across the street, I’ve seen my neighbor, a forty-year-old corporate executive, buy pot from this kid who drives a Hummer, which is an abomination to the planet, according to my father. My parents don’t like our neighbor at all, but it’s not because he buys weed from the Hummer-driving kid. They don’t like him because he’s living with a woman who is only twenty-two. Although my parents are very judge-not-lest-ye-be-judged kind of people, on this issue, they judge.
When I’m walking the dogs, I’ve seen this dealer sing songs from his car to alert Ken, the corporate executive neighbor guy, that his delivery has arrived. All the dogs bark when this is going down because they have instincts. Sometimes, the dealer gets out of his car and pees (I don’t know if I can say that in this essay, but I did see that) on the lawn. The dogs all want to pee then, too, which can get kind of messy.
I’ve also seen my father walk across the street and speak to our neighbor. I’m only speculating here, but I’m pretty sure that my dad was talking to our neighbor about the inappropriate nature of his drug dealings when there is a teenager living across the street. It would be a lot funnier if what I had seen was my father buying weed off him. (JK)
Teacher comments: Do not write about contraband. You are capable of description beyond what you demonstrated here; such a topic is beneath your intellect.
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter #1 from Marv
(I give him a B, mainly for effort.)
Danielle,
Your teacher, Ms. Harrison, tells me that you are a very good writer. She suggests that we may make more progress together if we put our ideas into writing rather than talking. I thought it was an intriguing idea since you seem hesitant about expressing yourself in conversation when we are together. This is very unorthodox, but I spoke with your mother, and she felt it might be a good idea. She, too, lauded your writing ability, and hey, you never know, our communications back and forth may support the budding author within you. What do you say?
Marv
*MARV MISSIVE*
Letter #1 from me to Marv
(My attempt to humor him and validate the cashing of his paycheck. I slide it under his office door.)
Marv,
I do like to write. However, I have no idea what I would write to you.
Danielle
*SECRET ME-MOIR ENTRY* 12/14
Secret #5: The Pied Piper
Today I watched Jacob lead a pep rally with the whole school—elementary, middle, and high school. It was chilly outside and I sat shivering in a back row bleacher. The crisp air may have been one reason I was shaking, but I think there were feelings I’m not sure how to describe bubbling up from inside and shaking all my parts.
The rally was outside on the football field, and the student council and the athletes went nuts with it. They got all the people who live in the houses surrounding the school to sign permission slips about noise so music could be pumped out of huge speakers. A local radio station sponsored the event and a DJ came. Keira wore the panther mascot suit, and even though I didn’t want to have this thought, she reminded me so much of a friend I used to have. It was the way she was dancing around the crowd, her musicality, I guess I’d call it. When she swayed to the beat, her body looked like a letter S, my favorite letter. S is sophisticated, sexy, sultry—a seductress letter. When I dance, I am just a bouncing O. An O is an outcast letter. Anyway, she was popping in and out of the crowd and letting some of the young kids jump on her back. Watching her was what Ms. Harrison would call sublime because her grace was both beautiful and painful to experience. I teared up watching her.
Jacob was on the microphone the whole time, introducing the football players and leading cheers and the games. Whenever he asked for volunteers, like for the balloon toss or the pie-eating contest, practically the entire student body, three hundred people, raised their hands—everyone just desperate to get up and be near him.
After all the games, he let a bunch of fifth graders smash the remains of the whipped cream pies all over him, and he just laughed and embraced all the little guys who were eager to hug him. Everyone was cheering and laughing and throwing confetti and blowing noisemakers, and I sat quietly