in which tony is incredibly helpful and then confused

“An absolute ditz, that’s what she is. She’ll never amount to anything.”

A thought passes through my mind, something along the lines of Hey, he’s being rude. And mean.

But that’s all it does, pass through my mind. I don’t like negativity, and I don’t like confrontation. And sure, this classmate of mine is being mean to me, but he doesn't think I can hear him, probably. 

I’m, what, a full two rows away from him? At least he’s considerate enough to not say it to my face!

Or maybe it was kind of rude of him? Either way, he never meant for me to hear. You could say I’m overstepping my boundaries by having heard him, actually. I just… don’t want to say anything. I absolutely hate arguing; nothing gets done from arguing, except maybe making a couple of people feel bad, and it’s not worth the trouble.

“Well, who said you’d amount to anything? Sure, you’re acing all your classes, but that’s pretty much the only thing you have going on: memorization. At least she’s enthusiastic.”

Well, that’s nice of her to say! But it’s also sort of mean to the person who was mean to me. I appreciate it, but people shouldn't be put down just for my sake. I consider saying something, but end up not doing anything about it.

What can I say? I'm a pacifist at heart.

~ - O - ~

People do say rude things about me, and I know about it, but like I said, it's nothing I really worry about. All they're doing is being honest. I'm not very good at anything... I can't make small talk, I can't play sports, I can't do well in school... but I don't like focusing on "can't." There are things I can do, and those are what are important. Sure, I'm not good at most things, but there's no point in hovering on it.

I try to help people. There's no better feeling than putting a smile on someone's face; that's what I think! I mean, I don't remember ever actually succeeding at putting a smile on someone's face, but that's why I use words like "try" and "think." At least I do try, right?

"Antonia, are you daydreaming again?"

Eh? Shoot... I'm in class, and I… forgot. I think this might be my, um, eighth time Ms. Morris caught me? I don't know why she insists on watching me like a hawk... "Uh... no?" I say, hoping it'll work.

I hear faint laughter somewhere from the classroom and feel a pang of disappointment at my evident failure. "My classroom, after school," my teacher orders me, a frown on her face.

Feeling a little defeated, I say, "Okay, Ms. Morris."

~ - O - ~

I open the brown bag to find a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, as usual. I'm not disappointed or anything, though; I do enjoy sandwiches. What sick person doesn't enjoy sandwiches?

"Hey, Tony, right? Don’t you like helping people?" I hear a voice say, and I look up from the food in my hands.

I don't really recognize the guy, but it's common for people to come up to me and ask for favors. I like to think of myself as a superhero; you know, the one that does menial chores for people? I'm sure that's some sort of superhero somewhere...

Unfortunately, I usually mess something up when I try to help people... but people still come to me, so I like to think I'm pretty 

good. Better than Aquaman, at least.

"Well, who doesn't?" I reply, trying to sound sunny and chipper.

"Most of the student body..." the guy says, sounding a little down. I think he's in my... Lit class?

"Haha, good thing I'm not most of the student body, then!" I reply and we fall into an awkward silence. "Do you want to... sit down or anything?"

"Oh! Uh... yeah." He slides into the cafeteria bench. "Are you free after school?"

"I have to go meet a teacher; I'm not sure how long that'll take. Other than that, I'm free. What do you need?"

"Apparently the flu's going around, and everyone in the art club except me got infected, so they can't show up to make posters for the blood drive next week. I could use a helping hand." He rubs the back of his neck. "Are you up for it?"

"Yeah, but I’m, uh… not that good at art."

He shrugs. "I don't really mind," he says. "The school assigned it to us anyway. Just come down whenever you're done with that teacher meeting."

"Sure."

He doesn't say anything.

"So... how do I... know you?"

~ - O - ~

The first seven times she'd called me on not paying attention in a class, Ms. Morris let me off with a warning, which I thought was pretty cool of her. Ms. Morris is a great teacher! Probably. I'm not exactly sure what she says most of the time, but she's enthusiastic about it! I've noticed it the times I've actually paid attention.

Maybe eight's just one too many times for her, I guess. I don't like being called up to classrooms, though; I have to talk to teachers and they ask me things and scold me. It's kind of like a gentle interrogation, if you ask me. But please don't ask me things.

Reluctantly, I push open the door to her classroom, only to find the room filled with a bunch of kids cleaning. I scan the classroom and see Ms. Morris where she usually is, sitting at her desk like she owns the place, which you can say she kind of does, if you think about it.

"Ah, Antonia. You're a little late," Ms. Morris remarks.

Making my way towards her, I reply, "I had trouble opening my locker," which is only kind of a lie. What actually happened was that one of the kids near my locker was having trouble opening her locker, so I volunteered to help her. She agreed, if not in a really encouraging way, and I ended up kicking it a lot. After watching me go for a sufficient amount of time, she said that maybe she could get a teacher or something.

"It's not a problem. Would you sit there?" she asks me in a way that doesn't really ask me as much as command me, gesturing to the desk in front of her. I do what she says, and she sighs. Shoot, did I do something wrong?  "Antonia, there's no reason to be nervous; you're not in trouble, okay?" I smile as realistically as possible. "Look, I like you; you're a nice kid, even if you always fail my tests and don't pay attention in class. You follow directions and always try to help people whenever they're having trouble with an assignment, however misguided your advice is."

"Thank you," I say politely, pretty sure that she's complimenting me.

She waves it off and continues, "However, you are failing my tests and not paying any attention in class. It's not like it is with all the other students, who just don't care; you do seem to care, but you're failing my class. Is there any reason for this? Is something going on at home?"

And now it begins. She's asking me questions, darn it. "No, everything's the same as it always was."

"Well, it seems like you have a history of not doing very well in class. Is 'the same as it always was' very good?" she asks, and I feel a bead of sweat drip down my forehead. I'm not lying, but...!

"Everything's fine," I try to reassure Ms. Morris, although I feel like I need some reassurance. "I'm fine."

"If you say so, Antonia. But pay attention in class, okay? I won't call you out on it anymore; I'm sure you're embarrassed enough, but try to do better in class. If you need any help, feel free to come to me."

"I will. Thank you."

She smiles at me reluctantly, like she's not sure if I paid her speech any attention or if it went right over my head. "You can leave now."

"I'll see you tomorrow," I say. I start to leave her classroom when I notice a kid having trouble with wiping something off of a desk. "Do you need help with that?"

"Yes," the kid answers me, not missing a beat. He hands me the wipe in his hand.

"Antonia, don't help him; he's being punished," Ms. Morris says, as if to remind me and the kid.

"Oh, okay!" I mouth "sorry" to the kid, leaving the wipe on the desk and leaving.

~ - O - ~

"Oh, hey, you showed up!" the art club guy says when I walk into the room, sounding like he doubted me.

"Yeah," I answer him, sitting at his table.

"Alright, so you said you're not good at art, so all you have to do is color them."

"Color?" I ask him. "Like, with crayons?"

He makes a confused face. "Uh, if you want, yeah."

"Cool. I love crayons." Ha, this is turning out to be more fun than I thought!

The guy smiles at me, but still looks a little confused. "That's great!" 

He pushes a tin of crayons at me. "The school only asked for, like, ten posters, so it shouldn't take so long. I've already drawn three."

"Okay! I'll, uh, get to work," I say, reaching for the red crayon.

"Great!" the guy says, flashing another weak smile.

I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything. We sit in silence.

For about thirty minutes, we work without any conversation. A couple of times, I'm not sure what color to use, but the guy always looks really into the poster drawing, so I just choose a random crayon.

"Um, I'm done with drawing the posters," the guy says, breaking the silence. I look up. "Do you need any help with that, or...?"

"No, no, it's fine," I tell him, returning to coloring.

He reaches towards the pile of uncolored posters. "It's alright, I can just-"

"No!" I say, extending my arm over the pile. It only consists of two posters, so it shouldn't be a problem. "I mean, you've worked hard enough. You should go home and take a break... or something."

He shakes his head. "That's rude; I asked you to come help me out. I guess I'll just... accompany you?" he says, sounding like he's asking a question instead of telling me what he's going to do.

"Um... I don't have a problem with that!" I say as perkily as I can.

"I guess I'll stay here, then!" he decides with very weak enthusiasm. He sounds slightly uncomfortable, actually…

I don't know what I say again, so I stay silent.

"What's... your favorite... color?" he kind of chokes out.

"Oh, uh... yellow! My mood rings always turn yellow," I say truthfully. I’m not sure what it means because I always lose the little slip of paper that says what the colors mean, but it’s probably happy or something. Happy things are usually yellow. Fact.

"That's... cool," he says.

"Smiley faces are yellow," I say, trying to keep the conversation going.

"So is the sun," he answers. "And... bees?"

"Oh, I don't like bees," I confess. Even if they’re essential to the ecosystem or whatever, bees are kind of a******s.

"Oh," he answers, and then falls silent. An awkward silence fills the room again.

I feel a little bad for him, since he's just sitting there, so I ask him,"...What's… yours?"

"Huh?" he says, seeming kind of distraught.

"Your favorite color," I clarify.

"Oh, it's green," he says. "I find it really calming."

"I do, too," I concede, even though I don't really care about the color 

green or ever even thought about it. The guy doesn't say anything. 

"Leaves are green," I add, to get the ball rolling.

"And grass," the guy adds.

"And pears."

"And olives."

We go on like that for a while, until I say, "And Kermit the Frog!" 

and he replies, "Well, it looks like you're done."

I look down at the poster under me. "Huh," I say. "You're right."

He stands up and examines the posters. "Well, these might be the tackiest color schemes I've ever seen, but at least the blood is red. 

Thanks, Tony."

"It was no problem... you."

He laughs to himself somewhat nervously and shakes my hand. "I'm Lucas. Anyway, now that we're done, we should get going. I'll see you tomorrow, Tony."

"You too," I say, and I leave the art room.

As I leave, I notice the guy is smiling, and decide the feeling of putting a smile on someone’s face is pretty cool.

~ - O - ~

I finish up my homework and sigh.

I’m really hungry. The apple I’d eaten when I’d gotten home had kept me afloat through all my assignments, but now I’m hungry again. I get up from my desk and decide to search out the kitchen for something to eat.

On my way to the kitchen, I notice my mom is still asleep from when she came home, which means she probably didn’t make dinner. That is, unless she made it sleepwalking, but that food probably wouldn’t be the kind of food I want to eat. While you’re asleep, it’s probably really easy to mistake laundry detergent and salt. I’m not even sure why we keep the laundry detergent in our spice cabinet, to be honest, but my mom says the system works.

My mom seems tired, so I decide to have cereal for dinner. It’s easy to prepare, and I also really like cereal. I grab a box of Cheerios and-

There’s no milk. Well, I’m not letting that get me down! Determined, I put on a jacket, find a ten-dollar bill, and head out the door.

~ - O - ~

After helping a bunch of people find things at my local grocery store and picking up a gallon of milk, I start on my way home.

It’s getting dark, but my neighborhood’s pretty safe, so I don’t really mind. I keep walking, and notice that I know the girl in front of me. She’s the nice one that defended me from the guy that called me a ditz. Should I say hi?

I decide to say hi to her.

...And then do nothing.

I don’t remember her name… uh, was it… Alyson?

I look at the back of her head. It doesn’t seem like the back of a head of someone whose name is Alyson. Veronica? No, no…

Somehow, I end up following her instinctively into some part of my neighborhood I’ve never been. Shoot… Where am I? It seems infinitely more suspicious than my neighborhood, and it’s almost dark. Wait… am I in an alleyway?

Well, now I’m going to have to ask her how to get back, and I don’t even know her name.

…Chelsea? Wait, wait, I have it… Erin! Wow, I was way off.

I shake it off, and start to speed up and say, “Hey, Erin!” when Erin… turns into a wolf.

I’m not even sure what’s going on anymore.

Um, should I call animal control? I scramble for my cell phone, but realize I forgot it, since I was only getting milk… I’d call for help, but there’s a wolf in front of me, and I am in a dark alleyway. The wolf will hear… or should I call it Erin? Is it Erin?

I decide to follow it, if only because I want to see if it’ll turn into Erin. I mean, it’s probably a figment of my imagination; I have nothing to lose. I could probably take it in a fight anyway, even if I’m really weak. There’s a reason humans are the dominant race. (Other than, like, small bugs or something. Those don’t count.)

Eventually, it stops near the end of an alleyway facing out into the street, sitting there waiting, like its prey is coming near it and it’s going to strike. I move to the back of one of the buildings making a wall of the alleyway, prepared to hide behind it need it be necessary.

The wolf lets out a bark. Funny, I didn't know wolves barked. I glance around there and see... Is that the kid that badmouthed me in class earlier?

He stares straight at the wolf as he passes by, like they're having a staring contest or something. Why isn't he freaking out? The wolf barks again and, once he’s out of sight, it runs back down into the alleyway... towards me. Shoot, shoot, shoot...

I start to run, but the wolf sees me and I freeze. Can't animals, like, not see you if you stay completely still?

It's looking straight at me, making low whining sounds. Is it calling its pack or whatever? No, wolf! There's nothing for your family here! I have to go home!

...Is it... nuzzling my foot? "Oh my god," I whisper breathlessly. 

"What's going on?"

The wolf hears me and looks into my eyes really meaningfully, like it's trying to convey something. It starts barking again. "Good... wolf?"

The wolf looks down from me, seems to shake its head - is the wolf giving me sass? - and runs off in the other direction.

...What was that?

Actually, more than that, where am I?

Reviews

[Jacqui]

Thank you for your review of In the Cards. I appreciate your comments. I enjoyed your writing style which flows easily and is believable. Also, writing in the present tense as you have gives the story a sense of urgency. I was surprised when the story changed from reality to fantasy so abruptly but found myself compelled to carry on reading to see where the story was going. I look forward to further chapters.