Paraplegic

by Troy Dearbourne

  Aurora starts piling the paper plates and plastic cups on top of the tray. "Be a good Bestie and dump the trash for me, will you? I need to use the restroom."

  I grab the tray, "After eating all that, I'll say," and head for the garbage can, which is housed inside one of those formica boxes with the swinging door in front. There are two by the cafeteria entrance.

  I pass by Xander on the way, working in a quick wink as he turns his head my way. A smile nearly slides onto his face, but vanishes quickly as his lips form a set of words, "Watch out!"

  I'm unable to swing my head fast enough to where he is pointing. Someone slams into me, the tray of garbage wobbling, threatening to fall. I have merely a nanosecond to try my best to stable it, but my foot slips on the floor and I tumble backwards, the garbage falling on top of me like a blanket. My head hits the floor with a horrendous thud. It throbs, blurring my vision with each thumping pulse. I cradle my head, mentally pleading for the pain to stop. The person responsible is still standing in front of me. My gaze levels with their shoes; they're these sad little sneakers that look like a hundred years old and don't appeared to have been washed for just as long. Polka-dot leggins, ripped and stretched, are stuffed inside the shoes with a jean skirt hanging over them at the waist. My vision trails further up the person to see their face - it's the girl who ran into me before school this morning. I can't believe it. It's the same stupid oaf!

  "You idiot!" A hush settles over the entire cafeteria at the sound of my screech. A group of students quickly encircle us. I glance down at my clothes, they're covered, completely and utterly covered with food. They're ruined! But I'm not. I reach for a pile of noodles and launch them at the girls face. She doesn't bother dodging the projectile, much to my delight. It hits her square in the middle of that pale face of hers, sliding down her crooked nose. A couple of students snicker at the sight.

  From amidst the ring of students, I hear a boy shout, "FOOD FIGHT!"

  The culinary version of World War II erupts. The cafeteria immediately explodes with shouts and screams with piles of food sailing in all directions. The oaf doesn't move from her fixed position. I'm hit in the ear with a clump of cole slaw. It's slimy and cold; I nearly gag as I wipe it away.

  This can't be happening. Not to me. Not today. My clothes are ruined, my hair, too. It took me over an hour to curl it this morning. It looked exactly how I wanted it to for the photoshoot.

  A few of the Shadow Hawks tip the circular table onto its side and use to shield themselves from oncoming globs of who knows what. The football team follows the Hawks' motions. Soon, everyone had gathered into little militias, hiding behind tables and launching food at the group across from them. The floor was divided into two halves, each group on either side with the oaf still standing in the center. She hasn't moved an inch. Her face is emotionless.

  A table is only a few feet from me. I dodge a glob of spaghetti, weave in between boulders of Jello-O, and duck as a banana peel sails over my head, hunkering down behind the table. Aurora slides into the spot next to me. "Wow! A girl goes to pee and comes back to a warzone. This is epic!"

  "No, it most certainly is not!"

  "Oh, c'mon! Don't tell me you've never wanted to join in an actual food fight."

  Greyson Largo, the star quarterback, wraps his hands around a grapefruit, "Hut, hut, hike!", and hurls it at the group across from him. It smacks one of the nerd herds in the face.

  "Hey! You broke my glasses!" their mewling voice is barely perceived through all the commotion.

  Aurora looks around for something to throw. There's tons of food all over the floor. She reaches for the closet thing, a fried chicken leg, and rears her arm back to throw it. "No! You will not partake in this juvenile behavior!" I slap my hands over hers and wrestle the leg from her grasp. My fingers slip on the buttery coating, but manage to pry her fingers away from it. Just as I do, Principal Mayer storms into the cafeteria. He scans the room in horror. His bushy eyebrows are so close together, they look united. His lips repeatedly open and close as if he's struggling to find the appropriate words to express himself. I don't think he can fathom what he's seeing. It looks like a nuclear warhead detonated here.

  In his right hand is a megaphone; looks to be the same one the football team uses. He raises it to his lips. "I WANT EVERYONE TO STOP WHAT THEY ARE DOING. RIGHT. NOW!" A freeze settles over the cafeteria. The sporadic motions of flying food stops immediately. I quickly toss the chicken leg over my head, not wanting to get caught with it. I regret it immediately. Mayer's eyes dart in my direction from the quick motion amongst the otherwise still room. He points his forefinger at me, then curls it back, motioning me over. I have no choice but to heed his command.

  I can't believe it! He's actually singling me out? It's not even my fault. I don't deserve this. This is so humiliating. Everyone is staring at me, Xander is, too.

  As I come near him, I see the top of Mayer's nearly bald head glisten with perspiration. "You! What's your name young lady?"

  I roll my eyes. "It's McKenzie."

  "McKenzie what?"

  "McKenzie Barlow stupid! You would know that if you had a clue what goes on at this school."

  "I'm calling your parents. Your behavior is completely, utterly, tremendously unacceptable. Do you hear me? Un-accept-able!" he overly annunciates that last part, as if I'm half-deaf.

  "Listen, baldy! I didn't start all of this craziness, okay? Look at me," I tug at the bottom of my shirt, displaying the colorful food stains it now has, "I'm the victim here! It was that girl over there who started it all," I throw an accusative finger towards the oaf who slammed into me . . . twice. She's still standing in the center of the cafeteria, head hung low with drooping shoulders. What's her deal anyway?

  Aurora rushes over. "Mr. Mayer Principal, sir. My name's Aurora. Aurora Ardenaux. I can explain what happened-"

  Mayer makes a chopping motion with his hands, cutting her off. "I can clearly see what happened." He looks away from us and toward the girl. "You there! The one in the middle - no not you. The other one - yes, her. Come!" The oaf shuffles over to us, her mustard stained sneakers dragging the floor. "I want to see the three of you in my office immediately!"

  Chapter 5

  My blood is boiling. I can practically feel the heat radiate from my skull. I was humiliated in front of everyone. Everyone! I'm McKenzie Rose Barlow; the prettiest, most popular girl in school. I don't deserve detention!

  The three of us sit in Principle Mayer's office waiting for him to return. After he escorted us here, he barked a couple of orders for us to sit and stare at the wall, not allowing us to talk, not even so much as breath in one another's direction, then he stormed out of the room in a slur of grumbling words. He's been gone for almost an hour. I don't know where he's at. Every once in awhile I'll hear voices from beyond that oak door, but nothing more.

  There's this creepy cat clock above Mayer's desk; its unceasing ticktocking is digging at my sanity. It's this black and white cat with big, buggy eyes. The eyes sweep right, then left with each ticktock sound; it's tail doing the same. The silence isn't at all helping. I need something to distract me, so I reach into my purse and withdraw a bottle of clearcoat nail polish. Aurora is sitting to my right. She eyes me nervously, slowly trembling her head from side to side. I brush off her silent implications with a casual wave of my hand.

  The girl is on the other side of me. She's slumped down in the desk chair, heels of her sneakers perched on the ledge of the seat. She smells worse than I do, like eggs and mayonnaise and a combination of other horrid stenches I can't quite pinpoint. I'm all greasy and I can feel my skin stick together. I have noodles in places where noodles shouldn't, shouldn't be.

  I turn to the girl. "So, did it take you years to hone your skills, or are you that much of a klutz naturally?" She squirms in her seat, but doesn't answer. She's probably fearful of my status at this school. If I wanted to I could plant rumors about her that will spread through these halls and haunt her until
she's forty. She's wise to fear me.

  Aurora leans in close. "You shouldn't be doing that. What if you get caught?"

  I dip the brush into the bottle and apply a second coat. "Doesn't matter. I'm suing this school anyway."

  "I thought your dad was a criminal defense lawyer. Does he even do these types of cases?"

  "Um. Hello! I'm his daughter. If I want something, I get it. And I want justice. No. I want vengeance! I was humiliated in front of half the school on something that wasn't even my fault. It's hers!" I jam a newly polished fingernail in the girl's direction. "Yeah, that's right oaf girl; my dad's a lawyer, so you better be scared!"

  I look up at the clock; it's almost two o' clock. I'm gonna be angry, like She-Hulk angry if I miss the photoshoot. I overheard one of the students from drama club say the school's hired a photographer from New York City. That's like my dream job. Ugh! I can't wait to break free from this building once and for all. Breath, McKenzie. Breath. Only one more day. One more day and you will be a high school graduate, then you can blow this popsicle stand and make the big times.

  I look over at the girl again. "So, oaf girl, what's your problem anyway? You got some sort of vendetta against us rich and populars or something?"

  I wasn't expecting her to respond, but to my surprise she does. "I don't have a problem. I just wanna go home."

  I repeatedly clap my hands together, slowly. "Well, would you look at that, she does have a voice box. Mind telling me why you bombarded me in the school hallway and again in the cafeteria?"

  She pauses. "I don't know I - I'm sorry. Okay? I didn't mean to bump into you. I didn't see you."

  "A likely story. Unfortunately, the odds aren't in your favor. I might be willing to believe that lie if it had only happened in the hallway, but again in the cafeteria in the selfsame day? Hardly! That's intentional."

  Aurora peeks around me to talk with the girl. "Hello. We haven't officially met. My name's Aurora, but you can call me Rora if you'd like. What's yours?"

  It takes her a moment to answer, like she's pondering whether or not she wants to disclose such information. "It's Rhea. Rhea Emming."

  I chuckle sarcastically. "Rhea? Stupid name. So, Rhea, I haven't seen you in these halls until today; would've liked to have kept it that way for one more day, too. You purposely trying to stay on the D.L., or do you not have any friends?"

  "McKenzie!" Aurora frowns at me.

  "What? It's an honest question."

  It takes Rhea a long moment before she answers. "No. I mean, I don't know. I guess I am. I don't really know anyone here. My dad's work transferred him from Kansas last year, so we moved here to Maine."

  "Kansas? Oh, you poor thing. No wonder you're so backward. The only friend you've probably ever had was a scarecrow." I turn back to Aurora and whisper, "Kansas. How dreadful."

  Aurora leans forward again to speak around me. "Well, I hope you're liking it here in Camden, Maine. Do you like lobster?"

  Rhea lifts her ketchup stained shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know. I don't think I've ever had lobster. It's kind of expensive."

  I scoff at her words. "Please! I have lobster every Friday night. It's to die for! Especially if it's paired with a bottle of chilled apple cider. You're missing out, oaf girl."

  At that moment, Mayer bursts into the room, then slams the door behind him. The clock shudders from the impact. He marches down the aisle between me and Rhea, stopping abruptly after passing by. He looks up at the ceiling, sniffs twice, then spins around. I don't bother meeting his gaze. Instead, I blow on my nails, making sure they dry quickly so I don't smudge them.

  "McKenzie Barlow was it?"

  "That's my name, don't wear it out," eyes still fixed on my nails. Mayer snatches the bottle of polish off the school desk. "Hey! That's mine. Give it back!"

  "You're inside a government building, as is this thing," he shakes the bottle tauntingly. "Therefore, this now belongs to the government. You're in detention, not a beauty pageant."

  I snort loudly. "Like you even know a thing about beauty pageants. There's a reason why 'awesome' ends with me and 'ugly' starts with U."

  He proceeds over to his desk, ignoring my remark. "I just spent the last eighty minutes on the phone with the school board. They are in complete disbelief at the behavior exhibited by the three of you. There is over five thousand dollars in property damage to the school cafeteria, which, such a crime is punishable to up to ten years in prison."

  "Open your wax filled ears! I already told you it wasn't my fault. I didn't start that fight. It was all her doing," I motion wildly at Rhea. She curls up in the chair even more.

  Mayer's steel eyes fall on her. "Is this true?" Rhea just shrugs. Seems to be her favorite action. Mayer raises his voice, as if to ensure he has our full attention. "After speaking with several witnesses, I've receive conflicting reports as to who actually initiated the food fight."

  Aurora speaks up. "Mr. Mayer. I think this is all just one big misunderstanding."

  "No, it's not!" At this point, I'm about ready to scream. "Look! You have your criminal, or whatever it is you wanna call her, so slap her with detention, expel her, bring her in front of a grand jury. I. Don't. Care! But holding me her in this forsaken place any longer is a crime. I have rights, and you better believe I will be filing a lawsuit on this school before the sun dips below that horizon!"

  A digital beep follows my outburst. All eyes follow the source of the sound. Rhea lifts her arm and presses a button on her digital wristwatch. "I need to get home. Please."

  "You're not going anywhere until we get this whole ordeal sorted out, and then I'm calling all of your parents."

  "No. You don't understand. I'm late for work . . . again. And if I don't get there in time I'm gonna lose my job." There's this croaking, emotional tone in her voice, like she's on the cusp of tears.

  Rhea swings her backpack over her shoulder, but Mayer stops her. "Sit down!" She doesn't obey. Hey, she's a little rebel after all.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Principle. I really am, but I need to go. I need to. If I lose this job we might be on the streets next month."

  Mayer scrutinizes her with a squinty-eyed stare. "Are you telling the truth?" She nods weakly. "Very well. But your parents will still be receiving a call."

  Rhea drops her head just a little. "Um. Actually, it's just me and my dad. My mom died when I was three. Leukemia."

  Aurora gasps, then runs over to her with open arms. "I'm so sorry! Here's my number," handing her a slip of paper. "Call me if you need anything. Okay?" Rhea nods, working up a half smile.

  I slam my fist on the school desk, it shakes from the impact. "You gotta be kidding me!" projecting my angered gaze at Mayer. "You're letting her go? Just like that? She caused all this. She threw the food. She damaged the cafeteria. She's the reason I'm covered in pasta sauce. And you're just letting her off the hook?"

  Mayer folds his arms over his chest as he leans against the front of his desk. "I have reason to believe she didn't play as big a role in this as you profess."

  "Ugh! You're despicable. And the worst principle in the history of principles. If you're ever gonna release me from this prison, I have to go home and get a totally new outfit, which means I'm going to miss the Blue Jays' photoshoot, and it's all because of that stupid girl. I hate her!I hate her!"

  Mayer sticks two fingers in his mouth and blows a whistle that leaves my ears ringing. "Enough!" A sniffle comes from behind me. I whip my head around, but Rhea had already walked out of the room. "In all twenty-seven years as active principle over this school I've never seen someone as insolent as you." His voice is tamer now, but it still sounds as if he's struggling to keep it that way.

  "Well, you've clearly underestimated me."

  "No, Miss Barlow, you underestimated me. I hereby ban you from the cheerleading squad; you are not to perform at tonight's game."

  I feel my heart splinter, then shatter altogether at those words. I've been waiting for this game all season. It's my last
chance to leave my mark on this school, to be the student everyone references for decades to come, to be the one who's picture is hanging on the wall at the entrance. I had it. That was mine. It was all within reach. And then Rhea shows up. That little brat ruined me. It should be her who's punished. Not me! But I'm not about to let her leave without first giving her a piece of my mind.

  I shove the desk away and leap to my feet. Principle Mayer shouts my name, but I don't stop to listen. I blow past Aurora and into the school hallway. It's empty. School must be over. I guess I was held in detention longer than I thought.

  Up ahead, I see Rhea fumbling with the combination lock on her locker door. "You! Get back here!" Her fingers fidget with the lock even more. I march towards her, but she quickly gives up on opening it and begins to flee. Yeah, actually flee. I have to pick up my own pace in order to not lose her. "You don't get to disgrace me like that and then just walk away!" my voices carries through the empty hallway. She busts through a pair of double doors, they fly open then start to close behind her, but I maneuver sideways and slip through the gap before they slam shut.

  I'm right on her heels now. I reach out for her shoulder, but she's a mere inches out of reach. The hood on her jacket bounces around with her motions. I lunge for it and yank it back; she stops abruptly. "Stop! Please," jerking free. "I don't know what you want from me."

  "I want you to pay!" I can nearly feel my blood curdle. "Being a cheerleader means everything to me. And you cost me that!"

  "I'm sorry. I'm really, really, truly sorry." She cowers against the row of lockers as I advance forward. "I didn't mean any harm. I wish I wouldn't have even come to school today."

  "That makes two of us!"

  I have her cornered, her back against the lockers. She tries to slip past me, but I reach for her sleeve and firmly take hold. She continues to run. I dig my nails into the fabric. I can feel the fibers stretching from the opposing forces. Then, a ghastly rip sounds. I glance down at my hand; I'm clutching a portion of her sleeve - it had torn apart at the shoulder. Loose strings dangle from the newly made hole. Meanwhile, Rhea's face melted into this agonizing, mournful expression, the kind of expression you have when you discover your puppy has been hit by a car. She buckles to her knees, hitting hard. "No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" The sleeve portion is still in my hand. She reaches for it, then draws back her hand, then does it again, like she's almost afraid to grab it. Tears cascade down her pale cheeks. "No. This can't be," her voice but a whisper.