DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.

712 Main Street

The end of the year party was at the beginning of the month of June.  Alex told me that she would go with me, and we would meet people there, at Daniel’s house, on 712 Main Street.  His parents wouldn’t be home, even though everyone there was only graduating from eighth grade.  Daniel’s parents were probably the most lenient parents I have ever met.  From my parents’ house’s view from the front window of the side of the school, near the rose bushes and the bike rack, hours after home games, I could see him, Larry and Pete messing around, trying to climb up the barred windows to the second floor, or smoking, or trying to pop an ollie on their graffiti- sticker adorned skateboards that made them seem much older than their thirteen years. 

Me and Daniel were both accepted to the magnet school a few blocks away from our grammar school, and almost everyone else was going to the local public school off of the brown line, that was well known for its drama program and boys’ hockey.  Our graduation had been bittersweet, with lots of photos, tears and tripping over the procession from the steps to the stage (Gina and Greg could find their bearings, while I managed to walk the in the opposite direction that I was supposed to after the principal handed me my diploma, in front of hundreds of people; this feat was captured on at least a dozen video cameras.).  The one thing I’ll never forget is how amazingly the auditorium was decorated; blue and white streamers lined the walls and blue and white balloons were scattered across the floor, by the tall windows and throughout the path that the graduates walked to the stage (Haley almost tripped and fell over one that she didn’t see while the light of her parents’ camera blinded her.)  Blue and white aren’t even our school colors.  I have no idea why the parents’ committee chose blue and white.  Maybe to portray the contrast of happiness and sadness.  Or maybe those were the colors of the balloons that were on sale at Party City that week.  Whatever the reason I will forever remember my graduation with the colors of our rival school, St. Michelle’s.

 

After the ceremony, while my parents were cleaning up, I tore off a small “Congratulations” poster that hung over the entrance to the room in the back of the auditorium, the room that all of the teachers said never to enter, and never told us why.  One time after cheerleading practice, me and Alex picked the lock and went inside and played bloody Mary in front of a mirror that was on the wall across from the door.  Right after we did, a bolt of lightning struck right in front of the window and the whole room shook, so we ran out to the front hall. 

 

These are the types of memories I hope to keep from my experience at St. Martha’s.  The times me and my friends were bad, and had fun being bad.  This type of persona is something that most kids grow out of when they become adults, but this mischievous demeanor is something that develops even more in one’s teenage years.  The thought of almost being alone in high school without a familiar face terrified me.  I would have to start all over again.  Would I change myself or would I be changed by others?  Would I find what I had at St. Martha’s, would I be as happy again?  People say some of the best years of your life happen in high school.  The minutes before the party, I sat on my steps waiting for Alex, doubting this archetype.  I couldn’t imagine being any happier than I was at that moment.  But then again, things change, people change.  People grow, developing from one person to another, until there is nothing surrounding them that make them change.  And this never happens; as long as you live, as long as you survive.

 

This is why I thought that this party would be so important, maybe even life changing.  I would have to find the balance between my adolescence during grammar school, and what would be, what could be, in high school.  I would have to find my bridge and at the same time collect the last memories that I would have of my grammar school friends and I being together. 

 

I spotted Alex walking toward me, turning the corner, wearing the stripped Adidas shoes she shoplifted with me from lady foot locker a few months ago.  I had tried to steal a pair of Converse shoes.  I switched my old Nike sandals in the box, but at the last minute I chickened out because the employee, decked out in her ref outfit, kept on eyeing me and Alex.  It was like she knew what our intentions were but didn’t care.  Alex could go through with it, I couldn’t.  I vowed never to go back to that store, and Alex said when winter came around she was going to try to steal a pair of boots from Journey’s.  Same game, new turf.

 

“Ready for some fun?”  Alex exclaimed, throwing open her arms.

 

“Yeah,” I said, “Let the good times roll.  Are we supposed to bring anything?”

 

“Some people are bringing food, but I didn’t bring anything.  Daniel is ordering pizza.” 

Alex took a hold of the railings of my porch as I adjusted my visor and stood up.  We walked down the side street up to the main street, crossed it, and walked the three blocks to Daniel’s house.  Three blocks may seem like a very short distance to some people, older people, those more experienced in the layout of the city, but to thirteen year olds, whose only modes of transportation are bikes and their feet, three blocks is a universe across a universe across a universe.  My neighbors’ front yards had become so familiar over the years that now I don’t even notice them when I walk by.  All of the houses looked very similar, except for Mrs. Greene’s house that was smack in the middle of the block diagonal to mine.  That house was the mansion of the neighborhood, with Spanish tiles, balconies, three floors, and a huge garden in the front and back.  I babysit her grandkids sometimes that visit in the summer from Colorado.  One time me and the kids where playing in one of the bedrooms on the second floor, a room that had a balcony outside of it, and we accidently broke off the doorknob leading to it.  I put it on the dresser and never said anything about, hoping she would think it was something the kids did. 

 

Alex and I walked up a few blocks to Daniel’s house, the third one from the corner across our busy street.  His front porch was empty but I heard music pulsing from inside. 

 

“Where are the decorations?” Alex asked Daniel when he swung open the screen door to greet us.

 

“Inside,” Daniel said.  “Come in.” 

 

Me and Alex walked slowly through his front room and the kitchen towards the backyard.  I had been to Daniel’s house a few times before, after dances and fundraisers.  Whenever I had been there before, the front room and kitchen were always full of people, but now the inside of the house was empty.  There was a certain tone that filled the space through which we walked through, like people had just left it, and an energy still lingered.  The living room carpet was really white, just like the walls and the furniture.  It seemed like a place where a dog that had just been rolling in the mud could wreak havoc.

 

Daniel pushed open a wooden door in the back of the kitchen.  Alex was in front of me, but over her shoulder I could see that there were groups of people scattered throughout the yard.  It had just started to get dark out, so that the horizon had shades of purple and blue peaking over the picket fence.  Daniel’s backyard was a combination of green grass and grey cement that circled two picnic tables in the center.  The grass was really green, and a few bird houses were placed at certain spots, at the top of trees, and next to the garage door that was across from me and Alex. 

Daniel’s beagle Nona ran up next to Alex, wagging her tail.  Alex leaned down to scratch her ears as people looked up to the sound of the opening door squeaking.  To the right were some people that we recognized from school: Jack, John, Andrea, and Fiona.  The tone of the yard full of people kind of matched the empty living room and kitchen.  People were talking, not doing anything, almost to the point where it seemed like the yard lacked life.  I wasn’t that well acquainted with John, Jack, Andrea and Fiona, as much as I was with some of the other kids in my class.  I felt alone, without a purpose, and without anything to do. 

 

To the right were some people that I didn’t recognize and I hoped Daniel would introduce us to, but before Daniel could say anything Alex made a beeline towards the chips.

 

 “I’m starving,” Andrea said as she left my side to walk towards the picnic table where the food and kids from school were.  They looked up to me for a second, and then resumed their conversation.  Jack and John were smoking and Andrea and Fiona were picking at potato chips on a paper plate in front of them.  Before I could decide what I wanted to do first, a rabbit ran out of a bush and under the picnic table.  Nona ran after it, running under one table and leaping over the other, knocking over a liter of 7UP.

 

“Shit, NONA, GET BACK HERE!”  Daniel shouted.  He grabbed the leash from a wicker chair and started to walk quickly towards the garage door.  Daniel swung it open, leaving it open.  I glanced over the scenario in front of me.  It was like I was among ghosts, or inanimate objects, people without a clue.  I probably shouldn’t say that about the people that I had spent the last ten years with, but it was true.  The energy of St. Martha’s had left my life and only the promise of a new tomorrow was there with me in the yard.  I wanted to leave, to find something, someone that could give me an idea what to do next.  So I left the yard, walking through the garage door, through the back of the garage, and across the grass that hugged the side of the house.  I sat down, looking up to the clouds that stretched high above the streetlights.  I got comfortable, taking off my sweater, spreading it out like a blanket and laying down.  I stared up at the sky, noticing a few bleak stars that managed to shine despite the presence of the beams of the streetlights.  The electric lines stretched out for as far as I could see, and some clouds crowded the full moon.  I closed my eyes and breathed in the air, smelling the rose bushes to my right and the scent of cigarettes that Alex and the others were probably smoking that floated through the eight o’clock air, and I almost drifted to sleep, until someone’s voice woke me up. 

 

“Got a light?”  were the words that filled the air just at the moment before I was about to drift off to sleep.  Something told me that it was someone that I knew, and I opened my eyes to a familiar face, and a moon that seemed to have found its way completely across the phone lines in a matter of minutes, like some freak force of nature.  Gabriel, the boy that was my neighbor when I lived on Normandy until I was four years old, took his hands out of his pockets and sat down next to me.

 

“No, sorry,” I said.  Gabriel wore glasses and had black hair and freckles.  He wore a Blackhawks jersey and Adidas shoes.  He stuck his foot in the space between us and started to tie his shoes, double-knotting them. 

 

I gathered my hair behind my head and smiled.  “I like your shoes,” I said, trying to make conversation.  “Blue and yellow.  Very bright.”

 

Gabriel looked up to me and smiled, sitting with his knees tucked into his chest.  “I like yours,” he said.  “I usually buy New Balance, too, but I needed cross trainers and the store didn’t have any that I liked.”

 

I ran my hand over the grass in front of me.  “I stole them,” I lied, trying to make the situation more interesting.  “Me and my friend Alex, we stole some shoes.”

 

“Oh really,” Gabriel said with an interested demeanor. 

 

“Yeah,” I said, “They were free.”            

           

We sat in silence for a few minutes until Gabriel spoke again.  “Do you remember when you used to come over during the summer, and my Dad would fill up the Crocodile Lagoon pool, and we would spend all afternoon swimming and throwing water balloons at each other in the alley?”

 

I smiled.  “I remember that,” I said.  “So, are you still going out with Joann?”

 

“Nope, we broke it off.  We are going to different schools.  It wouldn’t work,” he said.  Gabriel looked up to me with brown eyes that had some red in them, reflecting the light form the street lamps.  He smiled for half a second until his smile faded into something sad.  He looked at my neck, his eyes becoming round with interest.  He reached toward me and took the emerald rock that hung from my necklace in his hand and cradled it.

 

“What’s this?”  he asked.

 

“I don’t know,” I said, “Just a necklace.  My Aunt brought it back for me from Scotland.”

 

“Well,” he said, scooting closer to me, “I think it is very pretty.  Just like you.”

 

Gabriel leaned in to me.  I had never kissed a boy before and I didn’t know how to do it.  I didn’t know if I should close my eyes or keep them open.  Out of nervousness I kept them open, until the moment before he kissed me.  His eyes turned cross-eyed until he closed them the second before I did mine.  We kissed for a minute, but when we finished we didn’t sit back like we were before.  He looked me in the eyes.  My heart started beating really fast, and the beat was something that I had never felt before, like my heart was outside of me.  I felt nervous but safe at the same time.  Gabriel’s eyes showed the intensity of our kiss, of our situation.  I felt like I had given something to him and he had given something to me.

 

“Do you want me to walk you home?”  he asked, still leaning towards me.

 

I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say.  Finally, what was beating in my heart found my thoughts.

 

 “Sure,” I said.  Gabriel stood up and held out his hand.  I took it, grabbed my sweater, and stood up next to him.  I knew I should have told Alex that I was leaving without her, but I didn’t want to leave Gabriel’s side, not even for a moment.  Gabriel and I walked around the house until we met the sidewalk in front.  We started to walk to my house, from one block to the next, leaving one place and finding another.

 

DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.