Saving a Tree Revision

Saving a Tree

Mondays.

“Katlyn, time to get up.”

If it weren’t for the rays of sunlight grazing my cheek, I would have rolled over and gone back to sleep. As it was, I gazed up at the two solitary decorations in the cramped space proclaimed my room. Hello Nora, morning John, nice to see your never fading smiles. Why did Lucy give me these posters again? I don’t even know who John Lennon and Nora Roberts are. Of course, they do cover up that nasty stain on the ceiling well. And hey, they give the faded white walls some personality. It’s just not MY personality.

Just another day. My voice croaked as I called out, “Mom, what’s for breakfast?”

No Answer.

“Great.”

Yet again, Sandy left early for work, leaving me to get the girls ready for school, as well as myself. I wonder if this will become more routine as she advances in her real-estate career. Sure, being a single mom is tough work, but it’s possible to at least make an effort to be around. And yet, she’s still doing a better job than Dad, who just left one night, about three months after Ani was born.

Looking over at the clock, I swore under my breath and hopped out of bed.

“She didn’t have the decency to wake me up on time? What is this?”

Now I’m done for. First period’s already over and now I have to drop thing one and thing two off at school, I’ll never make it in time! Throwing on the closest T-shirt (which was probably dirty) and the old, ripped jeans (not fashionably, but rather from age) worn yesterday, I threw my hair up into a quick bun and stabbed it with a pencil. With less than ten minutes to leave the apartment, there’s no time for vanity. Grabbing my knapsack and ducking into the hallway, a string of profanities escape from my lips. At least Jenna and Ani are already awake. Getting those two to rise in the morning is hell.

“Ok guys, get dressed, brush your teeth and then we’re leaving!”

There’s no doubt in my mind they’ll do otherwise; they listen to me more than they do their own mother. Tripping over a partially dismembered Barbie strewn about the hall, I emerged into the would-be kitchen and tried to scrounge up some lunch for Ani. The one thing Sandy never forgot was lunch money for Jenna. As if everything was magically fixed with cash.

A peanut butter sandwich, juice box, and some dorritos would have to suffice.

Ani is always so picky, but this morning there is no time for special orders. At that moment, the girls came trotting out of the bathroom, backpacks bouncing behind them. Jenna looked well put together; a pink buttoned up shirt with white capris and her favorite flip-flops. Ani never likes to settle for standard, sporting a lime green three quarter sleeve shirt with fusia shorts and blue-green striped leggings. To top off this masterpiece, cat-eye framed sunglasses the color of golden rod, and about thirty bracelets on one arm. Go Ani.

Upon the day of receiving my license, I was dubbed the family chauffer. Of course, money for gas did not come in the benefits package. Nope, that’s what all of my babysitting money went to.

That doesn’t even make sense. Babysit to receive money, and then spend all of it on gas to tote those same children around? That’s a never-ending circle! It’s like I’m not even getting paid at all! Fantastic.

So now it’s off to school. Ani first, because the Little Feet Pre School opens up early and it’s the closest. Driving up to the front door, I barely make it to a complete stop, I’m driving so fast. Screeching to a halt, I almost hit a woman who has a hunch and snowy white hair. Of course. The bitch is greeter this morning.

“I see you’re running late again this morning,” she sneered. This woman never gives up an opportunity to nag someone. “Don’t you think you should be more careful when you’re driving? You do realize that those children’s lives are in your hands, don’t you? You’d do well to remember that the next time you’re speeding through a red light.”

“Thanks for the advice,” said through gritted teeth. This lady never has anything nice to say. “Bye Ani, I’ll pick you up after school!”

“Bye Kitty! I love you! I-”

Of course, prissy old hag has to pull her away before she could finish what she was saying. Maud. That’s her name. If there is anything I cannot stand, it’s this woman always dragging Ani away. As if she had that right.

Stop number two: Brown Elementary School. Jenna’s in her fifth year, but everyone knows she’s was way too smart to be in the class she is. She was kept from going to school with the class above her because she missed the birth date deadline by three weeks. Alas, Sandy wasn’t up for a fight with the school’s PTO. Actually, maybe it was a blessing, because when her high school days come, Jenna will be fully prepared, and it would be no surprise to me if she becomes valedictorian. Jenna is smart and independent, cunning and full of ambition. If anyone from this family has a chance at success, it’s her.

Stopping by the bike racks to let her out, I hand over the lunch money and give her a kiss on the cheek, as the daily ritual predicts. There she goes, the little protégé, off to her classes, and won’t be seen until five, when she gets back from clarinet practice. In a way, this makes Mondays a day off.

Shit! Three minutes left. There is no way I am going to make it to school on time. Maybe Mr. Wuaters will give me a late pass, being my guidance counselor and understanding the occasional dysfunctional days I have. Maybe not.

It was already 20 minutes into second period when I arrived. Oh my god, my life is a joke! Of course this is the day that Mr. Wuaters calls out sick, or whatever.

“Great, just great. Now what do I do?”

There’s no way out of this one, I am going to get that office detention. Trudging up to the front door, I look around in desperation, hoping that maybe superman will fly in and explain to the principal that I could not get in on time because Lex Luther had tried to blow my car up. Too bad this is reality. No heroes today.

Making my way through the main corridor, I’m absolutely dying on the inside. Every step takes me closer and closer to my doom. Ouch, there goes my allowance. Step. Ooh, there are three extra chores. Step. I can’t take this. Darting into the nearest bathroom, I stop to take a breather. Confrontation is not my strong point.

Regrettably, Mrs. Hampton (no relation to the hotel) loves to argue, to tantalize, and to prosecute. Sitting in the bathroom isn’t solving anything, only making myself even more late.

Eventually, after much deep breathing, I had it all planned out. I would march myself into Mrs. Hampton’s office, look her square in the eye and tell her the cold hard truth about why I was late, and the answer is clear. To this army-style principal, excuses are not excuses, especially when it comes to being late. With one long, final drawn out breath, I was out the door.

Rushing out, I sharply turned the corner and found myself colliding with the general arts teacher, who I had last year. Having been so flustered, I’d barely noticed all his papers scattered across the floor, or that fact that I nearly trampled this guy.

“Oh no, I’m really sorry. I should’ve watched where I was going,” pleas that sounded way too sincere.

“No, no. It’s alright. These are just scraps I got from the supply closet, so no big deal. Hey, um, what are you doing out of class anyways? The other teachers usually don’t let their students roam until after lunch,” he said pleasantly, like it’s completely ok that I just knocked him over and ripped up his stuff.

“Oh, um, I came in late. I, uh, just had to go into the bathroom for a moment…”

“Ah, I understand, had to get your bearings before you faced the music,” he said. “Yea I get it.. I remember the first time I had to go see Cheryl. She’s quite frightening, until you get to know her. Oh, and don’t tell her I told you her first name; she thinks it takes away from the fear factor she tries to play off.”

Then he flashed a large, dashing smile. His teeth were very straight, unlike my own crooked teeth. I hoped he hadn’t noticed the chip in my front left tooth. I gave him a half smile in return, just to avoid seeming rude.

“So how about this, I give a pass to whatever teacher you’ve been missing, and you come after school one day and help me clean up my art room?”

“Sounds better than detention,” I agreed. “Um, I’m supposed to be with Mr. Robin. He’s the history teacher upstairs.”

Now, I knew very well I wasn’t going to help Mr. Carter clean his art room; I have too much stuff to do to be bothered with other people’s messes. Still, this offer was too good to refuse. Oh! He’s talking, pay attention.

“…and it’d be a really good experience for you I think.”

“Huh? Uh, yeah. That’s sounds like fun. Um, maybe if I have the time.” Yeah, nice cover genius.

“Great! Then I’ll see you in three weeks. Don’t forget your sneakers.” he said enthusiastically. He handed me my late slip, and for half a second he just stood there, and it looked like he was going to say something. Just as he opened his mouth, swarms of students starting exiting their classrooms and into the hallways. The sea of teenage disasters soon drowned him from my sight. But what was it that he was talking about? What was he going to say? And what do I need sneakers for?

The rest of the day was very boring. Mr. Robins received his note, so I didn’t get a detention after all. Lunch was eaten alone, as per usual (when your playing the role of mommy 24/7, there’s no time for friends), and the bad food didn’t help the lonely feeling: gooey pizza that wasn’t a third the way cooked, some rusty salad and icy milk. Cafeteria lunches blow. The only good thing about today was I knew I had a few hours at home where I could just do whatever I wanted. So when the last bell rang, I bolted.

Walking into the parking lot, I notice something flitter on the ground. Even though it’s most likely just another piece of trash thrown carelessly by some kid, its bold colors make it interesting. So I pick it up and read it.

Downtown Park-side Mall, Coming Your Way!

April 15

Want to do some shopping with your friends, but can’t find the right place? Just need to get away from it all? Downtown Park-side Mall is an attraction, coming to you. In three weeks, construction will begin, and soon the perfect hangout place will be all yours. So remember to come and see when it’s all finished. Mayor Wimsy will be there to cut the big red ribbon!

There’s more stuff but it’s just a flyer, so none if it really concerns me. O toss it back on the ground is on the ground on my way back to my car. Absentmindedly pulling out of the parking lot, I nearly hit a pigeon and cut the curb, turning towards the pre school.

* * * * *

Finally! With Ani over her friend’s house, and Jenna at clarinet practice, there are two hours of freedom. Two, wonderful, stress-free hours. How to spend them?

Well, first, I think I’ll take a shower. No wait, a bath…with bubbles. And a good movie never hurt. I wonder if Sandy left any money for takeout.

In the kitchen, I found thirteen dollars in the cow jar (why we have a cow jar, I really don’t know). That should be enough for some Low Mein and dumplings from Tai Long. The girls will have eaten already.

After calling the restaurant and ordering take-out, the bath tub was looking pretty good. However, when I actually looked into the tub, the prospect of me even taking a shower wasn’t likely. I haven’t exactly been on top of things, what with just having finished finals. In fact, school has absorbed so much of my time that I’ve neglected the whole apartment all together. But THIS is out of control. The bath tub is filthy. There’s scum and mold everywhere. When your busy balancing running a household and school, it’s easy to let things slip through the cracks. And boy, the slime was really slipping through.

At this, I sighed. I guess I won’t be relaxing after all.

And so I set to work. Of course, Sandy moved everything out of the perfect order I had set up, so I have to hunt for the Spic and Span and magic erasers. After ten minutes of opening cabinets and searching closets, I find them in the drawer under the stove. Really, Sandy? Sometimes this woman is just absolutely ludicrous.

Scrubbing the bathtub takes a good forty-five minutes or so, and when the delivery guy comes knocking, I almost didn’t hear him. Right as I open the door, I see the delivery boy has his back turned from me, apparently unwilling to wait any longer. So I call him back and apologize. He gracefully accepts, and as he’s fumbling with my change, I take time to observe him. He’s about my height (5’6, or so), with really bad acne and hair slicked back by either hair gel or grease, I can’t tell. He’s only slightly familiar. Maybe a sophomore or something. The total for the food came out to $10.27, so I just gave him the rest as tip. Probably should have done that before hand; save him the trouble of figuring the numbers in his head. Oh well.

“Thanks Ma’am. Have a nice day.”

With that said he turned around and hopped down the stairs to his car. He looked up again, and when he realized I was still watching, quickly got in his vehicle and drove away.

He thought I was a Ma’am! Do I really look that old? We go to the same school for crying out loud! I mean, I know I look haggard, but I was kind of hoping there was some youth left to me. Ma’ams are 40 year old women! Glancing at my reflection in the window, a twinge of self pity settles itself right into my stomach. There in the window, I see two dark circles under a pair of mismatched eyes; one amber brown, the other murky grey. Hair, straight and brown, pulled back under a faded yellow bandanna, and eyebrows that really need to be done. To add to the look of infirmity, cheek bones protrude from the face, and a collarbone follows suite. The girl in this reflection looks like she could gain a few. Of course, I’m just naturally thin, but lately I’ve been so busy I haven’t given much thought to food. Some people would say I’m lucky, but really, it’s the exact opposite. Clothing doesn’t fit right, and I’m too frail to do anything active like sports (not that I have time for that anyways). And, if (God forbid) I were being attacked by some man, there was no way I’d escape.

Yes, I can see why the delivery boy had called me “Ma’am”. I look like a thirty-year-old drug addict on a fix.

After eating dinner, there wasn’t really that much to do. There’s an English test I could study for, but who wants to do that on their only time off? Nope, instead, I’ll head back to my Spartan room and listen to one of the two stations my radio picks up. That’ll work, and maybe--

Ring! It could be no other than Sandy (Ani’s catching a ride home with Megan and Jenna still has another hour of practice.)