Before You Suffocate Your Own Fool Self - By Danielle Evans Page 0,77
even look at me again, let alone speak to me. Whatever the case, Geena got suspended for two days and no one fucked with me after that. I perfected the art of smiling cruelly, then ran out of school to Geena, and the football field, and the city late at night, to everything that was bright and noisy and newly beautiful.
We were not always laughing. When Geena’s mom was hospitalized with a tumor that turned out to be benign, I cut school for three days to hold Geena’s hand in the hospital waiting room. Later, when the attendance woman said the unexcused absences meant we would both automatically fail for the semester, I got a sympathetic young ER resident to write doctor’s notes for both of us. When my dad lost his job and I couldn’t stand to be in the house and hear my parents budgeting money in terse voices, Geena invented reasons why I had to sleep over at her place every night. When Geena had her abortion, I went with her and covered for her with everyone who wanted to know why she wasn’t laughing like usual. When I swallowed a bottle of Tylenol for no real reason I could think of, Geena stuck her fingers down my throat until I vomited, and through my vomit and her tears screamed until I promised never to do it again. These were the things we never talked about, but they were our things nonetheless.
In the spring of my junior year, Mrs. Peterson sent an office aid to pull me out of class right before lunch. A chorus of oohs greeted the announcement that Mrs. Peterson wanted to see me. In the waiting area, I smiled weakly at Mrs. Sanchez, the receptionist, hoping she might give me a heads-up on what I was here for. She only smiled back at me. Inside her office, Mrs. Peterson grinned at me with her big chipmunk teeth. I had never been so scared to be smiled at.
“Crystal,” she started, and I fought the urge to tell her that was not my name anymore and hadn’t been for quite some time.
“We’re very proud of the work you’ve done since coming to Robert E. Lee. Your record here has been truly impressive.”
I was afraid she was going to expel me. I thought of the worst things I’d done in recent history and prepared myself to explain to her why going to Taco Bell during lunch, hooking up with Jason in his basement, and loaning my fake ID to a freshman cheerleader were not offenses for which she could legitimately kick me out of school.
“Every year,” she continued, “we send one student to the state summer academy. I am pleased to tell you that this year you are our nominee.”
I was so shocked that my reflexive thank-you got caught in my throat. She babbled on about the state summer academy and how good it would look on my college applications. I sat back catching bits and pieces. The seminar was on government and philosophy, which meant I’d get to read more of the stuff everyone thought I was a freak for actually enjoying, but if it had been a seminar on decorating kitchens, I still would have said yes. Being nominated by the school meant that I’d get free room and board at the university where the program was held. I was thinking it was amazing that anyone would pay for me to get away from my life for a few weeks. I was thinking also that I was not stupid. I read the papers: I knew the governor had just started a state commission on the achievement gap between white and minority students. I could picture Mrs. Peterson pouring the state investigator a cup of tea and shrugging and saying, “Crystal has done beautifully, and has been rewarded for it. If her friends showed the same motivation . . .”
Mrs. Peterson was still talking in the present. I snapped back into the conversation when I heard Geena’s name, followed by:
“—nearly on academic probation again. I hope you take note of this. Be careful about the company you keep.”
I wondered what kind of company she kept. I opened my mouth to defend Geena, but knew that right then I couldn’t afford to make Mrs. Peterson angry. Besides, what was keeping Geena off academic probation was me doing her homework, and Mrs. Peterson didn’t need to know that. I shut my mouth and left her office.