Model Ricans

Skipping Band

My eyes dart left to right out the window as Mom speeds to my summer band camp.

Stoplight.

Pause.

Spanish moss wraps itself around a huge oak tree. Mom's turn signal clicks with the scraping and squeaking of the windshield wipers. What a cacophony. I just learned that word yesterday from my new band teacher.

Click click clock click squick squawk tick clock.

Hypnotic, it is. My eyes glaze over. The oak transforms into the uprooted tree at the end of my block in New York. Again? Was that five years ago now? Or was it four? Not sure anymore.

"Ay, Desiree! Wake up!" Mom is yelling and I snap back to the inside of our brown station wagon. I am dazed. "Is this present time? Or is this the past?"

Mom looks in her rearview mirror with annoyance while flooring it around another driver. "Por favor, Desiree, it's time to wake up, I need directions to the school."

"Oh. Turn left and then you can drop me off at The Flagpole."

I watch Mom turn the steering wheel and lift up the parking brake. She turns, looking pissed off. "I'll pick you up at 3:15 here, don't be late."

For a minute, I think about thanking her for letting me have Sky Bowman over for dinner, but I don't want to jinx myself, plus we are on a tight schedule so I exit the car as fast as I can without a hug or a kiss or a "I love you" for Mom because I have a big agenda today.

I drop my folder. "Oops," I say out loud even though it's on purpose. Then I drop my lunch bag. Stalling, stalling, I wait and watch until Mom's car turns the corner. The coast is clear. Pink Panther is the song I've been learning how to play on my saxophone and now it's the soundtrack of me walking away from school, looking back every few seconds.

7:15 a.m. I start walking toward Glen Park Way.

7:16 a.m. I see Marga and I stupidly wave at her, risking getting caught playing hooky...from summer school (I have to remind myself). She keeps walking. Doesn't even look at me. I guess she's still mad. Should I chase her?

No. I have an agenda.

7:17 a.m. Glen Park Way feels like a pathway to heaven of green bushy blocks leading to a vast sparkly lake full of docks and boats that are easier to see by foot. Usually everything just swishes by on the school bus, but on foot I can see everything. I am in present time, not fast-forwarding to the future or stressing backwards to the past. This beauty will eventually lead me to Sky, whose arms are Just Like Heaven.

7:45 I am singing out loud like a dummy when I am passing by my old middle school. Oh shit, Stacey Quinn is walking straight toward me, so I wave and pretend I'm turning the corner so she can't ask me where I'm headed, oh my gosh, that was like dodging a gossip train. Eventually I'll confront her for showing that love note to Sky Bowman, but then again...maybe I should thank her? No. I have an agenda. I walk a little bit faster to the next block and then u-turn back toward Glen Park Way.

7:51 a.m. Oh no, now Bobby is walking toward me with a backpack and bedhead. He is Sky Bowman's best friend. I'm so busted. He smirks and stops. "I thought I was late...but aren't you going the wrong way?"

"I'm on my way to a doctor's appointment," I lie. Hmm. Wow. I'm getting good at lying. I never lied in New York. But here I am in Snorelando, a little liar liar pants on fire.

"Sure you are," he says, shrugging his shoulders, and continues slapping his untied sneakers on the sidewalk with his shorts practically falling off his butt. I can't believe I ever had a crush on him in middle school  before I laid my eyes on Sky Bowman. But it looks like he could give two ducks where I'm headed.

Speaking of ducks...I look at my watch. 8 a.m. I really have no idea where I am going, but I remember Sky said he lives in a neighborhood with the word duck in the name. After walking a few more minutes more I look to my left and see a stone wall with the words, "Duck Hollow."

Oh! Yes, this is the place. I walk in and find a big fork in the road: three different directions. Shit. If I were smarter I would have grabbed Dad's map, but I don't even remember leaving the house with Mom.

Oh God. I am so hopelessly lost. I'm just like Mom when she drives. Uggg.

I stand in the middle of the sidewalk, closing my eyes, mentally sifting through my conversation with Sky Bowman after dinner. When I visualize the exact place we were standing as we kissed, I suddenly remember what he said. "I live on ___Wood Drive."

I look at the road straight ahead of me called Duckwood Drive. Oh duh! Just follow the ducks! Now all I have to look for is the house all the way to the end with white window shutters.

I walk and walk and finally get to a house that matches Sky's description: white shutters, brown door and the right house number. Sweet! I can't believe it. Now all I have to do is ring the doorbell and I will be all set.

After about a minute just standing with my folder and paper lunch bag like a big dorky duck, an elderly man answers the door and I'm like, "Uh, I think I have the wrong house." But instead I say out loud, "Hi! Is Sky here?" The man replies, "No, he's not here, but he usually comes during the day."

I look at my watch. 8:30 a.m. "Can I use the phone?"

"Sure, no problem." He opens the door and welcomes me inside.

When I look around I can tell Sky is rich. Fancy paintings on the walls. Old books and a piano in a corner and a bar stocked with shiny-looking bottles. It's unbelievable to me that I am inside Sky Bowman's house...without Sky Bowman.

And a man I don't know who is closing the front door.

Hmm. Maybe this is another bad idea. My heart thumps. What did I do? Uggg. The stress wants to push me into a different time zone, but I won't let it, I was having such good feelings being in present time. Determined, I zap the fear and pick up the phone in the kitchen. I'm so glad I memorized the phone number for his mom's house, but damn. It's busy!

I call again and again but nope - it's still busy. But then I try one more time and a man answers. "Hi! May I speak to Sky, please?" And what do you know? He's not home. I think I'm about to faint but then the elderly man, speaks. His voice is gravely and I'm suddenly aware that I am in a strange house with a strange man, all by myself.

Oh my God. I'm about to die.