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My parents are getting a divorce. They yell at each other all night.
I thought Coca-Cola was alcohol. No, I wastoldthat it was alcohol and that daddy drinks it when he drives us to skating. I said he was a drunk driver to those people in suits…
The next morning, Duke comes up to me– he’s wearing his puka shell summer necklace– and he tells me that Coca-Cola is only pop. I’m so angry. I wish he didn’t tell me because now I know I’m being manipulated. I’m so mad at everyone…
So, I punch him in the eye…
It’s the first day of middle school. We have first hour English together. He’s way taller than me now. He keeps growing and I don’t.
I catch him looking at me sometimes. He turns away real quick, but I can still see that his cheeks turn red.
All of a sudden, we have a secret that we’re taking to the grave…
In seventh grade gym class, the boys are told they have to pick a girl to be on their team. Reggie picks me first. Duke’s mad. So mad that he won’t even look at me.
The gym teacher blows the whistle to start the game, and Duke chucks the ball hard right at Reggie’s face. Reggie falls back on his butt and holds his nose. Blood immediately starts trickling down his face.
Reggie is sent to the office. Duke is sent to the locker rooms to change.
Everyone starts teasing Duke and calling him a “ball of hate” at school now too. He acts like he doesn’t care, but his jaw tightens up and his nose flares a bit, and I can tell that he does care. A lot.
We’re in eighth grade. His freckles have faded a lot and he has shaggy hair now. He swings his neck to the side to get it out of his eyes. I want to touch his hair; to brush it out of his eyes gently. But that would be stupid… right?
We both missed the same day of school– him because of a hockey tourney, me because of a figure skating competition. So, we both have to take our math test out in the hallway.
We sit on opposite sides of the hall. He’s sticking his tongue out, so I know he’s concentrating hard. I think he’s doing badly on the test because he keeps looking at me. Maybe he wants help?
‘Why are you looking at me?’ I ask him quietly.
‘Your pretty hair,’ he says while looking back at his test. ‘It’s so shiny when the sun hits it.’
It’s the last day of eighth grade now… He comes up to my locker and all the kids around us start whispering. I feel my cheeks heat up a bit, which is odd. That never happened to me around him before, but we barely see each other anymore.
‘Can you uh… sign my yearbook?’ He gives me his usual lopsided grin.
I haven’t signed any yearbooks yet because I don’t really have friends here at school. It makes me feel special that he wants me to sign it. I nod and tell him I’ll give it back after first period…
But as I flip through the pages, I see that my face has been scribbled out, and the world ‘fugly’ is written on top of it. It feels like my throat is closing up. I will myself not to start crying. I will not. Because I’m in the middle of math class and everyone will see, and they’ll know why…
But why… Why had I been thinking so stupidly?
I don’t want to face him. So, I open his yearbook up to the offending page and leave it at the foot of his locker.
At lunch… the gossip spreads like wildfire…
Duke got suspended. On the very last day of school. His mom had to come pick him up and everything…
Apparently, he tackled his friend Tyler and beat him up. The whole time, Tyler was yelling that it was just a joke…
It’s the summer before high school. We aged out of the kiddie camp at the rink a while ago. I miss it. I miss him. Even though we only ever chirped insults at each other, I miss the interaction.
On Wednesdays we cross paths in the weight room though, and we still compete. It's the only way to make him notice me.
I continue to do pull-ups ‘til I feel my body shaking and my face turning red… but I willnot lose to him. I want to impress him…
So, I win.
His face turns red… but not from effort. I think he’s embarrassed? He was never embarrassed to lose to me before…
