ALEX
two.
May-2009
I don’t know how one goes their whole life through high school not knowing the popular people, my mom often said to me, but by the end of my eleventh grade year at Chandler City High, I had proved that it was indeed a possible thing.
The thing to understand about my mother and I was that, at barely 17 I had accomplished hardly the basics or high school. Passing classes, getting to school in one piece, joining a club or two, and maintaining a small simple group of friends, that was me.
On the other hand, at barely 17, my mother had accomplished things that people I dislike accomplished in high school. She was popular, stellar looks and grades, and a group of friends like you wouldn’t believe; fun ones, she’d say, ones that went out and partied, had gatherings and went on road trips together.
She was in the Beta Club, the magnet program, Debate Team, FCCLA, FBLA, Science National Honor Society, and Spanish Club. Things that not only did I not have the grade point average to achieve, but I had neither the interest or understanding of anyone who did.
Captain of the Cheerleading Squad, President of International club, and Math Team, Vice President for her graduating class, known by the entire school, maintaining a 3.6 GPA and a $10.00 an hour hostess job at the diner downtown…that was my mom. With all of her mouth, her trophies, certificates, and plaques to back it up.
And knowing what I’ve observed about “popular” people, and people like myself, the two almost anything but mix. Yet that seems to be the household I was thrown into, my mother and I.
“Lindsi, why don’t you guys go out and do something tonight.” My mother says, while we sit in the car that May, waiting for her to drop me off.
I look at her, all crazy like, like maybe she needs reminding of who’s sitting in the car next to her.
“Mom, If you wanna go out or something I’ll be fine. I have finals coming up soon anyways.” I explain to her. Going back to my Sudoko, that I don’t even get but I’m trying to because it’s my mother’s thing, I look down and squint from the 7 am sunlight that shines down on me.
She stares at me. A long hard, parent concerned type stare. And I hear it before it comes.
“Lindsi honey, I worry about you.” Mother confesses, turning around slightly to get all sympathetic with me.
I flip the book closed and sigh loudly. Hopeless.
“These people you, surround yourself with, aren’t the type of people I raised you up to attract. You and your friends never even get out of the house. You sit up on the internet and text message back and forth all day long.”
Everything and everyone is always a type with her. Thou must be stereotyped by Lindsi’s mother. I can’t make a friend without her knowing their parents income, and social status, I can’t interact with a guy without her asking what I’ve done to make him take so long to ask me out.
That’s my mom for you.
“Mom. You know my friends don’t party. Now please, if you have somewhere to go, don’t worry for me.”
She turns around and sighs, a drawl of unnecessary, melodramatic little sighs.
“I didn’t put you in a private school Lindsi Rae, because I wanted the same experience for you that I had at Chandler. I’ve paved the way for you and well, if you want to throw it all away then fine. Hang out with people that’ll get you nowhere in life, and continue doing nothing with your high school years.”
I gawk at her.
There’s an uncomfortable silence between us as we pull into the school’s parking lot, and I finally clear my throat to make words to come out, ones that I just say without thinking.
“Mom you’re right I’m sorry.” I stutter. “I swear summer and senior year will be different. I’ll get some other friends okay? But for now I think Christa will let me come over tonight…”
She nods approvingly. Mom dislikes and likes Christa. Her father, we can all admit is an asshole. Her mother became so fed up one day that she left him and moved to Switzerland.
Geneva: land of the spoiled rich.
Christa didn’t go because Chandler’s apparently some awesome school that our parents all graduated from and want us to continue in their legacy or something.
I don’t see it. Nor does Christa. Together our mothers ran the school, popular and studious, they were best friends till college. When they graduated they tried to reconnect but something had changed with her mom, and things were different. Still spoiled and snotty…but different.
Christa is like me. That’s why I like her. But my mom see’s failure in us I’m sure. She sees Christa’s dad and her mom’s faults in her. But she also sees her former best friend. So she allows me to hang out with her.
We finally pull up to the front door and I gather my stuff as she slows to a stop.
“Sweetie. I know you have friends. You’re a good person. I just want you to befriend people that wont only bite off of what you can give them. Now I have an event tonight downtown in Buckhead and Sherri Kensel, Donte and I are doing the whole thing. Be good at school today and ride home with Christa please.”
She smiles and gives me kisses.
She does this whole kiss on each cheek thing like the French that she swears she just sort of “picked up” during her childhood summers in Montreal.
I wave bye and head inside.
As she drives away, I wonder if she sees how much I hate this school, and how much Senior year’s only going to be different because I’ll be here for as little time as physically possible and then I really wont care about the people here. Goal number one: Graduate Chandler City High and get out of Atlanta as soon as I can.
Whatever it takes right..?
I don’t know how one goes their whole life through high school not knowing the popular people, my mom often said to me, but by the end of my eleventh grade year at Chandler City High, I had proved that it was indeed a possible thing.
The thing to understand about my mother and I was that, at barely 17 I had accomplished hardly the basics or high school. Passing classes, getting to school in one piece, joining a club or two, and maintaining a small simple group of friends, that was me.
On the other hand, at barely 17, my mother had accomplished things that people I dislike accomplished in high school. She was popular, stellar looks and grades, and a group of friends like you wouldn’t believe; fun ones, she’d say, ones that went out and partied, had gatherings and went on road trips together.
She was in the Beta Club, the magnet program, Debate Team, FCCLA, FBLA, Science National Honor Society, and Spanish Club. Things that not only did I not have the grade point average to achieve, but I had neither the interest or understanding of anyone who did.
Captain of the Cheerleading Squad, President of International club, and Math Team, Vice President for her graduating class, known by the entire school, maintaining a 3.6 GPA and a $10.00 an hour hostess job at the diner downtown…that was my mom. With all of her mouth, her trophies, certificates, and plaques to back it up.
And knowing what I’ve observed about “popular” people, and people like myself, the two almost anything but mix. Yet that seems to be the household I was thrown into, my mother and I.
“Lindsi, why don’t you guys go out and do something tonight.” My mother says, while we sit in the car that May, waiting for her to drop me off.
I look at her, all crazy like, like maybe she needs reminding of who’s sitting in the car next to her.
“Mom, If you wanna go out or something I’ll be fine. I have finals coming up soon anyways.” I explain to her. Going back to my Sudoko, that I don’t even get but I’m trying to because it’s my mother’s thing, I look down and squint from the 7 am sunlight that shines down on me.
She stares at me. A long hard, parent concerned type stare. And I hear it before it comes.
“Lindsi honey, I worry about you.” Mother confesses, turning around slightly to get all sympathetic with me.
I flip the book closed and sigh loudly. Hopeless.
“These people you, surround yourself with, aren’t the type of people I raised you up to attract. You and your friends never even get out of the house. You sit up on the internet and text message back and forth all day long.”
Everything and everyone is always a type with her. Thou must be stereotyped by Lindsi’s mother. I can’t make a friend without her knowing their parents income, and social status, I can’t interact with a guy without her asking what I’ve done to make him take so long to ask me out.
That’s my mom for you.
“Mom. You know my friends don’t party. Now please, if you have somewhere to go, don’t worry for me.”
She turns around and sighs, a drawl of unnecessary, melodramatic little sighs.
“I didn’t put you in a private school Lindsi Rae, because I wanted the same experience for you that I had at Chandler. I’ve paved the way for you and well, if you want to throw it all away then fine. Hang out with people that’ll get you nowhere in life, and continue doing nothing with your high school years.”
I gawk at her.
There’s an uncomfortable silence between us as we pull into the school’s parking lot, and I finally clear my throat to make words to come out, ones that I just say without thinking.
“Mom you’re right I’m sorry.” I stutter. “I swear summer and senior year will be different. I’ll get some other friends okay? But for now I think Christa will let me come over tonight…”
She nods approvingly. Mom dislikes and likes Christa. Her father, we can all admit is an asshole. Her mother became so fed up one day that she left him and moved to Switzerland.
Geneva: land of the spoiled rich.
Christa didn’t go because Chandler’s apparently some awesome school that our parents all graduated from and want us to continue in their legacy or something.
I don’t see it. Nor does Christa. Together our mothers ran the school, popular and studious, they were best friends till college. When they graduated they tried to reconnect but something had changed with her mom, and things were different. Still spoiled and snotty…but different.
Christa is like me. That’s why I like her. But my mom see’s failure in us I’m sure. She sees Christa’s dad and her mom’s faults in her. But she also sees her former best friend. So she allows me to hang out with her.
We finally pull up to the front door and I gather my stuff as she slows to a stop.
“Sweetie. I know you have friends. You’re a good person. I just want you to befriend people that wont only bite off of what you can give them. Now I have an event tonight downtown in Buckhead and Sherri Kensel, Donte and I are doing the whole thing. Be good at school today and ride home with Christa please.”
She smiles and gives me kisses.
She does this whole kiss on each cheek thing like the French that she swears she just sort of “picked up” during her childhood summers in Montreal.
I wave bye and head inside.
As she drives away, I wonder if she sees how much I hate this school, and how much Senior year’s only going to be different because I’ll be here for as little time as physically possible and then I really wont care about the people here. Goal number one: Graduate Chandler City High and get out of Atlanta as soon as I can.
Whatever it takes right..?