Kit Kat & Katie Did

by Lauren T. Hart

  ・❀・❀・❀・

  Life at Parkwood had its quirks.

  1st period, AP Government with Mr. Sainsbury.

  Not a lot to talk about there. Mr. Sainsbury exclusively addresses his students by Mister or Miss and then their last name. He’s super low key and his voice is oddly monotone, so everything he says sounds boring, even when he’s excited about something. The most interesting thing to happen in this class, for the whole semester, was the time Mr. Sainsbury lost his pen. It was his favorite pen. He loved that pen. He bought that pen at Staples. He made a special trip to Staples over the weekend and purchased five new pens just like his old favorite. Such a riveting story…

  2nd period AP Biology with Mr. Teague.

  I made some friends here. We’d be working in teams for the semester so Mr. Teague picked seven team leaders and the rest of us had to vie to be on their teams. One of the seven was Aimee Millington, I recognized her name, she was the girl Adria had said wanted to be valedictorian. All I had to do was mention that Adria had invited me to join their study group and she put me on her team.

  Our other team members were Erin Gizenski, and Zack Rydell. Aimee picked Erin because she didn’t know much about her, but she never missed school and never turned anything in late. She picked Zack because he was nice to look at, and in her words, “Three smart women is more than enough to get any job done.”

  I kind of felt bad that she was being so sexist until Zack sidled up to our table and said, “All right, when do we get this four-way started?”

  Erin made a face. “Ew. I’m not into dudes.”

  “That’s cool,” Zack grinned. “Neither am I.”

  “Banter all you want,” Aimee leaned in. “If any of you do anything to damage my GPA I will end you. Shamelessly. Personally. Violently.”

  “Marry me?” Zack batted his eyes at her.

  At least it wouldn’t be boring. Everybody exchanged numbers to better keep in contact and Zack immediately group texted:

  ZR: Let’s call ourselves 3/2

  Followed by two unicorn emojis, a dragon emoji, and another unicorn.

  “Don’t abuse the group text,” Aimee warned. But she liked the name, Three of Two, so we went with it.

  Every class is better with friends.

  3rd period, AP Calculus, with Mr. Cavenaugh. Sort of.

  This was my first class with someone I actually recognized — Ryan Mathers. He was the guy from orientation that knew all the things that Adria didn’t. Cute, has dimples. He was sitting on the teachers desk with a clipboard in his hand, no teacher in site, and it looked like he was taking role. “It’s Ryan, right?”

  His dimples showed as he remembered me. “You’re not lost are you?”

  “No,” I smiled back. “Are you in this class, or?”

  “I’m the TA. What’s your name?” He eyed the clipboard.

  “Katie Franks.”

  He scanned the board. “Wow, yep, there you are. Good for you, Smarty Pants.” He grinned and nudged me with his elbow. “You can sit wherever, it’s not assigned, but suck-ups tend to sit in the front, so unless that’s your thing, I don’t recommend there.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” I did a quick scan of the room, students already in seats looked like they’d been ordered front to back from bookish to athletic. I kid you not there was a kid in the front row with a zippy bag full of pens in his front pocket and like five muscle-loaded jocks loafing around the back row of desks. I looked athletic, but what I do is more relatable to theater than sport, so it wasn’t really my scene. There were still plenty of middle room seats available, including the one at the very middle I decided I’d take. “So, where’s Mr. Cavenaugh?”

  Ryan shrugged and handed me a textbook and a pile of papers with the course info, from a stack next to him. “I’m sure he’ll be here at some point. Oh, and call him Coach Ray, he likes that.”

  I told Ryan thanks again and headed for the seat directly in the middle of the class, except now it was occupied, by one of the athletic looking dudes from the back. He had blond hair and fair skin and was staring at me like he’d forgotten something.

  “Good seat choice,” I said as I passed. I slipped into the available seat behind him and discovered he wasn’t just broad, he was also tall. This was not a good seat choice. It was like sitting behind a wall, unfortunately everything else was filling up fast and my current options were a seat two rows back, or the front of the class. Eh, I guess I could handle sitting behind a wall for a day.

  Big blond guy turned around in his seat to glare at me, as if my comment about his seat choice made absolutely no sense. Without context, it was probably a little weird, but it’s not like I was speaking a foreign language or anything. I gave him a thumbs up and a hearty smile. He probably thought I was a total dork. Not that I cared. He turned back around in his seat and shook his head.

  Half a minute later the bell rang. No teacher still, but Ryan had it covered. He stood at the front of the class like he owned the place. “Bring it in, everybody,” he said to quiet the guys who were chatting near the back. “My name’s Ryan, for the few of you that don’t know. You can call me Ryan, or Mathers. Or,” he considered. “Mr. Mathers if you want to be a dweeb about it. Obviously, Coach isn’t here yet. He’ll get here when he gets here,” he shrugged. “Until then, and because some of you are new. Like Foreign Exchange guy,” he pointed to a kid in the front row, “Ms. Transfer from Glenn County,” he winked and pointed to girl with long blond hair sitting a row ahead and to my left, “and Miss Smarty-Pants,” he winked and pointed at me.

  There were a few chuckles.

  “Zip it,” Ryan swiped his hand through the air while making the ASL sign for no. I wondered if he knew sign, but I doubted it. “Let’s go over a couple very important things.” He held up the clipboard. “I handle role-call, and citizenship.” He walked around the desk and picked up a spiral bound binder. “I also mark grades.” He held the book and the notebook aloft, slowly swaying so everyone could take it all in. “This is important, because it’s basically the only thing I do in this class. I would much rather spend my time in this class doing homework, or perusing Reddit, or even just staring blankly at the wall. This means, that if you mouth off or act out, friend or foe, rest assured, if my precious time is disturbed at all, I will mark you down. Is this clear to everybody? Any questions?” Nobody had any. “Good. Allyssa, Katie, Ryo-san. Come pass out these papers to everybody.”

  The three of us newbies stood. It was so unnecessary to have three people handing out papers to a class of 30, but I think he did it just to prove that he knew our names.

  “Some of this stuff you’re going to know, some if it you’re not. It’s mostly just to see where you are. The more you’re able to get done the better. It’s due at the end of class.”

  An older guy I assumed was Coach Ray arrived somewhere near the middle of class. “As you were,” he said, then had a hushed conversation with Ryan. Just before class ended he stood. “It looks like most of you are finished or are finishing up. If not, don’t let me stop you. I appreciate everyone’s maturity and dedication while I couldn’t be here. It’s not ideal, but I’m pulling double duty, so it does happen from time to time. I see we have some new faces this year, so for those of you who don’t know, I’m Raymond Cavenaugh. You can call me Mr. Cavenaugh, Coach Cavenaugh, Coach Ray or just Coach. This is AP Calculus. You are required to maintain a B minus or higher in this class . If you can’t do that, you get to attend Mrs. Walsh’s Advanced Maths class. Nobody wants that, especially Mrs. Walsh. So, if you start to fall behind, talk to myself or Ryan about extra credit work. If you’re not already part of a study group, I recommend you join one, or start one. I’m looking forward to a great year, and I hope I’ll see you all at the games. In fact, I’ll be looking for you.”

  When the bell rang Ms. Transfer from Glenn County, Allyssa leaned over and put her hand on the sturdy blond sitting in front of me and scoffed. “Does he actually expect us to go to
the games?”

  “Yep,” blond guy chuckled as he slid out of his seat.

  “What the fuck?” she grumbled, flashing a glance around the room to see if anyone else was feeling as put out as she was.

  I gave her a shrug. I had no plans to go to any of the games, didn’t know when they were, probably couldn’t make it with my work schedule anyway.

  “It’s not a big deal,” Blond guy shouldered his backpack. “I’m at every single one.”

  I had a feeling this was going to be a weird class.

  4th period, AP English with Mrs. Wall.

  I recognized a couple people from 1st period, but didn’t remember their names. And then the big blond guy from 3rd period arrived. He scrunched up his face and pointed when he saw me. “Are you following me?”

  “And I’m so good at it, I got here first.”

  He took a seat two rows over then turned to ask, “Is this a good seat choice?” He pointed to his desk.

  “Meh,” I shrugged. “Mines better.”

  A squeal broke the din and a rail thin pixie with hair length I’d only been able to achieve with extensions skip-bounced over to him. Her hair was hypnotically pretty in varying shades of auburn, red, blond, and white. She was bouncing up and down and chomping gum, but I swear I heard her squee, “Tommy!”

  He sort of half stood and she wrapped her spindly arms around him. “I’m so glad we have at least one class together,” her overemphasis of everything she said and did reminded me of Kimber and Kayley. I wondered if they knew each other. “I thought this whole year was going to be such a bomb,” she pouted.

  “Yeah.” He patted her back as if he was trying to reassure her. “I’m sure it still will be, just give it time.”

  The Pixie giggled up at him twisting her finger around a strand of hair. “Where should I sit?”

  “Wherever you want?” He dropped back into his seat.

  “Can I sit on your lap?” She put a single finger on his shoulder, then touched it to her tongue, making a yummy “Mmm” noise.

  He looked uncomfortable. It was cringe-worthy, but kind of funny too. I bit my lips together and covered my mouth so I wouldn’t laugh.

  He forced a laugh, like two hucks of a chuckle. “Sure. If you think Mrs. Wall would be down with it.”

  The Pixie giggled. “Should we see?”

  Blond guy leaned forward in his seat, fidgeting with the edge of the desk. “I’m not sure you’d fit.”

  “Because you’re so big,” she flirted, with her finger in her mouth. It was kind of gross. Based on blond guy’s reaction, I wasn’t the only one to think so.

  He let out another forced laugh, weaker this time, probably because he was also nauseous. Maybe he wasn’t, but he seriously looked like he could vomit at any moment, which was totally understandable. Pixie was clearly oblivious. Or she was one of those people that didn’t understand that sexual harassment doesn’t discriminate. “Something like that,” his head bobbed.

  “Oh my god—” again, I swear she said, err actually squealed, “Tom! You’re so bad.” She giggled like maniacal bubble gum, took her finger out of her mouth and half set, half wiped it on his shoulder.

  He cringed as he twisted away from her, and forced another few pained, chuckles. He was super fidgety now, both knees bouncing up and down under his desk.

  Pixie spun left then right, whipping her hair about as she took in her seating options. She sneered when she saw me, maybe because I was looking at her, but so was half the people in the room. She gave me the down and up evaluation, complete with a scrunched up expression that said she didn’t approve, or that something smelled really horrific where she was. I wished it were the latter.

  Skeleton Pixie wasn’t my first stuck up snob, but she was by far the most obvious about it. I would be lying to say I wasn’t offended, but I also found the whole situation kind of funny. She decided to take the seat directly between me and blond guy. “Are you new here?” she asked me, leaning forward on her desk, creating a curtain of hair as if she were trying to block the blond guy from my view.

  “Yep.”

  “Oh. So you don’t know anyone? Or anything?” she added, quieter.

  “I know a few people, and a few things.”

  She scoffed. “Nobody good, I bet.”

  “But I’ve already got my first bully,” I shot her a thumbs up and a goofy grin.

  She rolled her eyes hard, in a loop from me to blond guy, and — third time even — I swear she said, or rather shouted, “Tom! Do you know her?”

  “Uhm…” he hesitated, then covered for me. “We have 3rd together. I think she’s friends with Ryan.”

  Pixie gasped like she hadn’t taken a breath in years. “Are you serious?” she huffed in blond guys direction.

  “Seriously, serious,” he nodded.

  The bell rang and she huffed at me, as if it were all my fault. She folded her arms over her chest and just shook her head and rolled her eyes all through roll call.

  Girl needed to eat something and chill.

  Mrs. Wall, is an over pronouncer, so everything she says comes out sounding a bit harsh, but also, and this is just my opinion, makes everything a little bit easier to spell since every letter gets its proper due. It’s not just ‘good day, class’ it’s “GoooD Daye” it’s not just Katie Franks, it’s “Kay-Tee Fraynks.”

  “Present”

  It’s not Annabelle Granger, it’s: “Ann-Na-Bell Grrain-Jer.”

  The Pixie raised her hand. “I’m right here.”

  Hmm. I would have thought anyone named Annabelle would be a nice person, friendly, sweet. This one was killing that assumption for me.

  It wasn’t Justin Howard, it was “Jus-Tin How-Ward.”

  “Here.”

  She couldn’t just say Katlynn Reyes It was, “Kat-LyNN Ray-Yezz.”

  “Present.”

  I kept thinking either her tone or her enunciation would soften over time, but it didn’t. She was committed. “Day-Vid Sams-Son.”

  “Here.”

  And then, near the end of the list, Mrs. Wall said, “Dom-In-Ick Weee-Dun.”

  My everything perked at the sound of a familiar name. My chest literally Ba-bumped. I don’t know if that means it’s skipping a beat, or just thumping extra hard, but it happened. I sat up to see who was going to claim the name.

  Blond guy — not named Tom or Tommy, despite what I swear I heard Annabelle call him more than once — says, “Here.”

  I suddenly couldn’t remember what this guy looked like. And I probably would have been blatantly staring at him while my thoughts spun, if it hadn’t been for the scowling hellhound sitting in between us. Nice to know she was good for something other than reaffirming that awful people happen.

  So I wasn’t staring, that was good, but internally, my brain had exploded, and that was bad because Mrs. Wall was going over class requirements and I was freaking the freak out. I mean, what the what!?

  What if this was the same Dominic!? Would that be amazing or just really really super really weird? I don’t know! But can you imagine!? No I can’t! I can’t even! And Omigawd — what was happening to me? Why was I reacting so intensely? Was this the influence of living with Kimber and Kayley for a little over a week? Oh no, sanity save me! What was going to become of me after nine whole months?

  I really needed to get myself together and take a breath and just seriously chill the F out. I was at least half a dozen exclamation marks past dramatic and it was really starting to make my innards churn.

  I took a breath and let it out again. And then another. And again. Okay. That’s better. Now I felt like I could look at this thing rationally. So what if this Dominic was my Dominic — err, the Dominic I knew from texts?

  If, in the unlikely event of a water landing, or that this guy somehow miraculously happened to be my guy, then… then they were same guy, no big deal. Except he totally wasn’t the same guy. Because, he couldn’t be.

  Let’s just set the odds of them being t
he same person aside and go with the louder and easier to calculate when my brain has become a blender: Looks. My Dominic, was tan and had way lighter hair. This Dominic had warm golden blond hair, his complexion was pretty fair, and I think his eyes were brown? I hadn’t really looked.

  Yeah, all I had was a crappy picture of another picture, but wouldn’t I have recognized him if it were the same guy? Or at least thought he looked familiar?

  Also, I knew my Dominic hated being called Dom and this guy didn’t seem to mind at all. Boom. Proof.

  On the other hand, Annabelle seemed like just the kind of person who wouldn’t care about that kind of thing.

  My Dominic played sports in high school. This Dominic…? Well, I didn’t know enough about him to know if he played sports. He definitely had the physique for it, but I’m pretty athletic myself and I’m not sporty.

  Wait. I had a brilliant and easy and foolproof idea. I’d just call my Dominic and if this guy’s phone rang…

  I reached into my bag, with my hand on my phone I realized something — and it wasn’t that I was in the middle of English class, totally not listening to a single word the teacher was over enunciating, and about to make a phone call. It was how super weird that scene would play out. And then the higher functioning part of my brain kicked in and I also realized I was in the middle of class, totally not paying attention, and that would play out even weirder.

  It was so far past time to drop this like it was hot. This was way too dramatic for my liking. Time to step back. Way back. I knew the ‘but what if’ monsters would never let me let it go, but I was not going to let a little thing like — whatever this was — affect me. Not anymore.