Invisible Read online

  It strikes me that I have nothing prepared on the off- chance I win the writing award. I close my eyes and try to come up with something, but the banging of my heart against my ribcage is too distracting and not a single coherent thought pops to mind. I let the notion slip away with a little sigh of relief. It’s easier if I tell myself I’m not going to win.

  Jon turns and looks at me. We’re too far apart to speak, but his eyes say it all. “Don’t wimp out,” he’s saying, “you’ve got to do this. Don’t let us down.” Sucking in a few deep breaths, I drum my fingers on my knee. The girl next to me shoots me a dirty look. It’s Patricia Seaver, the pretty cheerleader I sat beside all year in homeroom. She gives me a tsk to go with the look, making me want to stomp on her dainty little foot.

  One after another, students are called to the stage. Principal Harris congratulates each with a handshake and the student proceeds to the podium to say a few words. Finally, the next award is the athletic scholarship. Adrenaline shoots through me, sending my heart into summersaults. I quickly look at the students on either side of me and study their expressions. No shrieks of surprise or slack jawed stares, so I guess I’m still visible.

  I ready myself for a quick escape.

  Principal Harris plucks an envelope from the stack in the Vice Principal’s outstretched hand. His bald pate gleams in the overhead lights and he pastes on a big, phony smile. “The next award is the athletic scholarship award, male. The winner of this award has shown proven leadership abilities as well as outstanding athletic talent in several intramural sports.” He holds the envelope up to the audience before slipping a finger beneath the seal and popping it open. “And the winner is …”

  I’m already an inch out of my seat when he calls the wrong name.

  “… Paul Chang.”

  I fall back with an audible sigh. Nino’s shaking his head and I read his lips. He’s spewing a stream of expletives as he pounds his thigh with a fist.

  Jon throws his hands up in resignation and meets my gaze with a concerned furrowing of the brow. Charlie hasn’t turned to look at me.

  He’s going to get away without being punished, I think. At first, I’m alarmed, furious even, but I have to admit, a small part of me is relieved. Then I think of Charlie and what he wanted to do to her. There’s got to be another way! Maybe Jon and I can come up with something to spring on him at the dance. My eyes burn into the back of Charlie’s head, willing her to turn around. God, I need my friend right now.

  Paul Chang rushes to the stage, takes his award and hoists it over his head to great applause. He looks as shocked as Nino. After Paul’s impromptu ten-second thank you speech, Principal Harris continues, announcing one award after another.

  “…and the winner of the creative writing scholarship award is… Lola Savullo.”

  I snap to attention at the sound of my name. All eyes have turned to me. A smile finally forms on my lips at the realization of what I’ve just accomplished.

  Standing, I make my way to the stage on elastic legs, searching for my parents and Eva in the crowd. Their beaming faces and frantic clapping greet me. They’re genuinely happy. Why does that surprise me? I peer down at the rose indelibly etched on the skin of my wrist and run a finger lightly over it, silently thanking Gran for being my inspiration, and my biggest supporter.

  “Congratulations, Miss Savullo,” Principal Harris says with a handshake as he gives me the award and the scholarship check that comes with it.

  A camera flashes. It’s Mom. She’s rushed to the stage and is now waving wildly up at me.

  “Thanks,” I manage in a fog of disbelief.

  The podium seems as if it’s a mile away as I move toward it on trembling legs. When I get there and open my mouth to speak, nothing comes out. What if I just squeak out a thank you and run off? My heart’s beating dangerously hard and I fear I’m entering my own personal Bermuda Triangle. There will be no disappearing in front of a gymnasium full of people, I tell myself. Winking out in public wouldn’t do much for my freaky, fat girl, possible lesbian reputation.

  Nonchalantly, I suck in calming breaths as I search my brain for something, anything to say. I’ve just won the writing award, surely I can think of something profound. Isn’t that what’s expected of me, a writer?

  I tap the award against the wooden podium. It’s rolled up like my diploma and fastened with a dark blue ribbon. The noise it makes is a hollow pong, like the sound of an empty paper towel roll. My other hand grips the envelope containing my scholarship check. When I realize I’m crinkling it, I relax my grip.

  The room is silent, except for the pong, pong of my rolled up award and the glare of expectant eyes brings heat to my cheeks. Jon’s staring at me so hard it’s as if he’s willing my mouth to move; by shear force of will, he’s trying to pull words from me. Charlie’s in the row behind Jon and she’s smiling. I hope it’s for my success and not my failure at public speaking.

  My gaze falls on Nino. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded with pleasure and his lips are curled into a satisfied grin. Despite whatever fear I’d managed to strike in him earlier, he’s clearly enjoying my giant fail.

  As soon as our eyes meet, he speaks, “Cows can’t talk. Say moo, cow.” It isn’t loud, but he’s near enough for me to hear.

  Pride fades and self-hatred and humiliation rise up to take its place. Those feelings are familiar; they are my default. The warmth of tears spring to my eyes, but I pinch them away. Grandma Rose’s sweet face flashes across the screen of my mind and, absently, I caress my tattoo. “You must learn to love yourself.” Her words echo in my ears and are as real as if she were standing by my side whispering them, like the day I wrote my story.

  I gather up the back of my gown and pull Nino’s speech from my pocket, unfold it and iron it flat with the palm of my hand.

  Emboldened, I face the audience and clear my throat. “This speech was meant for someone else to read, but I think it needs to be heard,” I say. But do I really mean it? Or am I doing this because I feel I have to?

  Nino’s eyes are wide and he leans forward as if he can’t believe I’m going to do it. I notice a slight discoloration on his left cheek. The purple and yellow of a faded bruise? Did I do that? My gaze falls to the small cut that still lingers on my hand from the day I punched him. Red-ringed, but fading, nevertheless it’s a reminder. I glance over at my fellow graduates. They know Nino. Everyone knows Nino, teachers and students alike. I won’t be telling them anything they don’t already know, except for the cruel plans he had for Charlie and me after the dance tonight. And maybe no one will believe me. Like Nino said, I can’t prove shit.

  My splayed fingers gather the sheet up slowly and I hear it crumple as my hand clenches into a fist, then I toss it to the floor. I have a choice. Become a bully, like Nino and read the speech, with its biting angry words that will humiliate him and perpetuate this ugliness, or I can rise above and use my time to say something that really matters.

  Principal Harris inches his way toward me and I realize I’d better say something or I’ll be kicked back to my seat. I must look like a fool standing so quietly at the podium.

  I suck in a deep breath and begin, “I wouldn’t want to be anybody else.” My voice is strong and sure. “I used to want to be anybody but me, but right now I realize that if I wasn’t Lola Savullo, all five foot nine inches of me, with this wild curly hair and my love of reading and writing, I wouldn’t be standing here right now enjoying the proudest moment of my life.”

  “Yeah, all four hundred pounds of you,” Nino yells loud enough for most everyone to hear.

  He draws sharp warning glares from teachers. Principal Harris and Vice Principal Bevelaqua both shoot him narrow-eyed admonitions. There’s a gasp and a few low boos from the audience. Just weeks ago that comment would have set me off, melting what little self-esteem I had. It would have sent my heart into a flutter and I more than likely would have disappeared. But not any more.

  I straighten to my full height as I p
eer down at Nino, who’s slouched in his chair, arms folded across his chest with a smirk on his face.

  Principal Harris has moved close again. “It’s okay,” I say and hold up a hand, my left hand, the one with my beautiful rose. I look pointedly at Nino and speak just to him, “I’m the one standing here. I’m the one who won a scholarship for my talent. I’m the one who’s going to make something of myself.”

  Nino’s smirk dissolves and a calm unlike anything I’ve ever experienced washes over me, as if I’m enfolded in the warmth of an embrace. Grandma Rose, maybe? I can’t be certain but it’s a comforting thought.

  I turn toward the teachers. “Thank you for the award and the scholarship. I will use it to help make my dreams come true.” Then I face the crowd. “Thanks to my dearest and best friend, Charlie Menardi, who believes in me and has stood by my side through thick and thin. I will be there for you always and forever.” For a moment, it’s as if we’re the only ones in the room. Her expression softens and a flicker of a smile plays on her lips.

  Then my eyes find Jon. “Thank you to Jon Kingsbury. My dear sweet friend who wants nothing more than to protect me.” His scowl, no doubt at the failure of our plan, turns to a smile.

  Next, I search out my family. “Thank you to my parents and even my sister, Eva, for giving me lots of material to write about.” The crowd laughs and thankfully my family does too.

  “And thank you.” I point at Nino and at Tyler. “For showing me what I’m made of. For helping me discover a strength I never thought I possessed and for showing me that I don’t want to be cruel. That I don’t want revenge and that being a bully is something to be pitied, not rewarded.” My voice is soft and conversational because these words are not meant to hurt or humiliate. They’re meant for me. It feels good to speak my truth. This isn’t revenge, it’s me honoring my self-worth.

  My gaze shifts to the sky. “But most of all, thank you, Grandma Rose, for loving me and teaching me how important it is for me to love myself.” My voice catches as I fight back tears and I step away from the podium. “Can you see me, Grandma?” I whisper as I trace the outline of my rose.

  Charlie’s on her feet and to my delight she makes her way to the stage and stands beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist. I pull her close.

  “Are we friends?” I ask.

  She nods and when she does, tears fall, leaving tiny darkened polka dots on her navy gown. Together we make our way back to our seats.

  Nino huffs his displeasure but I can hardly hear it over the applause my speech has brought.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Ronnie Smithers’ Valedictorian speech, filled with stutters and stammers, comes to an end and his freckled face flushes to the same orangey-red as his ginger-topped head. The gym fills with polite applause and Mr. Hollingsworth is quickly on his feet, perhaps as a diversion to deflect attention from the petrified boy. He gestures wildly for us to stand too. We do and then someone throws their cap in the air like they do in the movies. A split second later, it’s as if we all share one brain because we’re all throwing our caps almost at the same time.

  Principal Harris announces that the ceremony is now over and there’s coffee and pastries set out at the far end of the gym. Chairs scrape and suddenly there’s a loud buzz of conversation as everyone makes their way to the refreshment table.

  After retrieving a cap, because I can’t be certain it’s the same one I’d been wearing, I make my way over to the rear of the gym.

  I spy Mom searching the crowd for me. Despite the extra three-and-a-half inches her spiky heels have given her, she’s still pretty much shorter than everyone around her. It’s the bobbing of her multi-colored head of hair that I spot first. My sister’s snagged a pile of Danishes and she’s folding them up in a napkin. Dad’s holding a coffee, no doubt wishing he had a cigarette to go with it, and talking to Charlie’s mom.

  As soon as Mom sees me, she pulls me into an embrace. “Oh, my God, Lola. You won an award!”

  “Yup,” I say. “Can we go now? I want to get ready for the dance?” Truth be told, I just want to get outside for some air.

  Although I’m happy and proud of myself, my emotions are raw. And Nino and Tyler are floating around amongst the crowd somewhere and I’d rather not see them right now.

  “In a minute.” She pats my arm and joins in on Dad’s conversation.

  “Hey,” Charlie says as she reaches through the crowd and grabs a small square of lemon cake. “Congrats. I knew you’d win.” She points toward my award with the cake-toting hand.

  “Thanks. I didn’t.”

  There’s an awkward silence. I guess we’re both thinking about what happened between us the other day. My gaze drops to my shoes.

  “You excited about the dance?” she asks quickly in a voice higher than her usual tone.

  The question draws my attention back to her. “Umm, yeah, I guess.”

  “Me too,” she says, reaching tentatively for my hand. “Who woulda thought we’d be happy about going to a dance?” She laughs, and then leans in as if to reveal a secret. “Thank you for the nice things you said about me.”

  The crazy awkwardness slides away and I smile with relief. “Meant every word.”

  Charlie widens her eyes and blows out her cheeks. “So, I guess Nino got away with it.” She eats her tiny piece of cake in one bite.

  I shake my head with vigor. “He didn’t get away with anything.”

  “Sure he did. He didn’t win the award so he didn’t have to read the speech you wrote for him. Then when you won, I thought you were going to read it.” There’s surprise in her voice and a question in her expression.

  I play with the tassel on my cap, then finally plant the odd square hat on my head. Charlie knows what it’s like to be bullied, just as well as I do, but only I know what being the bully feels like. “Would you like to be him?” I ask.

  “What?” Confusion furrows her brow.

  “Would you like to be Nino?” I say again. “Because I know what it feels like to be a bully. When I punched him and kicked him in the nuts the other day, I hated myself for doing that.”

  “What? It didn’t feel good to beat the shit out of him?” Her mouth hangs open like a gate on a busted hinge.

  “It felt awful and I don’t ever want to feel that way again.” I plant my hands on my hips.

  She raises her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

  “All you and Jon wanted was revenge and I was the big dog you two sent in after the bully.” I’m careful to keep my voice even. We’ve just gotten over one awkward moment and the last thing I want is another.

  “I’m sorry, Lola. I didn’t know…”

  “It’s okay,” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s over now. Can we just let it all go?”

  “Sure, sure.” She puts a hand on my arm and nods furiously.

  My cellphone vibrates. I gather up my gown and slide it from my pocket. At the doors with parents and grandparents. Can’t get away.

  “It’s Jon,” I say and turn in a circle until I spot him. A huge smile splits his face when our eyes meet and despite the tiny temper tantrum I’ve just thrown, I smile back.

  It’s ok. See u at the dance, I text back.

  He reads it and waves. Then he blows me a kiss.

  “Jon’s by the doors. He can’t get away,” I explain.

  “Are you mad at him too?” Charlie asks.

  “No. I’m not mad at anyone,” I answer without hesitation. “And that’s the greatest part, Char’. I’m not mad, I’m happy.”

  “Then so am I.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Relief floods through me as I slide into the backseat of our SUV. All the hard stuff is over and I can relax now and have fun at the dance. A few short weeks ago, I’d be in hell at the prospect of being dressed up, and of course I’d be dateless. Life has a way of changing when you least expect it – for good and for bad.

  “Way t
o go, Lola,” Dad says as we drive away. “Congratulations for being a high school graduate and for winning an award. How much is the check for?”

  Mom plants a hand on Dad’s arm and shoots him a look, then she turns in her seat to face me. “Lola, what was going on with that boy? What did he say to you?”

  I glimpse Dad’s smile melt in the rear view. Phew, I almost want to say out loud. Guess they didn’t hear what Nino said and I’m glad for it. “Ahh, nothing important.”

  “Was he making fun of you?” she tries again. Her face crumples in concern.

  “I’m happy right now. I just wanna let the good feelings in and be proud. It doesn’t matter what that loser said.”

  “That’s the attitude,” Dad chimes in.

  “Has this been going on for a while?” Mom’s nothing if not persistent.

  “High school’s full of buttheads,” Eva chimes in. “God, Mom, this kinda crap goes on all the time. I remember when I was in my junior year, there was this one girl…” Mom waves her quiet and keeps her eyes on me.

  “I’m sorry, honey.” She reaches out to me and I take her hand.

  “It’s really okay.” I give her tiny hand a squeeze. It’s in her eyes  she knows this wasn’t a one-time thing. It’s as if right in this moment she’s seeing me the way the kids in school do. I want to roll into a ball and hide.

  Her lips twitch into an unsure smile. “I’m proud of what you said. You gave that boy a dressing down; put him in his place.” Her smile goes out and is replaced by a thin grim line as if a sudden worry has struck her. “Maybe you shouldn’t go to the dance tonight. Is this boy… dangerous?”