Disco Night
Danny Harris is going to pick me up tonight and take me to the roller rink. My mom said I couldn't go on a Friday night (I am allowed to go on Thursdays), so I said I was staying at Theresa's tonight and Danny Harris is going to drive me to Ambassador (the roller rink). I am not sure how the rest of it will work out, because I haven't talked to Theresa yet. I just hope she shows up tonight, or I am not going to have anywhere to stay. I'm sure she'll be there.
Danny Harris is way too old for me, and he scares me. Even though he is super popular with the roller skating crowd. He is so old that he was popular in the cool crowd at high school, but that was so long ago that I only know about it second hand. His time has passed in the high school range, and now he is somewhere else. He has his own apartment, I am pretty sure. And I think he might have gotten a girl pregnant or have lived with a girl something like that, too.
He is picking me up at Darby Drugs. I am not sure how to risk that one. I guess I will just have to hope my mom or stepdad don't come up there or drive by. I don't even really know Danny Harris. But his friend sort of likes me, Nice Guy, and he called and worked this out. I have to get going after dinner, which is gonna kind of suck in a way because Danny isn't picking me up until 8:30, so I'm gonna have like two hours of wandering. It's getting pretty cold out lately, too. Maybe I could walk over Donny's and hang out there for a while. Except he would be jealous about the whole Danny Harris thing. But he would tolerate it. I think.
Life sucks when you're only thirteen.
Today at school we had a substitue in Bratton's class. I usually like Bratton's okay anyway, but she was really cool. We didn't really do any of the assignments or anything (we are burning peanuts and stuff to learn what a calorie is), we just sort of all sat around and talked. Probably about five or six people talked with her the whole time. The rest of the class just goofed off doing their own thing, but I hung out on the edges of the people talking to her. Her sister or aunt or somebody is a movie star. Everyone seemed to know who it was, but I didn't. Why don't I know these things? I don't even know Stones songs. I am such a faker of life.
Anyway, she was cool, because she's really into psychology. I find that stuff pretty interesting. But it doesn't seem to have anything to do with the actual experiences I've had with counseling. Not much, anyway. Counseling has been useless in my life, but actual psychology seems to make a lot of sense. I could use the answers. I wonder if it's possible that counseling doesn't use psychology. No, that's dumb; it must. But my most recent counseling experience is a suck-ass time of zero help. Family counseling where you have to say things in front of the people you can't say things in front of in regular life. Bright, huh? I am supposed to say what I don't like about Nick, or what pisses me off about him, or explain how he is a dick, in front of him? It's retarded. The stupid counselor isn't the one who has to go home with him.
I better get ready to leave. I have to figure out how to hide what I'm wearing to the rink in my regular stuff. Trust me, I am subject to random inspections.
*****
There are a lot of things I could tell you that would make you sick. Things I’ve seen, and things I’ve done. Things I’ve thought. But I want you to keep reading, so I won’t. At least, not unless they slip out and I don’t notice, which is entirely possible. They are sneaky little bastards, those bits of evidence that incriminate a person and render them unlikeable.
And where is a person, really, if they are unlikable? What have you got if you are such that no person can like you? You have nothing, because all we have that makes us not in pain as living beings are relationships. Connections to other living beings. That’s it.
I’m stuck in the bathroom at the roller rink. I am back in a corner by the mirror, and there’s no way out through the crowd. It is a very small bathroom, but it gets totally packed. There are only two stalls. People come in here to get high, though, not use the bathroom (at least not that often). The room is probably only as big as, like a house bathroom or something, but I can’t hardly see the door right now because the smoke is so thick in the air. I am younger than most of the people in here, and am at high risk of getting my ass kicked or something. So far, it doesn’t seem like anyone has really noticed me, or picked me out, anyway. But if I try to push my way through, forget it. I’ve been in here like half an hour already. Probably Craig is already skating with someone else since I disappeared on him. Or else he’s really mad; I’m not sure how he will go, I haven’t known him very long.
Next to me is a kind of chubby girl who looks sort of nice. I wonder if she would let me bum a cigarette off her. At least then I wouldn’t look like such an idiot standing here. Kind of blend in, at least. I wonder if Theresa is here yet. She knows how to deal with older girls and could get me out of here, no problem. Probably she would know half of them and smoke and laugh and stuff. She is tough for our age. I think because she has an older sister, Lily, who got her used to it all.
Oh, I like this song. Damn, I wish I was out there so I could skate to it. It’s “I want to rock and roll all night (and party ev-er-y day).” I think it’s by KISS, but I’m not sure. It’s a really good one to skate to. I can round the corners just right while sort of bouncing to it, and I know my butt looks good. I have on these light blue jeans that are impossible to sit in, so they are perfect for the rink (because you hardly ever sit down here). The only time I really sit at the rink is either to put my skates on or off, or to sit by a guy or rest, and both of those are usually in sort of dark areas, so I can hide my stomach pretty good.
I don’t have my own skates; mine are the rentals. But I do have pom-poms to put on the rentals; I love them. They are huge and puffy and green and white. I’ve wanted them for so long. I am torn about getting my own skates, or at least trying to (I think they are pretty expensive). Pretty much only this girl named Dawn has her own skates here, at least of the cool people. And she is like a professional skater or something, so it’s different. The rest of the people with their own skates are dorks.
If I grow up, I am going to be the coolest adult. I am going to be really nice to kids my age, and understand them and what they are going through. I would never ignore their personalities or feelings like my adults do.
Danny Harris is way too old for me, and he scares me. Even though he is super popular with the roller skating crowd. He is so old that he was popular in the cool crowd at high school, but that was so long ago that I only know about it second hand. His time has passed in the high school range, and now he is somewhere else. He has his own apartment, I am pretty sure. And I think he might have gotten a girl pregnant or have lived with a girl something like that, too.
He is picking me up at Darby Drugs. I am not sure how to risk that one. I guess I will just have to hope my mom or stepdad don't come up there or drive by. I don't even really know Danny Harris. But his friend sort of likes me, Nice Guy, and he called and worked this out. I have to get going after dinner, which is gonna kind of suck in a way because Danny isn't picking me up until 8:30, so I'm gonna have like two hours of wandering. It's getting pretty cold out lately, too. Maybe I could walk over Donny's and hang out there for a while. Except he would be jealous about the whole Danny Harris thing. But he would tolerate it. I think.
Life sucks when you're only thirteen.
Today at school we had a substitue in Bratton's class. I usually like Bratton's okay anyway, but she was really cool. We didn't really do any of the assignments or anything (we are burning peanuts and stuff to learn what a calorie is), we just sort of all sat around and talked. Probably about five or six people talked with her the whole time. The rest of the class just goofed off doing their own thing, but I hung out on the edges of the people talking to her. Her sister or aunt or somebody is a movie star. Everyone seemed to know who it was, but I didn't. Why don't I know these things? I don't even know Stones songs. I am such a faker of life.
Anyway, she was cool, because she's really into psychology. I find that stuff pretty interesting. But it doesn't seem to have anything to do with the actual experiences I've had with counseling. Not much, anyway. Counseling has been useless in my life, but actual psychology seems to make a lot of sense. I could use the answers. I wonder if it's possible that counseling doesn't use psychology. No, that's dumb; it must. But my most recent counseling experience is a suck-ass time of zero help. Family counseling where you have to say things in front of the people you can't say things in front of in regular life. Bright, huh? I am supposed to say what I don't like about Nick, or what pisses me off about him, or explain how he is a dick, in front of him? It's retarded. The stupid counselor isn't the one who has to go home with him.
I better get ready to leave. I have to figure out how to hide what I'm wearing to the rink in my regular stuff. Trust me, I am subject to random inspections.
*****
There are a lot of things I could tell you that would make you sick. Things I’ve seen, and things I’ve done. Things I’ve thought. But I want you to keep reading, so I won’t. At least, not unless they slip out and I don’t notice, which is entirely possible. They are sneaky little bastards, those bits of evidence that incriminate a person and render them unlikeable.
And where is a person, really, if they are unlikable? What have you got if you are such that no person can like you? You have nothing, because all we have that makes us not in pain as living beings are relationships. Connections to other living beings. That’s it.
I’m stuck in the bathroom at the roller rink. I am back in a corner by the mirror, and there’s no way out through the crowd. It is a very small bathroom, but it gets totally packed. There are only two stalls. People come in here to get high, though, not use the bathroom (at least not that often). The room is probably only as big as, like a house bathroom or something, but I can’t hardly see the door right now because the smoke is so thick in the air. I am younger than most of the people in here, and am at high risk of getting my ass kicked or something. So far, it doesn’t seem like anyone has really noticed me, or picked me out, anyway. But if I try to push my way through, forget it. I’ve been in here like half an hour already. Probably Craig is already skating with someone else since I disappeared on him. Or else he’s really mad; I’m not sure how he will go, I haven’t known him very long.
Next to me is a kind of chubby girl who looks sort of nice. I wonder if she would let me bum a cigarette off her. At least then I wouldn’t look like such an idiot standing here. Kind of blend in, at least. I wonder if Theresa is here yet. She knows how to deal with older girls and could get me out of here, no problem. Probably she would know half of them and smoke and laugh and stuff. She is tough for our age. I think because she has an older sister, Lily, who got her used to it all.
Oh, I like this song. Damn, I wish I was out there so I could skate to it. It’s “I want to rock and roll all night (and party ev-er-y day).” I think it’s by KISS, but I’m not sure. It’s a really good one to skate to. I can round the corners just right while sort of bouncing to it, and I know my butt looks good. I have on these light blue jeans that are impossible to sit in, so they are perfect for the rink (because you hardly ever sit down here). The only time I really sit at the rink is either to put my skates on or off, or to sit by a guy or rest, and both of those are usually in sort of dark areas, so I can hide my stomach pretty good.
I don’t have my own skates; mine are the rentals. But I do have pom-poms to put on the rentals; I love them. They are huge and puffy and green and white. I’ve wanted them for so long. I am torn about getting my own skates, or at least trying to (I think they are pretty expensive). Pretty much only this girl named Dawn has her own skates here, at least of the cool people. And she is like a professional skater or something, so it’s different. The rest of the people with their own skates are dorks.
If I grow up, I am going to be the coolest adult. I am going to be really nice to kids my age, and understand them and what they are going through. I would never ignore their personalities or feelings like my adults do.
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