Between the Lines

- 12 -

12

Braden

Okay, so two matrixes…matrices? Why do I question my grammar in my own head? Who the hell cares if it’s right?! Anyway, two matrices that I think should be created. The first, of course, is the Hot-but-Insane matrix. That is a serious shoe-in for a Nobel Prize or something. And as I watch Kyle kind of stalk his own girlfriend through the hall and trap her in Mrs. Buchanan’s room, I realize that the Hot-But-Insane matrix has to work for both sexes.

Basically, if a person is hot, they have an equal level of madness. Not that I think Kyle is hot. That’s so beyond anything I think of that meaty bag of crap, I can’t begin to fathom it. Though I know a lot of girls think he’s wicked sexy, so I’ll take their word for it.

The second matrix…I’m going with matrix and matrixes, because even if matrices is right, it sounds like something a nerd would say just before he got his ass kicked by a pack of jocks. Anyway again, the second matrix would be the TATS Matrix – the Totally-Awesome-Total-Shit Matrix. Self-explanatory; the more totally awesome a girl is, the more she is drawn to guys that are equally total shit.

Judging by what I see from my shadow of a locker, Kendal must be somewhere between Jesus Christ and Payton Manning in the area of awesome, because her boyfriend manages to level-up on his total cock skills daily.

It’s hard watching and pretending not to watch, but I notice that’s what everyone else does too. I wonder for a minute if this is really the way life will be outside of school; like when people see domestic violence, do they purposely ignore it like it isn’t happening and then go off and whisper about it to each other instead of doing a damn thing about it?

I think that’s exactly what life is like, and as I stand here watching them walk opposite ways through the hall, I kind of understand why. I mean, what-what can I do? If I get involved am I over-stepping my bounds? Would she appreciate it or feel degraded and turn on me? I know what her boyfriend, PX-90, would do-he would rip off my arm…and then beat me with it. To death.

And maybe in his ‘roid rage, he’d rape me too.

Like, rape me then kill me.

Or kill me then rape me…with my severed arm!

It’s no wonder I have no girlfriend. I weird myself out with the stuff that comes into my head. No girl would wanna be a part of this mess.

Still, I follow her slowly, not really sure what to do, where my boundaries lie or anything. She just spoke to me for only the second time ever…she just learned my name. Thinking this, I pretty much know my place. And considering where I rank on both Hot-But-Insane and the TATS matrixes, I am we below her league.

Feeling the hot lead of the realization settle in my gut, I stop following Kendal from a distance and walk back in to the hallway.

I realize that I’m carrying my cell phone as I approach Mrs. Buchanan’s room. I’m not doing anything with it, just looking at the screen where I saved Kendal as a contact. There’s a chance that it’s not even her number, and that would make sense because Kendal is a smart girl who can probably tell that giving me her number will probably lead to awkward texts that she doesn’t want to answer one way or another.

So though I want to text her…just to give her my number…in case…I can’t bring myself to do it. If I text and she doesn’t respond, then I get the absolute final let-down: The proof that I’m not even good enough for a reply. And I think that’s what would really happen.

So, I need to hang on to my stupid hope and her stupid number…and maybe tonight-or tomorrow…

“Spare me a minute, Braden?”

The question, more of a statement, really, is in Mrs. Buchanan’s unmistakable whine. I look up with my mouth agape, taking a moment to come from my inner field trip.

“Huh?” I manage, and immediately berate myself. No wonder she thinks I’m a loser.

“Please,” she says and opens the way to her classroom where I notice the lights are out again, though I know I watched Mr. Beefy flick them on a couple minutes ago.

I drop my eyes, still unable to face Mrs. Buchanan, and mumble “sure,” as I literally drag myself into her room.

Once inside, she lets the door close almost silently behind us before she starts talking to me. I still can’t look at her when she talks though, because I think that she is probably imagining the same thing I am every time we have to exchange words; it’s that awkward, stomach-churning feeling I had when she told me she knew I turned in a story I didn’t write. Feels like we’ll never get past that episode, so she’s probably just bringing it up again so I don’t forget.

“I intended to make this hard for both of you,” she says without any kind of emotion in her voice. It takes me a few seconds to even register what she said, and for only a split second, our eyes flash on each other.

“Wh-what?”

“You think I put you in a pair with Kendal for your own good. Because deep down I want you to pass this class and go out and take on the world! That about right?” She asks with noticeable sarcasm.

“Uh-no,” I answer a bit more harshly than I should. In truth, I hadn’t considered that at all. I thought it was luck that I got to be with her, but hadn’t put much reasoning beyond that into why we got paired.

“Maybe not,” Mrs. Buchanan says dismissively. “But it would have come to your mind eventually. But, no. Don’t get me wrong, I like the underdog overcoming adversity and winning just as much as anyone. It makes for motivational stories, but I didn’t do it to bring you up.”

Here she pauses, leaving this uncomfortable, almost expectant pause and I know she’s waiting to see my reaction.

“I-I didn’t think you did! I…”

“Listen to me, Braden. I think you’re a good kid who made a crap decision, and it’s going to scar you. It needs to scar you. That’s how we learn. So I’ll be honest here; Even if what you and Kendal turn in is on par with Hemmingway, you won’t get an ‘A’ on it for two reasons.

“First, you don’t deserve an ‘A’ in this class. You cheated and I know just as much as you do that you just wanted to know if you could get away with something like that. You can’t, and you know that now, so like I said, it’s in your best interest to be scarred. But more than that, Kendal needs to be affected too.”

I feel hate boiling inside me, rising like magma in the pre-explosive minute before a volcano erupts. I feel it bubbling in my throat and I open my mouth to object, but Mrs. Buchanan interrupts my would-be tirade.

“She needs to get the first less-than-perfect thing she’s ever had before she goes off to Dartmouth. Because if she doesn’t, and she goes out there expecting perfection from herself, it’ll hurt a lot more when she can’t do it.”

Now I’m quiet. I feel my mind drain because whatever the hell I might have said to her is totally pointless now.

Instantly I’m tumbling through thoughts but I can’t place my feet firmly on any one of them. Not at first anyway, but then one thing becomes very clear; I feel low and stupid because I am literally being used…USED-to teach Kendal what it’s like to get second best at something.

“You-you think…” I try to say, but my temper makes my tongue stupid and I can’t enunciate any of the venom I taste.

“I think you’re good for her in ways she can’t imagine. And obviously she’s good for you. Now leave it there and try to do something in your last weeks of high school you might be proud of. And realize the impact you can have on another human being. I, for one, am interested in what that impact will be.”

She finishes this by slowly turning her back to me and walking to her door. I don’t want to follow, and I probably can’t anyway. I’m standing her with my mind completely gone, beyond retrieving. And at this moment the only two things I can focus on are that there’s something I can do for Kendal, and French fries sound good right now too.