It's actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him {so, I got myself a citrus friend}
December 17, 2012
11:32 AM
Since it’s almost Christmas and the break is in a few days, the teacher has completely given up on any teaching or anything worthwhile. They are instead, making art and crafts, the choice of making a glitter ornament or a snowman out of paper plate. In hindsight, this might have been a bad idea.
It is pure chaos.
Glitter is everywhere, glue is stuck to hands and clothing. The paper plates are scattered around the room, a stack lopsided next to a table filled with christmas cookies. Bright colored packets of construction paper are cut up, scraps of apple-red and pine-green scattered all over the ground. Abe, one of the other students, had the brilliant idea to cut up white printer paper and throw it all over the ground, while belting out the lyrics to Let it Snow. Sally has started a snowball fight with balled-up pieces of notebook paper. Charles, the absolute madman, managed to crack open the window and scoop up a handful of actual snow and throw it in the general direction of the other team. The teacher is crying. Someone is giving a speech to their fellow students, determined faces armed with balled-up paper and shields made out of folders. The other team has built a fort out of desks and chairs, eyes sharp and hands at ready. The air is tense, the emotions high. No one knows how this fight was started, only that they need to finish it. Friendships have been broken, allies tested, new enemies have emerged. Enemies are now friends and friends have become only another face across from the battlefield.
There is no telling how this battle will end.
Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas blares in the background.
Lisa and Peter don’t bother paying attention. Lisa’s making one of those snowman things and Peter’s reading The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson. Lisa brought her ipod that she had gotten as a birthday present and they each were listening to it, an earbud in Peter’s right and one on Lisa’s left. They were listening to Disney songs, and Lisa grins as she heard Zero to Hero come on. Peter’s focused on his book, crumbs falling as a sugar cookie being eaten, an entire loot of things they filched from the lonely table in between the two teams sitting in front of them.
They’re hiding by the book nook, both in bean chairs underneath the window and hidden from view by a bookshelf.
Lisa looks over at Peter, poking him. “Two more days.”
“Two more days,” Peter echoes, eyes still on his book.
“Are you coming over today?” Lisa questions, pausing the music on the ipod.
The first snowball is thrown, slamming into the fort.
Peter shakes his head. “Nah. I’ve got gymnastics. And Mrs. Lebedev wants me to walk Boris. So does Mr. Akulov.”
Lisa wrinkles her nose and waves her hand outside, which is white and snowy. “But it’s snowing!”
“Boris is a husky,” Peter explains, closing his book with his finger inside, “And Mr Akulov’s dog is really big and fluffy. They love playing in the snow.”
“You’re not big and fluffy.”
“Just because you’re taller than me doesn’t mean-”
“Shush child,” Lisa reached over and patted Peter on the head, mussing up his short hair, “One day you will know what it’s like to be tall.”
Peter scowled. “At least I have money.”
“You can buy yourself a pair of heels,” Lisa suggested, laughing as Peter whacked her lightly with his book.
An enemy soldier from the fort team, now calling themselves the Forters, was being dragged to the stronghold of the rebels, also known as the Bandits. The enemy soldier was then questioned intensely, then tied up with a blanket.
Peter stretches out on the bean chair. “I can’t go tomorrow, either. Dad’s going on a business trip, so he had to get me a babysitter.”
Lisa sits up. “But you can just come stay with us. Why d’ya need a babysitter? We’re basically adults.”
As she says this, two kids launch a glitter bomb at the fort.
“Dad doesn’t want me hangin’ out with you guys,” Peter says, not meeting Lisa’s eyes, “‘S’only for a few days. Dad’ll be back next week.”
“Then we can watch Christmas movies?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
Peter looks up at her, startled.
Lisa’s completely deadpan. “‘Cause if you can’t, I’m gonna ask Dad permission to kidnap you. And he’s going to say yes.”
Peter rolls his eyes, then seizes upon this new topic. “How’s your dad?”
Lisa beams, a smile on her face. “He’s coming back in February, I can’t wait. We’re gonna have a picnic in the park when he comes back and we’re going to watch a movie and stay up all night. And we’re going to eat junk food and it’s going to be so much fun because he’s going to be back.”
She speaks with so much enthusiasm and happiness, hands flapping with her movements. “Uncle Billy’s going to be back too, and you can finally meet him, he’s so cool. Whenever we’re skyping with Dad, he’s always there.”
In the background, the Forters have launched a counterattack, striking the Bandits with the glitter ornaments. The Bandits scatter, glitter covering everything. The teacher manages to escape, his footsteps thudding as he runs away.
He was a good teacher.
Peter listens to Lisa talk excitedly about her family, occasionally humming an assent or chiming in with a joke. He’s happy to be in his friend’s presence, just simply enjoying the peace that comes with being with a friend.
All of the sudden, Lisa goes quiet. “Hey Peter?”
Peter looks over at her, leaning against the bean chair. “Yeah?”
“What was your mom like?” Seeing Peter’s confused expression, Lisa adds, “‘Cause Uncle Billy doesn’t have a mom either. And I thought….” She trails off, shrugging her shoulders.
Peter scowls, tucking his feet up next to the bean chair. “She was nice.”
Lisa waits a few seconds. Peter doesn’t say anything else. She prompts him. “And?”
Peter glares at his shoes. “I don’t know, why are you tryin’ to be a psych?”
“Mom says the best way to deal with stuff is to talk about it. Dad talks to Mom about stuff.” Lisa nudges him. “We’re best friends, Peter. No secrets.”
No secrets.
Peter swallows. “Lisa, I have to tell you something.”
Lisa leans closer. “Is it a secret?”
Peter nods, shakily. “Yeah.”
“Okay.” She scooches closer. “Tell me.”
“Promise me you won’t get mad,” Peter whispers and Lisa looks offended.
“I won’t get mad!”
“Okay,” Peter takes in a deep breath. “When my mom was still here and she lived with me and my dad, my name wasn’t Peter. My mom, she-uh-gave me a different name.”
Lisa’s lips part, an expression of confusion on her face.
“My name wasn’t Peter; it was something else ‘cause, um,” Peter hesitates, then pinches himself. “I wasn’t born the right way.”
Lisa’s confused, so Peter tries to explain.
“You know how-how, like if you put salt in the pepper container and pepper in the salt container, the pepper is still pepper, you know? Even if it’s in the salt container. It’s still pepper inside.”
Lisa’s nodding slowly, still confused.
“It’s like that. I’m a boy. I know I am. But something went wrong and now I’m in a body that doesn’t match, you know? Who I am inside and what the body says outside don’t match.”
Lisa gets it now.
She’s silent.
“Is that why you don’t use the bathroom at school?”
Peter nods.
Lisa looks up at him, notices his pale, scared face. “Oh no. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Everything’s okay, alright? Your best friend Lisa is here. She’s not leaving you, don’t worry.”
Peter lets out a choked laugh and they kind of move closer together, Lisa asking questions and Peter answering them, even the ones about his mom.
It doesn’t hurt so much, when he talks about her. Maybe Lisa was right.
Maybe.
Then the principal and the SRO barge into the room, and the snowball fight stutters to a halt, the Bandits climbing the fort to get to the people inside. White Christmas switches to You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.
Needless to say, school ended early and Peter and Lisa got picked up by Mrs. Castle, who shook her head at them.
“What did you delinquents do this time?”
“Traded government secrets,” Peter tells her, his glasses lopsided. “It’s a cover-up.”
Lisa gives him a conspiratorial look.
Peter returns the grin.