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Chapter 2
Julianna
“Juju bean, I don't know what to do with you anymore,” my uncle Rick, the principal of our high school, informs me with a sigh.
“If I tell you it wasn’t my fault, would you believe me?” I ask softly, wincing when his hard eyes meet mine. “Okay, I guess that’s a no. Look, I really didn’t start it this time. The cheerleaders did. They were picking on Birkley, and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. Honestly, they all turned to me and started saying….” I trail off when he clears his throat.
“I don’t care what those other kids did, Juju. You got up on a table in the middle of the lunch period and started dancing and singing. I’ve let you get away with a lot because you’re my niece, and I love you, but this time, I just can’t let things slide. This time it might be out of my hands, kiddo,” he tells me with a sad look.
“This isn’t even the worst thing I’ve done. How can this be the final straw?” I ask, not understanding. I’ve done some pretty crazy things in the past at this school. Like protesting at the front of the school when they wanted to take away the arts program… that wasn’t going to work for me. My life is the drama club. When they told us they might have to close that whole department, I got a bit…. crazy. It wasn’t just our department they wanted to shut down, though. They wanted to close the art and media courses completely. That included movie production, art and sculpting, and music. That would have made the rest of my and Birkley’s high school experience even more unbearable. This has me thinking too. I probably shouldn’t have graffitied the cheer squad’s locker room. I’ll try to fix that before he finds out.
“Listen, I’m going to call the school board. Try to smooth this over before it gets too out of hand. If any of the student’s parents or even the media get wind of your stunts, we’re both in deep water without a paddle. Please, for God’s sake, just lie low for a while. Go to class and keep your grades up. As soon as I hear something, I’ll let you know,” he says, clearly dismissing me. I wince as I ask my final question.
“Are you going to tell my parents?” I ask sheepishly, looking at him and pleading with my eyes for him to say no.
“I have to this time, Juju. If not, they will hear about it one way or another. If they do, it will only make matters worse, you know that,” he says, giving me a sad, drained look.
I nod, knowing he wouldn’t bother them if he didn’t have to. My mom’s really sick right now, and the last thing I want to do is add more stress to her plate. She was diagnosed with breast cancer last year, and the treatments have been hell on her and my father. Before she got sick, they were the carefree, happy, and loving parents every kid wishes for. Then we had to sell the little diner we owned in town just to pay for my mom's treatments. My dad still works as a cook there, but it barely covers the bills. I know they still love me and show me how much they care, but it’s hard with the hand we’ve all been dealt. Watching my once outgoing and loving mother fade into a shell of the woman she once was broke something in me. Maybe that’s why I’ve been pushing the limits so much lately. I just want to feel happy about something, anything really, at this point. I’m tired of having this dark cloud above my head reminding me about my family's situation and how there is nothing at all I can do about it.
I stand, walking out of my uncle’s office, trying to get back into the happy and carefree mask I carry around with me while at school. I don’t want people treating me differently or feeling sorry for me if they knew about my family situation. My mom is strong. She’s the toughest woman I know, so I also know she’s going to pull through this.
I walk down the deserted hallways of my school, trying to shake the sadness that seems to be my life for the past year. This isn’t me, and I hate it, the mopey girl who sulks around hating the hand she’s been dealt. No, I'm stronger than that and I sure as heck don’t do that woe is me act. I need to dig deep and be even stronger for my mom, myself, and especially my dad. He’s taking this the hardest.
He and my mom have been together basically since they were born. They were neighbors growing up, high school sweethearts, and each other’s soul mates. I know my father is scared to death at the thought of losing her. Now it’s my job to be there, to be strong, to be positive; for my parents, it would mean everything. Getting in trouble at school isn’t part of that plan, and I really need to figure out a way to make up for the shit I pull.
I continue walking down the halls, completely lost in thought, not really knowing where I’m going, and definitely not wanting to go to my home economics class. The only thing we are learning is sewing, and from my years of theater, I’d like to think I’m an expert with a sewing machine. My parents even bought me a Brother embroidery machine a few years ago, and that’s just one of my many passions.
I make my way toward the back of the school with no particular destination in mind and wander over to the parking lot. I watch out of the little window in the back door as Brody and his friends mount their motorcycles. I’ll never admit it to anyone, but more than once, I’ve imagined myself on the back of Brody’s bike, arms wrapped tightly around his middle, hair blowing in the wind, pressed snuggly against the strong back of the guy I’ve been in love with most of my life.
He’s never given me the time of day, but I see him everywhere. Brody has been in all my classes since the second grade, silently sitting there with his head down while my voice never fails to travel over the rest of the class, including the teachers. I couldn’t help it, and I still can’t. When I have something to say, I always feel like it needs to be said. I try to keep it to myself, but I like to talk. Trying to keep quiet when you just want to be free is hard as hell. I’ve also noticed Brody helping backstage at some of our previous plays and productions the drama club has put on. I wish I could talk to him, but the minute he comes around my mouth and brain shut off for some unknown reason.
Brody doesn’t look my way as he kicks up the motorcycle stand, starts his bike, and pulls out of the school lot. I watch until he turns out of the school property, and I can no longer see him before I turn and start making my way back toward the Drama room. It’s connected to the theater in our school, and there are some set issues and costume problems I need to address. Not to mention, there’s still a lot of work I need to do for my part as Lead Player in the show.
My drama teacher is laid back and content to let me do whatever I want. As long as I don’t bug him, he doesn’t care and will get me out of my other classes. I already know I could graduate with the credits I have now, but I want to walk with my class and complete my final show with my friends. I want this last year to seem as normal as possible before reality hits and realization sets in that I have nothing planned after graduation except to get a job and help my parents as much as I can. It’s not the big dream I had planned for my future once upon a time. It’s definitely not Broadway and New York, but it is family and love, so that’s all that matters.
