She used to correct me, for God’s sake! I’ve been a teacher for twenty years and have never known anyone to get a perfect score on their math SATs.’ He paused for breath. ‘I’m just trying to tell you, her performance is a cause for concern.’ He looked at them, sitting there with their eyes to the floor. ‘I’m sure this is not the first time you are hearing this,’ he said gently. ‘I’ve spoken to her other teachers. This is a running problem. She is not doing well.’
‘Mr Schmidt.’ Lynn looked up at him. ‘It’s Senioritis. Senioritis! Have you forgotten about being young? Young, eighteen, a cheerleader!’ She swallowed. ‘You know, we’ve done nothing all her life but push and encourage her.’ Lynn looked at her husband, who was nodding vigorously. ‘But,’ she went on, ‘this is her senior year! Let’s ease off her a little. Right, Tony? She is going to Stanford next year; let her have a good time before she has to work so hard. Right, Tony?’
‘Absolutely!’ he said.
Mr Schmidt sighed. He made one more attempt. ‘She was valedictorian of her middle school. Now, how is she going to be valedictorian of Topeka High, having failed everything?’
Tony got up. ‘You know, Mr Schmidt, we are proud of our daughter no matter what she does, and the most important thing to us is that she is happy. If she is happy not being valedictorian because of her own personal reasons, then it’s okay with us.’
‘Is her…’ Mr Schmidt began carefully, ‘is her, hmm, problem, her, hmm, withdrawal…is she having withdrawal symptoms? Like she did when she was young? Is it coming back? She is nearly mute in class.’
‘Jeeezzus!’ Tony exclaimed. ‘You’re not a doctor! You’re a math teacher.’
They did not want to talk to him anymore and left. Mr Schmidt looked after them and then went next door to Miss Keller, who taught biology, and asked her about Mr and Mrs Mandolini.
‘They don’t want to hear it, Jim. It must be really hard for them. She’s always been such an excellent student.’
‘Well, I’ll tell you this. I’ll bet we won’t be seeing them at the spring parent-teacher conference,’ said Mr Schmidt.
Tony and Lynn still had two more teachers to see, English and history, but without saying a word to each other, they just walked out of the school, got into their car, and drove home in utter silence.
‘Should we?’ asked Lynn, chain-smoking in the middle of the Sunset Court kitchen.
Tony was making himself and Lynn a drink. ‘No, absolutely not. She’ll think we’re ganging up on her. Let’s leave her alone for a while, okay?’
Two hours later, Lynn said, ‘She hasn’t come down to see us.’
‘She’s probably on the phone or listening to music. Let’s leave her alone, okay?’
At midnight, when Lynn and Tony walked past Jennifer’s bedroom on the way to bed, their daughter’s light was off and there was no music. Lynn couldn’t help herself. She knocked and quickly opened the door.
‘Mom,’ said Jennifer’s voice from the bed. ‘What’s up?’
‘Nothing, babe, nothing,’ said Lynn. ‘Sleep tight.’
The following night at dinner, Lynn said carefully, ‘Jennifer, the teachers seem to think you are not doing too well in school.’
Jennifer looked up and stared at her mother. ‘Mom,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you see my report card a week ago?’
‘Yes, honey, of course we did,’ said Tony. ‘But the teachers said you were actually doing even worse than what the grades showed. They said you really haven’t passed anything at all this quarter.’
‘That’s true, Dad. I haven’t.’
‘Honey, is anything the matter?’
‘No, Daddy, why should anything be the matter? I just didn’t have a good quarter, that’s all.’ She added, ‘I’ll do much better next report card, you’ll see.’
Lynn and Tony smiled tensely. ‘Oh, we’re glad to hear that, honey,’ said Lynn. ‘We’re so glad! We want you to do so well!’
‘I know you do, Mom. I’m sorry if I disappointed you.’
Lynn reached out her hand to Jennifer. ‘Jenny, you cannot disappoint Daddy and me,’ she said seriously. ‘We’re just concerned. We want you to be happy, that’s all.’
‘Mom, it’s my senior year. I’m having such a good time,’ replied Jennifer.
After finishing her dinner, Jennifer went to the upstairs bathroom. Locking the door, she stood there for a moment looking around, and then stepped on the scales, with her sneakers and pocket change. This was the first time Jennifer got on the scales in about three weeks, but she had eaten particularly well the last few days and felt she deserved it. She stood on them and stared at the wall for about a minute (Please please, please) before looking down to see the three-digit number on the black line. She let out a small, yelplike scream. But there it was. 102. One-oh-two. 102! Pretty soon, it won’t even be a three-digit number, she thought frantically.
Jennifer got off the scale and went into her bedroom, where she undressed, got into bed, turned off the light, and let out another scream, another stifled dark groan, and another and another. She had to turn the stereo on to drown out her crying. When her mother opened the door to say good night, Lynn said happily, ‘Jenny! Music! You’re playing music!’
Yeah, thought Jennifer. Music and the maiden. She lay there a long time before sleep came. Tully taught her to think of nothing but sheep when sleep or peace wouldn’t come, and tonight and every night Jennifer tried to do just that. But tonight Jennifer’s sheep were not going to sleep. Over and over and over, her sheep were running through a meadow and going to Stanford and becoming adults and doctors and parents. The rest of their lives seemed so close to the sheep.
Late February, Tully, Jennifer, and Julie sat in the Sunset Court kitchen.
‘Okay, what are we putting in our yearbooks, guys?’ said Julie. ‘We need to write out a will and a dream.’
‘We need a will to dream,’ said Tully.
‘Or a dream to will,’ said Jennifer.
‘Makker, Mandolini,’ said Julie. ‘Shape up. Let’s have it. The yearbook committee is not going to be waiting around for you. The deadline is March second. That’s this Friday, for your information.’
‘Oh, yeah? And who died and made you president?’ said Tully.
‘Secretary, actually,’ said Julie.
‘Well, inspire us. Let’s hear your will, Martinez,’ said Tully, doodling on her sheet of paper. ‘What are you going to leave Tom? Are you going to leave him your virginity? Or is it too late?’
Julie
