I wandered down the main hallway looking for Hallway D. I quickly discovered how complicated the school layout was, mirroring that haunted mansion out west whose owner had workers building onto it every day until she died. Twists and turns that seemed to lead nowhere—a haphazard sort of architecture with no rhyme or reason. A person could get lost in here, and I wondered if it was designed that way on purpose. I imagined teachers snickering in the teachers’ lounge watching surveillance video of confused students scurrying about like rats trying to locate their classrooms. Perhaps it was one big psychological experiment.
I don’t know how, but I eventually stumbled upon Hallway D. Of course, I had no idea how to get to my first class from here, but I’d worry about that when the bell rang. Right now I scanned the lockers shoved on one side of the hall until I located mine. I stored away the few binders and notebooks I brought with me and slapped a magnetic mirror to the inside of the locker door. That was it. I was ready. I closed the door and looked around.
A few girls glanced my way as they passed by. I decided to smile, but they kept walking, either oblivious to my kind gesture or determined to keep me out of the fold. Whatever. I wasn’t looking to make friends. I was looking to annihilate Cal, and I watched as he walked towards me. I tensed, feeling uncertain about the outfit I chose to wear. I was usually only self-conscious around guys I was attracted to. I was certainly not attracted to Cal, but I found myself wanting to impress him. I needed to impress him. That was the whole point. If he found me unattractive or uninteresting, I’d have no chance. My entire plan would spoil like old fruit.
“It’s Brooklyn, right?” he asked, breezing right by me.
“Uh huh,” I replied, and watched as he disappeared down the hall flanked by his loser friends.
What the hell was that? And then I realized exactly what it was. He wasn’t going to make this easy for me. He was going to make me work for it, work to earn my place in the group of popular seniors. Work to earn the place right beside him.
Fuckhead.
That’s fine. I’d do whatever was necessary to achieve my goal. I’d swallow my pride if it meant seeing justice done. I took a deep breath and meandered down the hall, searching the classroom doors for 1A. Eventually I found it, and was pleased with myself that I beat the tardy bell. I walked in to find most seats already occupied and became instantly irritated.
I liked sitting on the outskirts of the classroom. No, that’s not quite right. I needed to sit on the outskirts of the classroom. But the only available seats were directly in the center of the room. I reluctantly settled in a row four seats from the front and tried hard to push down the instant anxiety.
I struggled with intense claustrophobia for as long as I could remember. I never took elevators, had to be completely sedated on airplanes, and always drove in the slow lane. I had access to the shoulder that way. I had an out. Now I sat with students surrounding me, and for a brief moment, I closed my eyes, imagining I was out in the middle of a great big field, empty space stretching as far as I could see in all directions. I succeeded in slowing my racing heart.
I learned this trick in therapy, discovering its effectiveness in certain situations. But it didn’t work in elevators. I learned that the hard way after trying to accelerate my progress, feeling rather cocky after having successfully flown on a plane across five states without a sedative. I thought I could totally handle an elevator, but soon found myself huddled on the floor screaming and breathing into a paper bag.
I looked to my right because I saw something beautiful in my peripheral vision. There he was, Funeral Guy, sitting on the edge of the room against the far window, staring ahead at nothing in particular. I started to shake and closed my eyes again, imagining the field. The problem was that he was in it, walking towards me, and before I could react, he gathered me in his arms and kissed me roughly. My God, he was hurting me, and I wanted him to! I kissed him back just as feverishly, and then felt his hands go to the button of my jeans. He didn’t ask for permission but started undressing me, like I didn’t have a choice.
My eyes flew open, and I shifted in my seat. This was incredibly inconvenient. Yes, a small part of me suspected that he went to this school. Why else would he be at Beth’s funeral? But I wasn’t prepared to see him in any of my classes. And I knew I couldn’t get involved with him. For one, I had no idea if he was even attracted to me. Two, I couldn’t very well pursue him when I was trying to get Cal’s attention. Three, I had sworn off boys, Cal notwithstanding.
Stupid Cal. He was already ruining my life, and my plan hadn’t even started coming to fruition. I glanced at Funeral Guy again. He was staring straight at me, and my elbow jerked involuntarily, knocking my notebook off my desk. I reached down to retrieve it and slammed my forehead on the side of the desk.
“Motherfucker!” I hissed, and heard a tiny gasp next to me.
“You okay?” a girl asked.
I rubbed my sore head and sat up. “Does it look bad?” I moved my hand so the girl could get a good look.
“It’s just a little red,” she said, smiling.
I rolled my eyes at the chuckling that ensued behind me.