You go to a state park. And you watch birds.
Freshman year, it was okay. Me and this girl Varsha Lakshman, who was new that year and swims butterfly, hung out a bit.
We all had rented binoculars and notebooks to record what birds we saw, and we hiked through various parks Harada took us to. We saw kinglets and nuthatches and pelicans down by the water. Varsha and I shared our lunches, and it seemed like we might be friends, but after November Week she settled in with the swim team girls and I went back to Cricket, Kim and Nora. Which was okay.2
But sophomore year, I was completely sullen through the whole thing. All my friends went river rafting, and Jackson and his friends went backpacking in the Canyonlands. Katarina, Heidi and Ariel did the lava caves. Varsha and the girls from swimming hiked Mount Rainier, and the girls from lacrosse did Be the Ball, which involved a lot of running and listening to motivational speakers.
And there I was, with a bunch of freshmen and one geeky junior guy whose name I never even knew, staring at the same old pelicans, going on the same old nature walks, with same old Harada enthusing on the beauties of nature and trying to get us to sketch landscapes with the colored-pencil set she carried around in her shoulder bag. Then I’d go home at night to hang out with my parents like a complete loser.
I didn’t want to bird-watch. I wanted to kiss Jackson on the top of a mountain and sneak out of my tent at night to meet him in the dark and make out under the stars. Or raft down an icy river, laughing with my friends.
When everyone got home, they had pictures of themselves rappelling off the sides of cliffs, or sitting together on the edge of a rubber raft, or standing in front of Mount Saint Helens. Me, I had another notebook filled with sketches of pelicans and phonetically rendered spellings of birdcalls.
“Why are these courses so expensive?” my mother asked, yet again, when I showed her the catalog. “November Week should be included in tuition.”
“Mom.”
“I’m only saying, Roo.”
“I’m making fifty dollars a week with the zoo job,” I said. “What if I pay for it myself?”
“Roo, it’ll take nine weeks for you to pay off one of these.”
“I’m not bird-watching again.”
“What about this one?” said my mom, pointing to a description in the catalog. “Plant a garden for Public School Eighty-one, a greening project.”
“That’s like what I do for Dad all the time. And I do it at the zoo. I don’t want to plant.”
“It’s seventy-five dollars. Daddy and I will pay for that.”
My father came in from the greenhouse. “Maybe we should consider it, Elaine,” he said, washing his hands at the kitchen sink. “We send her to Tate to get an education. This nature experience is part of it. Plus, it’s important for girls her age to bond with their peer group.”
“It’s too expensive.” My mother shook her head. “Now that you’ve spent our entire savings on that greenhouse.”
“Don’t start. I’ve already laid out how it’s going to pay for itself.”
“Call it a cash-flow issue if you must, but these courses are way overpriced considering what we have in the account, plus she’ll have to have rafting outfits and a backpack and whatnot.”
“It’s important for her to be with her friends.”
“She doesn’t even seem to like her friends anymore,” said my mother. “Cricket and Nora haven’t been over since school started.”
Ag. I had sort of convinced myself my parents hadn’t noticed my leprosy. “I’m sitting next to you, Mom, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“That’s exactly why she’s got to go on one of these trips,” argued my dad. “She’s spending too much time alone. It’ll be good for her self-esteem.”
“Did you have a falling-out with them, honey?” my mother asked. “With Cricket, or Kim?”
“No,” I lied. Since when were they actually observant?
“When I was sixteen,” she said, leaning back in her chair, “I had this girlfriend, Lisa. We were always falling out and making up again. It was practically like a relationship.”
“Mom,” I sighed. “I don’t need to hear about your quasi-lesbianism right now.”
“Ooh,” squealed my mother. “Do you think it was kind of lesbian? It’s normal for girls to have crushes on each other at that age.”
“I wish I’d known you when you were sixteen.” Dad came over and kissed her neck.
“You guys are going to make me chunder.” I stood up from the kitchen table.
“Please, Roo.” My mom pulled her hair into a ponytail, using a rubber band she yanked off her wrist. “It’s normal to experiment with sexuality at your age. Ooh, Kevin!” She turned to my dad. “Maybe Roo’s been questioning her orientation! Maybe that’s why she’s been having the panic things and doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
“Hello! I’m still here.”
“Elaine, we shouldn’t be prying into Roo’s personal life. She’s a teenager.”
“Exactly. Thanks, Dad.”
“If she wants to experiment,” he went on, “we should support her without quizzing her about it.”
More Ag.
“We’ll still love you if you’re a lesbian, Ruby,” my dad continued.
“I wonder if Lisa turned out to be a lesbian,” mused my mother. “Do you think it would turn up on Google?”
“This is not all about you, Elaine,” scolded Dad. “Let’s put the focus back on Roo.”
“I don’t want the focus,” I said. “You can have it all, Mom, really.”
“I am fine with it if you’re a lesbian, Roo,” announced my mom. “I have lots of gay friends.”3
“Do you think the falling-out with Kim and those guys was because of that?” my dad wondered aloud. “Ruby, do you want to share with us any problems you’re having with your friends?”
Ag! Ag! Ag!
I threw myself on the couch and pulled a pillow down on top of my head. “I just want to do something good for November Week!” I shouted. “I said I’d pay for it myself!”
Silence, for a moment.
My dad pulled out a chair and sat down. “You don’t have to make such a fuss,” he said finally. “All you have to do is ask.”
Choosing a November Week activity, though, proved harder than I thought.
Meghan was doing Canyonlands, which didn’t thrill me. It had only sounded good when I thought of going with Jackson. And besides, my parents would seriously object to buying me a hardcore backpack and the other paraphernalia I’d need.
No way was I doing whatever Katarina, Ariel and Heidi were doing. That would be a social nightmare. But I also had no way of finding out what their plans were so I could avoid them.
Part of me wanted to do whatever Jackson did, to see what would happen between us. But he was sure to be traveling in a posse with Kyle and Matt, and I could end up spending the whole time being ignored while he was manly-manly with the guys.
Anything involving a tent was out of the question. Unless I did Canyonlands with Meghan, I’d have no one to share with. And it didn’t seem like Noel and I were at the point where we’d make our November Week plans together.
My best bet was Nora. But if Nora was with Cricket, as she probably would be, then she’d barely speak to me. Unless Cricket could be convinced to come around and be friends with me again.
Then again, I wasn’t sure I wanted Cricket to come around anymore. We hadn’t spoken in five months.
“What do you want to do?” asked Doctor Z at our session on Tuesday.
“That’s what I’m saying. I don’t know.”
She was silent.
“You mean, what would I want to do if none of this social stuff existed?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I thought. “The social stuff exists. I’m a leper. We lepers have to make carefully calculated decisions.”