Throw Away Teen (18 page)

“
I’m trying to eat.” I peeled the plastic wrap off my sandwich. “You’re grossing me out. How much do you want to bet the ladies had lice and fleas, too? Even my puppy is cleaner than that.”

“
The ladies must’ve had fleas. It makes sense.” Willa began to look through her book again. “Why doesn’t it say that? I’ve never seen it in any of my other romances either.”

“
Of course not.” I pointed my sandwich at her book. “Could you imagine you’re the lady if she was that dirty?”

“
Gross.” Willa wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You’re evil, B.J.”

“
You deserved it.” I kept eating.

We were on our way to the library to check out the truth about ladies and knights when Ringo stopped us. “A bunch of us are going to the mall Friday night. Do you want to come?”

I looked up at him as I thought about it. I had a ton of homework if I planned to get caught up and pull a four-point by June, so I’d earn that money. Still, it’d be fun to go out and he was hot—“boiling” hot.’ But what if Dallas showed up? Could I deal with her and not lose it if she got snotty?

I didn’t know what her problem was. I mean we’d gotten along great on the weekend and all at once, she was Ms. Attitude with me. How was I supposed to feel about that?

“
I’d have to ask Liz,” I finally said.

“
That shouldn’t be a problem.” Anger filtered into his blue-green eyes, turning them stormy. “Or do you want me to do it?”

I shrugged. Other girls might back down, because he was even steamier when he got mad. “Go ahead. Whatever makes you happy, big guy. Come on, Willa.”

Before we walked away from the table, Dallas popped off one of her innocent looks. “How can you hang out with such a geek?”

“
Because she isn’t a dumb blonde wannabe,” I shot back. Nobody put down my friends. I learned that on the streets. I grabbed Willa’s arm and hauled her toward the library. “I’m sorry she’s such a bitch.”

“
Why? It’s not your fault.” Willa waited until we walked in the library. “B.J., I’ve heard worse from her. We’ve gone to the same school since kindergarten and she’s never liked me. But it brings up the question. Why do you keep hanging around with me?”

“
You’re nice and I like you,” I said, not thinking about it. When she sniffed back a tear, it exasperated me. “Oh come on, Willa. How many other people would’ve taken the time to show me around? Don’t tell me nobody has ever said you’re cool before.”

She shook her head. “Only my mom, but she thinks I’m perfect.”

“
Well, I think you’ve got to learn to speak up to twits like Dallas first,” I said. “Now, come on. Let’s find out if ladies had fleas.”

There wasn’t anything in the books to help us out. The librarian didn’t know either; however she actually cracked a smile. The bell rang, so we headed for World History. There were only fifteen kids in the room including me. What was up with this school and the small class sizes? How was a person supposed to hide from the teachers?

Right before Mr. Miller started his lecture about sixteenth century England, he looked around the room. “Does anyone have questions about Queen Elizabeth, Shakespeare or anything else we’ve covered the past two days?”

Nobody answered. Some of the girls whispered in the back corner. They kept staring at me and I knew they were friends of Dallas. I was still irritated with her and Ringo, or I wouldn’t have opened my mouth. Of course, other than Willa, I didn’t know anyone in the room, so it wasn’t as if they actually mattered. I raised my hand.

Mr. Miller stared at me as if he didn’t believe it. “A question? You actually have a question?”

I nodded. “What’s the big deal? You haven’t even heard them yet.”

“
More than one?” Mr. Miller was older than dirt with a fringe of white hair around his head. He started to bounce up and down behind the overhead projector and I hoped he didn’t have a heart attack or a stroke. “What are they?”

I’d seen Guard nearly as excited about a puppy cookie. I just hoped Mr. Miller didn’t lose it and pee on the floor. “Okay. Chill, will you? I don’t want to have to call Nine-One-One because you croaked over a stupid question.”

“
There are no stupid questions.” Mr. Miller told me. “I teach history of the sixteen-hundreds. I wasn’t alive then, no matter what my students think. You’re B.J. Larson, aren’t you? You just started today, right?”

“
Yeah. Anyway, Willa and I talked at lunch. She said the knights back in medieval times had fleas and lice. What about other people? Did they have fleas and stuff, too? The librarian told us women in the old West didn’t shave their legs, except for some Native American ones. Was that for real?”

“
Those are several good questions.” Mr. Miller smiled at me. “Let’s start with the Elizabethans, and see how far we get.” He spent the whole period talking about the real down and dirty facts of history, including the stuff about everybody going to executions like they were movies.

When the bell rang, Mr. Miller called me aside. “You’re a very intelligent young lady. It will be a joy having you in my class.”

I stored away those compliments in my mind. No one had ever called me intelligent before. Stewart Falls was rapidly becoming an okay place to live. “Thanks.”

“
Does Ms. Jackson prefer being called Willa?” Mr. Miller asked.

“
Wouldn’t you?” I demanded. “Sometimes, parents stick the most awful names on kids.” For the first time, I wondered why my mother stiffed me with Bertha Juniper. She must’ve had a reason. I would never know what it was, unless it turned out to be in my file. Could I ask Carol? I said, “I use my initials.”

“
My parents named me, Horace,” Mr. Miller said. “I go by my middle name.” He winked. “And it’s not Mister.”

“
I’d hate being called Horace.” Was he going to get mad and say I was rude? Or, what was the word they used here? Uncivil?

Mr. Miller just laughed. “Exactly.” He glanced up at the clock as students piled in for the next class. “You better go, or you’ll be late.”

I hurried out the door to where Willa waited in the hall.

“
He’s a good teacher,” Willa told me.

“
Yeah, especially when he talks about interesting stuff. I thought a couple guys would gag when Miller told us how the men wore layers of make-up and had to have it peeled off their faces every few months. It was gross.”

Willa shook her head. “No, the gross part was the white powder for their hair so nobody could see the lice.”

Senora Carstairs gave us a stern look when we hustled in right before the bell, but a smile broke loose when I apologized to her in Spanish. We had a vocabulary test. I zipped through it and so did Willa.

“
I’m done and so is Willa.” I handed in my paper. I made a point of talking to Senora Carstairs in Spanish. “Can we go to the Library so I can start my research project?”

“
Only if you tell me why you’re so fluent in Spanish, B.J. I’ve seen the classes you took in Seattle and you weren’t enrolled in any world language classes there.”

Why not tell her the truth? It wouldn’t hurt me. Besides, I didn’t have to say it in English so any of these students would understand. I quickly explained about the foster homes. One of my first and best had been with a Chicano family. I learned a lot of Spanish there. After all, I was barely three and little kids learn faster than older ones. Now, I knew a ton of people who spoke real Spanish, cuss words and all.

“
Why didn’t you remain with that family?” Senora Carstairs asked.

“
I was too attached to them.” She looked confused, and I explained. “I called the woman,
Madrecita
. I thought all the other kids who lived there were my real brothers and sisters. I lived with them for almost two years. I wanted to stay forever and it made my caseworker nuts, so she moved me.”

“
That’s terrible,” Senora Carstairs said. She added something worse in Spanish.

“
Hey, if you can cuss in Spanish, can I?”

“
No. I’m a teacher, B.J. There have to be some perks.” I had a feeling the administration wouldn’t agree with her, but at least she gave a rat’s backside. That was unexpected and awesome. Then, she told me that Willa and I could go hang out in the library, so we did. When we arrived, Nora, the librarian, came over and asked us how history went and we told her.

“
Now, I need to find a topic for my Freshman Project,” I told her. “I kind of have one in mind, but it has to work for American History, English and Washington State History.”

“
What was your idea?” Nora folded her arms and waited, tapping one foot, a gray-haired go-getter in a flowered dress.

“
Well, my foster mom said that the Equal Rights Amendment never passed, so I was kind of thinking about that,” I said.

Nora frowned thoughtfully. “What if you expanded the topic to women’s suffrage? ERA wouldn’t have existed without Alice Paul and the Women’s Movement. That would provide the necessary background for a twenty-five page paper and a presentation.”

“
You mean do something with the marches and protests?” Willa asked. “There’s tons of film clips, B.J. It would be amazing.”

“
How do I apply it to Washington State History?” I eyed the two of them. “That’s like a third of the grade.”

“
No problem,” Nora told us. “Women had the vote in our state before Congress passed the 19
^th
Amendment. So, you’ve chosen a good topic, B.J. Now, let’s find you some books so you can get started.”

***

The Academy bus dropped me at the end of the driveway a little after four. I walked up toward the house, past the late model B.M.W., and groaned. When I went in the kitchen, Guard dashed to meet me. I was glad and relieved he was still here. Liz had said he was staying, but it was hard duty trusting her a hundred percent after what I’d seen in my other homes.

I scooped Guard up for a hug and gave a short nod to Jocelyn who sat at the table. Chance played with Samson and Delilah.

Liz turned from the counter where she poured me a glass of milk and smiled. “How was the first day of school?”

“Hard,” I said. “But I think I’m catching onto the routine. Did Ms. Walker call? She wants to come by tonight and set up a tutoring schedule.”

“I can’t believe the Academy will let a girl from the streets of Seattle enroll,” Jocelyn said. “How do they know you’ll even be here a week?”

“Don’t push your luck, Jocelyn.” Liz kept assembling a sandwich for me. “Take your puppy for a walk, B.J. Then, you need to eat and we have to get to karate.”

“Okay.” I carried Guard with me, leaving my backpack on the bottom step of the stairs. Then, I took him outside. When we came back in, Jocelyn was helping Chance into her coat. They scooted out the door, Chance complaining that she wanted to come with me to the
dojo.
Jocelyn told her that they had to be somewhere. It didn’t sound like Chance would be in karate anytime soon.

I sat at the table long enough to eat my roast beef sandwich and drink the milk. After that, I headed for the staircase to take my backpack upstairs. As soon as I picked it up, I caught a whiff of tobacco. What the hell?

I unzipped the top of my bag. A package of cigarettes had been dumped inside. Two of the smokes were torn apart, littering my books with loose tobacco.

And I remembered—the soap nazi shoving cigarettes at me, chain-lighting them. When I couldn’t smoke any more, he ripped open the rest of the package. And tried to make me eat the tobacco.

My stomach clenched into a knot. I dropped the backpack, turned, and bolted for the bathroom. The dogs ran after me. I pushed the door open and made it to the toilet just before I puked. I felt somebody catch my hair, pull it out of the way.

Liz.

When I finished, she was at the sink. She filled a glass of water and handed it to me.

I rinsed my mouth, spit into the toilet.

“I don’t smoke, Liz.”

“What? I know that, honey. Carol already told me.” She came over, pushed the lever and flushed away my snack. Her face concerned, she asked, “What happened, B.J.? Did you eat too fast?”

She stopped. Then she swung around and marched to my backpack.

I followed and paused halfway across the kitchen, so I had room to run out the door if she got mad at me. Guard sat down next to me. Good. Now, I could take him with me. “I don’t smoke. I swear I don’t. Those aren’t mine.”

She nodded and zipped up the backpack. “I’ll deal with this later. Do you still want to go to karate today?”

“Yeah. I’d like to punch something.”

Liz came back over and caught me in a quick hug. “You’re a tough cookie, B.J.”

“Yeah, well...” I lifted my chin. “Don’t tell Carol about the cigarettes, okay? She wasn’t my caseworker then, and she gets all sniffly when she hears about bad stuff. It’s why Gabe calls her, Candy-Coated Carol.”

Liz smoothed my hair. “Maybe, you better teach her to be tough after you finish teaching Guard.”

“I think he’s a faster learner,” I said.

I knew I should pull away from Liz, but for a moment I didn’t want to be all by myself. I wanted her to comfort me like I was the same age as Chance. So, I just stood there and let Liz rock me. As if some little old lady could keep me safe from her bitchy daughter.

I hadn’t been a hundred-percent straight about Carol. I sure as sugar wasn’t letting my caseworker know how sick I got at a whiff of tobacco. She might say she was on my side, but she was my fourth social worker and none of them had ever put me first. I knew better than to trust her—or anyone else, come to think of it. I had to look out for B.J. Nobody else would.

Then we went to karate, and I kicked butt all through my first
kata
. A
kata
is an imaginary fight with several invisible opponents. I pretended I was punching Jocelyn, and at the end of class, Sensei told me I was ready to start sparring with the other students. Once I learned to do that and three more
katas
, I could go for a rank test and be promoted, but I’d still be a white belt.