His Own Way Out

by Taylor Saracen

  “Maya Schwartz?” Ryan asked hopefully.

  “I don’t know. She’s petite, blonde.”

  “What did she ask?”

  “How we knew each other,” Blake replied.

  “She was asking about you then?”

  “About us,” Blake corrected. “And how we know each other.”

  “Hmm,” Ryan hummed, nodding his head. He sat up and held his thighs to his chest, resting his chin on his knee, just like he did when they were younger. “Have you had sex with both guys and girls?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I can’t even fuck one.”

  “Don’t settle,” Blake directed. “It’ll happen when it happens.”

  “That’s deep,” Ryan grinned. “Do you like sleeping with one more than the other?”

  “I promise I don’t have a preference. People can’t wrap their heads around it, but I don’t.”

  “That’s wild,” Ryan uttered, regarding Blake as if he was a medical miracle. “Good for you, Blake. Honestly, good for you.”

  Blake laughed, running his fingers through his hair.

  “I think about the universe sometimes...” Ryan began, lying down again.

  “You’re not even high,” Blake joked. “What are you doing thinking about shit like that?”

  “I know, but maybe people like you, people who are more inclusive in who they can love, are the future, and people like me who can only love one sex in a romantic way are antiquated and bringing humankind down.”

  “That’s heavy.”

  “You have a strong back, don’t you? You can hold that weight.”

  “I don’t know anymore,” Blake confessed. “Every part of me feels weaker than it did a few weeks ago.”

  “I think you just need more sleep. Is the couch uncomfortable?”

  “No, it’s perfect.”

  “That’s a lie,” Ryan laughed.

  “It’s better than where I’ve been, believe me. I have no complaints. I couldn’t be more grateful to you guys for taking me in.”

  “Well, I’m happy to have you around and I know my mom is, too,” Ryan smiled, standing up to brush the dirt off his jeans. “Let’s get home before the storm.”

  Blake rose to his feet and walked with Ryan to the only place that felt like home in a while.

  19

  The best thing about Jasmine County High School, aside from Ryan, was the fact that seniors who were eighteen-years-old were allowed to sign themselves out. Because it was a farming community, many of Blake’s classmates worked the land with their parents. The policy benefitted the farmers, who didn’t have to waste time coming to school to excuse their kids when they needed help. Instead, they contacted their children and expected their arrival as soon as was feasible for the student.

  Though Blake didn’t cultivate crops, he did maintain an interest in gathering weed, which he worked on smoking whenever possible. When he told Greg about his newfound freedom, his buddy didn’t take the bait.

  Blake (11:32am): Want to hear the craziest shit?

  Greg (11:33am): Always

  Blake (11:33am): If you’re 18 JCHS lets you sign yourself out. You can leave school if you need to. All you have to do is go to the office and write your name down.

  Greg (11:34am): I’m assuming you have to have a reason.

  Blake (11:35am): I do. I’m gonna hang out with my friend who misses me a lot.

  Greg (11:35am): Who’s that?

  Blake (11:36am): Fuck you. Seriously. How about today? Cut school at noon, get here at 1, and we can spend the afternoon hotboxing your car.

  Greg (11:37am): We can do that after school.

  Blake (11:38am): Not really. School’s over at 3:15. It’ll take you an hour to get here, and I have to be back to Sandra’s by 5:30pm for dinner. It doesn’t give us any time. You gotta come earlier.

  Greg (11:39am): This is why the weekends work better. It’s March. I have two more months. I’m not getting in trouble for ditching.

  Blake (11:41am): Uggghhh

  Greg (11:41am): I miss you too.

  Blake couldn’t blame him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t wish Greg would come to Jasmine and chill. Knowing he needed to contact someone who was no longer in high school, Blake decided to give Bianca a try.

  Blake (11:52am): Hey B. What’s up?

  Bianca (11:54am): Hey Little B. Not much.

  Blake (11:55am): Little B? I’m bigger than you.

  Bianca (11:55am): In height only, you skinny motherfucker. What do you want?

  Blake (11:56am): Do you work today?

  Bianca (11:56am): Nope.

  Blake (11:57am): You should come to Jasmine.

  Bianca (11:58am): What’s in Jasmine?

  Blake (11:58am): Me.

  Bianca (11:59am): What else?

  Blake (11:59am): Weed.

  Bianca (12:00pm): What time?

  Blake (12:00pm): Now

  Bianca (12:01pm): Did you drop out of school or something?

  Blake (12:01pm): No, I can sign myself out. I guess it’s a thing here.

  Bianca (12:02pm): Interesting. Where should I meet you?

  Blake (12:02pm): Pick me up in front of the school. Text me when you’re here.

  Bianca (12:03pm): See you soon.

  Blake hadn’t been in touch with his old friend since the summer when Claire reunited them. He had a good time hanging out with her. It was similar to how things were with Ryan. Time passed but they could pick up where they left off. He shouldn’t have expected any different. Bianca was cool as hell, with a tell-it-like-it-is attitude and a sarcastic mouth. She graduated from WCHS two years earlier, and mostly worked nights doing security at an office building in Unionville. With Bianca being free most days, and Blake’s lawful liberation, he figured they’d be spending more time together. He was looking forward to it.

  If Blake left school at one, he’d have a good amount of time to hang out before he had to make it home for dinner, and he would only miss two classes: Spanish and P.E. After taking French for four years, Blake wasn’t thrilled that his only option for a foreign language at JCHS was to enroll in Spanish One, but he was pleasantly surprised by how easy it was, given his knowledge of French. He was confident that he could miss a few classes and still ace every test he was given. It hardly seemed necessary to go to Spanish and P.E. day after day, especially when he had the option not to.

  When Blake received the text message from Bianca announcing her arrival, he walked to the office, wrote his name on the sign-out sheet, and fucked off. It was exhilarating to exit the building on his own accord. It had been so long since he’d had any sense of autonomy. He loved it.

  “Long time, no see,” Bianca greeted, smiling when Blake leaned over to give her a hug.

  “Too long,” Blake agreed, buckling his seatbelt, and sighing into the seat. “This is awesome.”

  “You missed me that much, huh?”

  “For sure,” he confirmed. “Pull out of the lot and make a right. We’ll go to the park at the end of the block.”

  “Alright,” she nodded, doing as she was told. “So how is it living in the boonies?”

  Blake laughed. “Like Unionville isn’t?”

  “Not like this. The whole town smells like cow shit.”

  “I don’t notice it anymore.”

  “That’s because you’re one of them,” Bianca whispered, her dark eyes wild in reaction to a brewing theory. “They’re like pod people. They took you over. Am I next?”

  “Weirdo,” Blake chuckled, shaking his head. “What’s new with you?”

  “Same shit, different day,” she said.

  “Are you still with your girlfriend? What was her name? The one at UK?”

  “McKenna. Eh, not really. The distance is tough, man.”

  “You have a car and Lexington is an hour away,” Blake stated. “How is that even distance?”

  “She’s needy as fuck,” Bianca tsked. “We’ll see what happens when I move to Lexington next month.”
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  “You’re moving?” Blake asked, surprised. “When did that happen?”

  “Sometime in the seven months we didn’t talk,” she replied with a smirk. “You’re shitty at keeping in touch.”

  “No doubt,” Blake agreed. “You’re not great either.”

  “Oh, I’m the worst,” Bianca confirmed, “but I’m here now.”

  “I said I had weed.”

  “You don’t think I have my own?” she questioned, pursing her lips. “C’mon now, Little B. I came out here to see you.”

  “I’m not into this Little B thing.”

  “Did I ask you?” she grinned, turning into the park. “You need someone to take you under their wing.”

  “I already have someone who’s doing that,” Blake said, “that’s why I’m in Jasmine.”

  “You can never have too many people who give a shit about you though, right?”

  “Probably not.”

  They got out of the car and Blake led Bianca to his spot beyond the dilapidated playground, under the shade of a cluster of Oak trees. It was as private as a public place could be and secret enough to feel like his own.

  “Your humble abode?” Bianca joked, lowering her rotund body to the ground.

  “My home away from my home away from home,” Blake clarified, settling in next to her.

  “Say that three times fast.”

  “No thanks,” he laughed, packing weed into the bowl.

  As alone as he often felt, Blake couldn’t deny that he had many people around him. People that would step up even after time apart. He made a mental note not to forget that at times when his perceived isolation became too much to cope with. His mistakes, while significant, were mistakes. He didn’t want to spend his life seeking redemption and thinking that his shitty circumstances were a punishment steered by karma’s control. There had to be people who did worse things than Blake did and evaded consequences. He wondered if their guilt eventually consumed them. He wondered if his would ever subside. It was hard to pinpoint exactly which actions contributed to the waves of darkness he sometimes experienced, but he did know he wanted them gone. He needed an accomplishment to wash away the failure. It would be better when he graduated.

  “Do you have a lot on your mind?” Bianca asked, verbally shaking Blake from his preoccupation.

  “Yeah,” he confessed, lighting the pipe and handing it to his friend for the first hit.

  “Are we going to talk about it?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s nothing specific. My life isn’t going the way I thought it would, I guess.”

  Bianca coughed out some smoke and cleared her throat. “Did you think you’d be boring? Standard?” she questioned. “The only people who can predict exactly how their life will go are boring people, who never shake shit up and live the status quo. Cogs in the machine of conformity.”

  “Hmm,” Blake mused, licking his lips. “So, is your life going the way you thought it would?”

  “Are you asking me if I’m a basic bitch who’s done everything that was expected of me?” she laughed. “Are you really asking me that?”

  “And you don’t ever feel like a fuck-up?”

  “Not at all. No chance. I go to work, I make money, I rent my place, I pay taxes, I have friends who like me enough, and girls who like me more. Does that mean my parents are proud of who I am and shit I do?”

  Blake shrugged.

  “They’re not,” Bianca said, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not doing the right things. Doing what’s right for me is the right thing. We have one life. Would you really want to live it for someone else?”

  “Well, when you put it that way,” Blake uttered, wide-eyed at Bianca’s intensity. “No. I wouldn’t want to live someone else’s vision of my life.”

  “What’s your vision then?”

  “I don’t know I’ve always had bad vision.”

  Bianca chuckled and nodded her head. “Fair. You have time to think about it. There isn’t much to do out here than think.”

  “True,” Blake agreed. “Have you talked to Claire lately? How’s she doing?”

  “You have her phone number, don’t you?” Bianca challenged.

  “Things are weird. It’s hard for her and it’s hard for me. She wants to be single and I don’t know what I want. It’s less complicated if we don’t talk.”

  Bianca hummed and took another hit.

  “What do you know that you’re not telling me?” Blake asked, noticing the flash of guilt in Bianca’s eyes.

  “Nothing.”

  “She’s not single anymore?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to,” Blake mumbled.

  “Don’t throw me under the bus.”

  “We don’t talk.”

  “So, keep it that way for a while,” Bianca suggested.

  “I plan to,” Blake assured her. “I have enough to deal with.”

  “But look how good things are now. You’re in Cowshittsville, cutting class legally, and smoking a bowl with me. What could be better?” she grinned.

  Blake smiled, and leaned against the thick trunk of the tree. “Not much.”

  20

  The saying “too good to be true” existed because often things were exactly that. Blake should have known that anything exceedingly positive in his life would have a loophole. He wasn’t a negative guy, but he was aware of how quickly shit could hit the fan. Unfortunately, he’d grown used to it thanks to the choices he made and the onslaught of ramifications he dealt with.

  Upon being called to the principal’s office, Blake began having flashbacks of the happenings at WCHS. As he walked down the hallway toward his fate, he reminded himself not to cop to anything. There was no stashed weed, crappy behavior, or missed work. Blake could confidently say that he hadn’t done anything wrong. He needed to remember that when he stepped into the line of fire. He doubted that he was being called to the office for any reason other than a negative one. In his wildest dreams, the administration was ready to compliment him on his hard work, but Blake knew that was one hell of a stretch. School types didn’t take the time to say good things when they could berate him with bad. It was about power for them, feeling good about themselves while they made teenagers who were offbeat feel wrong. There was no pride in independence when falling in line was what was accepted.

  By the time Blake arrived at the front office, he was prepared for the worst, in whichever form it was delivered. When he was younger, Blake was summoned to the principal for positive reasons such as perfect attendance and honor roll. He wondered if the practice of praise was antiquated considering the indefinitely negative slant a jaunt to the administration held. Bianca was right about a lot of things, namely how much those in charge hated anyone who didn’t conform. He wanted a different type of life than the one they had, one that didn’t place him in a box and keep him there, bored and normal. He wanted more than that, and maybe people who didn’t fault him for it. Was it really that wrong to want to be free? Perhaps it was the curse of being a teenager that made him believe he could live outside the limits of what was acceptable. That made him think there was room for more in life than monotony.

  Blake sat on the edge of his seat as Ms. Hanes paced the length of the small room. Her movement made him nervous and he wished she would sit down.

  “Do you know why I called you here today, Blake?” she asked, continuing her trek to nowhere.

  “I’d say for a formal welcome, but I’ve already been here for a few months.”

  She paused and rolled her lips under her teeth in a way that would have been funny if Blake wasn’t fearing what was about to come out of her mouth. “We’re expelling you from Jasmine County High School.”

  The statement was so outlandish that Blake asked the principal to repeat it. It didn’t sound any less preposterous the second time.

  “Why?” he breathed. Of all the things he’d imagined her saying, that wasn’t on the list. “Expelled?�
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  “You’ve been signing yourself out,” Ms. Hanes explained, opening a file on her desk. “Over the last month, you’ve signed yourself out seven times.”

  “I thought that was acceptable as long as the student was eighteen. I’m eighteen, I’m eighteen so I thought it was okay,” he sputtered, as he became more lightheaded by the moment. He had to be caught in a nightmare. He’d wake up soon.

  “With reason,” she clarified. “Seniors who sign themselves out present the office with a note of reason the following day, typically signed by a parent, doctor, or employer, and even then, they are only allowed six independent leaves per semester.”

  “Are you serious?” he cried. “The office ladies watched me sign out all those times and never said a word. I had no idea.”

  “The registrar gave you a student handbook when you enrolled,” Ms. Hanes reminded. “Part of being a responsible adult is doing your due diligence, Blake. You failed to do yours.”

  “I’ll never do it again,” Blake promised. “I’ll have perfect attendance until graduation. I’ll go to Saturday school to make up the missed hours.” He was begging. He couldn’t believe he was begging, but he was. He was begging, and from the stoic look on the principal’s face, it wasn’t working. “Please.”

  “Policy is policy,” she said. “Good luck to you.”

  No mercy.

  Leaving the school, it was difficult to rationalize that it would be his last time in Jasmine County High School or high school in general. There was no way another one would take him after being expelled from two. He lit a cigarette as he crossed the parking lot, feeling that if he were to peer over his shoulder he would see the school engulfed in flames. He’d burned everything down, every opportunity, every hope. A life on fire.

  As he walked, Blake considered what he would tell Sandra, fearing how she would react. What if she kicked him out? She’d been clear in her terms. In order to live in the Dempsey house, Blake needed to be in school. He needed to be responsible. He needed to not fuck up the way he had. Afternoons with Bianca lost their luster, gleaming memories suddenly dulled by consequence. No joy, even that which was experienced in the past, shimmered in the shadow of failure.