There's Something About Jerry

There’s Something About Jerry

My Hidden Diary

When you first hear his name, you don’t think much. Until he walks in the room and when he does…all you can think is there’s Jerry and finally that name has a face, and what a difference it makes. You watch as he was hurries in the room, and when the bell rings as he sits in his desk. Your eyes follow as he scratches his head- oh that wonderful mob of hair! Even as he takes out his notebook and rips out his homework. Your glad to see him even if you didn’t know until that moment. You’ve both never had a hello to say and you’ve certainly never had any good-byes.

Your teacher, he talks in the front of the classroom, his booming voice but a low hiss to you. Because nothing can be greater than Jerry as he sits before you; perfection. Not even the swift movement of papers making their way up to the front of the room. Those papers you suddenly don’t recognize. Class seems to have gone on without you, nothing of your concern. You don’t mind as long you can peer at him, this human being, whom your eyes never leave.

It’s Jerry’s hair, Jerry’s neck, his back…The pencil he chews on with his delicate mouth. Hmm…his eyes. What color are those eyes? You wonder, but you already know. A quick flashback you remember the soft green moist eyes. Or were they more of a bright excited green--Ow!

And what was that? A friend behind you just poked you in the back. You find it an evil thing to do , to be disturbed from Jerry ,didn’t she know who he was? As you turn to see your friend’s worried look , your so nervous you begin to tremble as you turn to look at your teacher. The anger with his glaring eyes as he stares at you impatiently.

You…to late realize he’s spoken to you and inquired you of something.

“What?” It’s all you can ask in reply. One thing’s for sure, you pray that he does not look at you. That his head doesn’t turn and speculate.

“ I said where’s your essay Cordelia?”

Your heart races and sinks. You shuffle around the stacks of papers on your desk remembering all to well the frantic you had been in; the missing essay. It had been done last minute the night before. Stapled and politely shoved into your mess of a backpack.

And now here you suffer, as Jerry turns in his desk to look at you like the rest of the class. This time your dear heart explodes inside; truly a tragedy on your part. Quickly looking down you find the missing essay with crumbs stuck to it from a morning muffin. A miracle it was ,you found it! Rubbing it as dozens of eyes and two rich forests watch you.

Clearing your throat you pass it to the front of the room. Just as the teacher says he won’t accept it. By shame and by miracle the bell rings. Students shuffle out their desks and through the door. As you sit there still in your desk watching from your side glace view ; Jerry’s exit .

You just know your in love.

Part One: Leftovers and Mystery

Just a regular day in the park and as usual no one to spend it with. No one to go play on the swings with as parents stare at you and their children laugh. No one to eat three ice cream cones with while your ex-crushes watch. No one to go to the dog park , to run into hot guys throwing Frisbees conveniently your way…

And why is that? Oh yeah my best friend is a ditcher. Not only does she have a boyfriend but apparently a whole new set of friends. Many have even seen them at the mall laughing and doing the occasional shopping. Which I know, but no else does, that my best friend can not afford to do everyday. Then again she probably has been working double shifts at Pizza Reef’s to keep up the façade of being rich to keep her new found status.

It’s weird how she became so popular, she dyed her hair, got new clothes, and a nick name. All of these things seemed to make her popular. But in reality none of those “friends” of hers even know that she was the girl from the third grade who threw up on Mr. Evens our hot teacher. Which is also the time that they’ve hated her ever since. Not that it was her fault that she ate my lunch and her own…

Because who these days can control a binge disorder? The sad thing is , she doesn’t need those girls. We are--well we weren’t nerds…we were people doing our thing as other people thought they were better and did their own thing. There was no elite in our school. [At least not any I would recognize, nor acknowledge as being better than me. ]But I see now she must have thought that…she still does.

Now with the unreturned phone calls and vague glances in the hall way I can official say I’ve been dumped. I’m sitting in a park bench like old leftovers.

My only refugee is looking over my diary entry ten times over again. For some reason Jerry can’t slip my mind. It’s not like I’m in love, I could never be in love like that…at first sight. And I wouldn’t call it lust, it was more curiosity then anything else.

Because nothing makes a girl more curious than a new guy in school. Because its not like any other boys I’ve had crushes on. Like Greg Johnson, I think he’s cute but I’d never go for him. I remember how at last years homecoming he dumped his girlfriend Michelle Turner and left with Angelia Young.

I know that Andy Smith beat up Nathan Ben because he wouldn’t give him his lunch money in the second grade. I know everything about every boy in school. And I know nothing about Jerry. Nada.

But I guess in a week or two , perhaps less as he makes friends, I’ll see him do something or say something that will show me who he really is. Maybe he’ll be like Eric and Frank and tease me every time I pass them in the hall. Or maybe I’ll see him flirting with Jessica Whiter, a member of the evil clique my friend finds herself in love with.

Maybe the truth is I’m dying for something new…maybe I need to open my eyes. If I look up from this stupid diary I can see the lake in the park. It sits across from me, accompanying me in its serene way. It kind of reminded me of the view in the movie Men In Black, as Will Smith sat and thought about whether or not he wanted in. Sitting looking at the setting sun, like I was , except I wasn’t twirling a card in my fingers , I clinging to my diary.

I looked from the sun to the lake. Watching it sparkle as the sunset danced shining on it, it glosses turning brighter as it reaches me. I open my fountain pen writing down the phrase, and then scratched it out.

That’s all I can say about it, but what can someone write about it? What can they do to make it come alive from their words? Can someone write a song about it? Draw a picture?

All I can do is call it glossy, I can see myself five years from now a free lance writer in the big city. My first published poem. “The Glossy Lake” , I can see the impressed look on my editors face …Not.

Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by a figure passing by me. They walked bristly and I only had a glance of their face….Jerry? I thought maybe I had been too into my thoughts and was imagining things.

But taking a second look I saw the same mob of hair, it was him. Still badly in need of a comb and a fresh hair cut. He passed the bench next to mine to sit on the next one. So there was only one bench between us, and I could tell he didn’t notice my presence at all. I noticed the distracted look on his face, and how hollow he seemed, his eyes drained like sleep was something he tended to avoid lately.

I wondered why he had rushed over here, if he was here because he [just like me] was lonely. Or to be more honest, wanted to be alone. What would make him rush over here just to be alone? My mind wandered many places at that moment. Could he have a harsh family life and wanted out the house for a while? Or maybe it was me he wanted to see…more likely not the case.

A few minutes later however I got my answer, an older man walked up to Jerry. I couldn’t see his face but he looked pretty suspicious. He sat down next to Jerry, and they talked quietly to each other. I couldn’t make out one word, but I could tell it was serious business.

After about five minutes later the man got up and walked away…opposite in which he came. I saw a package in Jerry’s hand he held it as if it was something very important to him. He stuffed it in his jacket and he too went the opposite way in which he came.

What was it about Jerry? Was he on drugs….

[ Also see Part 1,2, and 3]