walk.” Skip found her sudden change of topic confusing.
“Fine. Meet me here at the end of the day and you can walk me home.” It was more of a command than a request.
“Okay.” Skip found himself nodding at her back as she moved down the empty hallway.
********
The last two classes of the day passed as expected. The required sections of the school handbook were duly studied, textbooks were distributed, and the syllabus and expectations for each class were covered. “Same as it ever was,” thought Skip. “By October, my brain will be oatmeal.”
He felt lucky in one respect. None of his usual tormentors were in his afternoon classes. This gave him hope that he might actually escape the end-of-the-day ridicule he had experienced on an almost daily basis the previous year. Maybe it helped that he never really tried to avoid his tormentors; by the end of seventh grade, the physical attacks had decreased, even though the taunting continued. Perhaps it wasn’t as much fun for them when he didn’t resist. Perhaps they had found new targets. He had mixed feelings about this, because the torture he was spared would be meted out to some other unlucky fellow.
He thought about this as he waited by the closet door for Lindsey. He wondered if she would appear or if this was her own way of making fun of him. Even worse, maybe she would show up accompanied by the very boys he was trying to avoid. She would point him out, expose his closet sanctuary, and join in as they prodded and poked at him.
But, no, there she was, and she was alone. Skip almost dropped his books and realized that his palms were sweating. “I see you made it through the first day of battle,” he said when she reached him, while thinking “Lame. Lame. Lame.”
“Yeah. Let’s go. I need some fresh air.” Lindsey set off at a brisk walk and Skip felt his brain solidifying once again as he kept pace beside her.
They walked in silence. Skip realized that Lindsey was right; he didn’t need to babble all of the time. Silence was not such a bad thing. At least, silence around Lindsey wasn’t such a bad thing. Lindsey started kicking a rock as they walked, and Skip joined in. They took turns kicking as they silently made their way down the sidewalk. “Maybe this is a zen thing,” thought Skip. “Kicking a rock, not thinking, not talking…yeah, this must be a zen thing.”
Lindsey broke the silence. “So what do you do when you’re not at school and not thinking?” She kicked the rock to his part of the sidewalk. Ah, the rock gave the power of speech. Another zen thing, perhaps. He was glad she couldn’t read his thoughts.
“I mess around on the computer. I hang out in the woods behind my house. I do stuff with my aunt.” He kicked the rock back to her.
“What about your ‘rents?” Lindsey kicked the rock back to his side.
“I live with my aunt. She’s pretty cool.” Kick.
“Where are your parents?” Kick.
“I live with my aunt.” Kick.
“Oh. What should I call you?” Kick.
“Dunno. Most everyone calls me Skip, but you’ve already tossed that one into the trash. You seem partial to ‘Ass’ or ‘Fool’ from earlier conversations.” Kick.
Lindsey laughed for the first time. Skip realized that he liked hearing her laugh. “Not Skip. Definitely not Skip. Not Dick, for obvious reasons. I like Milhouse, except most people will think of ‘The Simpsons,’ and that’s not what you need. I could call you Nixon or Patterson, but you’ve already let me know how much you hate anything Nixon and the whole Patterson-is-close-to-Pattinson thing brings up those sparkly emo vampires.” Silence. Thinking. “Einstein?” Kick.
“Only if you want to make my life at school more hellish than it already is from the whole Nixon thing.” Silence. Thinking. Einstein. “Have you heard of Paul Simon?” Kick.
“Yeah. Why?” Kick.
“You can call me Al.”
