Extraordinary October. Diana Wagman
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being full-fledged criminals. I took out my homework and Mrs. Tannenbaum, the detention Nazi, banged the desk.
“No homework! Detention is time to sit and reflect.” She looked at the older guy. “And stay awake!”
It was agony. She kept us exactly two hours while she sat at the desk in front reading. She even ate a candy bar. I tapped my feet—couldn’t stop--and stared out the window. Looked like rain. I expected to be drenched on the way home, but I didn’t care; I kept thinking about my date that night with Trevor. When she finally dismissed us, I jumped up and grabbed my backpack. The old guy asked if I wanted a ride.
“No thanks,” I said. If he was too stupid to graduate after a zillion years, I didn’t want him driving me anywhere.
But then I had to wait for the city bus for more than half an hour with the clouds getting blacker and bigger and the wind swirling around. I could have called my dad to pick me up, but frankly, I just didn’t want to hear about how detention could go on my permanent record and colleges take those things into consideration and blah blah blah. College. It was all anybody in my house had talked about since last summer. Enough already. All my applications were in and I was just waiting to hear. Even so, every day my mom or dad had some college tidbit to pester me about. Too late, I kept saying. It’s over. What will be will be.
When the bus finally came, it was almost six o’clock. Once I got home, I’d have to rush inside and immediately give the folks a story about why I wanted to go right back out to the Stop N Shop. I could always say I needed something for school, but what? What did Stop N Shop have for school? Beef jerky?
“Tampons!” I actually said it out loud.
The old man across the aisle frowned at me. I turned to the window. It was almost dark and the buildings, the cars, the sidewalks, everything was the color of lead. Even the few pedestrians huddled in their jackets were gray like the background of an old black and white movie. My dad thought this was the loneliest time of day, waiting for my mom to get home and the evening to begin. Usually I thought it was the most beautiful, in between light and dark, night and day, on the edge. Today it seemed as if there was no edge, the day would melt into the night and no one would notice the difference. My feet tapped the floor of the bus. I couldn’t stop them. They seemed to have a mind of their own. I thought of the library and the way Trevor had almost kissed me. I had really, really wanted to kiss him. My pg-13 rated musings must’ve shown on my face because the old man across the aisle cleared his throat loudly and glared at me. I turned all the way to the window.
And then, in the empty lot by the grocery store, I saw a bright twinkle. I blinked and looked again. Another and another, more twinkles, hundreds of them. Really? What were they? Fireflies. The field was filled with fireflies flashing brightly in the gloom. Fireflies don’t live in Los Angeles. I had only seen them on television. At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, or that it was just broken beer bottles glittering under the streetlamps, but no, they were really fireflies. Incredible, magical, wonderful creatures. Everything about me began to twitch, to move. I wanted to dance. I had to get up. I had to see them up close.
I pulled the cord and got off the bus. Despite my full backpack, I skipped and leapt as I hurried back to the fireflies. I twirled among them. One landed on my hand and blinked before it flew off. I imagined I heard them singing to me, welcoming me and asking me to stay and dance with them. I imagined they had bright, high voices, soft but crystal clear. “You’re beautiful,” I said out loud. “I love you.” I stayed until it began to rain, not a few drops, but a real rainstorm—also so unusual in LA—until I was wet and the fireflies were gone. Then I ran all the way home. I could have sworn my feet left the pavement for longer than humanly possible.
I bounded up the front steps and into my house. “Mom!” I shouted like a ten-year-old, “I’m home! Guess what? Guess what?”
My tiny, skinny Mom came out of the kitchen with a big fat smile on her face and a big fat envelope in her hands.
“What is that?”
“It’s from Colorado,” she said. “It feels pretty heavy.”
Dad came out of the birdhouse room. “Go on,” he said. “We’ve been waiting.”
I ripped it open and read aloud, “Dear October: We are pleased to inform you—” I threw my arms around my mom. “I’m in!”
It was fantastic. Colorado was one of my first choices, a great school for animal sciences and far, but not too far, from home. My mother actually had tears in her eyes.
“I fixed your favorite dinner,” she said. “I knew we’d be celebrating.”
I was happy, happy, happy, but then I remembered Trevor. I couldn’t stand him up. I’d have to take the car, run to the Stop N Shop, and explain to him why I couldn’t stay. He’d understand. I wondered if he’d heard from any colleges yet. I turned to Dad to give him a hug too.
He seemed different somehow. I went in for the congratulatory embrace, and he just patted me on the back mechanically. There was something subdued about him. He was usually the most boisterous of all of us, the “Jolly Fat Man” as he called himself. But he looked down at the floor and his shoulders sagged.
“Don’t worry, Dad,” I said. “I’ll be home for Christmas and summers.”
He looked up and I saw he wasn’t sad about me leaving—it was something else in his eyes. Or nothing. A blankness. He forced a smile. “Such good news,” he said. “I am so happy for you.”
He sounded so straight and formal, not like him at all, but I didn’t have time to wonder too much about it. I looked at the
clock over the mantle and said, “I have to run to the store.”
“Now?” Mom asked.
“Emergency. You know.” I leaned over and whispered in her ear the magic word, “Tampons.”
“Take my car,” she said. “Dinner will be ready in fifteen.”
“Back in a flash.”
As I grabbed her keys, I noticed my dad hadn’t moved. He was still staring at the floor. The rug wasn’t that interesting.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Fine, thank you,” he replied.
He didn’t look fine to me, but I was late. I’d talk to him when I got home. I ran out the front door.
The rain had stopped but the streets were wet and shiny. I drove at a speed definitely ticketable, but I couldn’t help it. I was excited both with my news and to see Trevor. Would I have my first kiss along with everything else—like the cherry on top of a dish of fireflies and college? When I pulled up, Trevor was waiting for me out front of the Stop N Shop. I started to get out, but he came and got in the passenger seat.
“Hi,” I said. “I can’t stay, I—”
“I’ve missed you.” He interrupted.
“Really?” It had only been a few hours.
“I keep thinking about you.”
“You do?”
“For real.” He turned to face me.
The neon light from the Stop N Shop sign turned his face icy blue. I had never seen such perfectly smooth skin, as if he were a marble statue. He looked down and his long black eyelashes brushed his cheeks.
“Why?” I whispered. “Why me?”
“I want to know,” he began, smiling impishly. “Do you like to play in the leaves? Have you ever been swimming in a river? Have you climbed up a mountain to see the view?”
Each thing he said conjured up images so real I could smell the dusty leaves, taste the river water on my tongue, and feel the breeze from the top of a mountain.
“Have you ever played Hide And Seek in a forest?” He kept going, “Danced