Leslie's Journal

Six

It's already been a week since we started doing journals, but already  a lot of the class has stopped writing. They say they wrote down everything about their life on day one. "But every day is a new adventure!" Ms. Graham exclaimed. Hello? Has she looked in the mirror lately?

Anyway, for people with no idea, she's agreed to post a daily "Topic for Reflection." Today's topic is "What Makes Dreams Come True?" General groan, 'cause guess what? They don't. And when they do, you wish they hadn't. Take Ms. Graham. If she ever dreamed of being a teacher, I'll bet she's been kicking herself all the way to her shrink's ever since. And if she dreamed of being anything else, well, I rest my case.

All the same, lame or not, I'm going to write about it, just to stop thinking about you-know-who for two seconds. I mean my whole life is thinking about him, which is totally stupid and driving me crazy, but I can't help it. I pretend he's moved to Australia, only right away I imagine him in tight shorts and a cowboy hat hopping around on a kangaroo. Or I pretend he's dead, only I imagine him in his coffin, all beautiful like he's sleeping, and smelling of lilies. I picture myself kissing a rose and putting it over his heart, so that a little part of me will be  with him forever. Sick or what?

Back to the topic. I only know three people who believe in dreams coming true: Mom, Katie, and Walt Disney.

Mom says dreams have a catch, though. She says they only come true if you plan ahead and work hard to make them happen. This is why I'm supposed to buckle down and study, so that later on, when "opportunity knocks," I'll be able to answer the door. Not that planning ahead and working hard has done anything for her, other than getting her a divorce, a lousy apartment and temp work. When I remind her of this, she tells me to stop being negative. She says I'm too young to be cynical. I say she's too old not to be.

"But, honey, these are the best years of your life."

"Then shoot me."

This gets her all teary. "Leslie, when you say thing like that, I don't know whether to laugh or cry."

So now I'm supposed to feel guilty and take it all back. No way. "If you're thinking of crying, don't."

Mom apparently believes in the Magical Land of Happy Teenagers where nobody worries about zits, or periods, or exams, or pregnancy, or aids, or gangs, or the future, and the most serious think in life is a pillow fight at some slumber party. In the Magical Land of Happy Teenagers there is no sex or booze or drugs, and everyone is polite and helpful and smiles like an idiot.

Mom should be committed.

Katie also believes in dreams coming true. According to her, you don't have to work for your dreams, you just have to pray for them. According to her, God answers her prayers all the time.

"Oh yeah?" I say. "Well, he didn't give you that A you wanted in geography."

"Only because I didn't pray hard enough. But He gave me a C, and if I hadn't prayed at all I would have failed."

Katie also believes in God answering prayers because of her teeth. Since forever, she'd been praying for Him to fix her overbite. Finally, at the end of grade eight, her parents took her to an orthodontist who gave her braces. She showed me this miracle the next morning before school.

"Katie," I said, "are you trying to tell me God is a dentist?"

That made her really cross. She said if God was going to answer her prayers, it was mean for me to get picky about how he did it. In fact, it was a sin. I started to say something smart, but she just put her hands over her ears and started to hum.

"Look, Katie, I believe in God," I yelled, since it was the only thing I figured would shut her up. "I just think He's got more on His mind than your stupid braces. Making sure the planets don't collide, for one thing."

And suddenly, in the middle of the playground, I had a flash of God as some kind of Cosmic Juggler, and us as billions and trillion of balls He's got in the air. Some of us stay up and some of us fall down. And who stays up and who falls down - well, it all depends on whether He loses His concentration.

Katie like my theory, except she said God never loses His concentration because He's perfect. She says that everything has a reason, and that God has a Divine Plan for each and every ball. If a ball falls, it's either because it didn't go where it was supposed to go, or because God planned for it to fall all along.

Katie's idea of a Divine Plan is what English teachers like Ms. Graham call Destiny. Or Fate. It's why young lovers get together at the end of a story, unless they're in Romeo and Juliet or Titanic, in which case they die.

Mom and Katie are lucky. They really believe there's a reason for everything, and that sooner or later you'll be happy if you just work or pray hard enough. I wish I could be like them, but lately I've been overcome by this fear. I just start sweating and I think - what if there isn't a plan? What if Destiny is just a fancy word for luck? I mean, what if things just happen because they happen? For no reason at all?

For example, maybe you want a Dairy Queen. Well, maybe you get one or maybe you don't - or maybe you get one, but when you step off the curb to go home you get it by a truck. For no reason! It just happens! Or maybe you want a baby. Maybe you get one, but then maybe it grows up to be a serial killer. For no reason! It just happens!

If things just happens because they happen, then you have a control. You're helpless. We all are. Even parents. There's no one - nothing - to protect us. Not ever.

I don't want that. I want a world that makes sense. Where things have meaning. That's why even though I think Mom and Katie are crazy, I really hope they're right. Because then I can stop worrying. If my dream of Jason and me being together is part of some Divine Plan - like, if it's destined or something - then it'll just happen. Or, if dreams need a little work, I can keep checking his locker. Or if prayer helps... Well, okay, not that I believe in it or anything, but just in case, Dear God: If Jason come up and asks me for a date, I promise to believe in You.

Boy, am I ever glad no one's reading this.