The Cat That Went to Homecoming Page 10

  “Did Brandon tell you about his dad?” Cindy asked.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Brandon has been harassed by Jason and his friends for years because of the situation with his dad. Jason is a mean son-of-a-bitch; he’s the Darcel of St. Augustine High. He knows he can push Brandon’s buttons and start a fight.

  “Cindy, Brandon isn’t gay,” I said. “I can tell you from personal experience, he isn’t gay.”

  “Jason has everyone they know convinced that he is. Jason has pretty much ruined Brandon’s social life. Girls at St. Augustine won’t go out with Brandon. All the guys joke around, claiming he stares at them in the locker room. It’s a bad situation.”

  That was sad! I had no idea Brandon was bullied. He was attractive. He was the kind of guy every girl at my school would swoon over with an athletic build, dark hair and brown eyes. His eyelashes were amazingly lush. Brandon was also a very unselfish soul, friendly and kind.

  “Cindy, we have to go find him,” I said, “They escorted him outside, so he must be waiting by his car for us.”

  Cindy scooted out of the booth and I followed. When we exited the building, we were greeted by police squad cars. Brandon was surrounded by two police officers, questioning him. Jason and his crew were talking to two other police officers.

  “What the heck is going on?” I asked aloud but to no one in particular. Cindy looked as shocked as I felt.

  “Hmm, looks like little Miss Watermelon got her gay friend in a bit of trouble,” Darcel said. She approached Cindy and me, blowing out a puff of cigarette smoke. Apparently the partiers from “the party spot” had heard the ruckus and came out of their hiding place to check it out.

  Darcel dropped the cigarette to the ground, stomped it out, and looked me up and down. “Boy, put a little cheap makeup on lard ass and she thinks she’s all that.” Darcel pulled a bottle of beer out of her coat pocket and took a swig from it.

  “Shut up, Darcel, this is not the time,” Cindy said. Darcel just laughed in her face and leaned in towards me.

  “You think your mom is the only clever bitch in town? Well guess again fatso.” After she said that, she placed the beer bottle at my feet and walked off towards Jason and the police.

  My mind was so busy trying to figure out what she was getting at that I didn’t see she had set me up. She walked up to the cops and said something. They looked in my direction. Then one of them started walking towards us.

  “Excuse me young lady, is that your bottle on the ground?” he asked me.

  I looked around at first, thinking he was talking to someone else. “Are you talking to me?” I asked incredulously.

  “Are you in any way involved with the incident that happened here tonight?”

  “Involved? I don’t understand what you mean,” I stuttered. “I came here with Brandon tonight, but as far as that fight is concerned, I had no part in it.”

  “I’ll ask you one more time, does this beer bottle belong to you?”

  “No, it’s not hers. It was put there by that blonde girl that approached you,” Cindy chimed in. “She’s trying to set my friend up.”

  “I’ll need to take statements from the two of you,” he said in a very official tone that scared the heck out of me. Was I going to be arrested?

  “Can I please call my mom?” I asked.

  “You just might want to do that. Your friend Brandon will be going to the station with us and you’ll need another ride home,” he said.

  Holy crap! This night could have ended on a much better note than this. I reached my mom and gave her a brief rundown of the events of the night. She was upset, but she would pick us up. There was no rush. We had to give statements to the cops.

  The police officer introduced himself as Officer Long. I told him my side of the story. I wasn’t sure if I should leave out the kissing part; I mean, it isn’t illegal to kiss in public, is it? At any rate, I told them that Brandon and I were minding our own business and sharing a kiss when Jason and his crew interrupted us. I fibbed then, telling them things happened so fast that I did not see who threw the first punch. When he inquired about the beer bottle, I told him Darcel was the one that put it there. I pleaded with him to give me a Breathalyzer test. That would prove to him that the bottle wasn’t mine.

  Cindy had much less to tell since she wasn’t anywhere near us when it happened. She went so far as to tell Officer Long that Jason was a bully who had been instigating fights with Brandon for years. She also told him that the beer bottle was Darcel’s. Darcel had been bullying me for years, but her tactics were getting more vicious.

  “See the scabbed-over wound on Ellen’s face? Darcel attacked her in the street in front of my house a few weeks ago and beat her up pretty badly. Tonight she tried to get her in trouble with that open beer bottle. Can’t a person be arrested or something for bullying people to this extreme? It’s ridiculous and it has to stop.”

  Cindy was pretty fired up, and I had to admit, her defense of me touched my heart.

  “Bullying can be viewed as a criminal offense,” Officer Long said and his demeanor softened. “My suggestion to you, Ellen, is to start documenting everything that happens to you. You can obtain a copy of this statement in a few days to keep with your documentation. Also, you should file a report regarding the physical abuse you underwent; it’s not too late to do so. Make sure to get your parents involved. Have them go to the school official whose responsibility is to file these types of complaints. Cindy, you, too, can report any bullying you’ve witnessed. You can even do it anonymously if you wish.”

  “Oh, I don’t need to remain anonymous,” Cindy said, “I have no problem reporting it all.” She was still pretty fired up.

  “Could you ladies hold on for a moment?” he asked as he motioned to his partner to come over. “Dan, can you find the blonde girl that reported this beer to us and take her statement?” His partner nodded and went off in search of Darcel.

  “Okay, back to the conversation we were having. Why don’t I take your statement about the incident where you were physically attacked?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t even remember the date or time it happened.” I stammered, scared to take it so far. I knew the repercussions would be ugly.

  “I do,” Cindy said, and she began to tell him everything from that incident. She saw more of it than I did; after all, I was face down on the road and didn’t even know who had hit me until I heard Brandon and Cindy approaching the scene.

  I confirmed everything Cindy had said, showed him my healing palms and face, and lifted my shirt to display some of the yellowed bruises on my ribs.

  Dan approached and told Officer Long that Darcel had fled the scene. Cindy told Officer Long where Darcel lived. I saw my mom’s car pull into the parking lot and my heart sank. I sure as heck didn’t want her to see me blow into a Breathalyzer! I already had so much to explain, I didn’t need to add that!

  “Officer Long, my mom is here. Do you need me to blow into your Breathalyzer? I’d rather she not see that,” I asked sheepishly.

  “No, I don’t see that it’s necessary. This is a judgment call on my part. I see no signs of intoxication nor do I smell alcohol on your breath.”

  He reiterated what he had said earlier, that I should get a copy of the statements I gave tonight to keep with any documentation I record. He encouraged us to share all of this information with Brandon. He gave Cindy and me his business card and told us to call him if we ever felt the need to. On the back of the cards, he wrote down a website where we could find the anti-bullying regulations for Wisconsin along with two other resources on bullying.

  We thanked Officer Long for his time and advice. He was no longer the scary police officer he seemed at the start of it all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I spent the days following the fight waiting for Brandon to call me or to come over to see me. I wanted to hear from him so badly, but it seemed he wasn’t as eager to hear from me or see me. I didn’t know if he was i
n jail, if his parents had grounded him, or if he was intentionally avoiding me. The thought of the latter hurt the most.

  It wasn’t until the third day that I cried. I had convinced myself that Brandon was avoiding me because he was ashamed to have kissed me like that. I didn’t answer any calls from Cindy. She had tried reaching me twice, but I ignored the calls, afraid of what she’d tell me. It was cowardly. I knew that, but avoidance was my defense mechanism.

  Hershey and I were scheduled to visit with Janet that afternoon. Mom was off work and drove me to the rehab facility in silence. She and I had talked the night of the fight so she knew about the kiss Brandon and I shared. She also knew I had been crying that morning. My eyes were red and swollen. It would be hard for her not to know.

  “Ellen, don’t let this get you down. Pick yourself up and move on. You can’t be of any help to your client if you’re depressed yourself,” she said when we pulled into the parking lot.

  “Mom, I’ll be fine. I’ll see you in an hour,” I replied. I carried Hershey into the building and once I entered the doors, I felt the black cloud lift from my shoulders. So many of the residents had met Hershey over the past few weeks and greeted us as we passed them on our way to Janet’s room. They all loved Hershey and he seemed to brighten their days. It felt good to do that for someone.

  I stopped at the nurses’ station to say hi to the staff and check in.

  “You have perfect timing, Ellen. Janet just finished with her exercises. She’s in her room,” one of the nurses said.

  I knocked on Janet’s door, and to my surprise, instead of hearing her say “come in,” she actually opened the door for me. She was no longer in her wheelchair. She had a beaming smile on her face.

  “Hello Ellen! Come on in,” she said full of pride.

  “Wow, Janet, you’re walking on your own! This is great to see,” I said.

  “I know. I’m feeling so good about myself right now, I could dance!” She walked slowly, but unaided to her recliner and sat down. As soon as I brought Hershey out of his carrier, he made his way over to Janet and hopped on her lap.

  “Hello, my sweet little friend. I’m so happy to see you,” she said to him as she ruffled his head and snuggled her nose into his neck. Hershey responded by cooing at her and flopping onto his back. She rubbed his tummy and then looked up at me. That was when she noticed my swollen eyes.

  “Oh, dear, what’s wrong, Ellen? Is everything okay?” she asked full of genuine concern.

  I told her everything was fine. After all, it was my job to make her feel better, not vice versa. She didn’t buy it. I tried to sway the conversation to focus on her.

  “I’m so impressed at your recovery, Janet. You are doing so well,” I said.

  “I owe it all to you, Ellen, you and this little prince.” She was still stroking the purring Hershey. “Now, tell me what’s troubling you.”

  “Janet, I’m okay. You’re the patient, remember?” I joked.

  “I feel so good right now, I no longer feel like a patient!” She said. “You know they have a courtyard here. Would you and Hershey like to go for a walk with me?”

  “Yes, we would,” I said. I pried Hershey off her lap and set him on the ground. Janet gingerly stood from the recliner. “Let me get my walker. I still need to use it for long walks.”

  The three of us walked through the hallway like a little parade, Hershey on his leash right alongside of me and Janet with her walker. Staff and residents were smiling and waving at us as we passed. A few of the nurses clapped.

  Once we made it to the courtyard, Janet stopped to take in a deep breath of the fresh air. “Ah, this is so rejuvenating,” she said as she exhaled. “Thank you for doing this with me.”

  Hershey found himself a long blade of grass to nibble on while we stood there, taking in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

  “Hershey loves to be outside,” I replied, “So you’re actually doing him a favor.” I winked at her.

  We walked over to a bench in the shade of an oak tree and parked ourselves. Hershey had enough slack in his leash to do a little investigating, so he was happy. I sat next to Janet. We both sighed, and then laughed.

  “It’s beautiful out. I’ve been indoors for so long and I’ve missed the summer heat,” Janet said. She chuckled, and put a hand on my knee. “You know, when I was about your age, I was chubby so I would never wear shorts or halter tops.” She paused and looked at me, “In my day, it was halter tops, not tank tops.” She looked off again into the clouds. “Now, I just don’t care what anybody thinks, I wear whatever is most comfortable. It took me a long time to realize that my comfort is more important than what other people think or say.”

  “Were you overweight all through high school?” I asked, my curiosity peaked, as I’m sure she’d meant it to be.

  “Actually, I was just like you, Ellen. One summer I just slimmed down and grew into my body.” She turned to face me. “You see, Ellen, we are all created different. Some people are black, some are white, and some are heavier than others. Wouldn’t the world be a boring place if we all looked exactly alike?”

  “Yes, it would be boring,” I said in agreement.

  “Biology explains why some girls in your age group are heavier around the middle. We older folks call it ‘baby fat’. It’s nature’s way of making sure you develop into a woman. Girls usually have more baby fat than boys because increased levels of estrogen cause certain areas of the body to fill out before the menstrual cycle begins. Girls with more fat around the pelvis begin to menstruate before girls without a fat pad. It isn’t unusual for an athletic young lady to go without her period until she’s eighteen or nineteen.”

  I never knew that. I had “the talk” with my mom and we had “the class” in school, but I didn’t know this.

  “How do you know all of this?” I asked her.

  “Ellen, I’m fifty three years old. I have many years of therapy and soul searching under my belt. I told you I was chubby, but I didn’t tell you what I turned into after I lost my baby fat.” I said nothing, just waited for her to continue.

  “The peer group you are a part of and the things you do in high school do not define who you are later in life. The fact that a woman was a cheerleader or the Prom Queen in high school may help her pursue a career in modeling, but such superficial achievements mean nothing in the real world. Do you know who Bill Clinton is?” she asked.

  “He was one of our Presidents and he’s married to Hillary Clinton,” I answered, making her laugh just a little.

  “Now, wouldn’t you say becoming the President of the United States is an impressive accomplishment?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Would it surprise you to know that former President Bill Clinton was bullied in school because he was overweight?” she asked.

  “Boy, can you imagine how awful his bullies must have felt when he became their president?” I asked rhetorically.

  “I’ll bet they wished they hadn’t called him ‘the fat band boy,’ especially after he told the world about it in his memoir.”

  “Wow. I guess I can see what you’re saying. Being popular in high school doesn’t mean you’ll be successful in real life.”

  “That’s exactly my point! When you fill out a resume for a job, they don’t care if you were the most popular girl in school or not.” She spoke with feeling. “I’m worried about you, Ellen. I’ve known you for a long time now, and I’ve seen what you’ve gone through. This summer has transformed you. You grew into your body, your work with Hershey here has given you social skills, and the kids at school are going to notice the changes in you.”

  “Why would that make you worry?” I asked, confused. Janet sighed and reached down to grab Hershey and placed him on her lap.

  “Never stoop to a bully’s level, Ellen. Instead, take the high road. Always do the right and honorable thing.” She continued to stroke Hershey.

  “I’m not sure why you would think I wouldn’t.” I said
.

  “Like I said, I’ve been there. I transformed one summer, and instead of taking the high road, I took the low. I wanted to be popular and loved so badly that I did things I should not have done. I got involved with drugs, alcohol, and sex. I ended up pregnant before I graduated…and the boy who got me there? Well, he graduated and moved on. Don’t get me wrong. I love my son with all my heart, but do I regret not finishing high school? You bet. Do I regret not going to college? Yes, every day of my life.”

  I assured her that I would always try to do the honorable thing, but felt a tad guilty inside about the fight at the skating rink. Brandon did throw the first punch and I did see it, but I omitted that from my statement. Not a very honorable thing to do. Okay, from THIS point on I would do what was right! Under no circumstances would I throw Brandon under the bus, so my little white lie would remain a secret until I died.

  “Ellen, I think today is our last visit together. The doctors say I will be able to go home sometime in the next few days,” she said.

  I was happy for her, so glad she was well enough to go home, but yet sad at the same time. Janet had taught me so much in the few weeks I had been visiting with her. It was odd. I was supposed to be helping her, yet she was the one who was helping me.

  “I’m so happy for you Janet. I look forward to seeing you at the head of the bus!” I said.

  “Oh, I think it will be a few weeks before I can return to work, but eventually I will be there,” she said.

  After leaving Janet, I thought about what she had said and her statement ‘do what’s right and honorable.’ I thought about my dad, and how Mom had said “those that try and fail, never disappoint. It’s the ones that don’t try at all, that do.’ I decided to call my dad and meet him for lunch. It would be the right thing to do, and I needed to get to know him. I called him while in the car with Mom, making her eyes widen with pleasant surprise. She said nothing while I left him a voice message.