“Come on, Mags, I was at your house two days ago.”
“Simon, we have talked every day of our lives for how many years? You were blowing me off yesterday. Admit it.”
She isn’t wrong, and it’s hard to fool Mags. Her bullshit meter is spot on. I fess up and tell her that I was blowing her off, but that I had a very good reason and will explain it to her in person. I promise to head over to her house right after school. As soon as she knows there is tea to spill, she forgets all about being angry at me. We end the call on a good note, and both go back to eating our lunches.
I sip on my chocolate soy-milk-in-a-box from the cafeteria and daydream about PJ. I imagine him sitting next to me on the brick wall. He’s not mad at me, but we don’t speak. We just smile at each other like we’re sharing a special secret. The furry blond hair covering his tanned, muscled calves tickles my pale, less-hairy legs. In my mind, he reaches over and puts his hand on mine, but this time I don’t pull away. Instead, I entwine my fingers in his and we hold hands like real boyfriends. I feel safe and loved. Everyone smiles at us as they walk by. They tell us that we’re cute together and it must be true love. I am blissfully lost in my fantasy. Thinking about PJ’s smile, his hairy legs, and holding his hand makes all the blood in my body go south. No, no, no! This is not the time or place for that! When no one’s looking, I readjust myself; my underwear is damp. I make myself think about homework and other unpleasant things until I’m back to normal. Before I know it, lunch is over and it’s time to head back in for class.
When history class is over, I race for the door. I want to get to Drama before class starts to talk to PJ. Maybe we can even sit together. I get to class early. The desks are still in a circle and there are only a few kids in the room. Tillie searches frantically through a pile of papers on her desk, her hair a bit disheveled today. I pick a seat with no one on either side in hopes PJ will sit next to me. The room fills up, but still no PJ. On the plus side, the two desks next to me are still empty. I guess everyone wants to sit with their friends. Being the new kid, I don’t have any friends…or do I?
PJ comes in at the last second as the bell rings. My excitement dissipates when he takes one of the remaining desks on the other side of the room. He doesn’t look my way. My eyes tear up in defeat. When Tillie has us pair up for improv exercises, PJ happily strides over to a goth girl named Suzi. I get paired with the only other person without a partner—Paul.
Sporting a plaid beret and a minefield of acne across his face, Paul appears to be the only other outcast in the room. The strange things I’ve heard him say in class only add to his oddball nature. I like him immediately. Maybe we could become friends? If only my attention wasn’t laser-focused on PJ.
Paul taps me on my shoulder. “Hello? Simon?”
I turn toward Paul’s earnest, blistered face and it occurs to me I haven’t heard a word he’s been saying.
“Why are you staring at that boy?” he says.
Embarrassed, I turn as red as his acne.
“I need to pee,” I say and excuse myself to the bathroom.
Holding back tears, I push into a stall, lock the door behind me, and lean against the cold, steel wall. The alien residing in my stomach awakes and scratches to get out. Like a maniac, I slam the stall door open and rush to the sink to splash cold water on my face. I look in the mirror. What is happening to me?
I stare at my reflection, not recognizing the crazed face looking back at me. Is this the face of someone who could believe there is a creature living inside them? Oh my God, am I crazy? The thought terrifies me beyond words. I talk myself back from the abyss.
Don’t be daft, Simon. That’s ridiculous, just get your shit together. If you’ve blown it with PJ, accept it. End of story. There is no such thing as an alien living in your stomach.
With the tough love self-talk complete, I shake the cobwebs from my head and walk back to class vowing to be a better partner to Paul.
The bell rings and PJ flies out the door as fast as lightning. During the entire class, we never made eye contact. Everyone leaves the classroom, including Paul, until it’s just me and Tillie.
“Can I help you with anything, Simon?”
“Oh, no, sorry, I’m leaving, just a bit slow today. I’m sore from…working out too much yesterday.” I flex my biceps and attempt a smile.
Tillie gives my scrawny body the once-over. She knows bad acting when she sees it. She approaches with a colorful flier in her outstretched hand.
“Here, Simon, take this. It’s for an after-school club I facilitate. You may be interested in joining us. It’s a wonderfully diverse group of students who try to make a difference here at the school. Being new, this might be a way to make some friends.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you, Mrs. Davis. Sorry, I mean…Tillie.” I take the flier, fold it in quarters, and stuff it in my backpack.
I walk out of the classroom and hope to see PJ lingering in the hall for me. He’s nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’ll be at my car. The idea of this makes me smile, and a spring returns to my step as I walk briskly toward the parking lot, foolishly convincing myself he’s there waiting for me.
13
Stinky Tofu
Iarrive at my car and, of course, PJ is not there. Disappointed, I get in and latch my seatbelt with a sigh. What was I thinking? He clearly wants nothing to do with me. I merge onto the highway and call Mom to let her know I’m headed to Mags’ house for a few hours. Mom doesn’t usually answer her cell when she is at work, but I try anyway. When her voicemail picks up, I leave her a message promising to be home in enough time to get my homework done and asking her to text Carole to let her know as well.
When I get to Mags’ house, I knock on the door. Mags peers out the window with an evil grin and shouts for me to come in. Something’s up. As I gingerly enter the house, I’m overwhelmed by a sewage-like stench. It permeates the house and, bent over, I gag and retch. Mags points at me and laughs.
“What the hell, Mags! It smells like dirty wet socks in here.”
Mags can’t stop laughing. She falls on the couch and rolls around gasping for breath between fits of hysteria. Mrs. Chen, snapping green beans at the dining room table, smiles and waves. She seems oblivious to the smell. Mags’ father comes out of the kitchen wearing an apron covered with dark-green stains and a great big smile on his face.
“Ni hao, Mr. and Mrs. Chen,” I say.
