Wishful Thinking (11 page)

“You’re lucky I’m you’re friend," I said shaking my head and moving towards the snack bar.
 

“I know, thanks," he shouted.

Dean and I made plans to have a Star Wars marathon after he finished his homework tonight. So after the soccer game wrapped up I headed to the mini mart to pick up some snacks. I tossed the bag of junk food on the passenger side floor and headed home. Even though I was still getting headaches I decided tomorrow I’d start running again otherwise my physique, which I worked hard to achieve, was going to turn into a marshmallow.
 

Humming along to an old Johnny Cash song playing on the radio, I turned the corner and Claudia appeared. She was hunched over my neighbor’s fence having trouble catching her breath. I knew an asthma attack when I saw one.
 

I pulled up next to her, “You okay?"

She held up a hand, the other clutching her chest. “Yeah … forgot my inhaler," she said in between shallow breaths.
 

I opened my armrest console and pulled out my own inhaler and held it up, “You want to use mine?" She looked up and down the street before nodding and staggering up to my car. I unlocked the doors. She got in and slid down in her seat. She didn’t even hesitate taking it and sucking in a couple of hits. I didn’t use an inhaler any more hadn’t needed it in years, but I kept it, just in case. She took a few more puffs and when she exhaled her breathing was even her cheeks less flush.
 

“Do you want a ride home?"

“Yeah, thanks," she said buckling her seat. “That’s so embarrassing."

 
I hit the gas, "Which way?"

"Left," she said.
 

"Maybe you’re the jinx,” she gasped before taking another puff of my inhaler, “I haven’t had an asthma attack in years.”

“Great, so we’re both jinxes—”

“Right there," she pointed.
 

Her house was a standard McMansion with over the top embellishments. Decorative wrought iron adorned with finials encased between granite block walls. Atop the left and right granite blocks along each side of the driveway were security cameras panning back and forth.
 

“Thanks for the ride," she said and got out.
 

 
She hurried through a side entry gate without giving me a backwards glance.
 

“You’re welcome," I shouted to her retreating figure. I did a u-turn at her curb and headed the opposite direction. As I pulled away a black Dodge Charger parked a house down from Claudia’s caught my attention. Tint was dark. Dark enough you couldn’t see if someone was inside, but the driver side window was cracked. Smoke billowed out, telling me there was definitely a person inside. I kept checking in my rearview the Charger didn’t move but I couldn’t shake the sensation I was being watched. I pushed it from my mind and headed home.

By school on Monday nothing had changed between Summer and I. Not a single text or phone call. She maintained radio silence all weekend and I pretended it didn’t bother me. To be honest, my thoughts this weekend circled around my dad and Dr. Patterson’s question of whether I ever talked to my dad about how I felt. Conversations with my father only went one way—him talking and me trying to act like I was listening.
 

“James you’re next," Mr. Peters said motioning to the podium next to his desk. I grabbed my note cards and dragged ass up to the front. Not in the mood for debating.

I cleared my throat, I was about to bomb big time. “Studies show links between animal cruelty and human abuse. A person who abuses an animal is far more likely to turn his anger on human counterparts as well. Pet abuse is one of a few predictors of domestic partner violence.

“In both domestic violence and child abuse situations, abusers may manipulate and control their human victims through threatened, or actual violence against family pets. So if we create stiffer sentences when someone is convicted of animal abuse, or endangerment then it would prevent a violent act against a person later …”

I finished and tapped my notecards on the podium. “Thank you James, Jorge you’re up.”

It was then Claudia showed up. She handed a note to Mr. Peters. He read it over and then nodded, “Let’s not make it a habit.”
 

“Yes sir,” she said and took her seat.

For some reason she always drew my attention when she entered a room. I noticed her but not for usual reasons. What I noticed was the slump to her posture most days and the dark circles ringing her eyes not quite concealed beneath make-up.

Whenever I looked at her her eyes triggered a memory at the edge of my mind, just out of reach. It was hard to explain, but it was like the past called out to me from the depths of her eyes.
 

She took her seat keeping her eyes averted from me. She was two different people. There was quiet Claudia who walked the halls of Crestview whose feathers seemed to ruffle easily. Then there was brash Claudia I saw everywhere else. The one with a chip on her shoulder who voiced her opinions good or bad. The one who knocked me out cold without making a sound.

We covered two more arguments; Is social media transforming our day to day lives and Is the judicial system flawed. While Ronald was up arguing in favor of a flawed judicial system Claudia finally noticed me staring at her and made an expression that said “What?”
 

I jotted down on a blank piece of paper,
Jinx anyone else?
then hung it over the edge of my desk.
 

She laughed and scribbled something on her notebook and flipped it over the edge of her desk,
No. You?

I scribbled back,
No, same shit different day.

Word
,
she wrote back,
how’s the eye? Doesn’t look to bad, you almost look normal.
 

I owe you, Jinx,
I wrote back. She laughed and the bell rang. Mr. Peters stepped in my pathway blocking me from exit.
 

“A word James," Mr. Peters said guiding me to his desk. I mentally ran through all the reasons I might be in trouble, but came up empty, meanwhile, Mr. Peters was rummaging through the top drawer of his desk.
 

“You’re fast on your feet and we could use someone like that on the team, and it wouldn’t hurt your transcripts any to be on the team, any padding is good padding when applying for college,” Mr. Peters said handing me a flyer for the school’s debate team. I took the sheet and pushed it inside my notebook without looking at it.
 

“I guess,” I said unconvinced.

"Think it over," he said.

"Yeah okay, I will," I said. There was no way I was joining but I’d wait to let Mr. Peters down. Make it look like I gave some thought to my decision. Unlike Dean, I didn’t care about credit, or how well things reflected on college applications. I enjoyed having time for fun not that I was having much fun as of late.
 

Dean waited in the hall Claudia at his side. He was leaned over whispering something in her ear. She looked at him and laughed then slapped his arm.
 

“So is it detention for a week?" he asked when I was standing in front of them.
 

“Worse,” I said and shoved the flyer into his hands.
 

“Debate team, impressive."

“I’m not doing it," I said.
 

“You really need to think about your future."

“Why so I can look as exhausted as you?"

Dean adjusted his tie and jacket and ran a hand over his hair, “Tell me again why we’re friends?"

“Because I remind you to lighten up so your head doesn’t pop letting your big brain fall out."

Claudia giggled.
 

Dean stepped up to me so we were toe to toe, eye to eye. He stared at me, then rubbed his chin and said, “Precisely and I’m here to keep you grounded so you don’t wind up living in a cardboard box." He started laughing and slapped my shoulder, "Besides I’d hate to make you look stupider."

"More stupid," I corrected and he laughed harder.
 

Claudia was shaking her head too. “It’s best you don’t join our team if that’s how you’ll argue,” Claudia said. She turned to Dean, “See you later,” and took off.
 

"She’s on the team?” I said to Dean after Claudia disappeared into the rush of students. He hadn’t mentioned it. We headed down the hall towards the science wing.

“Just joined last week."

“You like her don’t you?"

 
“I just hope she helps us win against Portland next week. So are you going Thursday?"

“What’s happening on Thursday?”

“Rugby? Town hall meeting? This ringing a bell? It’s open mic so anyone can get up and speak."

“Count me out."

“Dammit James it’s the only thing your involved in, how can you not at least show up?"

“Because, honestly, in the big scheme of things whether they keep or get rid of rugby doesn’t matter. It’s just a game," I said. It was total bullshit, rugby was everything to me, but I was trying not to sweat it. “Maybe I’ll join debate instead."

Dean shook his head, “It’s people like you that have allowed this country to fall to shit, nobody willing to fight for a damn thing.”

“I only got one good fight in me—so I’m saving it for something really important."

“I don’t know how you can be so complacent." Dean didn’t wait for a rebuttal before he stormed off. He was mad, but he would get over it.
 

Arguing with a girl is far different from arguing in debate class. First, girls don’t argue using logic or reason, but emotions. No matter how sound your argument is you can’t win.
 

By lunch Summer made it clear we were fighting. When I sat down next to her at the lunch table she elbowed Emily and they both got up and left without another word. And that’s how she behaved the rest of the day. By last period I stopped checking my phone and dumped it to the bottom of my bag. I didn’t need it taunting me. I wasn’t about to call her, not until I was certain I knew why she was mad. I jammed to Puddle of Mudd’s She fucking hates me all day.
 

When I arrived home the garage door was up and my dad’s car was gone. Dad must have been in a hurry because it wasn’t like him to leave it open. I collected my things and made sure to close the garage door behind me as I headed inside. I threw my bag on the kitchen table and went straight to the fridge for a pop. Drank half a can in one gulp and belched Pepsi breath at the fridge.
 

I leaned against the kitchen sink chugging down the rest of my pop and staring out the bay window into the backyard. It used to be pretty and inviting outside. Our backyard got more gasps, and oohs and aahs, then any of our neighbors. Lawn devoid of crabgrass, flowerbeds of brilliant colored flowers, and lush trees provided shade from scorching summer sun. That same yard no longer looked inviting. Grass brittle and yellow, trees overgrown with branches and flowerbeds filled with nothing more than dirt. I can’t even remember the last time I went out there. Our pool cover hadn’t been taken off in years and looked faded and cracked.The water was probably green beneath it.
 

Movement in my peripheral pulled my attention to the hallway; two papers fluttered in and settled on the floor next to the dining table. One was receipt for a motion my dad filed and the other was a paternity suit filed by a Lorelei Vargas against a Jameson Franklin. The name niggled at the back of my mind, then I noticed the date it was filed, August 2, 1997. Weird, August 2 was my birthday. A loud knock came from the hallway. I placed the two papers on the table beneath our napkin holder.
 

I followed the knocking sound down the hall toward my dad’s office hollering his name. Something didn’t feel right. No, it’s all in your head. The hairs on my arms stood up and an overwhelming nervousness hit me.
 

It was irrational so I pushed it aside.

“Dad you in here?" I opened his office door. There, behind my father’s desk stood a man in a black ski mask. His eyes locked on me.
 

The intruder dropped the folder he was holding and charged me. Before I could react, or at brace myself he slammed into me sending me back into the bookcase where I crumpled to a heap on the floor. Bolts of white blurred my vision and then everything went black.