Sr. My stepmother.”
five
Jill couldn’t understand why I was so upset.
“I like him,” I told her on the phone the next day.
“He drives a pickup truck.”
“It’s for work.”
“Yeah, sure, nice excuse. He could get a minivan.”
“He’s a single guy. Single guys don’t drive minivans. God. You make it sound like he drives a Hummer.”
“You know what we always say about guys who drive big cars,” Jill said.
“Jonathan’s different.”
“C’mon. Say it with me.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“C’mon. You know I’ll just keep bugging you until you say it.” She would, too. “On the count of three: one, two, three—”
“Big car, small penis,” we chanted, though my heart wasn’t in it. “He needs it for work,” I said again.
“Did you see the size of his television? And that espresso machine? That guy’s definitely compensating for something.”
Jill was my best friend in Arizona; well, she was my only friend in Arizona. Still, there were times when I didn’t like her very much.
I stared glumly out the window. The sky was a blinding blue. The pool shimmered. In the giant saguaro, a woodpecker tapped rhythmically. The thermometer read one hundred and eight degrees. “Do you think Jonathan would understand if I told him the truth? Do you think we could start over?”
She paused to consider. “He’d think you were deranged.”
To make matters worse, Nicolette was in love. I stopped by the front office first thing Monday morning to make sure she hadn’t been raped and mutilated, her body dumped way out in the desert to be devoured by coyotes and vultures. She was still alive, which was good because it meant I could hate her.
“It’s like me and Rodney were made for each other,” she proclaimed. “We spent the whole weekend together, and I never got sick of him.”
“Rodney and I,” I said reflexively. Teaching has turned me into a total dork. “Wait. Did you have sex with him?”
“Well, yeah.” She pulled lazily at a lock of her long, blond hair. “I thought that was the whole point of going out and picking up guys.”
“That is not the point.”
She scrunched up her little nose. “Then what is the point?”
I blinked at her. “What’s Rodney going to think when you tell him your real name? And that you made up that alien story just to trick him?”
“Oh, that.” She made a little wave. “I told him my real name when we were in the gondola. And he never believed I was an alien, anyway. We laughed about it the whole weekend. It’s, like, our first inside joke. Did you guys go on the gondola? It was totally awesome.”
As I walked out of the office, I almost tripped over Cody Gold. Cody had a talent for showing up wherever I happened to be.
“Good Morning, Miss Quackenbush,” he squeaked. Cody never called me Mrs. Quackenbush. Cody was the only student who cared whether or not I was married. “I finished The Odyssey over the weekend.”
“You did? Well, good for you! Don’t give the ending away to the others, though!”
Shoot. Cody had finished The Odyssey . I hadn’t finished The Odyssey . I hadn’t even finished the CliffsNotes. “Well, you’d better hurry to class. See you sixth period!”
“Third period,” he said.
“Really?” I hated the rotating schedule even more than I hate Homer. “I mean—right! Well, then, I’ll see you when I see you!”
First period turned out to be my Adventures class (I’d thought it would be, but I wasn’t entirely sure). I had a big surprise for my students.
“For homework tonight”—I pressed my hands together and paused for dramatic effect—“I’m going to ask you all to watch television!”
Nothing. Not a, “Way to go, Ms. Q!” Not, “Hey! Are you serious?” Or, “How cool is that?”
Nothing.
A girl named Marisol sneezed. Someone mumbled, “God bless you.”
“Now, don’t get too excited,” I said, hoping for a laugh but not getting one. When I was in high
five
Jill couldn’t understand why I was so upset.
“I like him,” I told her on the phone the next day.
“He drives a pickup truck.”
“It’s for work.”
“Yeah, sure, nice excuse. He could get a minivan.”
“He’s a single guy. Single guys don’t drive minivans. God. You make it sound like he drives a Hummer.”
“You know what we always say about guys who drive big cars,” Jill said.
“Jonathan’s different.”
“C’mon. Say it with me.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“C’mon. You know I’ll just keep bugging you until you say it.” She would, too. “On the count of three: one, two, three—”
“Big car, small penis,” we chanted, though my heart wasn’t in it. “He needs it for work,” I said again.
“Did you see the size of his television? And that espresso machine? That guy’s definitely compensating for something.”
Jill was my best friend in Arizona; well, she was my only friend in Arizona. Still, there were times when I didn’t like her very much.
I stared glumly out the window. The sky was a blinding blue. The pool shimmered. In the giant saguaro, a woodpecker tapped rhythmically. The thermometer read one hundred and eight degrees. “Do you think Jonathan would understand if I told him the truth? Do you think we could start over?”
She paused to consider. “He’d think you were deranged.”
To make matters worse, Nicolette was in love. I stopped by the front office first thing Monday morning to make sure she hadn’t been raped and mutilated, her body dumped way out in the desert to be devoured by coyotes and vultures. She was still alive, which was good because it meant I could hate her.
“It’s like me and Rodney were made for each other,” she proclaimed. “We spent the whole weekend together, and I never got sick of him.”
“Rodney and I,” I said reflexively. Teaching has turned me into a total dork. “Wait. Did you have sex with him?”
“Well, yeah.” She pulled lazily at a lock of her long, blond hair. “I thought that was the whole point of going out and picking up guys.”
“That is not the point.”
She scrunched up her little nose. “Then what is the point?”
I blinked at her. “What’s Rodney going to think when you tell him your real name? And that you made up that alien story just to trick him?”
“Oh, that.” She made a little wave. “I told him my real name when we were in the gondola. And he never believed I was an alien, anyway. We laughed about it the whole weekend. It’s, like, our first inside joke. Did you guys go on the gondola? It was totally awesome.”
As I walked out of the office, I almost tripped over Cody Gold. Cody had a talent for showing up wherever I happened to be.
“Good Morning, Miss Quackenbush,” he squeaked. Cody never called me Mrs. Quackenbush. Cody was the only student who cared whether or not I was married. “I finished The Odyssey over the weekend.”
“You did? Well, good for you! Don’t give the ending away to the others, though!”
Shoot. Cody had finished The Odyssey . I hadn’t finished The Odyssey . I hadn’t even finished the CliffsNotes. “Well, you’d better hurry to class. See you sixth period!”
“Third period,” he said.
“Really?” I hated the rotating schedule even more than I hate Homer. “I mean—right! Well, then, I’ll see you when I see you!”
First period turned out to be my Adventures class (I’d thought it would be, but I wasn’t entirely sure). I had a big surprise for my students.
“For homework tonight”—I pressed my hands together and paused for dramatic effect—“I’m going to ask you all to watch television!”
Nothing. Not a, “Way to go, Ms. Q!” Not, “Hey! Are you serious?” Or, “How cool is that?”
Nothing.
A girl named Marisol sneezed. Someone mumbled, “God bless you.”
“Now, don’t get too excited,” I said, hoping for a laugh but not getting one. When I was in high
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