Forever for a Year(5)

So why couldn’t I concentrate now? This was sooo frustrating. It was the first day of classes; I needed to start off good! Start off WELL, I mean.… See, I was a mess! What was going wrong? I was so prepared! Wait a minute. I totally know what was happening: The new boy was staring at me. He had to be. Definitely.

But when I glanced toward him, he was staring ahead at Mr. Klenner, even writing stuff down. Ugh. Why did I feel so weird? Was there something weird about HIM that made me feel weird? I stole tiny, bitsy glances out of the corner of my eye. Mmm. Okay, he was cute. That’s just a fact. He had dark skin and a chin that looked like a sculpture. Oh, what a corny thing to say. Though I guess it’s true. But there had to be something about him besides being cute that was making my brain unfocused. He probably looked like someone I knew. Or maybe I met him once. That had to be it, right? He just felt sooo familiar.…

Oh my gosh. Wake up! Just listen to the teacher, Carolina! Listen. Listen. Listen.

Which I totally did, except when I was thinking about the new boy and what his name was and where he was from and if he was going to thank me for giving him sheets of paper at the end of class.

Which he didn’t. Because after class ended, I lingered there at my seat for an extra couple of seconds, even though I’m usually fast to leave so I can get to my next class on time. But he was even faster than I was, so he left and didn’t say anything.

I didn’t care. I didn’t. Boys are horrible. All of them. New ones with nice hair and even nicer forearms. And old, dumb ones too.

*

“CARRIE!” my dad called out as I walked into the kitchen that morning at 6:40 a.m. More like he sang my name. Waving, with a big smile on his face. He liked to do this—sing your name when he was saw you, especially me—because he thought it would make everyone forget he was a big jerk. I would never forget. Never.

“My name is Carolina now, and WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, DAD?” I screamed because his being here ruined everything. Everything, everything, everything.

“Please don’t scream at me. What made you decide to start going by Carolina? I like it.” My dad talked like he was the mature one. Which he isn’t.

“Why are you here?” I whined. I hate when I do that. I’m too old to whine now. Oh no, I could feel tears forming. No, no, no! I would not cry. I would not let him ruin this day. I’m strong. I’m amazing. I’m a grown woman now.

He said, pretending to be a good parent, “It’s your first day of high school. I wanted to see my little girl off. I know your mom had an early shift, so I’m here.”

For, like, maybe one tiny little second I thought this was true. I mean, maybe part of it was true, but for just that tiny second I thought it was the only truth. And I remembered when I loved him, before he hurt my mom. When he was my best friend who I could talk to about anything, and we flew to New York City, just the two of us, just to see a new musical, and he was so wise and interesting and funny and the best dad ever, and … NEVER MIND. I hate thinking about that stuff now. Because then I noticed he didn’t have shoes on. He noticed that I noticed.

“Carrie … Carolina,” my dad started, smiling, always thinking he can smile away all the problems he causes. “You’re right. I don’t have shoes on. Which means I spent the night. You don’t miss a thing, do you?” He laughed really big. Like it was sooo cute that he couldn’t trick me. “Please don’t cry. Oh, my princess, please don’t.”

I didn’t know I was crying until he said it, which made it worse. My motivational pep talk in my head didn’t work. This made me cry more. Why couldn’t I be perfect? I wanted to be perfect!

I would be. I WOULD BE. I would be.

Tears were wiped away. Big breath. Chin high. “Scott…”

“Scott? You’ve never called me that before. So I’m Scott and you’re Carolina? High school already marks some big changes. I prefer Dad, but I respect your choices.”

Ignore him? Definitely. “Scott, I will have a discussion tonight with my mother, your ex-wife, about her mistakenly letting you back into her life last night.”

“We’re not divorced. We’re not getting divorced. Stop talking like that. So cold and stilted. That therapy-speak makes you sound brainwashed, not mature, like you think.”

“I only saw a therapist because of youuu!”

“Carrie, you’re being mean. You haven’t let me see you all summer. Can you please sit down and talk to me? I want to hear about your new school year.”

“Scott, first off, I’d really appreciate it if I didn’t have to tell you again that I’m going by Carolina now,” I said, calm, perfect. “Second, I am going back to my bedroom, where I will get my bag, go over my checklist one last time, and then come back here to have breakfast. I am requesting that you be gone when I return so I may enjoy breakfast before my first day of high school in peace.”

He looked down. My dad never cried when he was sad; he just looked down and stopped trying to charm you. I felt bad about making him sad, but then I remembered he ruined my life, and walked back to my room.

After I closed the door to the bedroom, I looked in the mirror. I had been so proud of myself for regaining my composure and speaking to my dad the way I did, I assumed my reflection would show this amazingly powerful young woman. Like a beautiful TV lawyer in a tastefully sexy suit admiring herself before a big case.