I mopped the floors of the hallways after school, but it didn't even feel like work. I was still elated over the exchange I had had with Kayla earlier in world cultures class. I don't know why I had been so comfortable talking with her. Maybe it was because I knew I had nowhere to go but up. Just the memory of her laughing at the things I said and actually complimenting me made me feel like I could conquer a small country. I heard people talking as I neared the student government room, and when I heard my name, I stopped outside the door. I didn't want to listen, but when someone's talking about you, it's almost like an invisible force keeps you from walking away.
"I can't believe how you were acting with Frog today."
"What are you talking about?" Responded the unmistakable voice of Kayla Morrison. I felt my pulse quicken.
"You were laughing, and smiling, and being nice to him… it was so embarrassing!"
"Miranda, he's got a really great sense of humor! Why shouldn't I be nice to him?"
"Because you fraternizing with him is going to bring us both down."
Kayla snorted. "Are you serious?"
"Yes! We're best friends, and everything you do reflects back on me! I don't want people thinking we associate with him!"
There was a pause before Kayla responded. "I don't want to talk about this right now. We have work to do."
"Just promise me you won't become friends with him."
"I can't promise that."
Miranda huffed. "Well, at least promise me you won't kiss him."
"Wow, Miranda, you are being ridiculous."
"Well, you never know…"
"Can we get back to work? I need to reserve the theater for the talent show, and we need to post a sign up sheet in the hall before we leave. Could you print one out?"
"Okay, fine," Miranda said glumly.
I quietly retreated down the hall as they talked about plans for the talent show, shaking my head at their odd conversation. One thing was for sure, I didn't like that Miranda girl very much, but I was glad that Kayla had sort of defended me. I was pretty bummed that the thought of kissing me was 'ridiculous' to her, but I couldn't blame her.
I ducked into a classroom when I saw the two girls come out and tape a paper on the wall, and I stayed out of sight until they had walked down the hall and disappeared around the corner. I walked over and read the paper, which was a sign up for the talent show that was happening the following week. I'd actually always wanted to perform in something like that, but the thought of getting up in front of everyone made my tongue go dry. If only I could perform anonymously, I thought. Suddenly, an idea formed in my head, and before I knew it, I was writing on the first line of the paper. I don't know why I was feeling so courageous. Maybe it had something to do with hormones.
*****
I was practicing my guitar when my mom got home. She came in the door with her suitcase and an expression that looked a lot more strained than usual. I stood up to greet her and give her a hug. I might have been a moody teenager, but I wasn't past giving my mom hugs. She traveled so much that deep down there was a part of me that worried she'd be involved in a plane crash or something.
"How was your trip, mom?"
"Oh, fine," she responded, looking distracted. "This company was a little… unyielding."
She set her suitcase by the couch and took off her jacket, crossing to the closet to hang it up. She always managed to look elegant, whether she was dressed up for a work meeting or at home in her pajamas. It was a trait I had apparently not inherited.
"I made dinner," I said. "Grilled chicken."
She turned and smiled at me. "That was a very noble thing to do," she commented, inspecting her plate on the table.
I shook my head. Sometimes my mom had a weird way of saying things. I sat down across from her and noticed an odd pin on her shirt.
"What's that?" I asked.
She looked down and almost seemed alarmed for a moment, then straightened and looked back at me. "It's just a brooch your father gave me back in Gulbrania. I wear it every now and then," she said casually, as if she hadn't just mentioned the two things she rarely talked about.
My memories of Gulbrania were hazy at best. There was a lot of food, and a lot of adults, and a lot of cold weather. I spent most of my time playing alone in large, sterile rooms, and I hardly ever got to go outside. I knew my parents were kind of important because there were always fancy people coming to see them. My grandfather lived there too, but I only saw him a couple times. He always seemed to be in a hurry. My grandmother had died before I was born.
We left Gulbrania when my grandfather died and moved to the United States just before I turned four. Those first few years in Indiana were some of the best of my life. Our family was really close, my father spent a lot of time with me, and I had friends. Those were the years I used to play almost every day with Kayla, who had lived just a few houses down the street. Then, when I turned seven, everything changed. My dad got in an accident and hurt his shoulder pretty bad. He recovered from it quickly, but I guess it affected him more than he let on. My parents started fighting, having hushed conversations in their bedroom that would turn into shouting matches. About this time, Kayla moved to a different house, and I hardly saw her. Then one night my father left with no explanation and never came back. By the time I was eight, I was diagnosed with liver disease and had to start taking those awful pills.
"Is everything okay, honey?"
My mom's question brought me out of my memories. "Yeah, I was just thinking about my homework," I lied.
"Did anything happen while I was gone?" She asked.
I mentally reviewed the last few days. The chemistry lab had almost blown up, people threw trash at me at the football game, I had an amazing conversation with Kayla, and I'd signed up for the talent show.
"Nope. Everything's been pretty normal," I replied.
She narrowed her eyes at me, knowing that I wasn't being honest, but for some reason, this time, she let it go. I guess work was really stressing her out more than usual.