Chapter 6: After School

My parents wanted to know how my first day was back at school was. There was one thing you could always count on at our house. Family dinner. We always had dinner together as a family and my parents always wanted to know what was going on in my sister's and my lives. Up until this point in my life there really wasn't anything that I couldn't talk about with my family. Ok, I admit I had done a few things as a kid that I didn't tell them about, but who didn't. I really didn't mind filling them in on my daily life most of the time because I love my family and you should be able to tell the people you love anything. Today was harder for me though. How could I tell my family that I thought half of the girls in the school wanted to fuck me because of the incident in the parking lot? My dad? Maybe. My little sister? Probably. She and I got along fairly well. I thought I could trust her, but the only thing with her is that she was only in eighth grade, so she may not be able to relate. My mom? No way. How do you tell your mom that you suspect that you will be propositioned by lots of girls for sex? She would either think I was crazy and a sexist pig for thinking it, or she would believe me and try to find a way to stop it from happening. Neither of those two possibilities appealed to me.

The real problem was trying to get around telling her. She always had this way of seeing through me. I swear she had some special "mother vision" when it came to reading me. I think she let me get away with a few small lies and falsehoods just so I would think I pulled a fast one on her. She probably knew I was lying every time I tried. The only way to get this one through was to come up with a half truth that had just enough of the truth in it that she would buy it without giving her enough detail to worry about. That was my mission and I chose to accept it.

"How was school today Jeffrey?" She asked.

I made sure to make eye contact with her when I answered. It would be a dead give away that I was hiding something if I didn't. "Ok I guess. I have a lot of catching up to do in my classes and stuff."

"What about your classmates? How did they treat you?" She asked. See what I mean? How did she know to ask me that?

Here goes nothing, I thought. "They were pretty cool about everything. Some people who I didn't used to be very good friends with were nicer to me than they used to be. It was no big deal though."

"Really?" My dad asked. "How were they nicer to you?"

"Well, just the fact that they wanted to talk to me at all was different. A lot of people came up to me and asked how I was feeling or if I was ok. Stuff like that."

"That's good." He replied. He seemed to accept my explanation at face value.

I thought I might have just made it through the inquisition, but it wasn't going to be that easy.

"Are you having trouble dealing with it?" Mom asked.

"No, not really," I replied.

"How about the girls?" Mom continued, "What do they have to say to the boy who risks himself for a girl he doesn't really know?"

Shit, I though. Now what? "Ah, they were friendly too. They were curious about the whole thing and they asked how I was feeling." That was as vanilla as I could come up with off the cuff and hope that it was sufficient.

"I figured they would be interested." She said. Interested in me or the incident? I wondered which she meant. I waited to see if she offered any other comments. I wisely kept my mouth shut and didn't divulge any more info than purely necessary.

I think she at least suspected that there was more going on, but she surprisingly let it go for now.

"You just make sure that you remember who your friends were before this and don't fool yourself into thinking people are going to change. There are a lot of people out there that would befriend you because it gets them something they want."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Think about it. Popularity maybe, or attention. Lots of things. Just keep your eyes open."

"Ok." I wasn't going to argue with her if it ended the conversation. Thankfully my parents turned the conversation over to asking my sister Cara about her day.

After dinner I went back to my room and tried to get caught up on some of my school work. I could see that it was going to take a few days to actually get all the stuff I missed done. I knocked out a bunch of it before my eyes started to get tired and I just needed a break. I looked longingly over at my guitar. I had not been able to play at all since the fight because it hurt to hunch over it when I was playing. Believe me I hadn't stopped playing because I wanted to.

I had been taking lessons from a pretty good teacher for about two years and while I wouldn't consider myself a good player, I was way better than I had been when I started. I had already missed one lesson and probably would miss this week's lesson as well. I just hadn't been able to practice at all.

I got up from my desk and grabbed the acoustic guitar from its stand and sat on the edge of my bed with it. It still hurt a little bit to lean over it, but I was so desperate to play that I pushed the pain to the back of my head. I played a few tentative notes and then started in on a few fingering patterns that I had learned from my instructor to warm up. I was a bit sloppy and rusty from not playing for the past week and a half. Eventually I was as warmed up as I was going to get and played a few songs. I play mostly finger style guitar and I don't sing. My singing voice has always been really bad. I never play for anyone except my teacher. I get serious performance anxiety.

I probably played for about 45 minutes before my fingers started getting sore. My calluses had disappeared from my fingertips because I hadn't played in so long and I didn't want to irritate my fingers further. Just as I was finishing up my last song my sister Cara came busting in to my room without knocking.

"Nice playing Jeff." Cara said sarcastically. She and I always tried to get a rise out of each other. It wasn't that we didn't like each other. I think it was just something we did for the hell of it.

"Thanks, and thanks for knocking dipshit." I replied.

"Sorry, your highness, but if you hadn't been completely zoned out playing your stupid guitar you would have heard the phone ringing and me yelling that it was for you." She said tartly. I know that I sometimes get into a zone when I am playing and I can totally tune out the rest of the world. I don't see or hear anything but the guitar. I can't get myself in that zone when I know someone else is in the room though.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"It's Leessssslieeee. Your girlfriend." She teased.

"Cara, don't be such an immature bitch. She and I are friends. You might know that it is possible for guys and girls to be friends if you ever tried just talking to a guy."

She didn't look too thrilled with my response. "Just pick up the phone already." She replied huffily and stomped out of the room.

I grabbed the phone from my nightstand and said, "Hello."

"Hi Jeff. It's Leslie is this a bad time?"

"No," I replied. "It's ok. I was just finishing up my guitar practice."

"I didn't know you played guitar." She said.

"Yeah, I play a bit." I told her. "I'm really not that great though."

"I'd love to hear you play some time." She said.

"Actually, I really don't play for anyone. I get kind of nervous and I'm not that good anyway."

"How long have you been playing?" She asked.

"About two years." I said.

"You're probably better than you say you are."

"I don't know. I just don't like to perform. I just play because I love music and it relaxes me to play."

"That's ok. You don't have to play for me." She said, but she sounded disappointed.

I was used to the disappointment from people who wanted me to play for them. I'm not sure why, but my parents, my grandparents and even my friends always wanted to hear me play. My family had heard me through the walls in our house I'm sure, but I never take the guitar into the family room and perform. I just don't feel comfortable doing it. My sister's comment when she walked into my room to tell me about Leslie calling is a good example of why I don't play for people.

It would be hard to put in the effort of going to lessons and practicing all of the time only see that no one liked what I played. I'm sure my parents would act like they liked it, but that is just what parents do. I just couldn't see my parents saying, "Well Jeff, that really sucked. I'm not paying for lessons anymore." They just wouldn't do that, plus my mom loves art and music and has always encouraged Cara and me to include them in our lives.