Chapter 3 - Milkvetch, a great name for a band
“We are your best friends,” Katie said indignantly as she polished off the last bite of her candy bar and threw the wrapper across the hall, missing the trashcan by a mile, like always. “How can you even justify not telling us you got your first kiss?”

“Heinous,” Stella agreed.

“Yup,” Wally chimed in sarcastically, “this is just the beginning of the end. I even saw on America’s Most Wanted the other night that this totally bad guy, like hardened criminal and everything, got his start lying about his first kiss to his friends.”

Stella giggled and Katie silenced him with a glare. “I didn’t lie,” I rolled my eyes. “I just didn’t, um, mention it. Besides, it wasn’t my first kiss.”

“We are not counting Wally kissing you on your sixteenth birthday just so you didn’t have to say ‘sweet sixteen and never been kissed’,” Katie said annoyingly.

“Hey!” Wally laughed, “That was a big night for me too. After all, it was my first kiss also.”

“No,” Stella giggled. “Yours was with Justine Vaya in the coats and boots room in first grade.”

“If he gets to count Justine Vaya,” I interrupted, “then I definitely get to count Wally!”

“You do not get Wally,” Katie said loudly, as if she were the final authority in all things kissing, “and you do not get Justine!” Stella laughed so hard she rolled off the top step, bounced down three more and stopped with a thud on the landing. “And you,” Katie said to her, “can laugh all you want but at least I can remember all the names of the guys I’ve kissed.”

“Hey,” Stella sat up, pushing her disheveled curls out of her face, “that’s not fair! I totally remember all of them.”

“New Year’s Eve, Pete Lasky’s party, midnight – who was he?”

Stella blushed and looked down. “Well it’s easy for you because you haven’t…” She didn’t finish her sentence but the damage was done. I gasped and Wally put his arm around Katie who pushed him away so hard he hit the locker bank. It’s true - Katie, for all her gorgeousness, has never ever been kissed. Not even by Wally, though not from lack of trying on his part. It used to be pretty even, with Stella and Wally both having been kissed and Katie and I both being V.L. but now that they’d caught me kissing Van Saturday night in the grocery store parking lot, things were irrevocably changed. The universe was unbalanced. I should’ve known when I didn’t hear from her all day Sunday that Katie was upset.

“Look, Katie, it wasn’t all that great,” I lied, trying to soothe her. And it was a total lie – kissing Van is probably one of the greatest things I’ve ever done. Toe curling great.

She saw right through me. “Just don’t.”

“Seriously,” I tried again, “I was going to tell you but I just haven’t had time yet because…” I prepared to launch into my litany of very good and very true excuses but she cut me off.

“Because you’re always with him,” she replied stonily.

“I am not always with him!” Just whenever I’m not in school.

“You are! It’s like we don’t even exist for you anymore!”

“That is just not true!” I shot back.

“We haven’t seen you, or talked to you even, for the past four weekends! And you always say you’re busy with a study group or a school project or your little brother’s soccer meet or, or whatever! But now I guess we know where you’ve really been, huh? Making out with guys in parking lots.”

“Three weekends,” I said quietly.

“It’s been four and you know it,” she said, crossing her arms. Wally and Stella sat back open mouthed, like they always do when Katie and I fight. Not that we fight often, in our eleven years of friendship I can count on one hand the number of memorable fights we’ve had, but I am the only one that dares take her on. Wally is the master of using self-deprecating humor to avoid conflict – a skill he still maintains was the best thing he got from his parents divorce – and Stella came to our group late, eighth grade, well after Katie was established as the leader of the pack.

“Fine,” I said hotly. “I’m with Van a lot. So what? You go on dates all the time and you never give a second thought to Leigh sitting at home all alone on a Friday night! Again!” The anger rising in my voice, I hadn’t realized how much that still bothered me. But I guess it did.

“So what?” Katie shrieked. “So what? At least I tell you about my dates! At least I don’t make up lies and excuses about where I am. At least I tell you about what’s going on in my life!” That she does. Ad nauseum. That’s how it’s been our entire friendship – me listening to her exciting life. Well, now I’ve got a life of my own Katie Marchant! Take that. Before I could say any of this, she sat down heavily on the top step looking for all the world like she was about to cry. I haven’t seen her cry since the seventh grade and that was only when our soccer coach accidentally drove over her foot with his car. It touched me, I’ll admit it. “I thought I was your best friend,” she sniffled. “Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

I sighed and sat down next to her, Wally and Stella wisely packing up their bags and mumbling something about breadsticks in the cafeteria even though today is Monday, taco day. “I tried Katie,” I shrugged my hands inside my sleeves.

“Not very hard.”

“I knew you didn’t like him so I guess I was just putting it off.”

Delicately pressing on the inner corners of her eyes to keep her tears from ruining her mascara she replied, “I don’t even know him enough to know whether or not I like him! And it’s not like he’s ever in school for me to meet him.” That last part was sadly true, especially the last few weeks.

“Well,” I stammered, “I just thought that after I left that week to go study with him at lunch and you were so mad…”

“The problem wasn’t that you were with him!” Katie interjected. “The problem was that you left us! Why couldn’t he come sit with us and study?”

“Well, we had to go someplace quiet and…” The truth was, he’s never showed any interest in hanging out with my friends. We spend a lot of time with his friends, Jimmie and the gang, and it just seemed…easier that way. I patted her knee, “Well, I’m back for lunch aren’t I? And you see me in girl’s gym three times a week.”

Smiling a little, she shook her head, “Uh – uh. Not good enough. Classes don’t count. I want one weekend night a week with you.”

My mind spun quickly. Van and I have only been together for barely a month but it seems that every spare minute is taken up with each other. We don’t even have plans for this coming weekend and yet I know I’ll be busy every minute of it. Katie’s smile was disappearing as she waited for my answer. “Um,” I stuttered trying to buy time.

“Well, I’m sorry if it’s that hard to find time in your packed schedule for me,” she said coldly and stood up.

“It’s not that,” I said quickly.

“Yeah?” she arched her eyebrow. “I’m just so much fun to be with that you just can’t stand it?”

“Katie…” I sighed as she slung her bag over her shoulder and dropped her full coke in the garbage can.

“You know,” she said as she stalked past me on her way down the stairs, “I never pegged you for the type of girl to just throw over her best friend for some guy with a nose ring and a motorcycle.” Disappearing around the corner, she left her final blow. “I guess I was wrong.”

You are wrong Katie. He doesn’t have a motorcycle. Just the nose ring.

………

“Leigh-a, sweetie,” my dad pronounced my name as if I were the Star Wars princess herself, “door’s for you.”

“Who is it?” I asked, surprised. I’d been holed up in my room for two hours trying to make some headway with my Spanish project and I wasn’t expecting anyone.

My dad shrugged and gave me a little grin. “Just make sure to introduce me,” he called as I walked past him to the stairs.

All the mystery became clear when I saw Van standing at the base of the stairs, just inside the front door and looking as uncomfortable as I’ve ever seen him. “Oh, hey!” I said trying not to be too joyous at his arrival. After all, now my mom and little brother Kent were standing behind me.

“Hey,” he returned my grin a little breathlessly. “I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.” My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Jimmie’s house was miles from here and judging from his sweat-sheen and jogging clothes, he got here on foot.

“You must be the elusive Van!” My dad said, hopping down the stairs and pumping his hand enthusiastically. At first I was a little baffled by my dad’s warm reception and then I realized how normal Van looked in his jogging shorts, all visible piercings removed, and hair plastered down to his head with sweat. “Come in! Come in! We’ve heard so much about you, it’s great to finally meet you.” Van gave me a slightly panicked look as my dad pulled him up the stairs, which I answered with a shrug.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Mitchell,” Van said tentatively removing his hand from my dad’s.

“Oh, hey!” my dad exclaimed pointing to Van’s soaked t-shirt. “I didn’t know you ran track! Leigh, why didn’t you tell me!” Um, because I didn’t know? I blinked and looked more carefully at Van’s shirt. True enough it bore the logo and mascot of our school track team. “You know, I ran track in high school,” my dad continued proudly. “What event do you do?”

“I run cross country, actually,” he replied. “I was just, um, training for the next meet when I passed your house…”

“Ah, training!” My dad’s eyes took on the misty warmth of pleasant memories. Pulling Van into the kitchen, I heard my dad start in. “Now do you boys carbo-load before the meet or do you have some other strategy these days?”

“I think your father’s found a new friend,” my mother smiled at me. “He seems wonderful, honey. It’s nice to finally meet him.” I blushed. They’ve been bugging me to bring him home for, well, pretty much the past month but I’ve avoided it. Van’s not exactly a parent’s dream come true for their daughter although I guess I was wrong.

“I think he’s gross,” Kent said, burrowing between my mother and I. “He stinks.”

“Kent…” my mom stopped him, the warning evident in her voice.

“He’s been running,” I shrugged. “Besides, you don’t exactly smell like a rose either after your soccer meets.”

“I’d shower before I went over to a girl’s house,” Kent said, already heading off down the hall back to his room and his computer.

My mom laughed as he went. “Kent’s pearls of wisdom,” she sighed. “I could fill a book with them!”

“Well don’t,” I snapped, a little too harshly, “it’ll just go to his head and that’s the last thing we need around here.” My mother glared at me but I just shrugged. It’s true. Fortunately for him, unfortunately for me, Kent was pretty much born a genius. He spoke in full sentences by two, wrote his first computer program by five, and made the local news (for the first time) at five and a half. It wouldn’t be so bad if he were at least socially maladjusted or something but he’s not. Even skipping a grade hasn’t slowed him down any. He’s only twelve and he’s already getting calls from giggly girls who hang up if anyone else answers the phone.

“Gently, Leigh,” my mother reprimanded me, the same warning tone in her voice that she had used with Kent. Still, I bristled. She and my dad like to pretend they’re fair but they’re not. It’s obvious just from the way their faces light up when he walks in the room which one of us they prefer. Mediocre-in-everything Leigh vs. excels-in-everything Kent. I never win.

Fortunately Van appeared just in time to save me from saying something harsh in return and getting myself grounded. “Can I, uh, talk to you for a second?” he hovered by my elbow.

My mom took the hint and smiled, “I’ll let you two chat. Would you like a sandwich Van?”

“Um, sure,” Van said as if this was the first time anyone had ever offered to make him a sandwich. “That would be great.”

“He’s vegetarian,” I called. Plopping down on the nearest couch, I smiled tightly, “So that’s the folks.”

“They’re great,” he said looking around him, still standing. “Really great.”

“Well sit down already!” He looked surprised to find himself still standing and complied. “What’s up? I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” Actually we’d decided not to get together today since we’re both so behind with our schoolwork. Mostly when we’re together we just drive my car around to different houses of Van’s friends or hang out in the park or at Jimmie’s but we still manage to get nothing done. It doesn’t seem to bother Van but if I want to keep my straight-mediocre-B average then I’ve got to work occasionally, even with grade inflation.

“Yeah, I was just running by…” Van ran his hand through his wet hair as my mom brought him the sandwich, cut into perfect triangles, as well as one for me.

“Mom, I already ate dinner,” I hissed, pushing it away.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I just thought you might like a snack.”

“Well I don’t,” I snapped, feeling a little out of control. Only my mother can do this to me – manage to completely throw me off kilter just by offering me a sandwich.

“Fine,” she icily, “but please be polite with me, Leigh. I am with you.” I didn’t answer as she walked quickly out of the room.

“Don’t get along with your mom?” Van asked around a mouthful of bread.

“So, I didn’t know you ran cross-country,” I said, trying to tone it down but the defensiveness still came through. I mean, we’re together practically all the time and yet I still knew nothing about his life!

“Oh, yeah,” he grinned and swallowed. “Only reason I haven’t completely dropped out of school.”

“Wow, sounds hard,” I mumbled, still a little wounded. How am I supposed to be the perfect girlfriend and cheer at his meets if I don’t even know he’s in them? “When do you have time to practice?”

He shrugged, “Here and there. I try to run someplace if I need to get there. You know like work and stuff.”

“Wow,” I said again, mentally computing the mileage from his house to the grocery store.

“It works for me,” he shrugged. “Besides, I don’t have a car so what else can I do?” As he laughed it occurred to me that it was true, I do drive everywhere we go. Or else we all ride in Jimmie’s van. And we do do a lot of walking. Maybe that’s why my pants have been fitting a little looser these days. Still, two huge discoveries in one day. How did I not know this? “Anyhow, that’s why I wanted to talk to you today. If I’m going to stay on the team, I’ve got to get my English grade up.”

“Yeah, never turning in that report on The Bean Trees probably tanked your grade,” I chided.

“Sure did,” he said happily as if things were going exactly as planned.

“We started a new unit today. A big one. We are reading Hamlet and have to do a big group presentation.”

“Woof,” he dropped his head in his hands. “Shakespeare?”

“Yup.” Secretly, I’m pleased. I love Shakespeare.

“I can’t even read normal stuff! I’ll never make it through Shakespeare!”

“Yes, you will,” I said emphatically. “I already put your name down to be in our group. So show up to class and don’t make me look bad ok?”

“Okay,” he mumbled.

“It’ll be fine. We’ll do a great project and your spot on the team will be safe. Speaking of, when’s your next meet?”

“Saturday,” he finished the sandwich in three bites and set the empty plate on the coffee table.

“Can I come?” I was already having visions of screaming and waving as he bolted over the finish line, first of course.

“First of all,” he said pragmatically, “cross-country is really boring to watch because it’s so long. And secondly, it’s an away meet.”

“Oh,” I said, my vision suddenly deflated.

Throwing his arm around me, he gave me a squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’ll come say hello when we get back. Okay?”

“Okay,” I snuggled into his side, keeping one eye on the door for Kent or my parents. “Good luck.”

“I will,” he said. “I always carry my good-luck charm on me.”

“Oooh, you’re superstitious!” I giggled. “What is it?”

Suddenly blushing, he turned away. “You’ll think I’m silly.”

“I will not!” When he still didn’t answer, I poked him in the ribs, “Come on, just tell me. I promise I won’t laugh. If you can’t tell me, then who?”

Sighing, he reached into his shirt and pulled out a pair of dog tags on a chain. Tugging them over his head, he dropped them in my hand. Picking up the first metal tag ringed in black plastic, I read, running my thumb over the engraved text:
Jacob
Winters
5410200-7
A pos
“My dad’s,” he said simply.

“Your dad’s in the military?” This was the most information I’d heard about his family yet. I knew that when he was not on Jimmie’s couch, he lived with his mom and two brothers in a run-down little duplex off Aurora but I’d never been closer than my car, never met any of them.

“Was a sergeant in the Army,” he said quietly. “He’s retired now.”

“Lives in California right?”

He nodded but said nothing, the sweep of sadness across his face unmistakable this time. Glancing down at the second dog tag in my hand, I turned it over, expecting to see his mom’s name. Instead there was only a string of raised numerals: 07-13.

I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice, “Huh, that’s funny, July 13th…”

“Is your birthday,” he finished.

“Yeah,” I whispered, turning the worn piece of metal over and over in my hand. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “Well, not until DeWitt’s class last semester.”

“Huh?”

“You know, he used everyone’s birthdays as their ID numbers on the grade sheet.”

“But how…”

“I sat right behind you, remember?” He laughed, “It also helped that you ran your finger along the line to see your grade. You could have done better than a B, by the way.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “But this looks much older than last semester,” I said, the tag still sitting coolly in the palm of my hand.

“That’s the funny part,” he said. “You’re going to laugh at me.” I shook my head as he continued, “When I was nine, my dad was stationed in Spain and, you know, that was before my mom and dad split up so we were all living over there too, on base. Anyhow, he took me to an open market one day and there was this weird old lady sitting there. Just huge fat in this smelly flowered dress like all the old ladies wear over there and she grabbed my hand. Before my dad could stop her, she traced the line down my hand with her finger.” Unfurling his right hand, he drew a finger down a long line that cut across his palm. “Like this. And she said, ‘Trece de Julio.’ My dad pulled me away but I looked back at her and she was smiling and repeating, ‘Muy importante, joven! Muy importante.’”

Using all my rudimentary Spanish skills (Sra. Angel would be proud), I translated, “13 of July.”

“Yes,” he nodded, taking his dog tags back. “The date never left my mind although I had no clue why it was important. I just had this feeling, even though my dad said it was ridiculous, that that old woman knew something and that something very important would happen to me on that date. I even had this dog tag made up at the base to remind me.” Then he shrugged, swinging the chain over his head with a practiced movement, settling it again under his shirt. “Every year I waited for July 13th as if it were my own personal holiday and yet nothing happened. Not even remotely.”

“Huh,” I said.

“Until I met you. That is, I was watching over your shoulder, trying to get you to turn around so I could draw your picture in DeWitt’s when I saw you put your finger right under the numbers 0713. It didn’t take much to put it together that that must be your birthday.” He laughed and shook his head again. “Anyhow, I wear them right over my heart. Pretty dumb huh?”

“Or incredibly sweet!” I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly despite the fact that Kent was right, he does stink. “So how come you didn’t say anything to me that day?” I demanded. “I was the one that had to talk to you first in DeWitt’s! Remember?”

He smiled and stroked my hair. “I remember. I was leaving that day, for good I thought.”

“And yet you still didn’t say a word?”

Shrugging he said happily, “I knew it would work out somehow. Or maybe it wouldn’t. If it was meant to be, then it was meant to be.”

“Good thing one of us had enough sense to not wait for the universe!” I slugged his arm and he laughed.

“And the strangest part about the whole story is that the line that she ‘read’, it’s not really even a line – it’s an old scar,” he whispered and kissed the top of my head. Now I could be mistaken, especially since I was looking down at our hands, but I think I heard a tinge of sadness in his voice as he finished, “My dad told me it was because we make our own destinies.”

………

English was starting in five minutes and he’d better be there. I stood by his locker, impatiently tapping my fingers on the terra cotta pot in my hands, unable to completely keep the smile off my face. This morning I’d practically tripped over the tiny heliotrope milkvetch placed precariously on my top step. Really, it was lucky I was first out the door and not Kent. As I waited, I re-read the tiny tag looped around one stubby branch. Low growing alpine herbaceous perennial characterized by pink-purple flowers with white wing tips June through August. This species has been listed as Federally Threatened since 1987 and is found only in the Wasatch Mountains of Utah. I inhaled the sweet scent that seemed to be emanating from the tiny leaves, as the only sign of the promised blooms were some rather bloated brown pods, and decided that this was one flower that fit it’s meaning perfectly – traditionally symbolizes the heady intoxication of new love.

“Aren’t you going to be late?” he interrupted me mid whiff, causing me to snort and inhale an aromatic leaf. “Whoa,” he laughed as he slapped me on the back as I coughed, “I know they call it ‘weed’ but they’re actually referring to a specific type of plant, not just anything you can pull out of the landscaping.” Tears raining down my face, I tried to push the pot into his hands so I wouldn’t drop it during the next paroxysm but he just laughed harder and shook his head, “No thanks. I’m high on life.”

“Shut up,” I choked, but I was smiling. “So, uh, thanks,” I mumbled after the hacking finally died out.

“For what?” he asked innocently.

“For this,” I patted the little milkvetch, “and for all the others too.”

“You mean you have more of these?” He looked scornfully at the little plant. “You have some weird hobbies - kinda ugly little thing, isn’t it?”

“Come on, you know I do.” I poked him in the arm, feeling the tautness of his bicep under his tattered t-shirt. “Besides, I think it’s cute.”

“Well, it’s definitely cuter than all those dead flowers people seem so enthralled with giving each other. I don’t get it. Everyone wants to tell people they love them or they miss them or they’re thinking about them or sorry for them or whatever and so they send them hacked-up, already decaying plant life. How is that even remotely romantic?”

“Aha! I knew it was you,” I laughed.

“I hate dead flowers.” He sighed and then smiled, running his hand through his spiky hair. “I work weekends at a flower shop. Just whenever a big order come in or something and they need extra help, off the books you know.”

“You have another job? You’re sixteen! Will you ever stop completely surprising me?”

“I certainly hope not!” he grinned. “Besides, you forget, I’m a year dumber than you so that makes me seventeen. Eighteen soon, actually.”

Blushing, I shut the plant in my locker. “We’d better get in there. We’re already late.”

Impulsively, he grabbed my hand, tugging me back to him. “So why go, then?”

“But,” I spluttered as he laid a finger across my lips.

“But it’s a beautiful day and we should enjoy it while we can.”

I looked over his shoulder out the window. He was right – the usual gray monotony of the Seattle winter was interrupted today, courtesy of some watery sunlight and a crisp breeze. I hesitated. I’ve never been the type to skip class. Okay, so that’s because I’ve never had anywhere to go, but still… “I don’t know, Van.”

“Yes, you do.” He laid a calming hand on my shoulder and I realized I had been bouncing up and down impatiently.

Glancing at his hand, I gasped. “What happened to you?” It looked like it’d been through a meat grinder – his knuckles were bruised and swollen and two large cuts cris-crossed the back of his hand, disappearing under his leather cuff.

A strange look flashed across his face as he shoved his hand into his pocket. “It’s nothing, I did it rock climbing.”

My concern was temporarily displaced by shock. “You rock climb?”

He laughed, “Always a surprise, remember?” Hugging me tightly to his chest, he took a long inhale, indicating I should also. “Now…be still. Just listen to your heart.”

I listened. My heart was flying. Dropping my shoulders, I laughed, the joy in it surprising even me.

“Welcome back, Leigh,” he said quietly.

“But I didn’t go anywhere!” I protested lightly, following him towards the door. “I’m always just here.”

Holding the door open for me, he answered, “I know and that’s what I love best about you.”
- posted by Charlotte @ 8:02 AM