Blind Squirrels Page 2

  Laura Hawkins had been my best friend in seventh and eighth grade. Laura was a large girl. Tall and big boned, she looked much older than I did. Laura had short brown hair, small blue eyes and a short round nose. She had a loud voice and a Canadian accent: her family had lived in Canada until Laura was eight years old. Laura was here at WMHS – somewhere. I hadn’t seen her yet, but I knew we would find each other.

  Just as I folded the note, the bell rang, dismissing second period. Shuttling down the hallway, I caught a glimpse of Aurelia. We waved, but neither of us had time to speak. The tardy bell would be ringing in five minutes. Just as I was about to enter my next class, I heard someone call out my name. I turned around, and it was Laura. We both had English for third period! I was ecstatic.

  Laura and I sat on the back row, side by side. I passed her the note I had written, and she started reading it. I watched the other students enter, and I moaned when Bill Fine walked in. Like Laura, Bill had been in my eighth grade class; however, Bill was not a friend of mine. In fact, he had teased Laura and me persistently the whole year, pulling our hair and calling us names. I couldn’t believe I had to put up with him for another year. Bill was tall, with reddish blond hair and blue eyes, and he was quite funny when he wasn’t directing barbs at Laura or me. I wanted to like Bill, but he made it impossible. I just wished he would leave us alone.

  Then it happened. Jeannie Molina walked through the door. She had been my nemesis from Center Middle. She was ten times worse than Bill Fine. She had been in my seventh and eighth grade classes, much to my chagrin. Jeannie was Asian with long flowing perfect black hair, large almond shaped brown eyes, and a voluptuous body. And although she was only thirteen, she could have passed for twenty. She was extremely beautiful, and I was very intimidated by her confidence and by the way she looked. She had always acted superior to me, making fun of me and embarrassing me whenever possible. I hated her, and I dreaded spending another year being tortured by her.

  Laura finished reading her note. She was laughing about the way I had described Monsieur Guest. Laura had decided to study Spanish instead of French, so she would never envision Monsieur Guest talking to a Grandfather clock, debating with Mr. Greenjeans, or reading a story about Rick and his steam shovel.

  Mrs. Harris was our teacher. She was about as round as she was tall, with short blond hair and blue eyes. She was extremely pleasant, and I knew right away that I would enjoy her class. Laura and I worried when she announced that she had come up with a seating chart. But it turned out that Laura was sitting beside me on the right. As my luck would have it, Bill was sitting to my left, and Jeannie Molina was in front of me. Behind me was a tiny blond girl. She reminded me of a mouse – terribly shy and skittish. I would learn that her name was Diane Griffin.

  Jeannie made a face at me as she sat down. Bill, on the other hand, said in a loud voice, “Here, Kitty, Kitty Kat. How are you?”

  While I didn’t like being called Kitty-Kitty, it amazed me that Bill was actually being cordial. I smiled at him and spoke. The girl sitting behind Bill was a blonde with Coca-Cola bottle glasses. Her gray eyes were magnified 500 times behind the thick glass. Her name was Jill, and she was not very attractive. I had the sudden thought that Bill would probably start teasing her as much as he did me, and I felt sorry for her.

  I needn’t have worried. Jill leaned over and whispered something to Bill, her gigantic eyes never leaving my face. Then she started laughing, and I knew she was making fun of me in some way. Just the look on her face told me. Strangely enough, Bill didn’t laugh. He just looked angry as he whispered something back to Jill. Jill grew quiet and sat back in her seat. Bill looked over at me and smiled. Then he smiled at Laura and asked her if she’d had a nice summer. Was it too much to hope that Bill had really changed? Only time would tell.

  Fourth period was Biology and lunch. There were three lunches, and they were during one part or another of fourth period – making fourth period 1-1/2 hours long. My lunch break was during the second thirty minutes, so I had Biology before and after lunch.

  My teacher was Mrs. Danes, a black lady with a bad attitude. She had a bad reputation, and she deserved it. Short, petite, and somewhat attractive, her appearance was deceiving. She was recovering from a bad divorce and taking it out on everyone. She didn’t seem to like any of her students. And the feeling was mutual.

  Before class, I had seen Aurelia and another girl I vaguely knew enter the next door. They were in Mrs. Harper’s Home Ec class, and I wished that I was, too. I did know someone in my class, however. Her name was Shelly, and I had known her since the sixth grade. We had never really been friends, but I sat close to her and tried to change that. Shelly seemed only slightly interested. She wasn’t popular, but she wanted to be. Hanging out with someone like me might ruin her chances. Shelly had brown hair with blond highlights, and it always looked wind-blown. She had blue eyes, and she wore too much mascara and too much blue eye shadow. Her nose was rather large, but she was attractive enough. I guessed that one day she would be popular. She already knew how to stick her nose up in the air.

  Finally, lunch arrived. I made it to outside the lunchroom, and then I started looking for Laura. I wasn’t sure which lunch she had, but I hoped it was mine. She didn’t show up, but Aurelia and Olivia did. Olivia was the girl I had earlier seen going into Mrs. Harper’s room. Olivia was an attractive girl. She had shoulder length dark brown wavy hair and a beautiful smile. She was tall and chubby with round rosy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes. She had a great sense of humor and an outgoing personality. I suppose Aurelia and I needed someone outspoken because we were both somewhat shy. Throughout most of high school, I remained afraid to say what I was feeling and I allowed some people to walk all over me. I didn’t have to worry about that with Aurelia or Olivia. Neither of them would have ever tried to take advantage of me.

  I hated crowds, and the lunchroom was packed, so we got junk food out of the vending machines instead. This would become our ritual: buy our chips and colas, sit on “our” bench on the breezeway, and talk and gossip until the bell rang. There was no better way to spend lunch.

  As the three of us were getting better acquainted, I saw Max walking on the breezeway. His long black hair was blowing in the wind. Just then, Johnny approached him. I just melted at the sight of Johnny in his silk shirt and tight blue jeans. Johnny had shoulder-length light brown hair and a deep-dark tan. He was tall and thin and he truly was built like a Greek god. He had several of the buttons on his shirt undone, and I could see that his chest was tanned and bare. He wore sandals, and his feet were just as tan as the rest of him – at least the parts of him I could see.

  Max wasn’t nearly as good-looking as Johnny, but I did love Max’s hair. It was long and silky, hanging halfway down his back. He was shorter than Johnny, but he seemed older. Max was wearing a blue button up shirt and black pants, but I hardly noticed. Johnny had all of my attention.

  I pointed Johnny and Max out to Aurelia and Olivia, saying, “I think those guys ride our bus, Aurelia.”

  “You’re right, Katrina. I saw them this morning.” Neither Olivia nor Aurelia mentioned that either one of the boys was cute, so I didn’t either.

  The bell rang much too soon, and Aurelia, Olivia, and I returned to our classrooms.

  No one had ever looked so forward to fifth period as I did that day. If it would get me away from Mrs. Danes, fifth period would be my favorite – even if it was Geography. When the bell rang ending fourth period, I flew out the door at warp speed.

  Coach Dreyer was the teacher, although he wasn’t much of one. He was the basketball coach, and I suppose he had to have a class to teach. It should have been Basket Weaving 101. He didn’t really seem to care about anything except his team – and his star performer. We heard all about basketball but very little about geography. To make matters worse, I didn’t know anyone. Almost the entire class was male, and most of them were on the basketball team.

  Even though I felt out of pla
ce in geography, I still dreaded sixth period most of all: PE. When the bell rang announcing the end of fifth period, I walked as slowly as possible but, all too soon, I was in the gym. To my relief, Olivia was also in sixth period PE. Our teacher was Mrs. Robinson, a very attractive yet extremely stern woman. She would be someone that I could love one moment and hate the next. But, unlike Mrs. Danes, she was always fair. Since it was the first day, we just went over some rules; then we could do whatever we wanted to do.

  Olivia and I spent most of the class talking. She told me about her family. She lived with her mother and her brother Darrell. Olivia’s older sister Reba was married. I told Olivia about my family, too. She showed interest in my brother Rick until I told her that he had a wife and a young daughter.

  Olivia and I were going to be friends, and the thought thrilled me. We had a lot in common: we’d both suffered ridicule about our weight and we were both quite desperate to find the right guy. What better recipe for a friendship?

  The bell finally rang ending the first day. Olivia and I said goodbye and promised to look for each other the next morning. I scampered off to my bus, and I was the first one to get on it. Today hadn’t been so bad, and now I had my choice of any seat on the bus. Just like a true nerd, I almost chose the front seat, but then I realized that cool guys like Johnny wouldn’t sit in the front of the bus. So, I sprinted back, selecting a seat three rows from the rear.

  Just as I got comfortable, Erma – the girl from my Algebra class – came running towards the back seat. She gave me a smile – although it looked more like a sneer – as she bounded past me. “What’s your name again?” she said. Her voice was gravelly and deep.

  I almost said, “Katrina,” but I wanted to be cool. “Kat,” I mumbled instead.

  “I’m a sophomore. Aren’t you a freshman?” She wasn’t softening a bit.

  “Yeah.” My voice was cracking. Sometimes freshmen suffered harassment from upperclassmen.

  “Are you good at math?”

  “Sort of.” My breathing was coming in short bursts, and my heart was speeding.

  “Good. I might need some tutoring. I’m awful at math.” She had softened. She wanted my help.

  “Sure,” I said. My voice was back to normal; my vital signs were improving as well.

  Up front, the Howdy Doody twins were taking the front seats. Their toothy smiles and bright eyes enhanced their somewhat plain freckled faces. Dressed in matching clothes, these clean cut boys would have felt right at home in Mayberry. They were more Opie than Ron Howard would ever be. They each had bright red hair cut in a military style – differing only in that one parted his on the right while the other one opted for the left: a real triumph for individualism.

  Meanwhile, Johnny and Max had arrived. With Johnny in the lead, the two friends were sauntering towards the back seat as if they had all the time in the world. They passed me by as though they had never seen me before. I refused to let myself look back as I heard them speak to Erma. I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction.

  Aurelia and Dominique stepped onto the bus, and Aurelia waved. Both girls headed towards me, and I wondered which one would sit with me. Just then I felt a kerplunk on the seat beside me. I felt like telling whoever the ignoramus was to get out of my seat – the bus wasn’t half full yet. But that’s not the way of Katrina Kipling. No pushing, no shoving, no talking back. A dirty look, maybe, but nothing more substantial. Still, I turned to face the intruder. What a relief that no one had a camera. It would be a shame if anyone had caught my surprised look on film. The ill-mannered oaf turned out to be Max. Fortunately, he turned around to talk to Johnny before catching my stunned expression. Aurelia and Dominique seemed to be the only ones that saw, and they were giggling as they took the seat in front of Max and me.

  Now my heart was really pumping. I could feel every beat pounding in my head. I grasped the back of Aurelia and Dominique’s seat, and my knuckles started turning white. Time stood still until the bus started moving. Max turned to face forward in the seat. I tried to keep from looking in Max’s direction, but my eyes wouldn’t listen. Max was staring right at me and he had a goofy grin on his face.

  I quickly looked away. Aurelia would tell me later that my face turned fifteen shades of red. I could certainly feel the heat in my cheeks. Max chuckled as he scooted down in the seat and propped his knees against the back of Aurelia and Dominique’s seat. “You don’t mind me sitting here, do you?” I sensed a note of sarcasm.

  Unable to speak, I simply shook my head. I heard him chuckle again. He turned around quickly, and I heard him say, “Johnny...,” and then, just as quickly, he turned back around and slid over closer to me. I could feel his body heat, and I was sure he could feel mine as well.

  With my head bent forward, I permitted myself to slightly glance in Max’s direction. His arm was touching mine, and I noticed the thick black hair that covered it. As I allowed my eyes to move slowly up his body, I discovered that his chest was just as hairy as his arm. The most surprising part of all was that I thought this was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. Max’s hairy chest was so much more exciting than Johnny’s bare chest. At that moment, Max replaced Johnny and every other boy in my heart. I decided right then that I could never love another. One percent true love; ninety-nine percent raging hormones.

  We had reached the first bus stop. Aurelia and Dominique got up to leave. They told me goodbye, but I could only smile and nod. I kept wondering if Max would move, but he didn’t. Our stop was the last one, and I hoped he’d stay beside me all the way.

  On our way to the next stop, Mason Pearson – the pimpled kid from my bus stop – walked down the aisle and stopped beside Max. “Is this your new girlfriend, Max?” he asked. A wide comical grin covered his face, and for the first time I noticed that his ears stuck way out from his head. If I hadn’t been so mortified by his taunting remark, I might have laughed. Instead, I fought back stinging tears and turned my face towards the window. Max, however, was undaunted. “Shut up, Mason. You are neither funny nor smart. Sit down.”

  Max remained next to me throughout the bus ride. He also allowed me to go in front of him as we exited. I noticed that Tracy was watching both of us, but I wasn’t sure what she was thinking. I got off the bus and rushed home for two reasons. Number one: I didn’t want to find out what Tracy was thinking. Number two: I had to get out of that dress.

  At home, I found myself thinking about Max and Mason. Did Max react because Mason offended him or embarrassed me? I didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. The love bug had bitten me and now anything coming out of Max’s mouth was a compliment. I made up my mind that Max would someday be mine – even if it killed him – and with that decision made, I picked up the phone to call my best friend in the world, Donna.

  Chapter 3

  “Beep-beep. Beep-beep.”

  The alarm on my cell phone told me that I was late for work. Shoving my half-eaten sandwich into a crinkled paper bag, I jumped off the garden bench and rushed to my car. I barely noticed the blooming azaleas and the tiny rosebuds peeking out at the beautiful spring day. A red Corvette cut me off at the garden exit, and I shook my fist and cursed. The obscurity of a vehicle could work wonders for the weak of spirit.

  Once back at work, I hurried quickly to my desk. I marveled that I was only ten minutes late. I heard Brad mumbling about something over in his office across the hall and wondered if anyone had even missed me.

  Brad and I were part of our company’s Information Technology Team. I was the Operations Analyst and a part-time programmer; Brad was the Senior Programmer as well as a Systems Analyst. Together we kept Bigelow Exports functioning, although our boss Nancy Martin took most of the credit. This would be my fourteenth year at Bigelow’s while Brad was working on year sixteen. Nancy – who was younger and less experienced than any of us – would be celebrating year number five.

  Brad Hanover was a quirky guy. Married three times – and equally divorced – he took life as it came, and h
e complained about it. Nothing, it seemed, ever went right for him. Wife number one found another lover before anniversary number one. Wife number two stuck around for three years – long enough to let Brad pay her way through college. Wife number three spent Brad’s money before he earned it, sending him into bankruptcy court and divorce court all in the same year. He’d stayed single for the past five years.

  In the beginning, I’d felt a certain attraction for this sandy-haired, baby-faced, worrier. At five feet-six inches, he certainly satisfied my penchant for shorter men. We also got along famously. For all his worrying, I treated him with generous doses of humor and optimism. Now, after fourteen years, I was glad we were only friends. An office romance can cause all kinds of problems, especially if the romance ends badly. And with Brad’s track record, I was willing to bet a week’s wages on any of his relationships ending badly. The years, or perhaps all the constant worry, had not been kind to Brad. He was losing most of his hair on top, and the rest of it was gray. His baby-face had grown tired, and deeply entrenched wrinkles replaced his laugh lines and dimples. Sometimes it seemed that my friendship with Brad was the only thing that kept me sane at work.

  Brad was still mumbling when Nancy walked into my office. Oh no. Here comes the lecture.

  “You were late getting back from lunch.” I pretended to be working and ignored Nancy’s remark. I knew I was late, but I often came to work early. I usually stayed late as well.

  “Katrina,” Nancy always pronounced my name wrong – Kay-Trina, with a pause after Kay, “I need to talk to you.”

  I stopped looking at my PC and turned to face Nancy. She was difficult to look at. Her stylish red hair had never seen a bad hair day; it always held in place and curled in the right direction. Her petite oval face had a creamy complexion, and no blemish had ever flourished there. Black eyeliner ringed her almond-shaped eyes, enhancing their shape and increasing their size – as if they weren’t big enough already. Those perfect eyes were emerald green, and they sparkled even in the fluorescent light. Her nose was so flawless that I sometimes fantasized about breaking it just to give it character. Her mouth housed immaculate teeth. Exquisite pouty lips wore lipstick that never smudged, faded, or streaked. Need I point out that her body could make men beg and women cry? Women like me anyway.