Welcome to the Club

If you feel the way we feel when you read this, then you belong with us. We think you do, but if you agree, write your name at the bottom of the page, and you can join the club:

“You’re not dead, but not alive either. You’re just a ghost with a beating heart.”

Maybe I had finally lost my mind and started hallucinating because of lack of sleep, and filling out too many college applications. But no. There it was, the green paper in my hand with my name signed at the bottom.

My mom and I have just moved from Baltimore, Maryland to Oakland, California, and yes, I am a new student in my senior year. This is what happens when your mom is a sports journalist, and because she is just awesome at her job, we have to move since she just got promoted. She told me that this job is supposed to be really great for her career, but I really wish we could have moved after I graduated. I already had enough trouble at my old school trying to socialize and make friends, but now I have to start all over again. And it’s not like my mom didn’t know about my struggles to make friends either, but I guess that’s what happens when you care more about your career than your daughter. Of course my mom is having the time of her life here because she loves sports. She even named me after the two time Olympic Gold medalist for softball, Dot Richardson, because she loves sports so much. My full name is Dot Diana Dennis, and I am so far from understanding or being able to play sports it’s like asking a two year old to explain what an integral is.

My dad left us when I was eight. My parents got into a huge argument at dinner one night because dad said he was sick and tired of being a stay at home dad, and that he hated that they never got to spend any more time together. All I remember is their yelling increasing to a roar, and me crying and hiding under the dining room table praying that no one would get hurt. Right before my dad stormed out of the house I remembered him yelling

“Fine, you have your own fantastic life! I am going to go live with a normal person!”

Turns out that normal person was a woman named Mia, and they had been seeing each other for a year, while my mom was busy with her journalism. From then on it was just my mom and me. Dad never said goodbye to me. He just left with a big bang, and after that big bang my mom buried herself in journalism, and tried and failed at hiding her disappointment in me for not being good at sports.

Me, I buried myself in books and studying. Books could take me to all of the places I could not go on my own; experience all the things I would never experience. I could be anyone, do anything, and I loved that sensation. Knowledge was my novocaine to everything else in life, and I liked it that way; well almost. When the numbness wears off I get left with…

Today, I had gotten to school early, like I normally do, and went to my locker to drop-off some of my books. But just as I opened my locker, that green paper fluttered out of my locker. I looked around to see if the person who put it there was around, but there was no one there. Just a long hallway, with blue green lockers and dimmed fluorescent lights, that ended in a dead end.

Those few words that were written on the page made me feel a pang of sadness because this was me, but who noticed me to even put this paper in my locker. Were they just doing it as a cruel joke? No. I did not want to think about it, whatever this was, it could not be any worse than any of the other bad things that had already happened to me in life. So, I slammed my locker closed, folded the paper into quarters, and slid it between the crevice of my locker door and the lock, and began walking to my first class. My day started off as it normally did: I slid into the last row of my Advanced Placement

Physics class, the homecoming queen with her lemmings walk into class and then start to gosip, class would start, for the next four periods I only focus on what I am learning, and then I have to go to lunch. Lunch. Where I am forced to watch every person in the lunchroom have someone to talk to, tell jokes with, tell secrets with, except me. The girl in the back corner, too nervous to meet new people and knowing no one will ever come over.

Finally the bell rings, ending my agony, and I start to head out of the lunch room. Just as I am passing through a crowd of people, a tall guy bumps into me really hard. I fall to the floor, but he just keeps walking as if I am not even there, while everyone shuffles around me in the hall, barely giving me a second glance. I stand up, hip sore from hitting the ground so hard with my backpack on, and I head to English class. When I reach my English class I quietly slip into the last row in the back right hand corner of the room, and begin to take out my notebook for class. That’s when I notice a crumpled piece of torn notebook paper that was shoved into the water bottle holder on the outside of my backpack.

The tall guy who ran past must have shoved it into my backpack as he ran by. Probably as a cruel joke on a nerdy nobody. It made me think of the note in my locker that morning, and the possibility that this was the unknown person’s response. My teacher’s voice is what pulls me back to reality for a few seconds.

“ Can someone tell me why Oskar’s grandfather in Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close writes “Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living”, and what evidence supports your reasoning for why he writes this?”

As I think about my teacher’s question, the crumpled paper in my hand seems to grow heavier, until I find myself slowly unfolding the crumpled paper. I glance up to my teacher quickly before I look down into my lap and start to read what is on the note. On the inside someone has hastily written: Meet me under the bleachers at 5 pm. While this does seem creepy, you have got to trust me; this will be worth your time. The person writing this is right. They are really creepy, but at the same time, this seems like something out of an adventure book, or a murder myster where I’d become the victim for the murderer. Despite this knowledge, I am itching to go meet this mystery person. Or people?

The next three periods go by in a blur, and before I know it I am already home doing my homework. My heart rate increases steadily as each hour creeps closer to five, and by the time it is four, adrenaline is rushing through my veins. I grab my backpack and put my whistle and mace in it, and go down stairs to leave. As I am walking to the door, I hear my mom pull into the driveway, and a few seconds later she comes into the house.

“Oh, hi there honey! I’m surprised you aren’t studying, how was your day?” asks mom.

I mumble “It was okay, guess.”

My mom looks me up and down with suspicion and says “Where are you going?”

“Back to school. Some friends and I wanted to study together.” I reply wondering if she

will actually believe that I have friends.

“Well I guess it’s good that you are finally getting out of the house. Have fun and don’t

stay out too late!” She says as she heads up to her room without giving me a second

glance.

Once her door closes, I step out of the house, and start walking to my school. I can’t believe that my mom actually believed my lie. Does she not know anything about me? The school year just started, and I’m the new girl in my senior year. Not to mention I’m really bad at making friends. As I struggle up the steep hill to my school, my mind is racing with my annoyance with my mom, and as I wonder who these mystery people are. Sweat is slowly sliding down my spine as I finally reach the top of the hill where my school is, and I walk towards the bleachers on the football field.

There are a few students hanging around the front of the school, probably the freshmen who are waiting for their parents to pick them up after their sports practice, but other than that the school is deserted. As the bleachers come into view, I see a tall guy swinging under one of the bars of the bleachers, and he looks like a stereotypical skater boy. He is wearing a gray flannel and a grey t-shirt with faded blue jeans, and a very worn out pair of Vans. And sure enough, resting against one of the supports of the bleachers is a skateboard. He looks like your average slacker who does absolutely no work in school, and goes and goofs off instead of doing something productive with life.

I instantly feel guilty for judging him in such a way because my reflection pretty much reflects who people think I am. I’m a petite Asian girl with dark brown hair, and I wear glasses with wide green-blue frames. Most of my clothes are baggy to hide my true body shape, which is curvy and slightly busty. Basically, I am your typical quiet nerdy girl whose face you would never pick out in a crowd. Skater boy seems to be the exact opposite of me, since his face would make a teacher double check their chair before they sit down to make sure a thumbtack isn’t there.

As I get closer, the boy jumps down from his perch on the underside of the bleachers, and in a few strides, he’s standing right in front of me. This may not seem to be the case for other kids my age, but because I am shorter than the average girl, this guy is tall to me. I have to look up in order to see his face, and by look up I mean tilt my head. I instantly recognized him as the guy that pushed me over after lunch today. “Hi, thanks for meeting me here, especially after I knocked you over. I was trying to be inconspicuous, you know like in one of those spy movies where the main character is trying to pass on intell to their partner who’s undercover.”

He then starts humming the Mission Impossible theme song, and sneaking around the bleachers as though he were a spy. I try to hide my smile as he circles back around to me, grinning from ear to ear. I must have been able to maintain a serious look on my face because he starts to look a little uncomfortable and says

“Sorry, let me introduce myself, yeah should have started with that, you must think I am a weirdo and a creep by now. My name is S”, and he sticks out his hand for me to shake.

I just stare at his hand for a few seconds not really wanting to shake it, but S continues to just stand there smiling at me waiting for me to shake his hand. So, I reach out and give him a handshake, and pull my hand back as fast as I can. I feel heat rising to my cheeks as I try to think of something to end the awkward silence.

“S. Is that an abbreviation for something, or is that just the first letter of your full name?”

I ask.

“No, no, no,” he says quickly as he starts to bounce on the balls of his feet, “that is my full first name. My parents were both big fans of Marvel and D.C., so they wanted the names of my siblings and I to be symbols and characters from the comics and movies. My name is S, for the symbol of Superman, which I guess means that my name means hope. My younger sister’s name is Jubilee, and she is going through a thing right now where she likes dying her hair different colors; her hair could look better. My other younger sister’s name is Zatanna. Don’t ever leave your stuff out around her, she will steal it, and you may or may not get it back. No matter how many times you try to reason with her or yell at her, she kind of gives you this really obnoxious smile, tosses her hair and skips away. She’s really annoying. Anyway…” he takes a deep breath, “Last, but certainly not least you have my baby brother. His name is Thing, and he tries to act as tough as his name, but on the inside he’s as soft and sweet as cotton candy. He’s thirteen now so I guess I should stop referring to him as my baby brother, but that’s going to take me awhile to get used to.”

When he finishes talking, he takes a pause and just smiles at me. It’s like he’s waiting for me to go on a similar rant about my big family, but all I say is

“You talk a lot don’t you.”

“Yeah, I do, it’s an ADHD thing. So,” and he draws the word out long and looks around uncomfortably, “what’s your name?”

“My name is Dot, after the softball player who won two Olympic gold medals. My mom loves sports.”

S’s face light’s up with an enthusiastic grin and says “Oh, it’s that sport where they do the really epic windmill arm thing. That’s pretty sweet”, and as he says it he tries to copy the movement himself.

I can’t help but to laugh because he looks so ridiculous as he does the movement, and he looks over at me and smiles.

“Yes, the sport that does the windmill arm thing.” I say.

“No offense, I’ve been watching you and it does not seem like you are the type that plays sports. Not that I have been stalking you or anything, I’ve just been observing!” He says when he notices that I have started to blush. “You’re not wrong, I don’t play any sports. I actually kind of suck at playing all sports, so

I would definitely say I don’t live up to the name I was given.” I say looking down at the ground.

When I look back up to S’s face, he’s just staring at me, and I start to feel uncomfortable so I say,

“So, you have been watching me. Why? I don’t exactly consider myself to be the epicenter of all things interesting.”

A mischievous grin spreads across his face, and he claps his hands loudy and says “And that is where you are wrong my friend!” He then starts rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, “I have been watching you because I think you and I are one of the same people. The kids at my school don’t hang around me because they think I am too hyperactive and crazy and weird.

While you are super smart, or at least seem super smart, and let’s face it, are pretty anti-social, so the people at your school just ignore you because they don’t really know you.”

“Wait hold up, you don’t go to school here?” I say as I gester to the school.

He chuckles and says “Nope. I am a senior at Smallbrook High School, and in my humble opinion, that place could double for the House of Slytherin in Harry Potter. For the past week I decided to sneak into your school, and see if I could find anyone who’s like me, and bada-bing-bada-boom, I found you.” And he jesters to me, giving me some dramatic jazz hands.

“Aren’t you afraid of getting in trouble with your teachers?”

S rolls his eyes at me, “Hello, I’m a senior, so we had a senior skip day this week, which means I technically only missed four days of school. Plus, I think they really enjoyed a week without my energy wreaking havoc in the classroom. As for seniors missing school in general, I think most teachers are just really sick of all of us by this point, and just want to see us get the hell out of their school. You’re not a senior?” “No, I am. I just decided not to skip class. But, I guess you are right, I could have skipped school too.”

“Well luckily you didn’t otherwise I would not have found.” S says with a smile.

He does have a point about the senior skip days though. In our county, we have something called senior skip days, but when the first skip day rolled around I still came to school anyways just because I didn’t have anything better to do. That sounds pretty lame, but it was better than sitting home alone in an empty house and feeling hollow on the inside.

“Now, what about the club you mentioned in the note you put in my locker. Where are the other members?” I ask.

“Oh, right! Okay, so for right now it’s just you and me, so congratulations, welcome to the club!” S says chippery. “I was thinking we could go to different schools and scope out other kids who are like us, and then we could be one big friend group.”

“I guess that sounds like a good plan in theory, but how are you going to do that? Sneak into the different schools in our county again? You know we only get a certain number of skip days, right? Need I remind you that we are also seniors, and will probably be going to college soon, so what’s the point in making friends now?” I say, raising my eyebrow at him.

S frowns as he thinks about what I have just said. “I guess you're right, Little Miss Debby

Downer, but it doesn’t hurt to try. And don’t forget I was able to find you.”

I wince a little at the “Little Miss Debby Downer” part, but I guess S is right. I could have come in as a new student and made a completely new social reputation for myself, but I didn’t even try because I was too scared to. I look down at my watch and see it is 6:50 pm, “I should probably get going now. I have homework to do, but it was nice meeting you.” I have started to walk away when S cries “Wait, I forgot to ask if we could exchange numbers! You know, so we can hangout!”

So I turn around and we exchange numbers, and I walk home. For the first time in a long time I feel a small smile spread across my face, and my body feels like it’s buzzing with energy.

As I walk home I close my eyes and breathe in the cool fall air, letting the crisp air fill up my lungs. Once my lungs are full to the point of bursting, I release all the air until I can’t push the air out anymore.

A few months later

Before I know it S and I start hanging out every Friday at my house and Saturday at his.

We do homework together, well I do my homework, while he attempts to do his homework, gets distracted, and does something goofy like building a house out of cards, or seeing how many gummy bears he can stuff into his mouth. This always leaves me to tell him that he needs to focus on what he is doing, while I try not to laugh at him. I get to hangout with his siblings who tell me a bunch of stories of their crazy family. Jubilee highlights my hair pink. Thing shows me his collection of Marvel action figures and comics. Zatanna always tries to steal my backpack or pencil case, so then S and I have the pleasure of trying to chase her down to get it back. S tries to teach me how to skateboard, and no matter how many times I fall, he’s always there to pick me up again.

I tell him about how my dad left me and my mom, and how when he left I felt like he never loved me. He tells me about how his parents died in a car crash, so that’s why him and his siblings have been living in a foster home for the past four years. His biggest fear is that one day they will be separated from each other. He says that I have probably already applied to go to some big university. I say yes. I ask him why he doesn’t seem to focus in school, besides having ADHD. He says that he does not see the point in listening to something he’s not interested in. He says that he just wants to find a way to make people smile and be happy, and spend the rest of his life doing that. I tell him that he could be a comedian. He just smiles and chuckles like he always does.

I have never felt happier when I’m around him. He always makes fun of me, and encourages me to have a come back. I start getting better at having a comeback, and it feels like my tongue has become a knife that can slice through other people’s words of hurt. I start using my sharp wit in school to the people who bully me, it works and they stop. I start to say “hi” and talk to more of the people who are in my classes. They actually say “hi” back, and I start having more people to talk to.

When I ask S how school is going for him, he usually says “Same old, same old.” and gives me a sly smile, until one weekend he says “Guess who got straight A’s in all of his classes this quarter!”

I smile. “I knew you were trying to pick up on my amazing study habits!” I say.

“Or maybe I was just trying to ruin your study habits.” he says sneakily. “Oh, and I also joined the Gamer’s Club, they really needed someone with my mad skills at playing Super

Smash Bros.” I laugh because I have seen him play against his siblings and alienate them mercilessly.

One Friday we decide to treat ourselves to ice cream. I get cookies and cream, and he gets strawberry ice cream as usual. As we sit on the curb eating our ice cream I ask “You know when you asked me to join your club?”

“Yes,” he says “and it was one of the best decisions I ever made. Why?” “You said that you wanted to find someone who was almost like you. I was nothing like you S. You are funny and outgoing, and I was quiet and shy. I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t make any friends at your school. Why me? What made you search for a friend outside of your school?” I ask.

“After my parents died before freshman year of high school, I didn’t want to make any friends. I was really depressed, and I stopped taking care of myself. It was like nothing mattered to me anymore, as we transitioned into our foster home. The only thing that was on my mind was keeping the rest of my family together. Of course no one at my school really cared about the guy doing a lot of obnoxious stuff in class just to get attention, so nobody really took the time to get to know me.” When I look into S’s eyes I can see this is really hard for him to talk about, but as he keeps talking it seems as though a weight has lifted off his shoulders.

“One day in the summer, right before senior year, Zatanna and I got into a huge fight, and she yelled at me saying that she missed her real older brother. The one who was funny, played pranks on his siblings, and wasn’t such a loser who mopped around our house all the time being sad about something he couldn’t change. She said that she just wanted her big brother back. She was right though. When I looked in the mirror, I couldn’t recognize myself anymore. That “crazy monkey”, as my parents would have called me, was gone. That’s when I came up with the club. I wanted to be able to bring back the old me, so I figured the best way to do that, was to find people just like me, and start off fresh again. We could help each other sand off the grim of all of the things life had thrown at us, and look at life with a whole new perspective. You made me remember how great it was to go back to being the old me, and to take care of myself so that I can be there for my siblings.” he says. I sit there for a moment soaking in what he has just said. He’s right, having another person in my life to hangout with, who encourages me to stand up for myself, and doesn’t make fun of my interests, has really made me feel good.

“How exactly did I make you feel like that? I was so serious when you first met me.”

“Well for one thing you always give me that judgy look whenever you are doing your homework, and I keep interrupting you. It gives me great pleasure to make you start laughing when you look so serious.”

My jaw falls open and I say “I knew you were doing that on purpose!”

“Mademoiselle,” he says tilting up his nose “I am a man who loves a challenge, and so with someone like you I say bring it on!”

He then looks serious once again and says “It was also through the way you hangout with my siblings. You always look like you love hanging around them so much. I realized that, sure my parents are gone, and I still love them and miss them a lot, but I have three siblings who are still around, and they need me. They don’t need to lose their parents and their big brother in the course of four years. I just need to live with the people I love for as long as I can, and love them as much as I can.”

With that I think back to my mom, and how my dad didn’t just leave me, he left her too. I guess I never really thought about how much my mom was hurting, on top of suddenly becoming a single parent with a really demanding job.

“I have to go now,” I tell S, as I stand up and give him a hug. “Your place tomorrow?”

“You betcha! The kids want to make homemade pizza so be ready to get messy!” He says as he kicks up his skateboard and starts to walk away. When I get home, I see that my mom’s car is already parked in the driveway, as I slowly approach our front door and open it. When I step inside, I see that she’s watching TV on the sofa, and I go to sit down next to her. As I sit down mom smiles and says “Hello sweetie! How was your day? Did you hangout with S?”

“Yeah, it was great, S and I went to get some ice cream.”

Then I do something that I have not done in a while. I hug my mom. My mom goes stiff with surprise at first, but then she hugs me back. Her arms wrap around me and pull me in close, filling me with warmth.

“I love you mom.”

Her voice is muffled by my shoulder, but I hear her whisper “I love you too.”

When we stop hugging I go upstairs to my room, and I breathe a shaky sigh as I lean against the door. As I head over to my desk to start my homework, I pause in front of the mirror and do something I have not done in a long time. I look at myself. Really look at myself. And I look like I’m glowing, as I smile from ear to ear in the setting sun of my bedroom.

Word Count: 4870