HEROES
by Frank Downey

Part Two

--SEVEN--

Monday morning. Jesus, I wasn’t looking forward to this.

My parents had really rallied. They’d been amazingly great all weekend. Wonders never cease. And Craig did call Sunday night, and had me in stitches with his pep talk. He also, seriously, reminded me that he was in my first class Monday morning. That would be a help.

What wasn’t going to help was that it was history, with that asshole. His name was Mr. Ellis. Hopefully, since I’d been out two weeks, he’d give me a fucking break.

So, I got up, dread in my heart, and got dressed. Yeah, I decided to hide them. I wore a long-sleeved shirt. Hey, it was mid-October, in Rochester, Michigan. It wasn’t exactly balmy outside. I could definitely get away with long sleeves.

The school had been informed that I was ‘injured’--that was all, at my request. I knew Craig had told people I’d been in an accident. I knew the truth would come out sooner or later--but I was going to control when, where, and how. 

It turned out that I didn’t take very long at all.

I walked into history. Craig, who sat a couple rows over from me, passed me entering the room and gave me a little pat on the shoulder. That was all, but it meant a lot. 

Then the class started. And, dammit, that asshole Ellis wasn’t going to cut me a bit of slack.

“Well, Miss Klusse! So glad to see you back all recovered,” he started. I just gave him the fakest grin I could muster. He went on. “Since I know you’ve read the assignments while you recuperated from your accident, I’m sure you know we’re studying the Constitutional Convention. I haven’t had anyone to lead the discussions as well as you do, so would you start for us by summarizing the reading?”

“Sorry, didn’t read it,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“I haven’t picked up a schoolbook in two weeks. I’ve had other things on my mind,” I said, picking up steam. And then I did it. “I wasn’t recuperating from any damn accident.” I roughly pulled up my sleeves, and then held my hands up for all to see. “I slashed my wrists.” The gasps were audible.

I went on. “So, you can see I’ve been preoccupied. And you can also see I’m not exactly the most mentally stable person in the world right now. And one of the reasons I’m not is that I’m sick of being a circus freak.”

I had the rapt attention of everyone in the room, including Ellis. “So, I’ve made a decision. I’m going to sit in this class, and take your tests, and ace them as always. But the days of me being the one to always speak up in class are over. If you call on me again, I’m going to sit here like a mute. I’m tired of always being picked on because I’m smart, especially by teachers. You get no more freebies from me. You’re the damn teacher, you teach this class.”

Ellis looked at me like I had four heads. He wasn’t the only one--pretty much the whole class did. Well, except for Craig--who shot me a grin and a thumbs-up. 

Finally, Ellis cleared his throat and said, “OK, the Constitutional Convention.” And he didn’t call on me again. 

I considered it a victory. Yeah, everybody knew, now--everyone in that class, and it would surely spread--but it was a victory.

It happened twice more--and that was before lunch! In pre-calc, and in physics. I gave similar speeches in both. The pre-calc teacher reacted the way Ellis had, but the physics teacher got pissed and sent me to the office. 

To see the principal, good ol’ Mr. Egermont.

Eggy--as we all called him behind his back--was a fraud. Kept up this big hi-how-ya-doin’ facade, while, deep down, he was a prick. The man had the phoniest smile in the greater Detroit area. I’d never had a run-in with him before--I was the class brain, after all--but I hated his guts anyway.

He called me into the Inner Sanctum, and bade me sit down. “Virginia,” he said with that simpering fake smile, “I hear you’ve been a disruption in some of your classes this morning.”

“Yup,” I said agreeably.

“But why?” he said, fake smile still in place. “You’ve always been our best student. And your teachers always tell me how helpful you are in class.”

“Because I’m forced to be. Not because I want to.”

“But, Virginia, class participation is part of your grade. Your grades are stellar, I’d hate to see them drop.”

“That’s bull,” I said. “Angela Cressey’s grades are almost as good as mine are, and she doesn’t say a bloody word in class, because she’s shy.”

“But you’re not shy.”

“No, I’m suicidal.” He looked at me and snorted in disbelief. So, I showed him my wrists. 

Which finally wiped the fucking smile off his face. 

“I wasn’t in an accident two weeks ago. I slashed my wrists. It’s a fluke I was found in time. And, I’ll be honest with you, I’m still not quite sure that it was a good thing that I was found. 

“One of the reasons I am suicidal is that the teachers in this school, and every school I’ve attended, have helped paint a big huge sign on my forehead that says ‘Class Brain’. I am tired of it. I won’t put up with it anymore. If I keep getting singled out in class--which makes my classmates hate me, by the way--you will be attending a funeral. Got me?”

He was as pale as a sheet. Finally, he managed to say something. “Are you in counseling? We have some good ones here.”

“Yes, I’m in counseling, of course. And not with one here. Are you kidding? I wouldn’t trust a counselor affiliated with the school. They’d probably make the ol’ Class Brain regurgitate the collected works of Freud, or something.” 

“Virginia, has it really been that bad?” he asked.

Since he seemed almost sincere, I answered the same way. “Yes. It’s really been that bad.”

“Then I’ll put a stop to it.”

“Thank you.” 

“Virginia, brains are nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’d trade ‘em for looks,” I grinned. 

He grinned back. It wasn’t as fake as his usual. “You say that now, but in ten years, you’ll be a Harvard MBA and be able to buy and sell half the kids in this school.”

“Harvard MBA? No thanks,” I snorted. “Not my career goal at all.”

“What is your career goal?”

I leaned on his desk and grinned at him. “Well, Eggy, I figured I’d be a high school principal. Or a Vegas showgirl, one or the other.”

To my surprise, he absolutely roared with laughter. “Please, Virginia. Don’t be a high school principal. You think you’ve got problems now?” He shook his head. “Don’t be a high school principal. And if you think I didn’t know about that nickname, you’re sadly mistaken.” 

“I figured,” I said, still grinning. “So, you don’t think Vegas showgirl’s a bad idea, then?”

He was still chuckling. “Get out of here. And, Virginia? That was a good line. I didn’t know you could be funny. And I’m betting your classmates don’t, either.” 

“Can’t be Class Brain and Class Clown. I’d be hogging all the good spots in the yearbook,” I smirked.

“Go on,” he said, still laughing, “get out of here. It’s your lunch time.”

So I did. Well, I have to admit--that went a whole lot better than I expected. Eggy can be a prick, but he dealt with that well. At least I got a rise out of him!

I felt a lot better walking into the cafeteria. Of course, once I got there--I didn’t feel great at all.

I don’t care how low you think you’re whispering--when I’m standing three feet in front of you in the lunch line, I can fucking hear you, OK? And I can hear you from three feet in back of you in the lunch line, too. And when I walk by your table. 

The upshot? Oh, now I wasn’t just the freak, I was the crazy freak. Well, I guess I expected that. 

I got to my usual out-of-the-way sit-all-alone table. And I was surprised, ten seconds after I sat down, to not be alone.

It was the aforementioned Angela Cressey. “Can I talk to you?” she said quietly--she said everything quietly.

“Sure,” I shrugged. Talk to me? Angela Cressey could talk? News to me. 

If I had valedictorian all sewn up--which I pretty much did, if I lived that long--then Angela was in the clear lead for salutatorian. I figured she’d throw the game sooner or later, just so she wouldn’t have to get up at graduation and make a speech. Angela Cressey making a speech was almost as ludicrous as me being a Vegas showgirl.

Anyhow, if she wanted to talk, that was fine by me. 

She settled into her seat, and rummaged around her food. Then she blinked seven times. Took a deep breath. Rummaged around her food again. See what I mean? This is what Angela does when she’s working up to say hello.

But she wasn’t working up to say hello. She pointed at my wrist, and said, “What did it feel like?”

I was surprised, but I answered her. “Hurt like hell,” I said with a wry grin. 

“How long before you passed out?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m guessing a half hour or so. I know I felt, I don’t know how to describe it. I guess floaty. I felt floaty for a while, then, the next thing I know, I’m waking up in the hospital. The worst pain was right when I did it. I went numb fairly quickly.”

“Who found you?”

“My mother. My parents were going to the theatre and forgot the tickets. They got out of the restaurant, then came home to get the tickets.”

“So, it was a fluke you got found.”

“Yeah.”

She blinked a few more times, and sighed. “How close was it?”

“Oh, they figured if the ambulance was maybe a half hour later, there would’ve been no saving me.”

“So, you planned for it to work.”

“Yes.”

“Where did you do it?”

“In the bathtub. Didn’t want to get blood all over my bed, as silly as that sounds.”

“Oh.” 

Did you ever get a creeping chill running right up your spine? I was getting one, believe me. Full blast chill. Because I had a very very bad feeling about why she was asking all this.

Just then, in a bit of stupendously bad timing, Craig came over to the table. I would’ve been glad to see him, but not now. “Hi,” he said to me, grinning. “Hi, Angela,” he said with a bit of surprise. Angela looked horrified he was there. 

I got up off my seat, made a ‘wait a minute’ motion to Angela, and led Craig away from the table before he could sit down. “Listen, can I talk to you later?”

“OK,” he said, a bit confused.

“I am not blowing you off. You know Angela never talks. Well, she’s talking to me, and I think it might be important. Very important. If you come over, I’m afraid she’s going to clam up, and I think that would be bad.”

“OK,” he said.

“I’ll tell you later. Call me after school, OK?”

“Will do,” he said, grinning. Then he was off. I went back and sat across from Angela again. 

“Did you have any more questions?” I asked.

“Are you going to do it again?” she said softly.

“I’m working very hard on not wanting to,” I told her. 

“Hm,” was all she said. 

I looked at her for a minute. Angela was a porcelain doll. Long blond hair, big wide blue eyes, button nose, very pale skin, the whole bit. She even wore dresses all the time, most of which would be more appropriate for a ten-year-old. She was like a little doll. Including being silent and trying to hide in the corner. But she was smart--as I said, close to me smart. She was as much of an outcast as I was--maybe more, at least I wasn’t shy. I dreaded what was coming. 

Then I took a deep breath, and just said it. “Angela. You’ve thought about it, haven’t you?”

That porcelain doll face just crumpled. I could see the tears in her eyes already. And she confirmed it. “Just about every day,” she got out in a near-whisper.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. What do I say? WHAT DO I SAY? Shit. What am I going to tell her, don’t do it? How can I say that? 

I’ll admit it--it’s been in the back of my mind. I was trying to not want to, but I still knew that I could always take another whack at it if things didn’t get any better. No, I wasn’t ‘cured’. I was still shaky as all hell. I damn well knew it. 

So, what the hell do I say? Dammit, I wish Shannon were here. 

That’s when I got one of my patented brilliant ideas. Well, in hindsight it was obvious.

I rummaged through my pocketbook and found Shannon’s business card. I needed that--I had only one--so I grabbed a piece of notepaper and wrote her name and number down on it. I slid it towards her. She looked at it, the tears still running down her face.

“Angela? That’s my shrink. She’s been a big help to me. She’s really cool. I think you should call her.”

She looked up at me in horror. “Oh, I could never do that!”

“I think you need to.”

“I can’t. You don’t understand.” She took a deep breath and tried to control herself. “My parents are older. They tried for years to have a baby before they finally had me. They absolutely dote on me. I’m their perfect angel daughter.” She sniffled. “They have no idea how I feel. They have no idea how unhappy I am. I could never tell them why I think I need a psychiatrist.”

I took a deep breath. “My parents don’t dote on me--in fact, that was part of my problem. They love me, but didn’t know how to show me. That’s getting better. Anyhow, they had no idea what was going on, either. If I’d told my parents I needed a psychiatrist, they might have freaked, too.” I looked her right in the eye. “But I know for damn sure that my mother would’ve preferred that over finding me in the bathtub unconscious and covered with blood. Wouldn’t yours?”

I pushed the paper towards her again, but she shook her head. “I can’t. I just can’t!” she croaked--and then got up out of the chair so fast it made my head spin. Before I could say, “Hey, Angela!” she was gone.

Shit shit shit. Now what do I do?

I had a few minutes left in lunch, so I whipped out my cell phone and tried to call Shannon. No luck--it was her day off. They offered to let me talk to one of the other shrinks, but I didn’t want that. If it had been for me, I would have--but for this, I wanted to talk to Shannon. This was for advice, not therapy, and I trusted Shannon.

But that left me again wondering what to do.

Then I got another brilliant idea.

It was devious. It was underhanded. Angela would probably hate me for a very, very long time. But if I saved her damn life, it’d be worth it.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. Eggy must’ve gotten the word out to the teachers. After my last class, I flew out of there in record time, and waited. I wanted to see Angela.

I did. She took a bus, poor kid. I followed it. I waited until she got off, then followed her to her house. Keeping from being seen in the car while trying to follow her at walking pace wasn’t easy, but I did it. 

I waited until she went in the house, waited 10 more minutes, and then knocked. An older woman answered. “Can I help you?” she said.

“Are you Mrs. Cressey?” She nodded. “Hello, I’m Ginny Klusse--I go to school with Angela.”

“Yes, you do,” she smiled. “Everyone around knows who Ginny Klusse is.” I managed to stifle my grimace. “Were you looking for her?”

“No, ma’am, I wanted to talk to you. Preferably without Angela around.”

“OK,” she said, with a quizzical expression, and led me over to a seat on the porch. 

“Angela came up to me at lunch today. She had some questions to ask me. You see, Mrs. Cressey, I attempted suicide a couple of weeks ago.” I showed my wrists again. I was getting used to the gasps by now. “This was my first day back at school.

“She was asking me all kinds of questions about how I did it and what it was like. This worried me, so I asked her if she’d ever thought about it. Mrs. Cressey, she said that she thinks about it almost every day.”

Oh, God. The expression on that poor woman’s face will be etched on my brain until the day I die. But I knew that I had to do this.

“Angela....wants to kill herself? But why? What did I do?” she whimpered.

“From talking to her, I don’t think it’s you,” I said. “She said you dote on her and she loves you and her father. It’s a lot of the same reasons that I did, actually. The problem is her brains. The only person in the junior class smarter than your daughter is me,” I said with a little grin. “It’s very isolating, believe me, I know. Kids treat you like some kind of freak. And in Angela’s case it’s compounded by how shy she is.”

“She’s very shy, we’ve worried about that. But being smart? That’s a bad thing?”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“Ginny, what do I do?”

I got that piece of paper out again. “I tried to give this to Angela but she wouldn’t take it. Said she couldn’t tell you about all this--which is why I’m here. Anyhow, this is the name and number of the psychiatrist I’ve been seeing. She’s very good. I know she’s not in the office today but she will be tomorrow. I think Angela needs to see her.”

“I’ll make sure of it. I’m going to have to talk to my husband about this, and that’s not going to be easy. And it’ll be even harder talking to Angela. But I’ll make sure of it.” She gave me a watery smile. “Thank you for doing this,” she said, and then reached over to give me a hug.

Two hugs in a week. Unbelievable.

“You’re welcome. And I’m glad you’re grateful because I think Angela is going to hate my guts.”

“No, she won’t. She might at first, but I’ll make sure she knows it was better to get it all in the open.”

I drove home, worried, but feeling good about what I’d done. 

I got home and Mom was holding the telephone. “You’re a bit late,” she said--a bit worriedly, which was understandable, considering.

“I know. Don’t worry, there’s a reason. I’ll explain.”

“OK, but first you have a phone call.” She got a little conspiratory smile on her face and stage-whispered, “It’s Craig.”

I gave her the same smile back and said, “Good, I’ll take it upstairs.” 

It was a nice conversation. Craig told me he thought I’d done the right thing. Then we kind of chatted about school. He loved what I had done in History. He also loved, after I told him about it, how I had handled Eggy. 

After we got off the phone, I went down and talked to Mom. We were sitting on the couch together. I told her everything--about the thing in History class, about Eggy, and then about Angela.

She actually told me she was proud of how I’d handled myself in the classes. She laughed with what I told her about Eggy.  

“You actually called him Eggy to his face?”

“Yeah, and he just laughed,” I said.

When I told her about Angela, she just listened, a concerned look on her face, until I was done. 

The next thing I knew, she was hugging me! I’ll admit it, I almost broke down with that. I managed to stop it. “I’m so proud of you,” she said in the middle of the hug. Then she broke the hug and leaned back. “I’m a little surprised, though.” I just looked at her. She went on. “I’m a little surprised you were so adamant about helping Angela, because you obviously consider suicide a viable option.” She took a breath. “Look, I know well enough. I know that if I asked you to tell me that you were absolutely certain that you’d never try it again, you wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” I agreed. “But, think of it this way. I’m also not planning on doing it again. I’m here, I’m OK, and I’m not trying to figure out where you hid all the sharp objects. And that is a big huge step from where I was two weeks ago. When I woke up in that hospital, all I could think about was doing it again and getting it right the second time. So, it’s progress. I’m not OK, but I’m better.

“And there are reasons for that, and yes, you and Dad have helped,” I said. “But one of the biggest reasons is Shannon. She really has helped, a lot. I didn’t tell Angela not to kill herself. I didn’t go into the whole trying to talk her out of it. All I did was tell her she should talk to Shannon. Because that did help me.”

“You wish you had talked to her before you tried it.”

“Oh, hell yes.”

“Well, that’s progress, too,” she smiled. “You did the right thing, Ginny.”

“Yeah. Angela will probably hate me for a while, though.”

“She won’t eventually.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

“So,” she said with a grin, “you were talking about people that helped you out. So, tell me, where does Craig fit in to all of this?”

I smiled back. “That’s a good question.” I told her about what he’d confessed about wanting to ask me out last year.

“Well? Has he asked you out now yet?” she said.

“I told him to hold off after I got through the first couple of days at school, to see how I reacted. I did tell him that if he decided after all that he still wanted to, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Good. Ginny’s going to have a date.”

“Now, Mom, let’s not count our chickens before they cross the road, hm?” I pointed down to my wrists. “This is enough to scare anyone off. This, plus the reaction in school.”

“I don’t think it will scare him off. I mean, he called today, right?”

“Ah, he only called to find out why I blew him off at lunch to talk to Angela.”

Mom was still smiling. “He would have called you anyway, I’m betting. And he went to eat lunch with you, right?”

“True. We’ll see, I guess.”

“Do you like him?” she asked me.

“Yeah. He’s very sweet, an excellent listener, easy to talk to. He’s also cute.”

“Good,” she laughed.

“So, where’s Dad anyway?”

“I sent him out,” she told me. “We had some errands that needed to get done, and I told him to get dinner. Chinese.”

“Oh, goody!”

“I knew you’d agree with that. Anyhow, I sent him out. I wanted this afternoon to be just us, is that OK?”

“Sure,” I said.

Her face got all serious just then, and she looked down at her hands. “I wanted to help you by myself today,” she said quietly. “I figured maybe that’d help the guilt. Because it’s bad.”

“Oh, Mom,” I said, not knowing what else to say. 

“It’s OK, Ginny,” she said, visibly composing herself. “Do you have homework?”

“A little.”

“Why don’t you do it before your Dad comes home with the supper?”

“OK,” I said, and went upstairs. Good thing my homework was pretty mindless, because I wasn’t thinking all that great at the moment. 

--EIGHT--

Tuesday at school was better. The teachers pretty much ignored me, which is what I wanted. I passed Eggy in the hall and he asked how things were going to day. “A lot better, Eggy, thanks,” I told him. There were a bunch of kids around, so they were all tittering that I had actually called him Eggy. He just laughed.

OK, so maybe that happy-go-lucky act wasn’t completely an act.

Anyhow, it was OK. There was still a lot of pointing and whispering, and I saw a couple people staring at the scars. One guy that sat next to me in English actually stared at the scars, then moved his desk over six inches, like it was contagious or something. Ah, well. None of that really surprised me.

And I wasn’t surprised to see Angela completely shun me. In fact, when ever she saw me, she looked daggers at me. Ah, well. I could only hope she’d understand one day.

After school, I had my first session with Shannon. This was the one-on-one; the group was on Thursdays. I walked in and waved to her. She had a big smile on her face.

“I got an interesting phone call this morning.”

“Oh, yeah?” I said, guessing what it might be.

I guessed right. “The call was from a woman named Ellen Cressey. She was calling on behalf of her daughter Angela. Your name came up in the conversation.”

“I’ll bet it did,” I grinned.

“I’m seeing Angela tomorrow.”

“I’m very glad, but let me warn you. It might be a frustrating hour. Angela might not talk. That girl takes shy to a whole new level. I was amazed that she talked to me.”

“What exactly happened?” Shannon asked. So I told her. She knew some of it, but not all.

When I got done, Shannon was beaming. “You know, Ginny,. what you did was very  healthy. All of it. It was a healthy reaction.”

“If you say so.”

“I say so. because you acted as if Angela’s life was worth saving.”

“Well, yeah,” I agreed.

“And if hers is, isn’t yours?”

“C’mon, Shannon--you know that shit’s always easier to see from the outside.”

“Yes and no. I think you see more than you realize.”

“You’re the Doc,” I grinned.

Two days later, I was back in her office, for my first group session. I still wasn’t quite sure about this, but I’d promised Shannon I’d give it a shot.

They’d only started meeting a few weeks ago. Since it had just started, Shannon had no porblems with me joining in instead of waiting for the next one.

I was the fifth. Two boys and two other girls. Shannon said, “This is Ginny. She’ll be joining us starting today.” Then she asked the rest of them to go around and tell me about themselves.

Zoe went first. She was a sophomore from the next town over. She was dressed like a Goth chick--all in black, dyed black hair, black fingernail polish, mulitple piercings, the whole bit. She was the one that had the hardest time articulating what she was going through. I guess she was very clinically depressed, and there’d been some trial and error with the medication. (Shannon had put me on a mild antidepressant. Don’t know how much it hepled, but it couldn’t hurt!)

Anyhow, with Zoe, a lot of it was brain chemistry gone haywire. And she couldn’t easily explain it. She talked about feeling like she’d been buried alive--she couldn’t breathe, her mouth filled up with dirt, the weight was crushing her--but it was all in her head. The funny thing was, she said she liked group so far, because nobody laughed at her while this outlandish-sounding stuff came out of her mouth, but saying it out loud in a setting like this made it sound ridiculous to her. She said that helped, especially now that they seem to have gotten her medication figured out better. 

Seth was next. He was a junior from a town about ten miles away. Seth’s story was easy to grasp--he was gay. And was severely harrassed about it, both verbally and physically. He tried to deal with it--he described himself as mostly mellow--but one day he just snapped. So he was trying to deal with a suicide attempt, but also trying to deal with a suicide attempt that was very impulsive. 

Next was Karen. she was the same age and from the same town as Seth. I guess they didn’t know one another well in school, but had kind of been leaning on one another since they met in group. Karen was shy. Not Angela shy, but she had trouble getting her story out. Of course, that was partially due to the story itself.

Because Karen’s story was the most horrifying. She had a brother 4 years older. When she was 12--the brother 16--he started raping her. This went on for 4 years. He was in college now, and would come home on weekends that he knew their mother wouldn’t be home at night, just to rape Karen. What was worse was that Karen had told her mother--who hadn’t believed her.

A month ago, after another rape trip home by the brother, she’d had enough. She swallowed pills. The only thing that saved her was that her father came  looking for her--her parents are divorced--and found her unconscious, with an empty pill bottle besdie her. Also naked, with spunk dripping from her pussy. And he found the note she’d left, clearly blaming all of it on her brother.

DNA testing at the hospital had proven it was her brother’s semen. They arrested him--and the upshot of that is her mother won’t speak to her. Unbelievable as that sounds, the bitch chose her rapist son over her violated daughter. Jesus. She’s living with her Dad. Everyone in school knows her brother was raping her, which is bad enough--damn media--but plenty of people question how it could’ve been real rape if it happened for four years and she never reported it. Idiots. 

It was like horror piled upon horror. She was even having problems with her boyfriend. He’d not judged her at all, unlike some other people, but was hurt she’d never confided in him in the six months they’d been going out. “He says he would’ve helped me, and I know now he would’ve, but I was so scared,” Karen said. “It’s a miracle I trust him at all, and it took a while for him to understand that.” And she’d also never had sex with him, for obvious reasons. He was patient, but part of her was afraid she’d never be able to. And another part of her wanted to--because, even though her brother was raping her and her mind was horrified, her body sometimes responded, especially as she got older.

Karen got all this out in a voice that swung between almost-in-tears, and completely numb. That poor, poor girl. And I thought I had it bad. 

I didn’t know what to say. Luckily, Shannon, before I even had a chance to say something, moved on to the last person in the room--Sam. Sam Raleigh. He was the only one that went to my school, though he was a sophomore, a year behind me. 

As Sam’s story spilled out, I found myself nodding in recognition. Because, you see, Sam was the sophomore class’s answer to me. Class brain, isolated, picked on, singled out by teachers, the whole bit. It was a little different--the good part was that he’d never doubted his parents’ love for him. The bad part was that he was small and weak and quiet, so he got the ‘wimp’ and ‘pussy’ taunts thrown at him as well, and even the odd beating. “We discussed this last week,” Seth interjected. “Even though Sam’s not gay, he gets a lot of the same type of gay-bashing as I do because they think he’s a ‘pussy’.”

After Sam had finished, Shannon said, “OK, Ginny, it’s your turn.”

“Well, for a lot of my story, just push rewind on Sam’s and listen again,” I quipped. They all laughed at that, including Sam. “We even go to the same school, though I’m a year ahead of him.”

“Wait a minute,” Sam said suddenly, “are you Ginny Klusse?”

“That’s me,” I said.

“I hate your guts,” Sam muttered bitterly.

“HEY!” Zoe shouted. “That’s not nice!”

“Sam, it’s not very nice,” Shannon agreed.

“Why on earth?” I said. “I’ve never even met you until today.”

“Because that’s all I hear,” he said, still sounding bitter. “Even when the teachers are singling me out as the class brain, and telling me how much smarter I am than everyone else--they also tell me that Ginny Klusse would’ve done better. I think all my teachers taught you last year. I’m constantly being compared to the uber-brain Ginny Klusse.”

Shannon looked like she was going to say something, but I held my hand up. “Sam,” I said, “how is that my fault? Listen to me. You’re doing the same thing they do to me. And furthermore, you’re doing the same thing to me that they do to you.”

Sam thought about that for a minute. “Oh,” he said. “I never thought about it that way.”

“Well, there’s something to think about,” Shannon said. “While you do that, Ginny can go on with her story.”

“OK,”  I said. “As you might have guessed, it’s the whole class brain thing.” I went on to describe what that was like a little bit. I talked about my parents some. Everyone just listened, so that was cool. 

When I got done, I said, “So, that’s the story of why Ginny tried to kill herself. Of course, after listening to what Karen went through, I feel like a Grade A schmuck.”

Karen just smiled and shook her head, disagreeing with me. “People have different tolerance levels,” Shannon said.

“Besides which, how do you think I feel,” Seth said pleasantly. “Oh, woe is me, poor little queer boy. Sometimes I want to slap myself!”

“You shouldn’t,” Karen said. “Look, now that I’ve gotten to know him a little bit,” she said to all of us, “and sometimes hang with him in school, I see what they put him through. It’s not pretty.” She must’ve never said this, because Seth was looking at her in gratitude. “If you go through similar shit, it must be pretty bad,” she said to me.

“Yeah. I think Seth and I have as much in common as Sam and I do,” I said. Shannon and Seth looked at me in surprise. “I mean, we’re both dissed because of who we are. I can’t help being smart any more than Seth can help being gay. And we both just want to be left alone to be who we are--and we’re not.”

“Good insight, Ginny,” Shannon said.

“Of course it was, I am the class brain,” I joked, mock-preening, which cracked everyone up. 

“Everybody sees labels, not people,” Zoe said. “They don’t see Ginny, they see ‘brain’. They don’t see Seth, they see ‘fag’. In my case, it’s ‘the insane chick’.”

“You get shit as well?” I asked.

“In my case, it’s a bit different.” Zoe said with a wry grin. “I like being isolated. It’s hard to be lonely with 87 voices inside your head.” That one got a chuckle. “So, yeah, since I prefer to be left alone, I use the crazy girl thing to my advantage. Anyone bugs me, I yell ‘OOGA BOOGA!’ at them until they run away screaming.” That got us all laughing. Then Zoe got serious. “The problem is, I feel less that way than ever. Getting my meds straightened out some has made me more willing to interact. But now I’m Crazy Girl which makes it difficult.”

“People understand mental illness even less than they understand homosexuality,” Seth interjected, to which we all agreed. 

“A lot of it is fear of the unknown. In Ginny and Sam’s case, it’s that and jealousy.”

“Fear of the unknown is right on,” Karen agreed. “I’d never known a gay person--well, a person that I knew was gay--until I met Seth. I don’t think I was exactly homophobic, but I guess I was, I don’t know, squeamish. And then I met Seth, and he’s one of the coolest people I’ve ever met.”

“You are too, you know,” Seth told Karen.

“It’s putting a face on it,” I said. “If you don’t know any, it’s just an abstract. Like you said, it’s a walking stereotype, and one you don’t completely understand.” I grinned. “Not a problem I’ve ever had in this particular case--my Aunt Jennie has lived with her girlfriend since I was two, so I grew up with it.” 

“That’s an advantage,” Seth said.

“Yeah, but I didn’t,” Karen went on. “So it was something that was just an abstract that I didn’t understand until I met Seth. And it wasn’t just me. He’s met Aaron, my boyfriend. Aaron also didn’t know what to make of him, until he met him.”

“How is it that you’re the healthiest person in the room?” I laughed, pointing to Karen. She just smiled.

--NINE--

When I got home, I talked with Mom. Dad had to stop in at the office.

“You liked it,” Mom said. “You didn’t think you were going to.”

“You’re right on both counts,” I laughed.

“I feel so bad for that Karen girl, though,” she said.

“Oh, I know. I have to tell you, I was always kind of upset I never had any siblings. Jeez, now I think I’m grateful. At least I don’t have a brother like hers.”

Mom got quiet all of a sudden. “You wanted a sibling?”

“Kind of, yeah,” I said. 

She got quiet again. “I guess there’s things I should’ve told you. You don’t have any brothers or sisters because I couldn’t.” She looked down. “I had a massive hemmorhage four days after you were born. I almost died. I had to have a hysterectomy. We’d never planned to have only one, but I couldn’t have any more.”

I felt all the color drain from my face. “You almost died? From having me? And then I tried to....oh GOD!!!” There’s was absolutely no way to stop the tears at that point

Mom grabbed me and pulled me into another hug, believe it or not. “No, Ginny, no! That’s not why I told you this. Do you think I blame you for what happened? God, no. I had a weakness in my ueterus. Shit happens,” she shrugged. “I don’t blame you or anybody. The only reason I told you about it was to explain why you’re an only child.”

“OK, I sniffled, and ducked back out of her arms. “It’s just kind of shocking to hear, especially at 16 when you never knew about it.”

“I should’ve phrased it better.”

“I don’t know if there’s a better way to phrase that,” I said wryly. “Did you guys ever think about adopting?”

“We discussed it,” Mom told me. “But you were like five, six at the time we felt comfortable in discussing it. And by then we figured that you were enough.” She grinned. “And I meant that in a good way.”

“Uh-huh,” I said.

“How did we end up like this?” Mom said suddenly.

“Hm?”

“God, Ginny, you were all I ever wanted,” she said. “Even when I had the hemmorhage, my first thought was, at least it’d happened after you were born so you weren’t affected. That’s all I cared about. Your father and I wanted you so, so badly. You were the apple of our eyes. How the hell did we get to the point where you thought it would be a good idea to kill yourself?”

It looked like she might start to cry. Shit, I didn’t know if I could handle that. “It really wasn’t mostly you, or Dad, you know. It really wasn’t.”

“Enough of it was,” Mom said, composing herself. “This is not an excuse, just an explanation. You will find out when you get out in the working world--but it can consume you. There’s always someone wanting one last thing, or one more document looked at, or one more phone call, or one more appearance in court. That’s the problem with having a high-level career in something like law. The problem is, you get afraid that if you don’t do everything that’s asked, you’ll have problems with your career. And when it’s a lucrative career, you get used to the lifestyle. I have seen lawyers who start pushing work aside for family. They’re usually not lawyers anymore after a while. Maybe I put too much importance on that.

“And you. You seemed---and I know now I was wrong in assuming this, but you seemed so undemanding. You know Jill Boros,” she said. I did--Jill was another lawyer in her office. She was married to a doctor and had a couple of kids a few years younger than me. “There are days when Jill’s two daughters call her every ten minutes,” Mom smiled. “She used to tease me about it--she wished she had self-sufficient undemanding you for a kid. She doesn’t joke about it anymore.”

I thought about that for a minute. “Look,” I said. “One thing I’ve figured out--well, I don’t think I’m really very good at doing what I have to do to make myself happy. I know what I want, most of the time, but I don’t know how to make it happen. You know what I mean? And rather than facing that, it’s easier to blame everyone.”

“Don’t take too much responsibility for it,” she said. “It’s not all you. I should’ve been asking.”

“It’s not too late. For either of us,” I told her.

“It almost was,” she said sadly.

“Almost doesn’t count except in horseshoes and hand grenades,” I quipped.

“That one’s older than I am,” she smirked.

“Hey, they can’t all be gems.”

Just then the phone rang. I picked it up. It was Craig. “I’m going to take it upstairs,” I told Mom. She smiled and waved me up.

“So, how was group?” he asked.

“Good, better than I thought,” I said. 

“That’s good. Uhm, I was wondering.”

“What?”

“Well, has it been a few days? For you to settle in at school, I mean,” he asked. 

Was he really going to? “Yes, it’s been a few days,” I said.

“Good. Are you doing anything tomorrow night?”

“Not a thing.”

“Good, because I still want to go out with you. And don’t argue with me. I don’t care about the rest of it.”

“OK,” I said happily. “Where are you taking me?”

“Well, I had two ideas. The first was the football game--the team is home this week. I go to a lot of the games. But I know you’re not a school spirit rah-rah type, so we could to go a movie instead. And a burger afterwards.”

“I’d love to go to the game,” I said, surprising him. “I actually like football. I don’t go to any of the high school games because I don’t want to go by myself.”

“Well, now you won’t.”

“Great. But I still want the burger afterwards,” I laughed.

“You got it.”

We discussed pick-up plans and the like, then I got off the phone. When I got downstaris, Mom was cooking and Dad was in the kitchen with her. 

“Would you like some good news?” I said.

“Sure,” Mom replied.

“Tomorrow night, your daughter has her very first official date.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Mom said enthusiastically. “Of course, I’m not shocked, considering he calls you every night.”

“Yeah, ain’t it great?” I laughed. “By the way, Mom, I know you think I should get laid, but don’t expect it on the first date. I don’t need to add School Slut to my reputation,” I smirked.

Mom looked at me in shock, then turned to Dad. “You told her!?!?”

“Yes he did, you sex maniac you,” I teased her.

“YOU!” she shouted, and threw a dish towel at Dad. She couldn’t hold it, though--the grin was fighting to break through.

“Don’t blame him, Mom, I’m glad he told me. Made you two seem a little more human and all.”

Mom laughed and said, “I know you have to be careful nowadays, but I also felt bad that you were missing out on all that.”

“You’re fault, you know,” I said. “You cursed me.” Mom looked at me. “Well, you did. You named me, didn’t you? Take the last two letters off of ‘Virginia’ and what do you get? I’m cursed, I tell you.”

They both cracked up. “Ginny, you were named after your great-aunt, and I was not thinking of that when you were a day old, you know?”

“I figured it out pretty quickly,” Dad said. “Why do you think I started calling you Ginny?” he smirked.

Mom threw another dish towel at him!

--TEN--

He picked me up at six. 

He’d already met the folks, at the hospital, so he didn’t need to go though the traditional first-date grilling. Shit, I don’t think he would’ve anyway. My parents were so thrilled I actually had a date I think if I had walked into the house and said, “Mom, Dad, this is my date, Jack the Ripper,” they would’ve just told me to have a good time!

We drove to the high school, and the football stadium, chatting about nothing. When we got there, he said, “You have a choice. I usually sit with three of my friends, but we don’t have to.”

“Oh, sure,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind meeting your friends.” I hesitated a bit. “Uh, but, well, how much do they know?”

“A lot,” he admitted. “They know that you are who I’m bringing. And the whole junior class pretty much knows about, you know...”

“Yeah,” I said. “Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.”

“Really, Ginny, we can sit by ourselves.”

“No. No way. I want to meet your friends, even if they don’t want to meet me.”

“They actually do,” he grinned. “My friend Cap said, ‘You’re going out with Ginny the Genius? Ooooh, how do you rate?’” 

I smiled back, a big one. “Good. Let’s go.” We started walking to the ticket booth. “Your friends--three guys?” I asked.

“Two and one. Alex and Cap are the guys. The third is Alex’s girlfriend, Johanna.”

“Hm.” I said.

“Problem?”

“Yes and no. It might be cool having another girl there--but, frankly, I’ve gotten more shit from girls over my school life. Girls resent me more than guys, usually, for some reason.”

“Not Johanna. No way. Trust me.”

“OK,” I said.

We were a bit early, and there weren’t many people in the bleachers. Craig took us over to get something to drink, then we went up to a spot. “We usually sit right about here, they’ll be able to find us here,” he said.

After a few minutes, a tall black kid approached Craig. “Yo, slimeball,” he said jokingly.

“Glad you showed up, jerk,” Craig laughed. “Cap, this is Ginny. Ginny, Cap.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cap said.

“Nice to meet you too, er, Cap,” I said. 

He laughed. “Cap is his nickname, short for Captain,” Craig told me. “Cap is a sailor.” Craig grinned. “When we were in middle school, he had this stupid little captain’s hat, so that’s what we nicknamed him.”

“I still have it,” Cap grinned, “I just keep it on the boat instead of wearing it to school.” He turned to me. “My real name is Desmond--Desmond Roberts. Now you know why I go by Cap.”

“Uh-huh,” I laughed. “Well, if you’re a sailor, it fits anyway.” 

“Cap could spend days on the water,” Craig said.

“I love it. I even spent all summer at a camp for yachting, in San Diego. First time I’d ever been sailing on the ocean. It was great.”

“That’s really cool,” I said sincerely. 

“Yep. By the way, Craig, you suck, you know that?”

“What did I do this time?” he grinned.

“You brought a date to a football game. Jesus.” She turned to me. “Have you met The Couple yet?”

“Alex and Johanna, he means,” Craig laughed.

I shook my head no. “Oh, wait. You just wait,” Cap said, rolling his eyes. “Moonin’, cuddlin’, smoochin’--you’re gonna get the whole works. Those two are joined at the hip. And the lip. When Craig here was coming stag, at least I had someone to commisserate with!”

Craig and I both started laughing. I liked Cap already. “Don’t worry, Homie,” Craig said, “this is our first date. So I’m not going to attack her or anything--I think we can save the making out for some time when you’re not around.”

“Oh, if we must,” I joked--getting me a big huge smile from Craig. 

“Really?” Cap said. “I don’t believe you. Shit, look, you’re already holding hands.” Which we were. It was very nice. 

“You could hold my other one, Cap,” I joked, batting my eyes.

“Oh no he CAN’T!” Craig bellowed, cracking us all up. 

It went on like this for a few minutes. It was fun.

And it was so easy. How the hell was it this easy????

After a few minutes, I saw Craig wave to two blond kids, one guy and one girl. They headed up to where we were sitting.

Oh, hell. Johanna was Johanna Sullivan? Shit. I’d known her since grammar school. She was one of the Princesses. You know the type. The one who always had the birthday parties with the clowns and the in-ground pool and the catered lunch that always had the entire fourth grade invited except me. 

Craig introduced us. Alex seemed nice, shook my hand, said it was nice to meet me. Johanna said, “Nice to see you again, Ginny.” She told the rest of them, “Ginny and I went to the same grammar school.”

“We did,” I said tightly. Johanna didn’t say anything else, and luckily she was sitting far away from me, on the other side of both Craig and Alex. Cap was on the other side of me from Craig, and he kept up a steady stream of quips, which was cool.

The game started. Our football team sucked bad this year, but I still enjoyed watching. As I said, I like football. Dad is a Michigan grad, and when I was younger we’d make sure we got to Ann Arbor at least once a year to see a game. 

I missed that. I should ask Dad if we could do it again this year before the season ended. 

Anyhow, the first half ended. The guys volunteered to go get refreshments. I asked Craig to get me another Coke. “Hot dog?” he asked.

“I’m saving my appetite for the burgers,” I laughed. “If they’ve got popcorn that’d be cool, though.”

“They do. No problem,” he said, and the three guys headed off.

Which left me there alone with Johanna. Shit.

Well, she was way over there. So maybe I didn’t have to talk to her. Well, she blew that all to hell in about seven seconds--as soon as the guys had vacated the bleachers, she slid her way right over next to me. “Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” I replied, gritting my teeth. 

“I’m so glad Craig finally asked you out,” she said. “He’s liked you since last year.”

“Yeah, he blurted that out to me last week,” I laughed. “I had no idea.”

“He’s a real sweetheart. I’m glad you said yes, it made him very happy.” She took a breath. “So, how have you been?” I just looked at her. “I mean, we all know what happened. You know,” she said, waving vaguely at my wrists. “I was just wondering if it had gotten any better.”

Well, knock me over with a feather. “Yeah, it has, some,” I managed to get out.

“Good. That’s good,” she said quietly. “You know, Craig will help you, if you let him.”

“I know,” I said. “He already has.”

“Good.” She took another breath. “You know, I wasn’t surprised.”

“Hm?”

“When I found out what you’d done. I wasn’t shocked. I found it sad that you thought you had to do it, but I wasn’t really surprised. I mean, I’ve known you since third grade. I saw what you went through.” Her voice dropped a bit again. “I probably even participated in it somewhat, though I assure you it wasn’t intentional.”

A feather? Knock me over with a good gust of wind! “I don’t remember you doing anything,” I said, half-lying. 

“Oh, you know who I hung around with back then. The Cool Kids. I’m sure I did something.” She took another breath. “I changed a lot when I met Alex. He asked me out in January of Freshman year, so it’s been almost two years now.

“He wasn’t one of the Cool Kids. He can be shy and quiet. He wasn’t who I was supposed to go out with, you know?” She grinned. “He still makes jokes that he was amazed he had the courage to ask me out in the first place! He wasn’t supposed to ask me out any more than I was supposed to go out with him. But when he asked me out, something in my head just clicked. It was immediate. My brain said, this is the guy for you. And I was right, you know.

“But some people didn’t understand it. Some people who I’d been friends with since first, second grade turned on me. It was a wake-up call. 

“So, the thing is--Craig will help. I know he will. But if, you know, you’re having a bad time, and you need a girl to talk to, well, I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

God, my throat was dry. “I’d like that,” I managed to croak out.

“Good,” she said. Then the guys returned and I didn’t have to say anything else. Thank God. 

Everyone slid into their respective places on the bench, Craig replace Johanna next to me. But I guess I was just preoccupied. “You OK?” Craig asked.

“Fine,” I said almost mechanically.

“Johanna didn’t say anything to upset you, did she?” he whispered.

“No,” I said, waking up out of my reverie, smiling at him. “Not at all. Just the opposite. I’ll tell you later.”

“OK,” he said. “I worry about you.”

“Which is very sweet,” I smiled, “but I’m fine. Really. Better than fine. I’m very glad I’m here with you,” I told him. 

“Me, too,” he said, squeezing my hand. 

Anyhow, the game went on. We lost big, but who cared? Afterwards, we headed for the burger place--all except for Cap. “I’m sailing early in the morning on the lake. Want to get it in before it’s too cold.”

“Isn’t it already?” I laughed.

“I’m rugged,” Cap said, cracking us all up. “I’ll see you all later.”

Alex and Johanna met us at the burger place, which was fine with me. But I got a glimpse of what Cap had been talking about. We were munching on our burgers, and Craig and I were discussing something-or-other. We were paying attention to each other. Until we looked around. and saw Alex and Johanna in a liplock. 

Craig and I just grinned at each other. Then Craig went, “A-HEM!” The two of them broke the liplock and looked sheepishly at us.

“Oops. Ginny’s not used to us,” Alex said.

“Cap warned me about you two,” I laughed.

“See?” Johanna said. “She knew it was coming.”

“Well, yeah, but it’s their first date. We wouldn’t want to make them uncomfortable with all this kissing,” Alex laughed. 

Craig and I were grinning, and we just looked at each other when Alex said that, still grinning.

Suddenly he wasn’t grinning. Then I wasn’t either. Because his lips were pressing up against mine. 

It just happened. My eyes opened wide in complete shock--but only for a second. Then I just melted. 

It was amazing. We were sitting there side-by-side in this booth in a damn burger shop. And I felt like somebody had set me on fire. His hand was at the back of my head. Mine was on his shoulder. His lips pressed into mine--and, believe me, I was responding with equal fervor--and then my lips opened. Just a bit. And I felt his tongue bump up against mine. And then burrow into my mouth. Jesus! I groaned, I know I did. 

Damn! Nobody told me about this!

I don’t know how long it lasted. Could’ve been a minute. Could’ve been three and a half days. I have no clue. Because that big massive all-powerful brain of mine just shut off. It was stupendous.

Suddenly, through the fog, I heard Alex mimicing Craig from a few minutes ago, with a very amused throat-clearing.

Craig--very reluctantly, it seemed to me--broke the kiss. And as he pulled away, our eyes caught. And, the look in his! 

We were still looking at each other as we--very slowly--pulled away. Somehow, extremely distracted, I kind of fumbled for my burger. God, I was foggy. And I didn’t mind at all.

Somehow it penetrated through the fog, just a little, that Alex and Johanna were very amused. “I guess they’re not all that uncomfortable at that,” Alex laughed. Uncomfortable? Shit. I think you could’ve dropped me on my head right about then and it wouldn’t have been uncomfortable. Shit, I don’t think I would’ve felt it!

“Look at her,” Johanna laughed. “She’s all glassy-eyed.” I just kind of smiled. I think. I was definitely not coherent. 

Johanna said something else, I have no clue what, and I just went, “Hm?” She cracked up.

“Boy, you are definitely out of it,” she laughed. “It’s like it was your first kiss or something!”

“Uh, well, actually....” I grinned.

“Really?” Johanna laughed. I nodded.

“SHIT!” Craig burst out. I turned to him. “I should’ve realized. Shit. I’m sorry, Ginny, it was an impulse.” Why was he upset? “I mean, if I’d realized it was your first...I mean, it shouldn’t have been here.”

Oh, that. “Craig, it’s fine. Really. Better than fine. I didn’t mind at all.” He still looked unconvinced. I leaned into his ear and whispered, “It was very romantic.” That convinced him. He beamed at me. 

“You know, this is better entertainment than the football game,” Alex teased.

I just blushed, but managed to say, “That’s because our team sucks rocks.” 

“I think it still would’ve been better,” Johanna said. I just kept blushing. Luckily, after that, the conversation turned to more normal subjects.

Craig and I didn’t say much on the way home, we just kept shooting these little smiles at one another. We got to my house and he walked me to the door. 

And, yes, he did. Boy did he ever. It might’ve been better than the first one. 

“Please tell me you’ll go out with me again,” he groaned after he broke the kiss.

“Wild horses couldn’t stop me,” I whispered. I got another nice beaming smile for that one. 

When we finally stopped kissing--not that I wanted to, but I think our lips were getting numb--I went back in to the house. Mom was waiting up. That was fine. I was kind of surprised she wasn’t peering out the window. Taking pictures, even!

“Did you have a good time?” she asked.

“I had a great time,” I told her. We chatted a little bit. I went and fetched a Coke and we talked for a few minutes--about the game, about our shitty team, about re-encountering Johanna. I think she was glad.

“I’m going up to bed, I’m tired,” I told her after a bit. 

“OK. Good night, honey,” she said.

“Night, Mom.” I headed for the stairs and got up the first two, then I turned back to her. “You know, Mom, in all that joking about me needing to get laid and all--funny how you never mentioned kissing.” 

Mom looked at me, blinked, then burst out laughing. “That good, huh?”

“Mmmmm,” was all I said. Mom’s laughter followed me up the stairs. 

After I changed into my nightgown and crawled into bed, I took stock a little. I’d gone out on a date with a guy I really liked. I went to a football game surrounded by my classmates. I made some new friends. I got kissed senseless.

I hadn’t felt this completely blessedly normal in...well, in forever.

It felt really, really good.