Five: White Trash
After almost 15 really difficult questions, Taylor finally agreed to drive me home so I could finish my English homework before it got too late. He also promised to pick me up at my high school the following day when school got out.
I sat at the small desk in my calculus class watching the clock. It was 1:13. I had exactly 2 minutes exactly until class would be dismissed and I could meet Taylor outside, and I was strangely excited. It scared me much how I was looking forward to it.
“Does anyone know what the answer to number 11 on the quiz was? Did anyone get it right?” My teacher asked.
I looked around the room and sighed. Of course I was the only one who got it right. My fellow classmates never seemed to study. I raised my hand.
“Gabrielle?”
“The answer is the cubed root of 156.”
She nodded approvingly, “Correct. Did everyone hear Gabrielle?”
The class grumbled, as usual. Everyone began to close their notebooks and get packed up as the bell was about to ring. My teacher sighed and tossed the chalk down. She had given up begging us not to pack up until class was truly over.
“The homework is on the board. See you tomorrow,” she surrendered.
I shuffled out of the room with the rest of class, and for once, I actually felt excited school was out. School was usually the refuge. School was safe and comforting and far more enjoyable than being at home. But for the first time, I felt glad the bell had rung.
“Gabrielle, do you need a ride home…?” one of the boys who was moderately friendly to me asked as we left the classroom. I had a sneaking suspicion all he really wanted was to get in my pants. He was good looking though, and I didn’t mind the male attention to be honest.
“Thanks, but someone is picking me up today.”
He cocked an eyebrow, “Who is this? A boyfriend maybe?”
I laughed, remembering the awkward situation at my house just the day before, “Just a friend.”
Is that what Taylor had become to me already? A friend. The word scared me. I packed my things up at my locker and although I was tempted to go sprinting for the parking lot to look for his car, I stopped myself and coolly made my way outside. I scanned the parking lot for his flashy car. I couldn’t find it anywhere. My shoulders slumped and I sighed loudly. I sat down on the bench outside of the school and sulked, actually sulked.
I took my sunglasses out of my pocket (the sunglasses the school secretary had given me since they had been in lost and found for months and no one ever claimed them) and laid down on the bench. It was freezing out.
It must have been 35 minutes before he pulled up. I was just about to begin walking home.
“Gabrielle! Hop in!”
I laid there. Was someone speaking to me?
“Gabrielle Carter! Sorry I’m late!” then after a moment, “I know you can hear me!”
I finally sat up and looked at him, peering over my sunglasses. “I thought I heard something…I guess not.” I began to lay back down.
“Oh come on. I’m here now, aren’t I?”
I laid down again and stared up a the clouds. I heard the car door slam and he appeared in my view, looking down at me.
“I’m sorry. I stayed after class to talk to my professor and lost track of time. He just talked and talked and…I swear he didn’t even stop to breathe.”
“Reminds me of someone else I know,” I muttered.
“Huh?”
I sat up and took my sunglasses off, looking at him, “You were almost 40 minutes late. You lost track of 40 minutes?”
He shrugged sheepishly. I sighed and grabbed my backpack. “Alright, let’s go.”
As I reached for the passenger door of his car, I was distracted by a gasp from behind me. I turned to see Melissa McChavey standing there with they keys to her Mercedes in her hand. Her mouth hung open in shock.
“Gabrielle Carter…” she uttered, “Is that…?”
Taylor flashed her his flirtatious, quirky smile, “Hey.”
“Are you Taylor Hanson?”
“I am…and your name is?” He stepped around the front of the car to shake her hand.
“Melissa…what are you doing at our school?”
Taylor leaned against the car and glanced in my direction, “Picking up my friend Gabrielle.”
I refused to stand there and watch the snobbiest girl in my high school flirt with my newest crush. I froze as I pulled open the car. My newest crush? What in the world was I thinking? I washed the idea out of my head as I sat down and slammed the car door. I tried not to watch Melissa and Taylor flirtatiously chat in front of me. After they’d laughed for a minute or two, I watched him begin to put her phone number into his cell phone. I don’t know what I disbelieved more- that Melissa had actually managed to charm Taylor who shamelessly charmed her back, or that I was actually jealous.
“What?” he said when he got into the car and observed my annoyed expression. I chose not to reply to him. “What are you mad about now? You know, Gabrielle…”
I refused to let a practical stranger try and tell me how I was like I could tell he was about to.
“Just drive.”
“Maybe I have something to say? I want to know why you’re sitting there glaring at me.”
I turned to him and smiled, “Glaring?”
“You were just a second ago…”
“Well I’m not now. Drive.”
After a solemn pause, he put on his seat belt and began to drive. That is when I couldn’t help the words from pouring out of my mouth.
“I cannot believe you actually just asked for Melissa McChavey’s phone number. That seems so…unlike you.”
“First of all, I didn’t. She offered it. And second of all, you know nothing about the girls I date.”
“So now you’re dating her?”
“What?” I tried so hard to bite my tongue, and yet I kept rambling. I just couldn’t control myself around him, something that had never happened to me before. I was bewildered.
“You were just flirting with the biggest bitch in the entire school, Taylor. Do you know anything about that girl?”
“No?”
“And you don’t want to! Her father is an owner of Chevron and she’s absolutely loaded. She’s never talked to me because I’m not as rich as she is. It’s been that way since the 6th grade.”
“So you say she hates you because you’re poor, and yet you hate her because she’s rich?”
I searched for a way to defend myself. But he had me, and he knew it.
“Some people aren’t always how you think they’re going to be,” he shrugged.
“You’re defending someone you don’t even know…”
“I’m not defending anyone! I’m just pointing out your quickness to stereotype and-”
“Stereotype!?”
“And judge.”
I shook my head in disbelief. I had known Taylor Hanson for not even a week and there he was explaining my faults to me. Was he nuts?
“You are incredible….” I muttered.
“Thanks.” I wasn’t looking at him. I refused to. But I can guarantee he was trying to fight the tugging on his lips- trying not to grin.
I sighed and rested my head against the seat. And yet as frustrated and fed up as I was, I felt happy to just be sitting in the car with him. I pondered why that was. Did I get an undeniable thrill from being friends with a celebrity? Did I appreciate his friendship? Did I feel like I was doing a good thing helping him with his project? Or worst of all, did I actually, truly, really have a slight crush on the goofy kid in the Oaklies sunglasses who was bouncing along to the music…
“Why are we at the mall?” I finally asked as he pulled into the parking garage.
“Why are we at the mall?” He imitated in a pretend whiney voice. It surprised me how natural we were around each other. There was no awkwardness…no forced friendliness or cheerful conversation.
“I’m serious.”
“I’m craving Taco Bell,” he finally admitted, finding a spot and giving me a tight smile. I begrudgingly followed him into the food court.
“How was school?” he asked as we walked into the mall.
“It was school. Boring and dull, which is preferable to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’d rather be sitting in a boring classroom than a dramatic living room at home,” I chuckled.
“While Bobby pictures you naked.”
“Gross!”
He laughed and noted the group of girls passing us, giving them a shy smile. I noticed that was his niche with girls. He played this sort of shy yet confident role with them, and somehow, I noticed, it worked. They whispered and giggled as we passed. I smirked at him and giggled mockingly at him.
“Shut up,” he grinned, “I can’t help that I’m a girl magnet!”
“Hah!” But I didn’t disagree.
After Taylor had ordered a disgusting total of five tacos for himself (and insisted that he buy me three as well), we found a seat in the corner of the food court by ourselves.
“I didn’t even think to ask if you wanted a drink,” he said as we sat down, “I’m sorry. You want me to go up and get you one?”
“No, no! Of course not. I’m fine.”
He hesitantly began to unwrap his first taco and then pushed his extra large soda into the middle of the table. “You can just share with me, unless it grosses you out.”
I felt like a giddy 13 year old at the thought of sharing a straw with Taylor Hanson. It’s funny how before I recognized who he was I didn’t seem to get any butterflies. But just knowing his identity and the prestige behind his name sent chills up my spine. I nodded appreciatively.
“Although, I didn’t brush my teeth when I woke up this morning,” he snickered, taking a big bite of his tacos as lettuce and meat fell from his mouth onto the tray and his pants. He was frighteningly down to earth.
“You’re a slob.”
“Oh, you try to eat a taco daintily! Let me see you try,” he said through a mouthful of food.
I proceeded to unwrap my taco and take a small bite of my taco, giving him a smug look.
He grinned and shook his head, “That’s talent.” After a big gulp of his coke he added, “Alright, Gabrielle Carter. Ready to answer some more questions.”
I groaned.
“You don’t HAVE to…”
“Alright, alright.”
“Okay…my first question of the day is…” he reached down into his man purse as I’d like to call it and pulled out a pad of paper and pen and looked at where he left off the night before. “Where we were…do you have anyone in your life that you would consider sort of like a…father figure?”
I paused and thought about it. Of course I did. Ray. I let my mind wander back to the scruffy haired, wrinkled eyed, sun tanned Ray Winterson.
“Ray,” I responded, “Ray was…my mom’s boyfriend from when I was 10 until I was 12. He lived with us for 2 years…and he was amazing. I don’t know what he saw in my mother. She’s loud and selfish and to be honest….she’s dumb as a doorknob. But Ray was thoughtful and caring and always full of knowledge and wisdom…you could never quite know where he got it from. He had a lot of random trivia to share…he’d tell you things like the capitol of Uzbekistan…I don’t exactly know where he knew that, actually.”
Taylor nodded with understanding eyes.
“He was really, really good to me…when I was 10 he found this bike in a junkyard and he bought a bottle of neon pink spray paint and painted it all up…found a basket and used twist ties to attach it to the front. And he gave it to me for no reason at all. It wasn’t a birthday gift or a Christmas gift…or a good job you got straight A’s gift. It was just a gift. That’s kind of how he was. He never made me uncomfortable…never fought with my Mom in front of me or made it painfully obvious what they did in the bedroom…” I blushed, “Most of her boyfriends do.”
He smiled, “That’s pretty sick…”
I nodded, “But eventually he realized just what a terror my Mom was. At the time I was furious with him when he packed up that day…it was October by the way. I was furious he was leaving me and not saying where he was going. I was furious he wouldn’t take me with him, far far away from my Mom. I remember watching him load stuff into the beat up car he had been working on all summer. That’s what he did…restored cars and sold them to people in the neighborhood.”
Taylor stopped writing, and set the pen down to just listen to me.
“I remember he packed up the trunk…put his dog, Murphy, in the backseat. I stood there on the front steps screaming at him. I was screaming at him that he couldn’t take Murphy for me and I wrapped my arms around Murphy’s coarse neck and cried into it. The truth was, I wasn’t that devastated about Murphy leaving. I was devastated about losing Ray, but I couldn’t seem to tell him. He hugged me goodbye quickly…Ray not Murphy…told me to be good, and he’d back one day if he could. I wish he had never told me that…because each and everyday when I got home from school the next few years I hoped to see his rusty Chevette parked out front.”
Taylor nodded, “But he never came back?”
I shook my head, “He never came back. And I’m glad he didn’t. He deserved better than my mom. I remember I ran down the road after him in bare feet trying to keep up with the car, pounding on the windows and crying for him to stop and come back. I think I even saw him choke up, but eventually he went too fast and I was too tired and he just drove off. My dad left when I was 2. I don’t remember the pain of that at all. I was too young. But seeing Ray drive away like that…the memory will never completely go away I don’t think.”
“Has every guy since him been an asshole?”
“Pretty much. My mom is dating a new guy every few months lately. Some are worse than others. They’re all poor, white, trash like us so…”
Taylor shook his head, “You’re not poor, white trash…”
I smiled, “It’s okay. I am. I hear people saying that about me at school. I know what I am.”
He shook his head adamantly, “You’re mom might be…I won’t argue with that. But you’re not. I promise.”
I shrugged and looked down at my tacos to distract myself. Taylor must have sensed the awkwardness in the air and so he looked to his notebook for his next question.
“Have you ever wanted to get a job?”
I smiled bitterly, “I’ve had jobs since I was 15 years old. My latest job was at the Five and Ten down the street. I ran the cash registers. Then my mom slept with the owner, and he fired me after she started dating Brad a few months ago. I am still looking for a new job that I can walk too. There isn’t much in walking distance though.”
The questions continued for the next half an hour. Each time I thought there were no more questions to ask, Taylor came up with something else. He was naturally curious. Often times I noticed him so interested to hear what I had to say, he completely stopped writing down anything at all. The boy who I’d see enhale his food within seconds before took his time with each of his tacos- too busy intently listening to me.
“Let’s walk around the mall for a bit,” he decided when we brought our trays of trash to the garbage.
I wasn’t about to argue spending more time with him. As I began to think about when he would have to bring me back to my neighborhood and drive off, my stomach dropped.