Smarty | A Curtis Sister Story

13

I've been sitting at the dining room table now for about an hour, trying to catch up on schoolwork. Darry told me we would do it today after he got off work, and I was not looking forward to it. Now that I'm in the middle of it, I know I was right to be dreading it.

I'm having such a hard time concentrating recently; Darry says it's a symptom of CFS. Which is awesome, considering I have a whole bunch more work to make-up. I was already getting restless, and having a hard time listening when Darry reads something. I kind of zone out, and I can't help it. This is just extremely boring.

Pony just joined us. I need all the help I could get. We finally finished my Science, and we were moving onto history. "Smarty, come back to me." I snap back to my older brother, now listening to what he's saying. "When did the Civil War begin?" Darry reads from the worksheet that I had to complete.

I always liked history. I don't know why. The past has always been interesting to me, especially the wars. I sat with the textbook in front of me, opened to the Civil War chapter. I had had a hard time reading the science textbook, the footnotes and stuff were hard to see. History's textbook is better than the Science, with font size , but I can't concentrate to read it. "Tensions between ... the South and North were ... higher than ... ever." I stop, frustrated.

"Keep going," Darry says.

"Darry, I can't read it. My mind just goes everywhere else but the schoolwork."

"You just gotta work harder Smarty."

"I am Darry." I say, my voice increasing volume. "I got to face the fact that I'm dumb now. I can't do schoolwork now, I'm going to fail seventh grade. I'll take it again."

"You are not dumb. You just have to sit down, concentrate, and finish this stuff." Darry tells me, not matching my tone or volume. How was he so calm?

"The thing is that I can't concentrate Darry. I can't just 'sit down and concentrate'. It's not that easy. You'd never understand!" I finish.I bolt through the dining and living rooms, and run out the door into the street. 

"Smarty!" Darry calls after me. I don't listen, I keep going.

As my feet pounded against the sidewalk, thought flooded my mind. I'm dumb now. I'm never going to finish my schoolwork, I'm never going to finish seventh grade. I'll be made fun of at school, called stupid by my old classmates, because I failed. What's Miguel going to say when finds out his girlfriend's loser. He'll break up with me for sure; he can't date somebody that's dumb enough to fail seventh grade. I should have never played football with the boys, I shouldn't have done this test run. If I hadn't been so stupid then, I wouldn't be so stupid now. 

I didn't know where I was going when I left. I just started running. I guess I made it to the park when I slowed down, breathing heavily. I put my hands on the top of my head when I noticed someone on the side of the fountain. It wasn't too weird, it was only seven o'clock. But, it was very dark; the sun set two hours ago. I started to walk over to the person. I couldn't see who it was; it was too far and too dim. 

As I got closer to the person, I saw who it was. "Miguel?" What would he be doing here, in the darkness?

"Smarty!" He says, snapping out of his gaze. He was sitting with his forearms resting on his knees and his legs spread out. "How'd you find me?"

"I needed to get out of my house, and my feet took me here." I explain. "Why are you here?"

"This is where I think sometimes." He tells me.

"Oh, then I won't bother you."

"No no, stay Smarty." Miguel pleas. "It's been a few days, how are you? I miss you at school."

"I miss you too Miguel."

"I would have come over, but I never know if you're home. I've walked by your house a few times, but there's usually no car there. I just figure you're not there." 

"Yeah." I say. Thank God he never came over when my brothers or the gang was here, I'd be in big trouble. "I bet you're probably wonderin' why I haven't been at school."

"Yeah, why haven't you?'

"After my concussion," I explain, "I had terrible nightmares and I wouldn't sleep. So, Darry took me to the doctor. I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, which is where you are you have trouble sleeping and are tired all the time. I signed up to try out this new drug, so I have write down what I'm feeling and stuff. But, I haven't been at school because I don't sleep and I can't concentrate that well."

"Oh," Miguel says finally, "but you couldn't call me, or drop by my house?"

I don't know what to answer. I honestly couldn't, I have really either been with one of the boys or thinking I'm hallucinating when I'm home. I can't go over his house because ... you know. So, I just say, "I'm being monitored all the time, trying to get some sleep."

"But you don't have time to call your boyfriend? Ask him how he is, tell him that you're okay?" He asks, anger crystal clear. "Smarty, I've been worried sick."

"Then why didn't you just call my house?" I ask, rage coming into my voice too.

"Because I thought you wanted space or something! I thought I did something wrong, and for three days I've been beating myself up over it, trying to think of anything I've ever done to you that could have upset you!"  

I change my demeanor; he's never yelled at me before. I've never heard him shout. Ever. "Miguel, why would you think that you did something wrong?"

"Because Smarty," Miguel says, his voice softening, "you hadn't said anything to me for three days. You didn't tell me where you were, and that doesn't even upset you? You'll let someone you love worry and worry about you forever right? Because it seems like you would; you don't even care enough to let me know you're okay o-or that you've been having nightmares. Or, is it that you haven't even thought about me for those three days. You're so distant Smarty, and I don't think you even realize it." He's right. He's very right. I've only thought about him once in these last few days, and it was when I thought I was going crazy. I didn't call him or let him know where I was for three days. If I was in his shoes, I would have been very concerned. I haven't told him anything about my nightmares. I guess I was just embarrassed about them; but I shouldn't feel that way. Not with him at least. Still, he's been worrying about me for a few days now. I feel horrible about that. Worrying about someone you love is one of the most terrible and mind consuming thoughts. He shouldn't have had to go through that; not about me. I have a hard time trusting people sometimes, letting them in. But, I thought I overcame that with Miguel. I guess I'm more stubborn than I thought. 

"You're right Miguel, I'm so sorry." I tell him. "I'm sorry for all the distance. I am stubborn. I am an idiot for not letting you know that I was okay. And I apologize for any worrying I made you do.  I should have been more attentive to other people sometimes, especially you and how you are feeling. I'm stupid and careless sometimes."   

"Don't say that, you're not stupid." Oh, if he only knew. " And it's okay Smarty, I'm just glad you're all right."

I pull him into a hug, grabbing his waist. "Thank you.'' He kisses my forehead and smiles when we part.

"So, let's catch up," he says, grinning at me again, "Valentine's Day is almost here."

"Oh, don't remind me." I tell him. He stares at me, "Oh right, I never told you. Every year on Valentine's Day, the gang all has a party together. No couples allowed; it's so some of the boys don't feel bad on the most romantic day of the year. So, I can't make plans. But, we can do it the night before or the day after." 

"Oh okay, then what about we go on a date the day after?" He chooses. "I already have a great idea in mind for then. It will be the most romantic night of your life."

"My whole life?" I jokingly ask. Then I scoff. "Oh buddy, you've got a lot of competition from all of my other non-existent lovers." I chuckle at my own joke.

"Well, I'm up for a challenge."

I smile and kiss him. "I should probably make my way home. I don't wanna worry my brother's too much." And I start to make my way home; not without kissing him and telling him I love him though.