Janie's Eternal Freedom

“You know, Marcus seems like a lovely boy. Why aren’t you pursuing your relationship further?” Mom says to me after I slam the front door closed. I just came home from Marcus’ house to find my mom doing jumping jacks in the living room.

I shrug while glazing my eyes over my mother’s dyed blonde hair. Mom used to be really pretty, but then when she had me, my dad convinced her that she was getting fat, so she got a tummy-tuck. She got so addicted to plastic surgery that she gets an operation every few months.

My mom used to be the top of her class in highschool, and then she met my dad at UC Berkeley, where they decided to become idiots and drop out of college to start their own business. They got married, and mom got “preggo” with me after 2 months, and because of me, she dropped out of the business deal and let my dad take over. 4 years later, he became the CEO of Hydrola Energy Drink and bought a house in Ellewich.

My family’s not picture-perfect, but I love them anyway.

“Marcus is intelligent, and I bet he could give you a few pointers about how to get into UC Berkeley.” She says, stopping her jumping jacks and continuing on to squat thrusts.

Another thing about mom is that she wants me to continue her legacy. Since she couldn’t finish her college degree, she wants me to do it for her. It’s irritating, actually. She’s always telling me about her “glory days” and how much fun she had in college. Preferably, I’d like to go somewhere other than Berkeley. I just want to be different from my mom, and I don’t want to be in her shadow.

“Yeah. He’s very smart.” I remark, trudging into the kitchen to grab something to drink. I open up the fridge, and come face to face with rows of Hydrola. VeryCherry, PoppinPomegrenate, GreatGrape, you name it, my fridge has it.

I roll my eyes and reach in the back for a bottle of water. As I sip it slowly, I revel on how artificial this tastes.

Mom comes into the kitchen, wobbling like she has a hangover. Her head is coated with sweat and her hair is sticking disgustingly to her head. She grabs a Hydrola bottle and drains everything with one gulp. She throws it in the recycling bin and sits across the kitchen counter from me.

She gestures towards her nails and says, “Do you like the color? I just got them done today. Oh, it looks so pretty.” Mom holds her hand in front of her, admiring the light pink color stained on her long nails.

“Yeah, I like it.” I say, emotionless. Mom frowns at me, but she immediately grins again. “What do you say that we go shopping this weekend? We need to get you a whole new wardrobe that you can where in Berkeley!” She exclaims. I turn around and roll my eyes, only because if mom sees me rolling her eyes at her, she’ll probably bitch at me for about an hour.

“It’s the middle of October, mom. I have a lot of time until college.” I say. Mom lets out a puff of air and shrugs. She still smiles, though.

“It’s never too early to think about the necessities of college! Come on Janie. I’m just really excited about UC Berkeley!”

I scoff. “Mom, I didn’t even get accepted yet.” I say, taking the last sip of my water. Mom laughs and grabs me by the shoulders, startling me. “I know you’ll get in. I just know it.”

Suddenly, my phone rings. I look down on the screen, and I see I have a new text from Marcus. Leave it to him to pick this of all times to text me.

You were amazing an hour ago babe. Keep up the good work. ;)

----Marcus

“Who’s texting you, sweetheart? You must be a popular girl!” She exclaims, trying to look at my phone screen. I press it to my chest, hoping that my mother will just move on to another topic, but she pushes it even further.

“It’s no one.” I say, carefully putting the phone on the table. If she sees me delete it, she’ll know that something is up.

Mom slyly smiles and taps her finger against her head. “It’s Marcus, isn’t it? You two are so cute together!” I hate it when my mom acts like this. I hate it when she pretends to have an interest in my love life, when all she really wants to do is make sure I’m not doing drugs.

“No, it’s not-” Suddenly, mom grabs the phone out of my hand, and stares at the screen wide-eyed. She glares at me and looks at the screen again.

“Janie Anne Kooly, what have you been doing with Marcus Flynn?” she says, eyeing me with suspicion.

Act cool. Act cool. My mind says. What should I say? If I say that I’m having sex with him, she’ll freak and call my dad, then he’ll come down early from work and I’ll be grounded for the rest of my years.

So I decide to use something that mom absolutely loves. UC Berkeley.

“Marcus is helping me study. He’s helping me study so that I can get into Berkeley.”

Mom puts down my phone and plants a huge smile on her face. She puts her hands on her hips, winks at me, and screams.

If it weren’t for the fact that she is my mom, I would probably bolt through the front door with my cell phone and wallet, hitching the next train ride to Denmark

She grabs me by the shoulders again. “Oh honey, I am so glad that you are taking action into trying to get into the college of your dreams. Hell, it was the college of my dreams! I know that you’re going to get in, Janie. Your soul belongs in UC Berkeley.”

My mom lets go of my shoulders and hugs me tight. I don’t hug her back for a while, but then I remember how much college really means to her. She didn’t have a chance to live the life of her dreams, so she wants me to live mine. Except, I’m sort of a reincarnation of some sort.

So I hug her back, and mentally curse at Marcus for sending me that text.

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

I rush into the bathroom as soon as soon as the lunch bell rings.

Lunchtime in Jackson Visitation Co-Ed Preparatory School is Hell on earth.

There’s really only one main group, the “in-crowd”, who sit right smack in the middle of the cafeteria, sipping their all-herb tea and snacking on a pieces of lettuce. Everyone looks at them, but mostly because they laugh too loud and yell out random things for no apparent reason. They think that they’re stars. And in a way, they somewhat are.

Everyone else just goes about their business; eating regular lunches with regular food while chatting with their regular friends, while the “populars” all laugh out loud at some stupid joke Rigg probably conjured up. The only one that I like in that pathetic little group is Rigg. He’s so easy to be around with, and he never really insults anyone. I don’t know if it’s because he’s extremely nice, or he’s not that good at swearing.

And, he invited me to his party. I’ve only been to one highschool bash, and that was when I accidentally took a wrong turn into another neighborhood, where I knocked on Jill Forman’s house to ask for directions. It turned out that she had this wild get-together and I had to figure out my own way of getting home.

Just as I’m about to finish my muffin from Starbuck’s, Jill Forman and Libby Osbourne come bursting into the bathroom, giggling hysterically like they’ve won America’s Next Top Model.

As soon as I’m in sight, they stop laughing and proceed over to the mirror, where Jill whips out an eyeliner pencil out of her white hobo bag. She brushes her long blonde hair out of her eyes, and looks at me like I’m intruding on their property.

Libby looks behind her shoulder at me in such a graceful manner that if I tried it, I’d look like an awkward monkey. That’s another thing why I’m so jealous of Libby. She’s so graceful and elegant while I dance like a dying frog.

“Well, are you just going to stand there like an idiot or are you going to give us some privacy?” Jill exclaims, highlighting Libby’s eyes with a smirk on her face.

I throw away my muffin and adjust my leather jacket. “I have as much right to be here as you do, Jill. My life doesn’t revolve around making sure your eyes look gorgeous.” I say. Score one for me. I mumble in my head.

Jill pulls away from Libby, looking annoyed and frustrated. She groans, slips on some lip gloss, and looks at me. “Do you really want to go through this, Jane?”

“It’s Janie.” I say. This feels like Rigg all over again.

Jill flips her hair and puts her bag down, walking towards me in long strides. She attempts to look confident and sexy, but she just looks like a wannabe model. “Like I care. I really don’t think that you should say anything more, unless you want your highschool life broken in half. Do I make myself clear?” Libby strides up next to her and puts one hand on her hip. Libby wouldn’t dare talk back to me. She’s known me for too long to understand that I won’t back down without a fight.

“Yes, you’re making yourself exceptionally clear. You do know what exceptionally means, right? Or do you spend your time rolling around in the sheets with some other manwhore to even look at a book? No wonder I heard a rumor about your dad cashing your college fund. You’ll probably just end up on a pole anyways.” I say. Jill’s mouth is dropped open, while Libby steps in front of her and glares at me. “Enough, Janie. Can’t you just give it a rest? You don’t need to act so tough all the time, even though everyone knows you’re dying to be one of us.” She says.

I hate it how she says one of us, like she’s completely abandoned all memories of me. I hate Libby. I hate her so much. How could she just throw away our friendship for bitches like Jill Forman?

“Jealous? You’d think I’d be jealous of a group of people who have no future except for taking orders behind a McDonald’s counter?” I say. Jill and Libby just laugh and look at me with piercing eyes. “I know you have this little act that you’re trying to maintain, but I know better than that. You think we all don’t know that you’d give everything you have to be my friend again? Please, Janie. We’re not that stupid.” Libby says, getting up in my face. She hands me the eyeliner and whispers to me, “You’ll need this. Your eyes look like mucus.”

Libby is horrible. That’s all I have to say about her right now. It’s like all those years of friendship just melted away. “You know Libby; you should remember who held you hair when you threw up in the girls’ bathroom after eating some bad spaghetti. Because I want you to know that this little prick will never do that for you.” I say, throwing the eyeliner in Jill’s face and walk out of the bathroom as calmly as I can, even though I’m ready to burst into tears.

I run into the parking lot, where I make a beeline for my car. No one’s in the lot, they’re all in the cafeteria, going about their daily lives, unaware that I’m crying like a mad man.

Suddenly, I hear the door close on another vehicle, so I check my face in the rearview mirror and see that I look disgusting. My mascara is running down my face while my cheeks are red from all the crying.

Oh well. Right now, I don’t care what anybody thinks about me.

I hear footsteps, but I keep on crying. It’s coming towards me, but I don’t look.

“Well, if it isn’t little Janie Kooly, what are you doing-hey why are you crying your eyes out? Your makeup is running, just so you know.” I look up to see Torrin Kennedy carrying a bag of Chipotle, probably to share with Libby or Rigg or someone else. I can’t believe the look on his face. Like he’s actually concerned about me.

“Look, what do you want, OK? I am really not in the mood to put up with your bullshit right now. Just, what do you want, Torrin?” I say. He looks shocked and maybe even a bit hurt, but he just shifts in his place.

“Nothing. Look, if you don’t want me to do any bullshit, I’ll just ask you when we can meet up for the science project.”

“I’m not helping you.” I state, looking at my steering wheel and scratching my neck. Everything is silent for a moment before I look at Torren and he looks even more hurt. “Why?!” He almost yells.

I groan and cover my face with my hands. “Did you see the way you looked at me when Libby called you yesterday morning? You looked at me with pure disgust, as if I-as if I sicken you. Why would I want to help you with anything after that?”

Torrin sighs and puts his Chipotle bag on the ground. He rests his arm against the bottom of my open car window and sighs again. “I didn’t think you’d take it to heart! It’s just, Libby is really pushy about appearance and image and all that shit, and I don’t want to upset her, because, well to be honest, she’s hard to handle sometimes. Besides, you’re tough, so I thought you’d just shrug it off.”

I scoff. “Well, if you think I’m tough, you might also know that I’m a girl, and I have feelings, OK? I know that I probably sound like a crybaby right now, but I just can’t help you.”

Torrin breathes in and out, before resting a hand on my shoulder. I shrug it off, making him look surprisingly hurt. “It’s just-my dad-”

“Is the real reason really your dad, or do you just want to be more of a bastard towards me?” I say. I mentally slap my hand over my mouth as soon as I finish saying it. I know that what I just said is incredibly rude, but I can’t take it back now.

Torrin gulps and looks at the ground. I feel horrible. “No, Torrin, I didn’t mean it-”

“No, I get it. Because all I am to you is just something that you scraped off the bottom of your shoe. I have no feelings, I have no dreams, and I have no regrets. I am just so heartless that I will go straight down to hell.”

Torrin tosses me a burrito out of his bag and walks away, but I get out of the car and try to run after him. I obviously can’t, since Torrin is like a superstar athlete while I spend 90% of the day sitting and watching TV. I’m also holding the burrito in my hand, feeling its hotness warm against my skin.

“Torrin, I really didn’t mean it. I’m sorry OK?” I say, hoping that he’ll turn around.

Instead, he walks towards me with a disappointed look written all over his face. As soon as we’re in talking distance of each other, he sighs. “OK.” He whispers.

We stand there for a few minutes, not really knowing what to do, before Torrin suddenly blurts out, “Did Libby make you cry?”

I stand there, shocked, before I compose myself and rock back on my heels. “Why would you think that?” I say, folding my arms in front of my chest.

He looks at me sincerely. “You and Libby used to be best friends, and she always talks shit about you, and-”

“Yeah. Key word there. Used to.” I interrupt. We’re silent for a few more moments. A slight breeze comes through and messes up my hair.

“You know she really isn’t that bad.” Torrin says. I scoff. “Oh really? Because apparently to her, my eyes look like mucus.”

There’s another stretch of awkward silence before Torrin looks at me like he knows something that I don’t. “Your eyes don’t look like mucus.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, to you they probably look like giant pools of vomit.” Torrin laughs nervously, although it seems like he’s hurt for some reason. “You really think that I think that your eyes look like vomit? Let alone mucus?”

I shrug and murmur, “I don’t know.”

Torrin laughs nervously again and sighs. “Well, for all it counts, I think that your eyes are gorgeous.”

“What?” I ask.

Torrin shrugs. “I’m just speaking my mind.”

Silence erupts again between the two of us, and that’s when I really try and observe Torrin’s facial features. He really is handsome, with high cheekbones and big, brown eyes. His hair is disheveled and he looks extremely nervous, but he’s still wonderfully handsome.

“You know, Libby isn’t really that terrible. We were best friends, and I know she can get really moody.” I say, trying to break the ice. “No, you’re right. She is pretty mean.” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

“Come to Rigg’s party, OK?” Torrin almost demands. I shrug. “Can I bring Marcus?” I ask.

Torrin’s eyes pierce through me like he’s trying to tell me something. I can’t really figure out what, but he looks so upset and hurt that it must be something big. He immediately grits his teeth and rumples his hair.

“Sure. Bring the braniac of JV. Because he’s so cool and he’s so smart that girls flock to him.” Torrin says. “Hey! Marcus is-”

“Whatever! Bring Marcus if you want, but if I see another episode of you cuddling, I swear I’m going to puke.”

“Look, Torrin, what the fuck is your problem with Marcus?” I ask, arching my eyebrows at him.

He looks at me again. “Nothing. It’s just…he stole this girl that I really like, OK?” Torrin says, and after that sentence, he turns right back around on his heels and continues to proceed into the school.

I’m speechless. Could Torrin be talking about me?

No. You’re too ugly. My mind says. I wipe off a stray tear off my cheek and proceed back inside my car. I’m still a little bit hungry, and thankfully, the burrito is still hot.