RECYCLED MEMORY Page 2

  I wouldn’t disappoint him.

  My counselor arrived on time as usual; she was the epitome of efficiency. Her abundant hips swayed slightly as she took her seat behind the large mahogany desk and retrieved my file from her locked cabinet. Mrs. Klein was a beautiful woman in her late thirties, with a kind smile and patient disposition. She’d chosen the perfect career when she’d decided to become a counselor. It suited her to a tee. She was never frustrated or short tempered, even though these weekly meetings were somewhat abnormal. Most students didn’t feel the need to meet so often, but I was the exception. She didn’t bother to open the file, but I needed her assurance that I maintained a perfect 4.0 grade point average before I ended this week’s meeting and left her office. That was the only thing that was important to me, the only thing that mattered.

  “Is there something wrong with my grades that I should know about?” My question took her by surprise, but she quickly recovered.

  “Of course not, Maribel. Why would you ask that?” She gave me a reassuring smile as she folded her hands on top of her desk and stared in my direction.

  “Well, you haven’t opened the file yet, so I assumed that there was something wrong.”

  “I see.” She took a deep breath and continued. “I’m certain that your grades haven’t changed much since we met last week, not to mention, I’m sure your father would have called immediately if he felt something was amiss.” She smiled politely.

  She wasn’t wrong about that. My father was mostly absent due to his long hours at the hospital, but the one thing he did religiously was check my grades on the Internet. Sure, I saw him every day, either before school or during dinner when he wasn’t working, but he wasn’t always available, so to speak. His workday didn’t end at five o’clock like most executives’; there was always some fundraiser, medical conference, or charity event he was expected to attend. His jet-set lifestyle was better suited for a Wall Street banker instead of a well-renowned surgeon. Lucky for him, my mother was perfectly suited for the roll of dutiful wife slash executive assistant. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my parents more than anyone else in this world; I just wished they were more in tune with my emotional needs and not just my educational ones.

  “Tell me about your sister, Maribel. You never talk about her much during our time together. Is there a reason you purposely avoid mentioning her?”

  “What the fuck is this, Mrs. Klein? Twenty fucking questions? I came here to talk about my fucking grades, not that stupid, half-brained twit.”

  One unfortunate drawback to my overstimulated genius IQ was my propensity for using profanity when faced with questions or statements I felt were beneath my intellect to offer a response. The behavior had started when I was about three years old and one of the servants asked me during lunch time if I was hungry. I’d promptly and unapologetically replied to her asinine question with “Bitch, what the fuck do you think?”Much to my parents’ dismay. From there, it just got worse until my father decided to take me to see his chief of child psychology at Madison Lee. He explained that as a child of exceptional intelligence, my use of profanity was my way of communicating so that I achieved maximum effectiveness. In the end, he concluded that it was perfectly normal behavior and that I would “grow out of it” as time went on. Needless to say, that shit had never happened, and the word “fuck” had become my new best friend and go-to term when faced with irritating propositions.

  “So, I take it that you and your sister don’t get along, then?” she probed.

  “She’s not my fucking sister, and I would appreciate it if you dropped the fucking subject.” Mrs. Klein remained poised behind her oversized desk. She’d been privy to my outbursts on more than one occasion and was hardly surprised anymore.

  “We’ll let that go for now, Maribel. I’m sure you have your reasons for not wanting to broach the subject, but I intend to revisit it at a later date.”

  She stuck the file folder inside her desk and stood from behind it while straightening out her skirt. She moved around until she stood casually in front of me with her legs crossed and her arms folder under her ample breasts.

  “Tell me how you like to spend your free time, Maribel. Do you have any friends you enjoy hanging out with? Girlfriends you can confide in, gossip with, or just plain pal around with when you have a spare moment?” What the fuck was this? The Spanish Inquisition?

  “Friends are a waste of time. They do nothing but get in the way of what’s most important in life: School and having a great career. Whatever so-called “free time” I have is focused on useful and productive endeavors like extra credit assignments and research.”

  “Yes, those things are important, Maribel, but you’re barely thirteen years old with plenty of time to consider your professional aspirations. Tell me, do you think collegiate life consists of only school assignments day in and day out? There are other aspects that are just as important that you’ve completely ignored, and therein lies my concern, especially given your age.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mrs. Klein. My grades are top notch, I don’t get into trouble, and I have a perfect attendance record. What the fuck difference does it make if I don’t have any friends? I’m doing what I’m supposed to do, yet here you are, giving me shit about something that will mean fuck all once I’ve become the most successful surgeon on the East Coast; male or female,” I shot back, exasperated.

  She was really starting to piss me off with all her bullshit questions. I didn’t have friends because I didn’t need any. What was the point anyway? They would probably end up attending some Podunk community college where they majored in basket weaving until they decided to drop out and have a parcel of crying brats while they sat around and waited for their minimum-wage-working husbands to come home. There wasn’t a kid in this entire school who was smarter or more driven to succeed than I was, age twelve or not. Mrs. Klein had it all wrong if she thought her little speech would deter me from my mission.

  “Before we meet again next week, Maribel, I’d like for you to consider a few things. Grades are important, but so is the ability to socialize among your peer group. In most cases, you are the youngest student in each of your classes since you skipped a few grades. That was a blessing for your intellectual well-being, but it could result in your interpersonal relationships and social skills becoming stunted irreparably. I challenge you to step outside your comfort zone and practice meeting new and interesting people. Introduce yourself as someone who is smart, driven, and worthy of wanting to spend time with. I’m not suggesting that you go out and beg the first person you run into to be friends; I merely ask that you leave yourself open to the idea.”

  “Is that all, Mrs. Klein? What about my grades from last week?” I stood from my chair, ready to leave. I considered this conversation to be over and done.

  “Your grades are perfect, Maribel, same as always.” She gave me her best clinical smile, which was my cue to bolt out the door with the hardest slam I could muster.

  I breathed a sigh of relief as I left her office shortly after agreeing to her stupid request. I had no intentions of following through with her absurd psychobabble. She’d lost every single one of her cool points when she bought up my so-called sibling unit and tried to get me to talk about her. That subject was off fucking limits, and not just to her but to everyone. I hated my older sister, hated her so much that I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her, let alone attempt a cordial co-existence. That spoiled, pea-brained prima donna wouldn’t know the difference between advanced biochemistry and strawberry Jell-O if it fell from the sky and knocked her on her head. She was two years older than me, and we were both freshmen at school, yet her brain function was that of a land slug. She only cared about two things in this world: Boys and fashion. Anything else was a non-factor in her orbit. My father called her his “beautiful princess with golden hair,” and he lavished affections on her as if she were the most precious person on earth. Whatever she wanted, he gladly gave, without q
uestion, and without the expectation of greatness that he held for me.

  She never had to feel the pressure of overachieving or the complete exhaustion from hours upon hours of studying until your eyes could no longer focus and threatened to pop right out of their sockets. She never had to worry about early admissions into the Ivy League school of her choice, not when there was a party to attend or cute boy she wanted to date. That was the extent of her ambition for the future. If Mrs. Klein’s bright idea of making friends meant I had to act anything like the golden princess, she could just forget it. I was going places, that much was certain, and not just the back seat of some asshole’s car so he could play with my tits before he came in his pants and embarrassed himself. No. The princess could have her fun; she was welcome to it and then some. I had better things to do with my life, and no one and nothing was going to stand in my way.

  THREE

  Marcus

  FOUR DAYS SUSPENSION CAME and went, and I was finally allowed back in school. It was the last fucking place I wanted to be, but I owed it to my parents to graduate and earn my high school diploma. I wanted to make an effort to stay out of trouble this time, not just for me but for the sake of my grandmother. It wasn’t her fault she got dealt a shitty hand and was stuck with a fucked-up grandson to care for. My mother had been her only child, and when she’d died along with my father, she’d inherited me along with all the bullshit that came with raising a screw-up teenage boy. She wasn’t a stranger; we’d spent countless holidays, vacations, and weekend visits to her home over the years. She’d always been kind and loving, much as she was now. The only difference was that instead of leaving with my parents when the visit was over, I was stuck here, and they were both gone. Without me.

  I walked out the rear exit of the school; it was my free period, and I needed some air if I was going to make it through the rest of the day. I passed by a group of kids as they stood around sneaking a smoke before the start of their next class. I didn’t bother to slow down or acknowledge them as I trekked to the far end of the campus and took a seat on the bleachers by the baseball field.Unwanted thoughts of my parents caused the already pent-up rage to simmer just below the surface and fought to take hold. Their deaths hit me hard, and I’d never forgive them for putting others’ needs ahead of their own son’s. I blamed them for leaving me behind, for not bringing me with them when I’d begged to go. That didn’t stop me from thinking of them every single day; I missed them so much. I felt my mother’s light touch on my face when I woke each morning; her kind words played on repeat in my mind as I remembered her lyrical voice. She’d often roused me with Rise and shine, a fresh new day is waiting for you to conquer it.

  What was the point of it all?

  “Well, well. If it isn’t the asshole who thinks he’s Muhamad Ali.”

  I spared a quick glace toward the voice and noticed it was the same kid whose ass I’d kicked the week before. He wasn’t alone this time; four other boys stood behind him like he was a rock star and they were his bodyguards. They tried to look intimidating with their ridiculous scowls and gangly bodies. Fucking insulting. I could take them all without breaking a damn sweat.

  I held back.

  “Fuck off, Steve Urkel, and take your girlfriends with you before you really piss me off.”

  My first day back from suspension, and these assholes were itching for a fight. The bleachers were far enough away that no one would see us if I decided to beat their asses, but I’d made a promise to myself to try and stay clear of trouble.

  That shit was harder said than done right about now.

  “Told you he was scared.” The ring leader cackled like a chicken, “He only got the drop on me last week ‘cause I had my back turned.” Yeah, right.

  “He’s a pussy. Let’s kick his ass,” the peanut gallery chimed in.

  “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  They advanced on me quickly, but I was ready. I stood from my spot on the bleachers and watched as they approached from all angles, surrounding me, like Indians circling the wagon before they attacked. They thought they had strength in numbers.

  Unfortunately for them, that was their first mistake.

  Fucking pansies.

  They were about to learn the hard way what their second mistake was when I squared my shoulders and readied my fists for impact. I could take these fools in my sleep; they should have taken the hint and scurried off when they had the chance. I reared back my right arm and clocked the first kid so hard he fell backwards down the bleachers and sprawled out on the ground. Two of the other boys grabbed me by the arms and held them behind my back so I couldn’t move. They were stronger than I’d thought but just as stupid. My legs were free, which allowed me to kick one of them in the balls before I took a punch to the jaw that snapped my neck sideways when it collided with my face. I was momentarily stunned by its force, but it was just what I needed to bring fourth the full brunt of my pent-up rage. A switch went off in my head, and I was no longer capable of controlling my temper. I wanted to kill each and every one of them with my bare hands, make them suffer the way I suffered from the loss of my parents. Make them pay for ever thinking I was a punk bitch who ran away at the first sign of trouble. All the hurt, all the pain. One punch, and it would all be over. I’d let me fists do the talking.

  “STOP!”

  A frantic scream came from somewhere nearby, but the assholes holding my arms made it difficult to see from where. The high pitch of the voice meant it belonged to a girl, but what the fuck was she doing out there? Couldn’t she see what was going on? The two fuckers holding me let go with a quick shove, and I stumbled backwards against the metal bleachers. They stomped angrily toward the girl with the voice, all five of them, grumbling threats of violence and payback. She wouldn’t stand a chance against those creeps if she didn’t get out of there; no chick could hold her own against so many. That’s when I finally saw her, the face behind the scream.

  I blinked my eyes.

  Shook my head to clear the cobwebs.

  Blinked for a second time just to be sure.

  That chick couldn’t have been more than ten years old, if that. Fifty pounds soaked and wet and barely finished with potty training from the looks of her. That alone was enough to make her presence here comical, but the fact that she was wearing a fucking lab coat? That was just…weird. The crowd of boys stepped closer to where she was standing, but she didn’t back down or cower like a scared little kitten. She faced them head on with a sinister little sneer and a deranged glint in her eyes.

  “Mind your own business, you ugly dog. Go back inside before you get hurt.”

  Steve Urkel tried to intimidate her with his cruel words, but she didn’t give him an inch. He reached out and grabbed her by the arm, but the little girl produced some kind of bottle with brown liquid inside and shoved it in his face. She twisted off the cap and held it out in front of her like a shield while she threatened them right back.

  “Listen up, motherfuckers. This is hydrochloric acid one drop from this bottle will burn your balls off in thirty seconds flat.”

  “You won’t throw that shit on us.”

  “Oh no? Try me, fucker. There’s plenty to go around.” She gave the bottle a little shake.

  The five pussies stepped back just enough to avoid the accidental splash of acid that was likely to happen if she didn’t stop waving her hand around. She had them right where she wanted them, too scared to move and too dumb to challenge her and call her bluff. Here I thought I was gonna have to save this chick from getting pummeled by those idiots, but she didn’t need my help.

  “Leave him alone and get the fuck outa here…NOW!”

  She gave the bottle another little shake, and they took off running like their asses were on fire. She stood there and watched until they were out of sight with a triumphant look on her face. I approached her cautiously, hoping she didn’t decide to throw that toxic shit on me, proof positive she was a bona fide fruit loop just escaped from kiddy daycare. Sh
e watched me as I headed her way. Thankfully, she’d recapped the bottle and slipped it back into the pocket of the lab coat. Up close she looked even younger than I’d previously thought. She had shiny metal braces on both rows of her teeth that reflected off the sun when she smiled to herself in satisfaction. Her hair was a ridiculous shade of red; it looked like smashed-up tomatoes similar to the ones my Nana used to make her spaghetti sauce. Her glasses were the thickest I’d ever seen on a human being; Coke bottles had nothing on this kid. She reminded me of a character from the Muppets, crazy hair, big eyes, and a lab coat that was so big on her I was surprised she hadn’t tripped on it.

  “I could’ve taken them myself, little girl. Didn’t need your help.”

  I shouldered past her as I made my own way back to school.

  “Didn’t look like it to me, bright boy. Five against one is a no-win situation for anyone including a tough guy like yourself,” she sassed.

  I ignored her and kept walking until I heard the patter of her little feet approaching from behind me. This chick obviously didn’t know when to give up.

  “Well, fuck you very much, asshole. Next time, I’ll bring popcorn and watch the ass-kicking show from the stands. I’m sure it couldn’t be much worse than our varsity football team.”

  “What do you mean our team? Don’t you belong in, like, middle school or something?

  I tried to walk faster, hoping to ditch the little Muppet before I reached the school doors. If the principle caught me with this girl, he would definitely suspend me for another three days for child endangerment or some shit. I couldn’t take that chance.

  “I’m not a kid, Mr. Know-it-all. All brawn and no brains just like I thought. I’m a freshman at this school, so you can just suck it,” she announced with a silly little smirk.

  The crazy Muppet stepped in front of me with her hands on her hips. That wacky red hair flew all over the place; some of it landed in her mouth. Her tiny nose was a light shade of pink from her so-called angry glare. She wanted to scare me, but I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up in my chest out of nowhere. My ass was this close to getting into more trouble fuckin’ around in the halls instead of going to class. I’d barely escaped getting jumped by a bunch of idiots, and this little girl was trying to badger me with her best Mean Girls impersonation. I hadn’t laughed like that since before my parents’ death a few months ago. It was enough to make me forget she had that acid shit in her pocket. The last thing I wanted was for her to make good on her threat to burn off balls if she decided to chuck that shit on me for making fun.