Page 1.
Why I was sitting in an Algebra class when I would never ever use the information was beyond me. I sat at the desk with the "not wood", yet "not plastic" writing surface. It was easily scratched since the thin veneer could be removed with the clip of an ink pen. I never wrote anything into it since, I never had much to say to the High School population.
The desk held commentary concerning the teacher standing in the front of the class. According to the desk she was a shithead. I didnt see it myself, she seemed nice enough, a friendly smile, new slipper ballet shoes and obliged me by never calling on me.
I had just returned from my mid morning smoke break. I would leave every class and meet Amy by the blue door for a 3 minute Parliament. We created smoke breaks as Sophomores in HS. Ten minutes into every new class we would sheepishly ask for a bathroom pass, since neither of us were notorious we received our pass and clogged our way to the second blue door, basement entrance. We would stand outside the door against the brick wall and smoke cigarettes. I remember learning to inhale, thinking "Ill just swallow the smoke". So I did, swallow the smoke. I guess it worked because no one called me on my technique and I continued smoking for 20 years.
This was a cold March morning. We stood out there and without coats, rocked back and forth, jumped a little bit to keep warm and smoked cigarettes as if we wouldnt make it to the next class without it. We chatted about the boys we saw that morning, what other people were wearing and how boring our class was. We then exchanged our notes.
My notes were written during every class concerning the making out that would occur that weekend. I would go into detail where I would be, what I would be wearing, what the situation would be, yet... who it would be was usually left out. I didnt have any person in my mind. I really didnt see any kissing in my future at all. There hadnt been any making out or kissing prior to it either. I was just Suzie, and no one saw anyone more than that. I knew myself to be the most forgettable person in the school. Not unliked, unattractive, or remarkably unintelligent. Just so average that I, faded into the background. Everyone knew my name and said hi, but typically that was it. So my storytelling and imaginary makeout sessions at someones party were just that, stories for Amy to chuckle about later that morning.
Our notes tucked into the back pocket of our corduroys, cigarettes toe smashed into the cement, we would double step race our way back up the stairs to our respective classrooms.
I would slide back into the classroom and pass by thirty other students, return the bathroom pass, then unnoticed land in my desk or cocoon. "Almost invisible" I would think, amazing.
The teacher held a white lined paper with algebra problems on it. I imagine she wrote them up the night before in order to have something to talk about. I copied the problems that she wrote on the board. Daydreamed while someone else worked the problems out with her from the front of the classroom and when they were done with their algebraic dance, I copied their work. I laughed when they laughed, bitched when they bitched, and whispered a few words with other nondescripts that surrounded me.
I watched the clock and would count backwards concerning time til smoke break. The clock was above the door and the black phone was next to the door.
The black phones that hung on the walls directly next to the door were almost as nondescript as I was. Only difference was they had an occasional moment in the spotlight once or twice a year. The monumental phonecalls that always changed the hierarchy of the classroom, if only momentarily. The ring to the black phone was just like the ring at home, no buzz, no clang, not bell like. It was a phonecall...in school.
I heard the phonecall, and everyone stops and stares.
Ringrinnnng. Ringrinnnnng. Ohh something is changing.
Ringrinnnng. Ringrinnnnng. Ohh this is usually bad.
The teacher even looks surprised, she shuffles her new shoes on over to the phone. She answers it as if she were at her own home.
Chherfully "Hello" She has a smile to her voice, as she scans her classroom, white algebra worksheet in hand.
"MMhhm"
The class looks around at each other, this is interesting, People actually look at EVERYONE ELSE. I watch as they watch, the teacher sweeping the classroom with her eyes.
" Oh alright then, I will let her know".
Now here it comes, It is a girl in the class with an unknown something "else" going on so the schools house phone would ring. Wow how cool would that be to have the house phone ring for you. While in school, in front of everyone else.
Boy that would be an attention getter wouldnt it?
I always wanted a black schoolhousephone call.
I look around the class at all the girls and think it must be for Jodi, she is the prettiest, she will definately get to stand up in front of the class while everyone wonders what is going on in her life that is so horrible to call her in school.
Maybe it is Christina, she is one of those hippie throwback girls that doesnt seem to care what anyone thinks of her, maybe her 21 yer old boyfriend is coming to take her home to kiss all day long.
"Suzanne, uhmm Suzanne Jones."
I hear desks squeek in their screws as the class turns to look at Suzanne by the window.
Suzanne Jones, how alien. Suzie would be me. All the eyes are looking at me.
humming begins in my ears and heat starts to pile up on my neck.
swallow slowly, push tongue to the roof of your mouth so you dont lisp.
"Yes." I respond as the eyes shift back to the teacher.
The giveaway to the phonecall has always been, if you are told to take your books you are not coming back today, if you leave them, it is a minor incident and total waste of black phone call.
"collect your books and report to the main office, immediately."
A collective gasp, chatter low and muffled.
They are looking at me.
How is it that I have left this classroom everyday, sometimes twice a class to smoke in the hallway and noone even blinked when I walked by them and now I am a magnet?
"Take all my stuff, really?' "me"?
Jack Miller next to me says
"Yes you, she said Suzanne Jones, You are Suzanne Jones, arent you?"
I always hated that kid, tall blonde idiot with an afinity for outbursts of laughter and prank falls.
I shifted around in my mystery material desk and pulled my papers together.
The teacher started walking over to me, looking directly at me, I leaned over and grabbed the books from the rack suspended under the seat, never losing eye contact with her.
"Collect your things Suzanne and go directly to the main office"
She is smiling, kinda grinning and nodding her head.
Freak.
These are usually dead people calls.
The first thought that entered my head after I realized everyone was looking at me and I was getting my well deserved moment in the sun.
I was feeling kind of hot, beginning my tortured sweatathon that would last a full ten years following this day.
Swimming is a good word. Underwater hearing things, seeing things, feelings things just muffled.
I moved my body out of my cocoon desk and shuffled across the classroom.
People staring at me, whispering, the teacher has her hand on my arm, I look at it- touching me. Grinning and nodding as we walk to the classroom door.
"Go directly to the main office with all of your things Suzanne."
"OK"
Out in the hallway, where no one goes at his time of the morning, unless you are running to the bathroom or running for a smoke is a quiet place.
Maybe someone is dead.
Something must be wrong if they ask for Suzanne Jones. I stand there at the end of the hallway and want to go back into my cocoon desk with the scratchable surface.
I decide to look back into the classroom as the door automatically shuts behind me and clicks. The teacher point to me and mouths,
"Go directly to the main office and take all your things."
Oh , ok oh.
I turn and face the 100 yards to the main office.
The early spring sun is shining off the green tile floor reflecting the most luminous shreds onto lockers.
I start walking. I walk and think someone is dead, who is dead? I breathe a little heavier. shaking my head from my long trek "directly to the main office". Hiccups of breaths escape me. What do I do when I get to the main office? How will I know who is dead? I pick up my head and see the light changing shapes on the lockers depending on the shape of the floor tiles before me.
"I wonder who is dead, I guess someone must be dead?"
I feel heat on my face and shucks of breath from my belly.
My self talk is broken by the sound of a familiar voice from far far away.
"Your Mom and Brothers are fine."
I look ahead and 50 yards ahead I can make out a figure from the light of green tile.
I hear that Mom and the boys are fine. Mom and boys.
What else matters? Mom and Boys? I walk faster and make out the image of my Dad. My Dad standing in the hallway of my High School. So not right. I cry harder.
He stands right in from of the door to the Main Office.
I need to go directly to the main office.
My Dad is standing there looking at me, just me, all alone. I have his undivided attention. He looks... not right.
"Your Mom and brothers are fine, everything is going to be alright."
"I already signed you out at the office, you can come with me."
I cry harder now, something really bad is happening.
I cant imagine what could be so bad if my Dad is here and he tells me my Mom and brothers are fine?
"Come on Suzie, we are going home to be with your Mom now, You PopPop died this morning."
"popPop died this morning?"
"He is dead?"
"Yes, he died in his sleep, Suzie, but everything is going to be alright."
"oh No."
He put his arm around my shoulder and walked me to the big white van with purpose. He opened the door for me and I climbed up to the passenger seat. Dad closed the door behind me. I waited as he walked around. He climbed into his side, slammed the door and started the engine of the van that smelled like motor oil and cigarettes.
I sat quietly in the van and wondered if my Mom would be crying? I had never seen her cry.
My Dad struck a match, lit his cigarette, while steering the van with the tops of his legs. I watched the swirl of blue smoke escape his nose and mouth as he shook the match out.
The cigarette fit snugly between his index finger and middle finger as he looked over to me with his blue eyes and navy blue quilted coat, he said
"Everything is going to be ok Suzie, we are going to be alright."
I looked at him with relief that it wasnt my Mom or my brothers, and at that moment I realized how glad I was it wasnt him.
For the first time in my life I cried, with purpose.
The desk held commentary concerning the teacher standing in the front of the class. According to the desk she was a shithead. I didnt see it myself, she seemed nice enough, a friendly smile, new slipper ballet shoes and obliged me by never calling on me.
I had just returned from my mid morning smoke break. I would leave every class and meet Amy by the blue door for a 3 minute Parliament. We created smoke breaks as Sophomores in HS. Ten minutes into every new class we would sheepishly ask for a bathroom pass, since neither of us were notorious we received our pass and clogged our way to the second blue door, basement entrance. We would stand outside the door against the brick wall and smoke cigarettes. I remember learning to inhale, thinking "Ill just swallow the smoke". So I did, swallow the smoke. I guess it worked because no one called me on my technique and I continued smoking for 20 years.
This was a cold March morning. We stood out there and without coats, rocked back and forth, jumped a little bit to keep warm and smoked cigarettes as if we wouldnt make it to the next class without it. We chatted about the boys we saw that morning, what other people were wearing and how boring our class was. We then exchanged our notes.
My notes were written during every class concerning the making out that would occur that weekend. I would go into detail where I would be, what I would be wearing, what the situation would be, yet... who it would be was usually left out. I didnt have any person in my mind. I really didnt see any kissing in my future at all. There hadnt been any making out or kissing prior to it either. I was just Suzie, and no one saw anyone more than that. I knew myself to be the most forgettable person in the school. Not unliked, unattractive, or remarkably unintelligent. Just so average that I, faded into the background. Everyone knew my name and said hi, but typically that was it. So my storytelling and imaginary makeout sessions at someones party were just that, stories for Amy to chuckle about later that morning.
Our notes tucked into the back pocket of our corduroys, cigarettes toe smashed into the cement, we would double step race our way back up the stairs to our respective classrooms.
I would slide back into the classroom and pass by thirty other students, return the bathroom pass, then unnoticed land in my desk or cocoon. "Almost invisible" I would think, amazing.
The teacher held a white lined paper with algebra problems on it. I imagine she wrote them up the night before in order to have something to talk about. I copied the problems that she wrote on the board. Daydreamed while someone else worked the problems out with her from the front of the classroom and when they were done with their algebraic dance, I copied their work. I laughed when they laughed, bitched when they bitched, and whispered a few words with other nondescripts that surrounded me.
I watched the clock and would count backwards concerning time til smoke break. The clock was above the door and the black phone was next to the door.
The black phones that hung on the walls directly next to the door were almost as nondescript as I was. Only difference was they had an occasional moment in the spotlight once or twice a year. The monumental phonecalls that always changed the hierarchy of the classroom, if only momentarily. The ring to the black phone was just like the ring at home, no buzz, no clang, not bell like. It was a phonecall...in school.
I heard the phonecall, and everyone stops and stares.
Ringrinnnng. Ringrinnnnng. Ohh something is changing.
Ringrinnnng. Ringrinnnnng. Ohh this is usually bad.
The teacher even looks surprised, she shuffles her new shoes on over to the phone. She answers it as if she were at her own home.
Chherfully "Hello" She has a smile to her voice, as she scans her classroom, white algebra worksheet in hand.
"MMhhm"
The class looks around at each other, this is interesting, People actually look at EVERYONE ELSE. I watch as they watch, the teacher sweeping the classroom with her eyes.
" Oh alright then, I will let her know".
Now here it comes, It is a girl in the class with an unknown something "else" going on so the schools house phone would ring. Wow how cool would that be to have the house phone ring for you. While in school, in front of everyone else.
Boy that would be an attention getter wouldnt it?
I always wanted a black schoolhousephone call.
I look around the class at all the girls and think it must be for Jodi, she is the prettiest, she will definately get to stand up in front of the class while everyone wonders what is going on in her life that is so horrible to call her in school.
Maybe it is Christina, she is one of those hippie throwback girls that doesnt seem to care what anyone thinks of her, maybe her 21 yer old boyfriend is coming to take her home to kiss all day long.
"Suzanne, uhmm Suzanne Jones."
I hear desks squeek in their screws as the class turns to look at Suzanne by the window.
Suzanne Jones, how alien. Suzie would be me. All the eyes are looking at me.
humming begins in my ears and heat starts to pile up on my neck.
swallow slowly, push tongue to the roof of your mouth so you dont lisp.
"Yes." I respond as the eyes shift back to the teacher.
The giveaway to the phonecall has always been, if you are told to take your books you are not coming back today, if you leave them, it is a minor incident and total waste of black phone call.
"collect your books and report to the main office, immediately."
A collective gasp, chatter low and muffled.
They are looking at me.
How is it that I have left this classroom everyday, sometimes twice a class to smoke in the hallway and noone even blinked when I walked by them and now I am a magnet?
"Take all my stuff, really?' "me"?
Jack Miller next to me says
"Yes you, she said Suzanne Jones, You are Suzanne Jones, arent you?"
I always hated that kid, tall blonde idiot with an afinity for outbursts of laughter and prank falls.
I shifted around in my mystery material desk and pulled my papers together.
The teacher started walking over to me, looking directly at me, I leaned over and grabbed the books from the rack suspended under the seat, never losing eye contact with her.
"Collect your things Suzanne and go directly to the main office"
She is smiling, kinda grinning and nodding her head.
Freak.
These are usually dead people calls.
The first thought that entered my head after I realized everyone was looking at me and I was getting my well deserved moment in the sun.
I was feeling kind of hot, beginning my tortured sweatathon that would last a full ten years following this day.
Swimming is a good word. Underwater hearing things, seeing things, feelings things just muffled.
I moved my body out of my cocoon desk and shuffled across the classroom.
People staring at me, whispering, the teacher has her hand on my arm, I look at it- touching me. Grinning and nodding as we walk to the classroom door.
"Go directly to the main office with all of your things Suzanne."
"OK"
Out in the hallway, where no one goes at his time of the morning, unless you are running to the bathroom or running for a smoke is a quiet place.
Maybe someone is dead.
Something must be wrong if they ask for Suzanne Jones. I stand there at the end of the hallway and want to go back into my cocoon desk with the scratchable surface.
I decide to look back into the classroom as the door automatically shuts behind me and clicks. The teacher point to me and mouths,
"Go directly to the main office and take all your things."
Oh , ok oh.
I turn and face the 100 yards to the main office.
The early spring sun is shining off the green tile floor reflecting the most luminous shreds onto lockers.
I start walking. I walk and think someone is dead, who is dead? I breathe a little heavier. shaking my head from my long trek "directly to the main office". Hiccups of breaths escape me. What do I do when I get to the main office? How will I know who is dead? I pick up my head and see the light changing shapes on the lockers depending on the shape of the floor tiles before me.
"I wonder who is dead, I guess someone must be dead?"
I feel heat on my face and shucks of breath from my belly.
My self talk is broken by the sound of a familiar voice from far far away.
"Your Mom and Brothers are fine."
I look ahead and 50 yards ahead I can make out a figure from the light of green tile.
I hear that Mom and the boys are fine. Mom and boys.
What else matters? Mom and Boys? I walk faster and make out the image of my Dad. My Dad standing in the hallway of my High School. So not right. I cry harder.
He stands right in from of the door to the Main Office.
I need to go directly to the main office.
My Dad is standing there looking at me, just me, all alone. I have his undivided attention. He looks... not right.
"Your Mom and brothers are fine, everything is going to be alright."
"I already signed you out at the office, you can come with me."
I cry harder now, something really bad is happening.
I cant imagine what could be so bad if my Dad is here and he tells me my Mom and brothers are fine?
"Come on Suzie, we are going home to be with your Mom now, You PopPop died this morning."
"popPop died this morning?"
"He is dead?"
"Yes, he died in his sleep, Suzie, but everything is going to be alright."
"oh No."
He put his arm around my shoulder and walked me to the big white van with purpose. He opened the door for me and I climbed up to the passenger seat. Dad closed the door behind me. I waited as he walked around. He climbed into his side, slammed the door and started the engine of the van that smelled like motor oil and cigarettes.
I sat quietly in the van and wondered if my Mom would be crying? I had never seen her cry.
My Dad struck a match, lit his cigarette, while steering the van with the tops of his legs. I watched the swirl of blue smoke escape his nose and mouth as he shook the match out.
The cigarette fit snugly between his index finger and middle finger as he looked over to me with his blue eyes and navy blue quilted coat, he said
"Everything is going to be ok Suzie, we are going to be alright."
I looked at him with relief that it wasnt my Mom or my brothers, and at that moment I realized how glad I was it wasnt him.
For the first time in my life I cried, with purpose.
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