THE SUN STILL ducks behind a gloomy curtain of clouds by the time I roll into the parking lot of SGHS. The clouds usually burn off by noon, but what if they don’t? Lady Luck and I haven’t been on speaking terms lately.
Overnight, the homecoming fairies visited, leaving streamers and signs everywhere, like Go Panthers! and Eat Our Shorts, Bulldogs. I even spot one that reads Warrior Sawyer Kicks Ass, with a picture of a donkey, checkered white and black like a soccer ball.
An image of Court’s easy smile slips into my head, but I try my best to banish it. If there’s any chance of recovering my nose, then I will have to be on my best behavior. There is no PUF for aromateurs, no shortcut around heartbreak to make me forget that exquisite sparkle of joy at his touch, the warm safety in his arms—not that I want to. But if being in love is causing me to lose my nose, maybe falling out of love will make it return.
Kali’s bike is missing, once again. She’s becoming as delinquent as I am. Maybe she is sick. Or maybe she’s avoiding Cardio, or worse, me. I swallow the sour taste in my mouth. I might be able to cross the tightrope of my error eventually, but it will be twice as hard without my six-foot safety net. Maybe this is the problem with having so few people in my life. The ones I have count more than they should.
Then again, maybe they shouldn’t count at all.
Too late, I begin to understand why our ancestor Carmelita cautioned in her Last Word to catch a heart before it falls. Attachments, whether romantic or filial, just lead to disappointment and pain, emotions that distract us from our life’s work.
Though I try not to look, my gaze travels through the library windows to Ms. DiCarlo, hunched over her desk. Towers of books form a wall in front of her, but I can see her in profile. She puts her head in her hands, as if it’s too heavy to support. The wistful wisteria notes lay heavy and talc-like all around her. Oh, for peat moss’ sake, I need to start parking my bike somewhere else. She spots me through the window and gives me a smile so tight, it might shatter.
With a sigh, I head into the library.
“Good morning, Ms. DiCarlo.” I peek over the skyline of books. Her eyes are bloodshot and begin to water.
“Oh, hello,” she says in a falsely bright voice. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“I’m late today. Is everything okay?”
She sniffs loudly. “Yes, everything is fine.” She takes a book off her pile and runs it through a bar code scanner. Beep. “Something must be in the air.”
I scratch under my straw hat, trying to decide if the situation requires more conversation. Suddenly, she sneezes three times in a row, slinging her red curls around her shoulders. She tugs a tissue from a box.
“Well, if there’s anything I can do, just let me know.” I inch away.
She dabs her watery eyes, and says in a conspiratorial whisper. “I sent out twenty queries.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” I say hesitantly.
“It’s hard to know what anyone’s looking for nowadays, but I’m hoping the right one comes along. If all twenty reject me, I might need a long vacation.” She dabs at her eyes.
She must be using an online dating service. I can’t help feeling guilty about that, even though online dating services are perfectly viable tools. Elixirs are just more organic.
She misreads my queasy expression. “Oh, you think twenty is too many? Maybe I should’ve started small.”
“No,” I quickly say. “I’m happy for you. Mother likes to say, the bees don’t land on unopened flowers.”
Ms. DiCarlo looks at me like I have aluminum foil antennae in my hair. Another sneeze comes between us and she holds her tissue to her nose. “Thank you, Mim.” The tissue waves up and down, telling me to leave already.
I arrive several minutes late to algebra. The sight of another pink pastry box sitting cheerfully on Mr. Frederics’s desk strikes fear in my heart the same as if it were a bomb. Alice struck again, despite the yard sales.
As quietly as I can, I slip into my desk. Mr. Frederics raises an eyebrow at my tardiness, but doesn’t say anything. Vicky, at her desk in the center of the room, lets the shiny necklace she’s chewing fall from her mouth when she sees me. The elixir must be working by now. But will she fall in love before she publishes Kali’s journal? She shifts back around.
“Very good.” Mr. Frederics beams as Val Valedictorian completes a problem on the board in her neat block letters. Though her answer requires the entire board to complete, I have to sniff hard to pick up the marker fumes.
Mr. Frederics taps the board. “This is exactly the kind of problem you might find on the final.”
“What?” cries someone. “That’s stupid hard.”
He gives the kid a hard eyeball, then chuckles. “Math is like love, isn’t it? Simple, yet, so complicated.”