Tessie D

So much has changed in just a week.

Sigh.

So much has happened since then that I don’t even know how to start.  

I left school on Friday afternoon and was excited about the festival and carnival.

Saturday, everything was going great. It was one of those perfect spring days. I drove into town and picked up my trombone at the band hall before driving over to the parade’s starting point. We marched down Patrick Street and then later headed over to the City Park.

I hung out for most of the day with Pamela, Christy, and Monica. I wouldn’t say they are my best friends or anything. Sarah, my best friend since fourth grade, moved to Louisiana last year after her dad got a job on an oil rig in the Gulf. Pamela, Christy, and Monica are the friends that I hang out with because you can’t go through high school by yourself. 

I think they like me well enough but there’s little things. Like how they got some of the boys who were Juniors to invite them to the prom when we were freshmen so that they could all go as a group hang, but nobody included me, and I didn’t go.

It probably doesn’t help that I’ve been sitting in the library by myself at lunch for the past month while I’ve been typing in this diary. It’s just that Pamela, Christy, and Monica are in Drill Team together and they’ve had practices and stuff going on all month. I can’t sit in the cafeteria by myself. It’d be too humiliating.

I wanted to try out for the Drill Team when we started high school but you had to sign this form that said you’d be able to afford the stuff that went with Drill Team — the pep rally uniforms, game-day uniforms, Friday school uniforms, Mary Kay make-up, summer camp, competition fees, and uniforms. It was something like $1400, and I knew there was no way that Momma or Daddy could afford that. I didn’t even want to ask since I knew what the answer was, so I didn’t even try out.

Now, they’re matching t-shirts and little white tennis shoes and going to the prom together as a group, and I play trombone in band wearing oversized overalls from the tractor supply store. 

That night, we went to the carnival. It was already crowded by the time we got there since we’d gone to Christy’s house for a few hours to change and fix our hair. Hordes of people moved in between the rides, food trailers, and arcade games.

Standing to the side, I could see all the little kids on the carousel horses going up and down, round and round to the tune of Pop Goes the Weasel. Most of them were smiling and laughing. Watching them, I wanted so badly to get on the ride, too.

To be that happy again. To not care what anyone thought. To not think so much about myself. Monica would make fun of me for being too old for carnival rides even if I tried.

I was still watching the little girl go round and round when I heard Monica laugh over the music from the carousel speakers.

“Tessie! Isn’t that your dad?”

I looked over and there he was, stumbling through the crowd. His shirt puckered around his gut. The back of his shirt was untucked. His face was red and puffy, his curly brown hair was a dark brown mop on his head. A fat, cowboy-version of Elvis, drunk at the park.

Pamela started laughing.

“He’s hysterical!”

Embarrassment and shame washed over me, but I smiled and looked away.

“Yep, that’s him,” I said. “Looks like he’s having a good time.”

Pamela and Monica continued laughing and pointing. Christy smiled and looked sympathetic.

“It’s not so bad. He isn’t hurting anyone. Besides, my dad could probably use a good time at the carnival, too.”

We stood there, all of us watching Daddy. I didn’t know what to do. I thought of running over and pulling him out of the park, driving him home, hiding all of this from the world. But, my legs felt rooted to the ground. I was paralyzed by humiliation. 

After what must have been an eternity, I finally said, “Come on, let’s get in line for the ride.”

We had just gotten in line four boys walked over from near the food stall. They were older, tall and lean with dark hair and eyes. Their arms and faces were tanned as if they’d spent their summers throwing hay bales. I didn’t recognize them. They looked older than the other high school boys in my class.

One of the boys looked over and smiled at me. I smiled back and then the other boys followed his gaze and spotted us, too. They returned to their conversation briefly, and then one of the larger boys broke away from the group and began walking toward us. As if synchronized, Pamela, Christy, and Monica noticed them, too.

One of the stockier boys spoke up first, “Hey. Y’all in line?”

Christy and Monica looked around at their feet, and then Pamela responded, “What? Oh, yeah, we are.”

The stockier boy lowered his voice, leaned in, and whispered, “Can we cut in with y’all? We don’t want to have to go back all the way to the end of the line.”

I looked around, nervous. But Christy and Monica giggled and smiled back.

“Oh, yes,” Pamela said loudly as if she were talking to someone who might hear, “We were getting tired of waiting. Glad y’all could finally get here. These are our boyfriends,” she said but it didn’t seem like anyone was listening or cared. Pamela was pretty like that. She could probably go into a bank and ask for money and they’d never suspect that she was robbing it.

A few minutes went by and she finally whispered, “I’m Pamela, and this is Christy and Monica and Tess.”

The stockier boy said, “I’m Jody. This is Stephen and Angel.” He said and pointed at the other two dark haired boys standing next to him.

They were college freshmen and came to town to check out the carnival. They asked if we were in college, and Christy and Monica started giggling again. 

“No, we’re seniors in high school,” Pamela said.

It was awkward for a moment. Then Pamela asked about their majors. 

Stephen and Jody were studying business, but Angel didn’t say anything.

“What about you? What’s your major?” I asked him. My cheeks were warm.

Angel looked back at me. He had dark brown eyes with long, thick eye lashes. He had freckles across his nose and cheeks. He wasn’t as tall or as broad as his friends, but he stood up straight with wide shoulders and a broad chest. He had the posture of someone who walked around with a book on his head. 

“Ag,” he said and toward Pamela and Christy. “Y’all wanna ride the Ferris wheel? We have a couple of extra tickets.” 

Pamela smiled, and Christy’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, that’d be fun,” she said the three of them began walking toward the gate. 

I was overcome with jealousy and embarrassment. For a second, I thought that he had walked over to talk to me. Instead, he got on the ride with Christy and Pamela, and Jody, Monica, and Stephen got on next and sat down.

I stepped out of line and bent down to present to tie my shoe. It’s not as if this sort of thing hasn’t happened a hundred times before. Boys paying attention to my friends. Me fading into background. There’s a certain type of girl that Texas boys go for — tall, thin, tanned, blonde. I am none of those things — I’m the opposite.

I stood to the side and watched Pamela, Christy, and Angel sitting in the bucket seat of the mechanical wheel and riding in huge sweeping circles toward and away from me. 

Eventually, the ride began stopping to let riders off and new riders on. Pamela, Christy, Angel got off the ride. Then Stephen, Monica, and Jody. I slid up to the group and stood to the side. They started talking about finding something to eat.

“I probably need to get home. Y’all have fun,” I said and turned to go. Pamela gave me a quick little smile and shrug, and I started to walk off. I turned to look back, though, and could see that Angel was looking at me.

I waved and he smiled back.