jacindasuicide83

How her mother kept such a close eye she might as well have lived in a glass house. She never went anywhere except with her parents, had to continually hide her diary (this week, in was in her backpack.) from prying eyes. No wonder no one hung out with her. She supposed it could have been worse, her home life. She didn't know it yet, but it soon would be. She hardly used the telephone. When Sarah did call her for her, it went something like this,
Hey.
Hey.
You're in the living room, aren't you? Sarah says. Natalie's mother kept the phone in the living room.
Mmmhmm, Natalie murmurs.
You're moms right there too, huh?
Yup, Natalie answers.
You think you can come over tonight? Sarah asks.
Natalie doesnt turn around to ask her mother, already knows the answer.
Nope, Natalie answers.
Okay then, see you in the morning
Bye.
Bye.



Natalie hadn't been living in town that long, her family moved around a lot. She was used to being the new kid, akward and unknown, sticking out like a sore thumb or invisible all together. She had been an only child, no siblings or close cousins to keep her company. It had always been her mother, her father and little Natalie, all alone.
It was Sophmore Year. Natalie hoped it would go by soon. She hoped her mother didnt find a reason to up and move again, because she liked this high school, liked Sarah, she didnt want to leave Mr. Fielding. In some ways, school became her refuge from the malaise of her bedroom. She could act however she wanted to act, say whatever she wanted to say without the fear of being overheard. School was the one thing her mother couldnt control anymore, and Natalie loved that.
Her mother forbade her to wear makeup, so she put it on after she left her house. Not that anyone might notice me, she thought. She didnt have the confidence of those popular girls, the beautiful girls, the ones the guys talked about, chased after. Natalie wasnt like that. She was the quiet one. The one with the smartest and nicest things to say if only she had the courage to say them.
Natalie's father, well, he was around. He was a truck driver for a tomato farm in town, he made deliveries all over the state. He was gone a lot, and the times he was at home, he slept most of the time. They'd been close when Natalie had been younger, but as she got older (actually, Natalie thought, about the time she started developing.) she'd stopped being daddy's little girl and a started being a quiet storm in the house, a black cloud over where her room was. Sometimes, when Natalies mother worked late, she went to Sarah's house for dinner. She never told her mother. Sarah's parents always gave her a ride back too, gratefully.

At school, sophmore year, Natalie had wisened up a bit. She could see how the world worked in ways she never known before. How she could act a certain way or wear certain clothes and have a guy do or say something nice. Like the cigarettes.
Natalie and Sarah, they'd stand on the side of the liquor store, wait for a young guy or older man and approach them and say,
Excuse me sir, (giggle) um, we were wondering (twirling strands of hair around their fingers),if you could maybe buy us some cigarettes.
And the young guy or the older man would look at the both of them, giggling underage girls, blushing, teasing. They'd smile and say,
Sure, what kind?
Marlboro red, mediums, short box please.
Sometimes the men would give them stern looks and tell the girls,
Smoking is deadly, didnt your parents teach you that?
Fuck off,
Sarah would say.


Natalie loved high school, because every day in fourth period she got to be with Mr. Fielding. She particpated in class, dressed in her p.e. uniform. Last year Mr. Crowley, the freshman teacher, had given her a D. She had never particpated then. But not this year. This year she hadn't realized how althetically inclined she was and it was all because of him. During their weekly mile run, she kept up with Mr. Fielding. He remarked on how she should join the track team, and she said, thanks Mr. Fielding, you're so nice. Sometimes Natalie faked having a terrible, terrible cramp (liar), and Mr. Fielding let her sit out the rest of the run, let her log everyone else's time as they finished their last lap. Sometimes he sat next her and they talked. The other girls watched her with jealousy, jogging by, thinking, Who does she think she is?
Mr. Fielding told her one day, sitting on the bleachers, he really wanted to be a science teacher. He hadnt intended on teaching Sophmore P.E., but that his family had needed the money and he wanted to teach regardless of the subject. He liked sports too.
So do I, Mr Fielding. Natalie said
Today they were in the gym, playing volleyball, boy versus girls. Mr. Fielding is keeping score and Natalie is admiring him, not paying attetion, doesnt know the ball is coming straight at her.
Thunk!
The ball bounces off Natalies chest and she lands on the floor. The girls groan and roll their eyes. Mr. Fielding comes running over and helps her up.
Are you okay, he asks.
Natalie is so embarrassed. Could feel her face burning red, like the spot on her chest where the ball hit. Could feel the whole gym staring at her as he walked over to the benches.
Im fine, thanks.
The bell rings, everybody rejoices towards the locker room. They are alone now in the gym.
You'll be late to your next class if you dont hurry, Mr. Fielding says.
She helps him take down the net, picks up the volleyball.
It's okay, Im cutting the rest of the day anyway. Natalie answers.
Her heart was beating wildly. She was trying to be brave. She wondered if he was going to tell on her, hoped he wouldn't.
Natalie, you shouldnt be cutting class.
They walk together to the equipment room, toss the net and ball in there.
Are you going to tell on me? She asks.
Mr. Fielding nods his head.
No, he answers.
They didnt say anything for a moment, stood there, giving each other pleasant smiles.
Where are you going? Mr. Fielding finally says.
She couldnt tell him she planned on smoking a joint with Sarah Mosely. She couldnt trust him that much yet, or at all. She shrugged.
I dont know, just being bad i guess.
You'll regret later, Natalie.
She liked how Mr. Fielding said her name. It made her feel important.
It was November, the week before Thanksgiving Break. They could hear the next classes coming in the gym.
Well, you should probably leave before you get caught, Mr. Fielding warns.
She doesnt take her eyes off him.
Okay Mr. Fielding.


Michael sits in his office, his tiny office. He didnt have a classroom like a regular teacher, shared his space with three other p.e. teachers and a few of the coaches. They had partitions to mark off each cubicle, and thankfully Michaels little spot had a window. On his desk, he kept a picture of Tina, and another of Emily, little baby Emily with her fathers eyes and mothers smile.
When the other coaches or teachers weren't around, he smoked cigarettes. He smoked at school because Tina would never allow it, make him quit, crush them in her hands. He picked up smoking in bootcamp. He had come to love its relaxing effects. After he was done, he'd spray air freshner, open all the windows. Michael didnt anyone to know everybodys favorite P.E. teacher had a nasty smoking habit.
It was lunch period. No one ate in here except Michael, who didn't eat. He smoked. He blared his radio, nibbled a sandwich Tina had made him. Sometimes he called her at home. She scolded him. Tina would say,
Do you think I got time to sit around and talk to you?
Michael knew she did. She was probably sitting on the couch rocking Emily to sleep if she wasnt already. It wasn't as if they had 5 children she had to keep up and clean after. He and Tina were neat people, there never was any mess. She just didnt want to talk to him. She never did anymore. When he came home from work, she handed Emily to him and went to bed.
Tina changed after he came back from bootcamp. She had begged him not to go and he hadnt listened to her. Nobody had ever gone against her. She resented him for it. Had gotten her pregnant, had taken her away from schooling. She married him because it had been the right thing to do, (right?) She had loved him, really had. Michael was smart, funny and boy was he handsome. Even her mother could see that.
Pah, said her mother.
It was the first time she introduced Michael to her family. Her mother leans over and said,
Just because you wrap trash up in a beautiful box doesnt make it anything less than trash.
Still, Tina loved him, then. But after bootcamp, after he got that (crappy) teaching job, she shrank away from him, receeded. It was just her and Emily during the day, and when Michael came home, she went to bed.
He missed her at first, his wife. She used to be talkative and goofy, now she doesnt say a word, his home had become a library. When he spoke, Tina shushed him, said, the baby is asleep. Thats all Tina ever said now.
They slept with their backs to each other. Every so often (not lately), they would make love, quickly, in the darkness, then roll over quietly, falling back asleep. When he had first met her, she couldnt keep her hands off of him. He was lucky now if she even walked past him close enough to smell her. Michael tried once, asking what was bothering her.
Nothing, Tina would say, sighing.


It was Thursday, windy outside. The two girls were sharing cigarettes in the dugout of the baseball field.
Bet you cant wait for class. Sarah teases.
Oh stop, Natalie says, blushing.
I bet Mr. Fielding would do it, you know?
Do what?
Have sex.
With a student? Natalie gasps.
It happens all the time, dont you watch the news? Sarah asks incredously.
Yeah, but thats gross.
Sarah laughs loudly, tosses her cigarette butt into the dirt.
Come on, you mean you wouldn't let Mr. Fielding feel you up?
Natalie tosses her cigarette butt too, doesnt answer Sarahs question. She's thinking about Mr. Fielding getting close enough to touch.

The lunch bell rings. Sarah and Natalie douse themselves in vanilla body spray Sarah stole from the drugstore, they chew two pieces of cinnamon gum. They hug each other goodbye. Natalie crosses the tennis and basketball courts, didnt know Mr. Fielding had been watching her and her tall, skinny friend smoke in the dugout, sometimes under the bleachers at the track. He wished he could invite Natalie for a smoke, let her sit in his office and chit-chat. He had her for fourth period, Natalie Garcia. The nice, shy girl. The kind of girl he wished he paid attention to in high school.
She had glossy brown hair to her shoulders, slender, with dark, dark (almost black) eyes that held a sadness to them her prettiest smile could ever cover up. When he looked at Natalie, it wasnt in a sexual way. She was just a beautiful girl who didn't (or hadn't) realized it yet. He wanted to tell her looks werent everything. If Tina Gracey hadn't batted her eyes at him, he would be happy by now. Still, there was little Emily.
Michael liked the fact Natalie always looked him in the eyes. No one ever did that. Tina didnt look at him period. His mother-in-law looked at him with disgust. When Natalie looked at him, it was full of infatuation and wonder.
He knew there were other girls. All the girls. He saw them run and giggle when he walked their way, how they moved their bodies in suggestive ways to get his attention. Teaching hadnt been an easy thing.
Michael watches Natalie come closer to the building.
Where did you come from?
He calls out.
Natalie looks up, squints her eyes. It was Mr. Fielding. She jogs lightly over to him.
Oh, you know...we were, Natalie stammers.
He smiles.
Its okay, Im not going to tell. Smoking is a bad habit though.
Natalie takes out her lip gloss, bubblegum pink (sometimes harlot red), spreads some gently across her lips.
Do you let everyone get away with doing something bad? Natalie asks.
She leans back against the cool concerete wall.
No, I think you are a good student, thats all, Mr. Fielding answers.
Natalie looks down, looking at her scruffy shoes.
Mr. Fielding you ever feel like you just want to runaway from everything?
He looks up, alarmed.
Are you going to runaway Natalie?
She laughs.
No, no. I wish. I have no where to go. I just feel, like, lonely sometimes. Natalie blushes. He's looking at her.
What about your friend there?
Oh yeah, but...,Natalies voice trails off.
Its quiet for a moment except for the wind, blowing through the trees, making orange and brown leaves dance between their legs in the hallway.
Come by my office one of these days after school, you can tell me whatevers on your mind, he offers.
Natalie smiles.
Okay Mr. Fielding.