Cory McBrown: Year 2-Chapter 1

To Adam, Jesse, and John. A little bit of each of them went into Cory’s dilemma. But most especially, to my little self, who makes her way into more of my writing than I realize.

13th of December, 2002

I look in my bedroom mirror. I’ve grown something like three inches since last year. My chest has grown. My favorite jeans are 5 centimeters too short. I’m torn between looking forward to growing up and feeling like growing up sucks. How many favorite clothes have I lost to a growth spurt?

Oh, yeah, I forgot to reintroduce myself. My name is Cory McBrown. I am 13 years old, and I live in Bantry, County Cork, Ireland, with my mother, my 17 year old brother, Bart, my little sister Jenny, and my stepdad Edward O’Donoghue. My friends Sam and John live two doors down. You may remember the story I told last year. Mum and Bart weren’t getting along. Bart didn’t like the way she had handled telling me about what happened when our dad left, now seven years ago.

I finish looking at myself in the mirror, change into clothes that fit, and go downstairs. Mum is feeding Jenny, and Bart is putting his coat on.

“Where are you going so early?” I ask him.

“Mary’s meeting me at Box of Frogs for breakfast,” he says.

Mary is his girlfriend. They have breakfast at Box of Frogs a lot. I told him one day he’d turn into a frog if he kept eating there, but I don’t think he believed me. I can’t exactly play jokes like that on Bart cause he’s four years older than me. He’s well past the age of gullibility, and I would feel mean if I did that to Jenny.

I eat a breakfast of honey toast and strawberry yogurt and then grab my backpack to go meet Sam and John.

Mum puts a banana in my hand as I leave. “Here. I’m afraid you’re gonna get too hungry before lunch.”

I take the banana. “Thanks Mum.”

She hugs me. “See you after school. We’re gonna go get our tree.”

“Sounds good.” I say.

I go out the door and meet Sam and John on the sidewalk. The twins are dressed like Christmas elves.

I have to laugh. “What are you two up to?”

“’Tis the season,” Sam says.

Obviously, I think.

“Isn’t that against the dress code?” I say.

“Explain to me why an Alternative Education Academy has a dress code in the first place.” Sam says.

She has a point. But all the schools in Ireland have uniforms.

“What I want to know is why we have only have four days before Christmas with no school.” John says. “That’s not enough time to get all the baking I want in.”

I give John a mock look. “Exactly how much time do you need for all your baking?”

John thinks about this for a moment. “Well, he’s already talked about making plum cake, sugar cookies, spice cake, candy cane cake-“

I interrupt at Sam. “Candy cane cake?”

“I saw it in a cookbook.” John defends.

“Was it Willy Wonka’s cookbook?” I tease.

“Make fun all you want, but I think it’ll be the best cake you’ve ever had.” John insists.

Actually, the best cake I ever had was when I turned ten, and we iced a vanilla cake with peanut butter and jelly. That was a birthday cake.

We get to school just in time for the bell to ring. Like always, English is our first class of the day. Thankfully, Sam and John are 3rd years, so they’re still lower classmates, and at this school it means they’re still part of my class. To my surprise, the teacher doesn’t seem to care that Sam and John look like they just arrived from Santa’s workshop. Either that or they don’t notice their outfits. But there’s only ten students in our class, us included, so that can’t be true. We sit down to class, but no sooner do we sit down does a boy behind me tap me on the shoulder. I look at him. It’s Daniel Hewson. I’ve been in classes with him since 3rd class (3rd grade for my American readers). He hands me a note. I take it and read it.

You got cute over break, it says.

I frown. I’m not sure how to feel about that. I don’t think I want attention from boys. Ever since Sam entered puberty, she’s told me one day I would get it (and she likes boys and girls). I just don’t. I’ve never had a crush on a boy, and I can’t imagine I ever will. Most of them are so annoying, except John and Bart. I even find Sam’s boyfriend, Harry, annoying. Besides, I’ve seen enough relationships fail that I know it’s not something I ever want to get involved in. I’ve already been left once, and that was enough. I don’t want to go through that again.

Besides, what the heck does he mean “I got cute over break?” I mean, I know he’s referring to last week when I visited my cousin in Minnesota. But what about the cute part? Does he mean I got cute cause I developed more? Does he mean I got cute because I got taller? What does that even mean?

I just put the note away and pay attention to the rest of class.

After class, I tell Sam and John about the note. “Well, it’s obnoxious and lame, but I’m not sure if it qualifies as much to worry about.” Sam says.

“But what does it even mean? Like I’m only pretty cause I developed? Cause that’s just dumb.” I say.

“Boys are dumb.” Sam says.

“That’s why I will never date one.” I say, walking down the hall.

“All I said was they were dumb, as a species. But they’re not all like that,” Sam clarifies.

John frowns. “Species? We’re a separate species now?”

“Somewhere on the level of chimps.” Sam teases.

John gives her a mock look. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t crush on one. Are you still convinced you will never have feelings for anyone? Forget boys for a moment.” Sam says.

“I am. I just don’t think relationships are worth it. They always end in heartbreak. Remember Orla Devon? She left Bart for a 5th year when they were 3rd years. Bart moped around for weeks.” I tell her.

“And you’re basing relationships on Bart and Orla?” Sam is aghast. “All they did was hold hands and exchange furbies.”

“It’s not just Bart and Orla. Mum and Dad broke up.” I insist.

“Because he was alcoholic who wouldn’t get sober.” John reminds me.

I nod. “Aye, I’m definitely not falling for an alcoholic.”

Sam nods. “Alright… If you insist.”

“Aye, I do.” I say, as we get to our next classroom.

After school, as tiny snowflakes spit down from the sky, we pile into Mum’s car to go and get our tree.

“How was school?” Mum asks.

“Good. Where’s Bart?” I ask.

“On an errand you’re not allowed to know about.” Mum tells me.

I nod. Bart must be Christmas shopping. I didn’t really put much on my list this year except the Nintendo GameCube, and the game Luigi’s Mansion. I just know that’s gonna be a cool game and I’m gonna ace it! I don’t know if Bart will be in charge of getting that, but you never know.

We go to the Christmas tree farm and get our tree, which has to be delivered to us. That thing won’t fit into Mum’s tiny car.

But the person from the tree farm follows us home and we haul it in.

John scratches himself on the needles. “I wonder who it was that decided one day that these scratchy things were good to decorate with.”

I keep my mittens on, so I don’t get scratched. “It comes from the ancient festival Yule. In the winter, coniferous trees are the only ones that still had remaining greenery and were thus able to bring beauty and brightness to the dark winter homes of people.”

“I can understand that,” Sam says. “They are pretty, they’re just scratchy.”

John rubs his hands. “Tell me about it.”

With the tree all up, Mum makes us some hot chocolate while we do our homework. As if I thought math was bad last year. Now I’m learning the formula for the slope axis aspect or whatever it is. If anyone knows what this means, I’d appreciate the help.

Bart comes home soon after with a box full of stuff. “What is it? What’d’ja get me?” I tease him.

“Never you mind. And don’t come into my room until I say so,” Bart says, going upstairs with the box.

That night, Sam and John stay for dinner cause its Friday. Every week we do Friday night pizza.

“So are you still all enjoying school?” Edward asks.

“Um… School, yes, except for math… But… I have been getting more… attention lately.” I say.

“What kind of attention?” Mum asks, concerned.

“A boy told me I got cute over the break. Whatever that means.” I roll my eyes.

Bart frowns. “What boy?”

“I’m not gonna tell you. You’ll pick a fight, and he’s only a 2nd year.” I say.

Mum looks at me. “Well, this boy sounds like he’s trying to come up with some cool line, but is there anything wrong with getting attention, as long as it’s appropriate attention?”

“What do you mean by appropriate?” I ask.

“I mean, no one’s harassing you. Cause I will call the school and raise hell if that happens. But showing interest seems normal for your age.” Mum says.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be normal. Maybe I want to grow up and be a hedgewitch in Brú na Bóinne.” I say.

Sam laughs. Bart frowns. “Why would you want to do that?” he asks.

I shrug. “To confuse people.”

Mum smiles. “Well, honey it’s your choice whether you want to interact with people that way, but I’d still encourage you to keep an open mind. You may find someone wonderful.”

I nod. But that someone wonderful could also leave me, I think.

I don’t think about it anymore and I just go back to eating.