“I said I was done. I said I was sorry.”
“Abigail, please,” Nana says. “No more today.”
My mother sighs.
“Fine. Now, what are you going to do with the rest of your accidental day off? You don’t even have to go to Hank’s Hoagies with Joey today. You’re free.”
“I guess…I guess I’ll read my book for American Classics and make some notes for my paper. And I have to look at the monologue packet for Drama Club. The performance is in two weeks.” Great. Now I have that to go through. Standing up in front of god knows how many people, blaming me for Gage, maybe having seen the photos. My head spins. It’s too much. I wish I could just go upstairs and sleep forever.
Nana claps her hands. “Oh, a play! How nice!”
“No, Nana, it’s just short pieces all night. Like a kind of variety show.”
My mother nods in approval. “That’s very nice. Make sure you tell me when it is and what time, so we can all be there. I’ll put it in my calendar.”
When she turns around to rinse the dishes, I pull out my phone and text Joey.
Don’t stress about your grades. It’s going to be okay. It will.
Mis_Educated
I see you. All of you.
Reposting and snickering and sharpening your high school blades.
I know each and every one of you.
I’ve known you for years.
You didn’t much notice me, though. You often don’t notice girls like me.
Smart （boring）。 Doesn’t dress sexy （boring）。 Too opinionated （boring bitch）。
I could go on and on but while you were busy not noticing me, I was taking notes on you. I know more than you think I do.
And if you think writing nasty notes on her desk Leaving them on her voice mail
Texting them
Whispering in the hallway
Sharing pictures of her again and again Is funny. Or payback. Or justice. （For what, even?） I’m going to show you how wrong you are.
I want to talk about addiction.
My parents are gone. Poof. One day there, One day not. But when they were there, I propped them up. Made dinner. Took care Of my brothers. Shopped. Counted pennies.
Hid what I could so they wouldn’t sell it.
They sold all our shoes once.
I mowed four lawns to earn enough money To buy us more at the Salvation Army thrift store.
Mowed those lawns in bare feet.
That’s the thing about loving an addict.
You don’t want to lose them.
You’ll do anything to keep them with you.
Keep them alive.
You’ll lie, beg, cheat, steal.
But you start to feel invisible.
Because everything is about them.
Never about you. You can’t even think about you, You’re so busy taking care of them
Because you don’t want to lose them.
But it’s hard to be invisible.
You just want someone, sometime
To see you. Look at me, you beg
Inside your head. Notice me.
Love me.
Love me.
You’ll make up your own minds.
The wrongheaded often do.
But remember this:
What would you do to be seen?
How would you feel if a boy asked you To recite poetry and didn’t snicker at you?
What if he called you Perfect
And Beautiful
And was nice to you in all those ways but one: No one could know.
But you felt loved, so you went on.
People will do anything for love.
I know I would.
It’s an addiction.
I would do anything
If it would bring my parents back to me.
I’m guessing this girl isn’t the only one With a story like this. Or a version of it.
The story of a boy and girl and kisses And hookups and secrets and lies.
So why are we shaming her?
Tell me. Tell me your stories.
Tell me who wronged you.
Boys don’t get to make the rules
About what girls can be
And if you’re tired of being shamed
And tired of shaming others
Meet me in the shitty science lab bathroom Tomorrow before first bell.
Let’s give them something to talk about.
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#heywoodhigh #heywoodhaulers #heywoodhypocrisy #metoo #gagegalt #millhaven SZ1789 Nate Rabinowitz GiGi Carl Granger FrancesP Tucker Michaels MandyMandy Allan Jefferson PristTine Roly Martin LzySusan That janitor fall of 2019. The handsy one.
HelenOfJoy Allan Jefferson, Chris Munoz
32
I’M SITTING WITH NANA on the couch and deleting messages on my phone. Most came in earlier, when I was doing homework, but they seemed to trickle off. I can’t believe kids are still messaging me nasty stuff, but they are. I don’t even read what they say, I just delete and block. I almost miss Joey’s text in the flood of mean messages. He sent it an hour ago.
I am truly sorry
I never meant to hurt you or cause everyone so much pain I let you down
I know you tried
It’s just too hard
It’s okay, I text back.
He doesn’t answer. I call and leave a voice mail and wait a few minutes, but he doesn’t call back.
“Joey sent a weird text,” I say to Nana, my voice tentative. “He sounds strange. And he’s not texting or calling me back.”
“He’s probably feeling ashamed,” she says. “Call him at work. He should be there now, yes? He can’t not take a call at the hoagie shop. He’s the one who answers the phone!”
But it’s Hank who answers, his voice clipped and professional. “Hank’s Hoagies, here to help with your hunger needs.”
“Hi, Hank, it’s Emory, Joey’s sister.”
“Oh, hello there, Emory. I hope Joey’s feeling better. He wasn’t looking too good.”
“Wait, is he there?”
“No, he said he felt sick. I sent him home.”
“When?”
“About two hours ago. Is everything all right?”
“I’m at home, but he’s not here.”
A pause. “Well, I sent him home because he said he felt sick. He looked sick.”
My brain is moving slow and fast all at once. “Sick like what?”
“Oh, a little sweaty. Dazed. Fluish, or something. Moving slow. Lots of people getting sick this time of year. Always happens.”
I click off.
It’s just too hard, Joey texted.
Nana turns the television down. “What? What is it?”
“Joey left work early two hours ago. He said he was coming home.
“Mom!” I yell, jumping up from the couch and running into the kitchen. “Mom!”
* * *
—
My mother’s hands are clutched together as the police take notes in our living room. Nana has called my dad and he’s on his way back from the hospital.
My mom is giving them Joey’s work outfit description, his height and weight, hair color. They ask if he’s been having any problems lately, something that would make him stay away from the house. “Teenagers, am I right, Mrs. Ward? It’s always something. Maybe he’ll cool off, come back tomorrow. You might want to try contacting his friends. See if they’ve heard anything.”
“He’s in recovery for opioid addiction, Ted,” my mother says. Sometimes I forget she knows everyone in this town, practically. “I think that should be an issue here. We did have an argument earlier today.”