Secrets of a Teenage Dirtbag

There was no time for crying and yet here I was, in an airport bathroom stall, ripping off sheets of toilet paper after another and dabbing my eyes. Maybe it was the fact that I'd gotten about ten hours of sleep over the past three days that I was so emotionally unstable. It had been a blur of social workers and public transportation. I was constantly surrounded, under surveillance, like some sort of criminal. They had all told me, "None of this is your fault", yet I still felt weighed down with guilt. Pull yourself together Jasey, I told myself and tore another sheet off the roll.

I'd been in Maryland for over ten minutes, just sitting here. I wondered what would happen if I never moved from this spot. Would anyone come looking for me? Then I remembered that there was a car service waiting to take me to Tanya's and I got up. Having regained a shred of my composure, I left the bathroom and made my way over to luggage claim. When I spotted my suitcase on the conveyor belt, I grabbed the handle and yanked it down to my feet.

It was light, which was no surprise. After all, I'd only packed the basics: two pairs of jeans, underwear and socks, a few tops and a brand new toothbrush I'd picked up in the terminal before my flight. The rest was at my mom's house. Good as gone.

Outside, I found my driver. He looked old, crows feet around his eyes and lines that dug deep into his forehead. Gray hair poked out from underneath the cap he was wearing that made him look like he should be steering a boat instead of a car. He was holding up a sign with my name on it.

"Jasey Burke," I said. He smiled politely, tucking the sign under his arm, and took my suitcase. As he shoved it in the trunk, I let myself into the backseat and pressed back into the leathery interior.

When the car stopped, my eyes shot open. I looked out the window at the two story suburban home, my hands sweating as I reached for the door handle. I'd never seen Tanya's house before. I mean, I'd seen her old one when we were neighbors, but after the move, the only correspondence we'd had was through birthday cards she sent and maybe a brief phone call. As the driver handed my bag to me, the front door swung open and out came Tanya.

"Jasey, it's so good to see you!" she came running towards me, scooping me up in her arms so tight I dropped my suitcase, feeling the alignment in my back shift. She was warm and smelled like peaches.

"Good to see you too, Aunt Tee." She wasn't my real aunt, but she was the closest thing I had to family. When Social Services was looking for someone to take me in, they tried my relatives first. My mom's sister had two five year old twins to deal with and another baby on the way. Anyone on my dad's side—including my dad—was unreachable. I'd gone out on a limb when I asked for Tanya, a single mother with one teenager already. She'd said yes in a heartbeat.

Tanya paid the driver and grabbed my bag in one hand, placing her free one on my back as she lead me inside. The moment we stepped through the doorway, a small dog sprinted towards me, pawing at my shins. It was white and looked like a cotton ball with feet.

"That's Gigi," Tanya said, nudging the dog away from me with her foot. "She gets excited when she meets new people."

She brought me upstairs, into the guest room—which was now mine, I guess—and set my suitcase down on the bed. "Your favorite color's still blue, right?" she asked, looking at the walls. I looked at them too, nodding. They were painted sky blue, the color popping in contrast to the hardwood floor. "We painted it over for you. It sure does look nicer than that yellow we had in here." She made a face as though she couldn't believe she'd had yellow walls in her guest room before this.

"You didn't have to go to all that trouble," I said.

She shook her head at me. "Nonsense, this old house could use some redecorating anyway."

I smiled and she smiled. It was like a conversation that didn't need words. An understanding that we shared. This was my home now too and Tanya was going to do everything in her power to make it feel that way.



It's hard to believe, but my mom used to be a sweet person. When I was younger, she didn't have a job because my dad was a big shot corporate guy and he took care of us. She stayed home with me every day, playing the radio loud and singing along to songs about love as she cooked and tidied up around the house. She always had a smile on her face, like there wasn't a thing in the world to be unhappy about. Then at six, when my dad would come home for dinner, he would have chocolate for me and flowers for my mom.

This happy family routine lasted until I was twelve. My parents started arguing more and my dad stopped coming home for dinner. There was always something at work that needed his attention, but my mom and I knew there was something else going on. Something he was keeping from us. When I'd come home from school, I'd hear the radio on in the kitchen, playing a miserable yet pretty tune as my mom got dinner ready. She didn't sing anymore, only listened.

It wasn't until I was fourteen that I found out my dad was seeing someone else. I was in my room, but I could still overhear him telling my mom that he didn't love her anymore and he wanted a divorce. Not long after, he left us for his fiancé to start a new family and enjoy the life we weren't able to give him. Thats's when the woman my mom had been truly died. She got a job at Kohl's, which gave her very little time to cook for the two of us, so we started ordering in more often. Those were the worst days.

I felt gross eating takeout every night and it was beginning to take its toll on my appearance. My jeans began to shrink on me and you could see my stomach popping out under all of my shirts. It made looking in the mirror seem like a chore. I hated the person I was becoming and I wasn't the only one. People used to say I took after my dad and I think that's why my mom grew bitter towards me after he left. I reminded her of him and she'd stare at me sometimes, looking at me like I disgusted her. After awhile, I was disgusted by myself too.

I remember the first day I cut perfectly. My mom had already gone to bed, so I snuck into the bathroom where I kept my shaving razor. I'd figured out how to break it open to get the blades out and once I got one, I ran it across my arm, letting the sting and numbness that followed give me relief. Dealing with my mom became somewhat easier after that. Dealing with myself got a lot harder though.

I'd lock the bathroom door, take off my clothes, and look at myself in the mirror, pinching every bit of fat I saw until the skin turned a different color. I'd start to cry and that made me feel even more pathetic. It wasn't until I was sixteen that I decided to make a change. I stopped eating the food my mom brought home. I kept myself on a strict water and cracker diet and I went running every day until the fat was gone. After all that progress I'd made, I had expected to feel good or pretty again when I looked in the mirror, but even though I was skinny, I didn't feel any different.

I was still gross. I still had scars. I still wasn't satisfied.



Tanya showed me the rest of the house, concluding the tour in the kitchen, where she immediately got busy fixing dinner. My stomach growled as the smell of fried chicken wafted through the air. On the stove, she had a thick, creamy rice going that made me regret just eyeing it. I asked Tanya where she kept her glasses and filled one to the brim with water from the tap. If I filled up now, I wouldn't be tempted to eat as much food.

"It'll be ready in a minute, how 'bout you set the table. Alex should be home soon," Tanya said, over her pot of rice. She told me where the plates and silver were kept and I grabbed three of everything. It wasn't until the food was on the table and the two of us were seated that the front door opened.

"Mom!" Alex called.

"In here!" Tanya called back. He walked in, stopping once he saw me.

"Hey, Jasey!" he smiled, coming around to give me a hug. Of course I figured he would remember me, but I was still caught off guard. He looked so different. Longer and much darker, his hair swept nicely across his forehead, sticking out in a few places—it worked on him. And he was tall, not as gangly looking, wearing a gray hoodie over a Green Day t-shirt and black jeans.

We sat down and took turns filling our plates. I took one piece of chicken and a modest serving of rice.

"Not hungry, Jasey?" Tanya asked.

"They gave us lunch on the plane. I'm still kinda full," I replied. I was only partly lying. They had served food to us, I just never ate it.

I picked up my fork and forced down two scoops of rice, feeling the gooey clump slide down my throat, hitting my stomach like a rock. I already felt uncomfortable, afraid to look down at my gut, incase it was poking out. You can take care of it later. I repeated a few times in my head.

"Now that you're all settled, how about you and Alex go out tomorrow," Tanya said, her voice excited and optimistic. She turned to Alex, "You could introduce her to your friends. Hang out like you used to."

Alex and I had been best friends back when we lived next-door to each other. I remembered playing on the swings in his backyard as little kids and going to middle school dances together. I'm not sure where along the way we stopped talking after he moved. I wondered how much he'd changed since then.

"Yeah sure," he said and looked at me, "I got band practice at Jack's around one. You can hang out if you want."

Alex was in a band? "Okay," I nodded, shoving another scoop of rice into mouth.

The next day Alex took me to his friend's house. It was just a few blocks away, we could have walked—I could have burned off last night's dinner—but Alex decided to take his mom's Honda instead. He parked across the street since the driveway was full and I helped him lug his gear to the front door.

"It's open," Alex said, hands full.

I felt weird barging in unannounced, but turned the knob anyway. The inside looked a lot like Alex's house. Big open foyer, living room just a few steps to the left, kitchen straight ahead. There wasn't a soul in sight, but I could hear the faint sound of an electric guitar and symbols crashing, making the floor tremble under our feet. I looked at Alex.

"Guess they started without me."

The basement smelled like a mix of pizza and B.O. It was basically a square box, cramped with band equipment, different colored wires strewn all over the graying white carpet. Across the room was a sorry looking couch, where a toothpick thin girl with pale skin and hair as black as her winged eyeliner sat, staring at her iPhone. She was pretty, which made me want to pull a brown paper bag over my head to avoid any comparisons made between the two of us.

"Dude, you're late," a lanky guy with a candy-apple red guitar slung across his chest said to Alex.

"I had to walk Gigi," Alex explained as he pulled his guitar out from the case and began tuning it. Then he nodded toward me. "This is Jasey. She's my friend from Texas."

I felt all the blood rush to my face as everyone looked my way. The same guy who'd just scolded Alex for being late studied me for a moment.

"You're the one who's crashing here all summer." He said it matter-of-factly, like he was informing me rather than asking. My mouth went dry. Had Alex talked about me to his friends? He must've told them I was coming, but did he say why? I swallowed the lump in my throat, realizing I still hadn't replied.

Alex and his two other bandmates were focused on their instruments now. The girl on the couch—I was pretty sure she hadn't looked at me for more than two seconds—was back to swiping her finger across her touchscreen. The lanky boy was still looking at me, waiting.

"Uh, yeah that's me," I finally said.

He smiled. "I'm Jack."

Behind him, the girl on the couch looked up from her phone. Her eyes were narrowed, watching the two of us carefully. Jealous girlfriend? I wondered. Not that I was a threat to her at all.

"Nice to meet you," I said, looking away from her. Sitting together for the next hour was going to be awkward now.

"You too."

"Hey Jack-off, wanna stop talking to the girls and start practicing please?" Alex, who was now ready at his mic stand, interrupted. Jack spun around and hustled back to his spot. I walked over to the couch, sitting as far away from the Ice Queen as possible. The guys started playing and I was blown away as soon as Alex began the first verse. I'd never heard him sing before and he was surprisingly good. I snuck a quick glance at Jack. He looked like a pro, expertly moving his fingers along the neck of his guitar.

He caught me watching, our eyes meeting for a split second, and winked. I quickly looked away, the heat returning to my cheeks. That was directed at Ice Queen, not me. Either that or he had some kind of weird facial twitch. I looked over at Alex again and kept my eyes locked on him for the rest of the song. It wasn't a wink. Most definitely not a wink.