"Kermit and Miss Piggy"

“Those damn Teddy Grahams,” I idiotically giggle. All I am missing is a Southern belle accent and a lace-trimmed fan. Flirting—who knew it could feel so fake?



“Amelia, what can I tell you? Having a crush on someone makes a guy do crazy things.” He blushes through his pale skin.


The bell to end lunch will be here any minute and all I can think of is how much Seth and I look like Kermit and Miss Piggy. Only this toad is gay and I am a female Attila the Hun. Seth, clearly still steeped in denial, is most likely seeking me out as I am more masculine than feminine in features—with the exception of my maraca-like breasts, of course.


Well, there’s nothing wrong with a healthy dose of denial. Isn’t that what people in arranged marriages do? So neither one of us is sincerely attracted to the other—big deal! What matters is that we each get to have a Someone; that we never need to feel alone again.


I want to ask him if Meeka really said that I was ugly. But then the word would swim in his head and help him see my pig-like nostrils. Perceiving me as masculine is one thing, but finding me frighteningly grotesque, quite another. So I just listen to him pack away his Tupperware and keep my face averted.


“See, I called your mom at work and told her that I was really worried about you. I made up this whole story about Meeka saying you were the ugliest girl she’d ever seen so that, hear me out, your mom would focus on your low self-esteem and not on your detention. You see what I did there? I got you off the hook!” The bell rings and Seth stands up as if it is no big deal, as if the ground under our feet is still solid.


I do not need to ask how he got my mother’s work number. The answer was sitting on the cheap wooden steps outside of our apartment last night. My self-esteem already floats in a choppy sea so I will not drown it completely with some lame defense. If Seth wants to he can throw me a life-raft. “Thanks.” I fold my brown lunch bag into ever smaller squares.


“You’re most welcome. And now I have a favor to ask of you.” He extends his arm to help pull me up. I pray that he won’t try to hold my hand.


“Sure.” I can already see Deidra’s face when she hears all about a New York senior who has a crush on me…. Already I am editing the petty detail that he prefers boys. Finally I will be able to say that I too have a someone.


“Hook me up with Meeka Jones?” His eyes turn soft like Mr. McGee’s.


“Meeka Jones?” The name is curdled milk in my throat. It doesn’t matter that my lack of attraction for Seth is clearly mutual. It doesn’t matter that he is gay. Jealousy and insecurity are drowning out any definite (albeit dormant) sense of relief.


“Well, who else did you think I was talking about?”


“How the hell am I supposed to know who you’re hot for?” We are speed-walking to our respective classes. It is a wonderful excuse to be breathless.


“Please help me,” he whines with those soft eyes, eyes that I wrongly assumed were trying to find the courage to share a different story.


My stomach suddenly feels like lead. The urge to cry is unrelenting but as I’d rather face immediate death, I revert to my comfort zone: anger.


“Seth, I don’t even know the bitch.”


“Oh, but you will. Your mom is going to take care of that.” He walks through a classroom door and turns to face me. “And please, don’t call her a female dog. She’s way too hot to be dissed like that.”


The door closes in my face and the last bell rings for class. I pull my grandfather’s flannel shirt closer to me, wishing more than anything for my father’s broad chest to collapse against, wishing I never heard of Meadowview.