Charlie Mad Dog Madson - Post #6 "Pearl the New Girl"

I wake up groggy with puffy, scratchy eyes, but thankful when I remember it’s Friday. As I walk in the kitchen, Mom’s sitting at the table, laptop open and fingers flying across the keyboard as she works on her online class. Since Marcus is on the night shift, he’ll be asleep until this afternoon, so I actually try to be quiet. The last thing I need this morning is to deal with him.

Evie stops eating her dog food and walks toward me. I look at her and she circles around me twice, and then stands beside me, looking up at me.

“There are chocolate Pop Tarts or granola bars for breakfast, kiddo. Sorry, I have an assignment due by 8,” Mom says.

“No worries,” I say as I grab a package of Pop Tarts, a bottle of water, and head out. I open the garage door and see it’s raining, again. Great. I turn around and go back inside for my hoodie. Evie has gone back to eating, but stops when she sees me.

“It’s raining.” Mom asks without looking up from her keyboard.

“I know,” I say.

“If ya give me 15 minutes, I can take you to school,” Mom says, still typing away.

“It’s ok. I’ll be fine,” I say and leave.

Hood up and head down to keep the Pop Tarts dry, I’ve eaten only part of one by the time I get to the railroad crossing. I’m thankful not to hear Pete’s voice again. It’s the never-ending September monsoon that prompts today’s train track music selection: “Who’ll Stop the Rain” by Credence Clearwater Revival.

I don’t care about the rain. It matches my blurry, dreary mood from lack of sleep. Whatever. No Pete today, and I’m glad.

At school during 3rd period in the middle of Mr. Knight’s math class – mercifully, a student runner from the office brings in a note that says I need to go to the Guidance Office. Fine. Anything, and I mean ANYTHING, is better than Mr. Knight’s lectures.

In the Main Office I learn that my guidance counselor, Ms. Riley, who came to Pete’s funeral, decides it’s a good idea for me to sit with a new girl, named Pearl at lunch. The irony of the rhyme is not lost on Ms. Riley or me.

“Why me?” I ask a little surly, which Ms. Riley doesn’t deserve, but I can’t help it.

“Why not you?” Ms. Riley asks right back. I guess she thinks it’s ok to answer a question with a question.

“Well,” I say, “it’s not like I’m on student council. Don’t those kids usually do stuff like this?”

“I asked you, Charlie, because you’re friendly, and the last time I checked, there were lots of empty seats around you at lunch. Plus, your schedule matches hers.”

Ms. Riley cuts to the chase and I respect that, but there’s no way I’m going to eat lunch with Pearl, the new girl.

So, I say to Ms. Riley, “That’s fair. But I’m gonna pass. I like sitting by myself. And it helps my digestion.”

“I’m sure one lunch with Pearl won’t upset your delicate digestive system, Charlie,” Ms. Riley says.

“Yeah, well, maybe not, but if ya think about it, I’m really not that great of a choice to sit with a new kid.”

Even Ms. Riley can’t argue with this. Maybe last year, John and I could have done this together. With all those brothers and sisters, John can talk to anyone and I like to think I’ve got a pretty solid sense of humor. At least, I used to.

“Alright, Charlie, straight talk here,” Ms. Riley says look at me over her funky round glasses. “I know you’re struggling in your classes and why wouldn’t you? I mean it’s a lot to bounce back from such a traumatic experience. I get it. Really, I do. But ya have to start stepping outside your comfort zone, at least a little.”

“But I like my comfort zone. It’s comfortable,” I say, forcing a smile, not really wanting Ms. Riley to think I’m a complete psycho case.

“Of course, it is,” she says more softly. And I think Ms. Riley might finally be giving up, but I underestimate her perseverance.

“Seriously, Charlie. You need to do this. It’ll be good for you.”

“I dunno, Ms. Riley. I just don’t think I’m ready.” This is my final plea – the last trick in my bag. It’s worked with my mom and it’s worked with Dr. Shirley. So, I’m shocked when saying “I’m not ready” doesn’t work with Ms. Riley.

“You can do this, Charlie. And, trust me, you’re gonna like Pearl.”

Ms. Riley finishes writing a note for me to go back to class, and hands it to me as she stands up, indicating the conversation is over.

I must have gotten a look on my face that said I was about to puke – probably because I felt like I was about to puke.

Looking worried now, Ms. Riley sits back down and says, “I don’t mean you’ll like her that way. I just mean she’s cool. You’ll see. She’ll be in Mr. Miracle’s class with you and from there, you can take her to the cafeteria for lunch. I already told her about you. So, go before ya miss any more class.”

“You did what?!?” I say, yelling now. This is exactly what I don’t need – another kid who knows what happened with Pete. Another kid with accusing eyes and dumb questions.

Ms. Riley doesn’t skip a beat, though.

“Don’t worry, I lied. I only told her the good stuff.”

With Ms. Riley’s smile, I calm down and realize there’s no way I’m getting out of this. I say, “Fine, I’ll do it. But only today. Just this one time.”

“Deal,” Ms. Riley says with a bigger smile.

The bell marking the start of 4th period has already rung, so I take my time walking to Mr. Miracle’s class, relishing the empty hallways of my cavernous school. When I open the door, hardly anyone looks up because Mr. Miracle is that good. He’s explaining the most outrageous Halloween costume he ever wore. I have no idea how he got on this topic. It makes me think of the big Halloween party the McMurtreys have every year. I won’t be going to that this year.

I head toward my seat in the third row as invisibly as possible and see that someone is sitting in it. It’s Pearl, the new girl. Before I can say or do anything, Mr. Miracle says:

“Mr. Madson, my fellow M and brother of the middle of the alphabet – you, my friend, may sit at my desk today. As you can see, Pearl (and he waits for the class to fill in the blank in chorus), ‘the new girl’ is occupying your home plate today. Sorry Pearl, I do love that internal rhyme and let’s face it, sometimes ya just gotta own a nickname. Not to worry, though, by Monday you won’t be new anymore and we’ll come up with more proper nomenclature for you. As for you, Charlie Madson, after school I’ll ask our amazing, over-worked, and under-respected custodians to dig up another desk from the bowels of Jefferson High School. So, don’t make yourself too comfortable at command central over there.”

Mr. Miracle’s desk is covered with papers and books and at least seven protein bars and a bag of Cuties oranges. His signature ginormous Indiana Hoosiers Yeti sits on the corner of his desk. Mr. Miracle always tells us that in order to maintain his level of energy and magnificence, he has to stay hydrated. So, he lets us have water bottles in class too.

Without skipping a beat, Mr. Miracle resumes his Halloween costume story, comes over to his desk and with one broad swipe of papers, he clears a space for me. I’ve already missed the music selection and the “on this day in history” fun fact. I’m barely listening as Mr. Miracle continues bouncing around the room with his story. I’m distracted thinking about Halloween and how this will be the first one, since I was little, I won’t be spending at the McMurtrey’s.

Zoning out as Mr. Miracle starts a Power Point presentation introducing us to the Era Project we’re starting, I finally really look at Pearl. The first thing I notice is she’s actually taking notes, with a pen that has an awkwardly long bright fluffy pink feather neatly secured to the end of it with neon pink duct tape.

I can’t really see her face because she’s turned toward Mr. M., but I notice she’s wearing a headband. I’m not in the habit of paying attention to what girls wear, but even I can’t miss this headband.

First, and I’m no expert, but I don’t think it’s the kind of headband a high school girl would wear. There are literally two cat ears stick up from it, like something a little kid would wear with a Halloween costume. The thing is, the cat ears aren’t black; they’re made of dingy white fur with pink and black polka dots. Attached to one of the cat ears is a big-ass black bow, so awkwardly big that it makes the whole thing lean to one side.

Then, Pearl raises her hand. I have no idea why because I’ve tuned Mr. Miracle totally out. Then, I hear him say, “Seriously, ya’ll gonna let Pearl show ya up on her first day? Who else can tell me who our smallest president was?”

A few more hesitant hands go up, and Mr. Miracle says, “I’ll give you a hint. This small-in-stature, but big-in-intellect president is also a brethren of the middle of the alphabet.” A couple more hands fly up, but Mr. Miracle chooses Pearl.

She says without much expression, and like it’s common knowledge, “James Madison.”

Then, I get it. I’m suddenly alert and Mr. Miracle has my full attention. He knew I wasn’t paying attention. The man’s a genius, but seriously, why me?