Wilson Mooney, Almost Eighteen (2 page)

Some people tried to comfort me into
believing my grandparents were together, sitting in heaven looking
down from their celestial space in the sky. Me? Well I didn’t know
what to believe. Part of me wanted to think they were sitting right
next to Jesus, but I couldn’t. I just wasn’t convinced the legs of
their chairs wouldn’t fall through the soft puffy clouds. Besides
what were they going to do on a picture perfect clear
day?

The school assigned me a
grievance counselor, someone that could help me with all the
‘
pain’
I buried
deep in my soul. When I didn’t show up for my first session, they
called me out from seventh period and cornered me in the hall
outside the classroom.
Talk about a real
awkward intervention
. Principal Rose, Vice
Principal Hardbough, (known to most as Mrs. Hardballs) and the
guidance counselor Mrs. Jenkles, swarmed around me and bounced in
rhythm. They kept chanting strange words about letting go of my
disappointment and embracing the small lost child within. Lesson
learned that day? Fake it ‘til you make it. If I’d just gone to the
stupid appointment, I could have stayed in pottery and finished the
ashtray I made for my non-smoking best friend’s parents. Instead I
got shuffled into the guidance counselor’s office every day for the
next two weeks during seventh period.

By the time I convinced Mrs. Jenkles
that I was mentally balanced enough, the trimester ended and I got
a D in the class. You want to know what the real kicker was. My
grade was affected by my lack of attendance and incomplete
projects. That was the bureaucracy of it all; nobody would claim
the blame. The day I took my unfinished ashtray to Joanie’s
parents, I realized how much I missed my grandparents. The stupid,
restless, bowl of an ashtray helped me breakdown and understand I
was truly alone in this world. I cried hard that night in my pillow
and vowed to never cry for my grandparents again; and I
haven’t.

The truth be told, I wasn’t
really alone in the world, I had Joanie my BFF. We met when we both
were dumped at Bethany’s Boarding School for Girls at the ripe
young age of eight; wide eyed and scared we gravitated to one
another. She’s the most amazing person I have ever met. She has
this way of making me believe I can survive anything. You know the
type; they dared you to kick the devil between the legs while
holding an angel by the wings. She was my rock through the
whole
death comes in waves
thing. While I was busy waiting for the other
shoe to drop, she was there to remind me to blow my nose and wash
my hands.

Flashbacks and daydreams helped lessen
the tedium of my under aged, ‘slave-labor’ moments of cleaning the
whiteboards. By the time I looked at the clock, I only had Max
Goldstein’s board left to rub; I liked to clean his last. He had
the really nice, enormous erasers that wiped the board clear in a
couple of swipes. That wasn’t the only reason. He always stayed
late to work on the lesson plan for the next day and he didn’t
leave until around four-thirty. If I planned my wipes right, I
could spend thirty minutes in the same room with him. Thirty
minutes of uninterrupted time with the hottest teacher in the
entire school. No flirtatious questions from Bonnie Wente or stupid
questions from Jacky Burlington. Only he and I with boards that
needed to be stroked and lessons that needed to be
planned.

I pulled open the massive metal door
to his room and shuffled past the pile of crumpled paper
overflowing his waste basket. I could smell his cologne fresh like
he splashed some on his neck before I showed up. The hint of
lavender hovered faint in the air. He looked up from the planner he
had spread across his desk.

“
Oh hey there Wilson, I
almost forgot you were coming in today.”

I froze; my heart crashed
down into my stomach. His words damaged me like a wrecking ball
plummeting into a building.
This wasn’t
the first time I came to clean his boards.

“
Did you need me to come
back?” I asked.

“
No, go ahead and do what
you need to do.” He pushed his finger into a black drawn square and
started to write in the time.

How dare he forget I was
coming to his classroom?
The way he
ignored me knocked me into the swell of my own self-pity as he
continued to press his pen to the planner.
Fine, two can play that way
. I
grabbed the humongous erasers and started clearing his board, the
entire thing—starting with the part where he drew a square around
and wrote in big black words, DO NOT ERASE.

Okay, so it was immature and cruel, I
would even go far enough to say rude. But I gotta admit I felt
vindicated. My emotions always ran hot and cold. That was me,
that’s how I rolled. I have heard people refer to me as a pit-bull.
If you were part of my pack, I’d protect you to the death. Piss me
off, and I’d turn on you, faster than a crazed dog chasing an
injured cat.

I guess it was time for me
to apologize profusely and make it look like a total
accident.

“
I’m sorry Mr. Goldstein. I
think I just erased something you wanted to keep.” I crumpled my
eyebrows and I twisted my lips. He paused from the planner and
looked up. At first he narrowed his eyes, and clenched his jaw.
Frustration draped his face.
I’ve never
seen him frustrated before. Wow, he is so gorgeous.
Then just as fast, his expression broke to
forgiveness. His eyes rounded, his lips pulled across his perfect
teeth into a smile and he shook his head back and forth.

He came over to me. “Don’t worry about
it Wilson. I know you’ve had a lot on your mind lately.” His hand
pushed at my back. Shivers ran down my arms, my fingers clinched
the eraser and I felt the ripples vibrate up through my scalp. He
was touching me; his hand was so warm.

“
I’m sorry about your
grandfather.”

He dropped his hands and slid them
into the front pockets of his Levi’s. His red flannelled shoulders
rose up to touch his ears. His dark blue t-shirt wrinkled by his
waist.

What? What did he just
say, I didn’t catch that. I guess I was too busy watching his body
move. Too busy listening to my inner voice practicing my new name,
Wilson Goldstein.

“
I’m sorry. I didn’t hear
what you said.” He pulled his hands out of his pockets and grabbed
my shoulders. “I’m sorry about your grandfather,” he made sure I
saw him speaking. I still couldn’t focus on what he said.
Hello, now both hands were touching
me.

They always say teachers shouldn’t
touch their students. What a heap of steaming crap. Please, touch
me all you want. How do you think he kept me coming back to my
government class? It sure wasn’t the curriculum. Who really cared
how a bill became a law, or the difference between the three
branches of government. It was because I got to spend fifty whole
minutes watching him. And if it was a great day, he would have
brushed his hand across the top of my chair and I would have felt
my shirt push across my back as he bent down to help me with
something I didn’t understand. Needless to say, I was always
struggling in government. I looked forward to that moment where his
smell would surround me; his one hand would rest on my chair while
his other would anchor strong onto my desk.

The edge of his eyebrow rose, waiting
for me to answer.

“
Thanks, but he died over
two weeks ago.”
Why didn’t I just say
thanks and move on
? His hands dropped from
my shoulders and his face drained white. I felt the huge eraser I
still had in my hand become too heavy and fall to the
ground.

“
I didn’t know—you didn’t
miss any school. I assumed that it just happened.”

“
No. Don’t be sorry, he
lived
way
too
long.”

“
Wow, well you seem like
you’re doing fine.” He shook his head. I should have known when his
eyes bugged out that I came across all wrong.

That was my downfall. I didn’t know
when to shut-up. Open mouth and insert foot, those words should
have been tattooed on the inside of my eyelids.

“
Yeah, I’m
fine.”

I bent down and picked up the gigantic
eraser. I needed to get some erasing done. I’ve been told the
office had spies and narks and if they peeked into the window of
Max’s room and saw I was talking, I could lose my financial aid.
With six months left before I graduated, I didn’t want to mess it
up.

Besides, part of me wanted
him to be intrigued, less was more. I wanted him to push. If I kept
part of my life mysterious, he would take the bait. Although, the
whole thing could backfire and he could lose interest leaving me
with the desperate act of flirting and asking stupid
questions.
God don’t let me reach that
level of desperation.

He stood for a moment
longer before he headed back to his desk and pulled out a blank
piece of paper. I could feel him staring at me. I wondered what he
was thinking.
I knew what I wanted him to
think.
I stole glances when I could,
adjusting my arms to see underneath. He scribbled on the paper,
folded it and stood behind me.

“
Wilson, I know you’re
pretty much on your own. Well… I want you to take this, call if you
need someone to talk to. Okay?” He pushed the folded paper towards
me. He held it out in the open air between us. I watched it quiver.
I looked around, and made sure nobody saw me grab it from him
before I shoved it in the front pocket of my khaki shorts. I swear
he saw my heart pound heavy in my chest. I heard it.

“
Thanks.”

Here we go, he’s making his
move. I’m so ready for this! I’ll keep it cool for the next month.
Act like nothing is going on between us and when I turn eighteen,
nobody will be able to stop us. I will be a legal adult.
My head spun off into images of us holding hands,
walking down the halls at school, and sneaking away for
lunch.

Christmas break—public schools called
it winter break. I didn’t know what the difference was, except one
reminded me I shared a birthday with Christ, and the other made me
think about dirty snow. I will be here at the dorms because, well
let’s face it— I don’t really have any place to go. Maybe Max will
be here with me and he could take me to meet his parents. That
would work.

I watched him strut back to his desk.
I couldn’t wait to open the note. I continued wiping the boards
while he packed up his books and laptop. He tossed a glance my way
before he dragged his briefcase across the top of his
desk.

“
Want me to walk you out?”
The way he looked at me melted my heart causing it to drip into the
pit of my stomach teasing my butterflies fighting to be
free.

“
That’s okay. I still have
the back board to clean.”

“
Here, let me help you. Get
you out a’ here faster.” He grabbed the huge eraser out of my hand,
went to the back board and started wiping.
OK, if that wasn’t a sign that he liked me then I didn’t know
what was.

“
Thanks—” I stood and
watched him for a moment before I had to turn and wipe his words
from the board.

“
You’re welcome,” he
continued.

I wanted to remember this moment
forever.

Chapter Two:

I sat on my bed staring at the folded
paper. There was a part of me that wanted to live in the moment
that he had handed it to me. The butterflies in my stomach, the
smell of the room, the letter quivering in his hand, I was there
again; in my mind. They say that your imagination is the key to
your soul. My deadbolt had been sprung wide open with my thoughts
about him.

“
What cha’ doing?” a
squeaky voice invaded my moment. It was Cindy Browler, my roommate.
Typical rich kid,
you recognize her name
right, Browler?
Her grandfather is the
owner of the hip food chain Browler Burritos;
thought you might now.
They only
have about two hundred restaurants in the state of California
alone, which makes them one of the richest families in the state.
The food was edible, nothing to write home about. People eat up
that trendy crap. All it took was a couple of movie stars and
sports figures, and all of a sudden, it was the place to be.
Anyway, Cindy was an okay person; needy, but who wasn’t
sometimes.

“
I was just thinking about
the test in trigonometry tomorrow; you ready?” Small talk was never
a strong suit of mine. But being roommates with Cindy for the last
three and a half years I’ve started to master the
concept.

“
No, I was thinking, this
weekend I’m flying out to see my dad in Aspen;
aaannd…
you’re coming with me.” Her
eyes rounded, hoping she didn’t cross the line with her demands.
“I’ll teach you how to ski. You have to say yes, because I won’t go
without you.
Please.
” She flung her body on my bed. The folded love letter from
Max catapulted up off the comforter and down onto the floor,
landing between the bed frame and my nightstand. Panic rushed my
body as my eyes followed its flight.