by Marcy Blesy
“Thinking of you,” she texts. “Hope you are safe. Please come home. It’s so lonely.”
“I’m fine. Luv u.” Then I push the button to shut the phone down. For me, too, guilt is a powerful beast.
When I arrive at school, I park my Toyota Camry in a space far from the building and away from the most traffic. I walk up the steps, glad to not have Mom 4 with me today. Mrs. Baker is waiting in the office.
“Good morning, Mae,” she says. “Nice to see you again. How is your mom feeling?”
“She’s fine, thanks. The chicken from lunch didn’t sit well with her.”
“Oh, hmmm…I thought you said sushi.”
“Yeah, sushi, sorry.” Damn lies.
“Well, I’m happy she feels better. Ty should be here any minute to show you around before the first bell. I know you might be a little nervous, but you’ll fit in well.” Is there any other option?
“Mrs. Baker, I don’t mind using a map to find my way around.”
“Oh, don’t worry, dear. Ty’s a great kid. He’ll tell you everything you need to know about Woodson Prep.” I can’t wait until the end of the week when I’ll be forgotten. I know I should have picked a bigger school.
“Sorry I’m late, Mae.” Today Ty is wearing a sleeveless shirt and shorts. It’s only March. There’s still snow on the ground. “I came from the gym. Morning weights.”
“I…uh…oh.” It takes me a minute to realize he’s reacting to my expression. I wish I could hide my face like I hide my soul.
“Well, you two best get going,” says Mrs. Baker. “First period starts in twenty minutes.”
When we’re in the hall, Ty starts talking, pointing things out. “That’s where the seniors sit for lunch. That’s the gym. That’s the media center.” I try to pay attention, but I really want to get this day over with. “So, what’s your favorite subject?” he asks.
“Science,” I say.
“Mr. Vicks, the biology teacher, is all tough on the outside, but he’s pretty cool when you get to know him.” I laugh out loud. I don’t mean to, but that’s just funny. I haven’t gotten to know a teacher for a long time. I’m certainly not going to start now. Poor teachers already have a rough life supporting their families on low salaries and having to put up with hormonal teens. They don’t need to add potential death for “getting to know” a cursed student to their list of why teaching sucks.
I realize Ty is staring at me like I’m an oddball. I guess I am.
“Sorry. I’m looking forward to meeting Mr. Vicks,” I say.
“Really, all the teachers are cool. They kind of leave you alone senior year. They know we’re busy prepping for college and all that stuff that comes after high school, the stuff that’s really important in life. The only adult that’s a pain in the ass is Principal Williams. He likes to get in people’s business, to let them know he’s the boss. Just lay low, and you’ll be fine.”
“That’s my plan.”
“What else?” Ty asks.
“What do you mean?”
“What are your other plans? School’s almost over. Where are you going to college next year?”
“I’m not sure. Yale? Princeton? Harvard? So many choices.”
“Wow! You must be a genius,” he says.
“Ha! I’m just kidding,” I say.
“Oh. Well then, you’re hilarious. Not.” He taps me on the shoulder like he’s offended that I lied to him. If he only knew.
“We’re here,” he says, opening a door at the end of the hallway. “First period, English. I have the same schedule as you, so get used to seeing me, Mae Tatum.” And so, my senior year starts over again in a new school.
The day runs just as predicted. Lots of questions. “Why’d you move so late in the year?” “Where are you from?” “Where do you live?” “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” “Do you play any sports?” I’m good at making up answers. The hard part is keeping the answers the same with different people. “Yes, it sucks that my parents made me move the last semester of my senior year. I’m from Ohio. I don’t have any siblings.” That lie always stings a little. Because I did have a sister. She’s another chip missing from my heart.
“So, how’d you survive your first day?” asks Ty as I’m unlocking my Camry.
“It was fine,” I say getting into the car.
“Hey! Why the big hurry?” he asks.
“Homework.”
“Now that’s a lie. There wasn’t homework today. In-class writing assignment in English, test in science, group project in history. Unless you mean you have to rush home and do 100 push-ups like Coach Preston said to do in fitness.” He laughs at himself.
“Yeah, that’s what I mean.” I shut the door, put the key in the ignition, and drive away. I watch Ty from my rearview mirror standing there like he’s just been kicked in the privates. Even his mouth is hanging open in surprise. No, I doubt something that good-looking gets snubbed very often. I wish I didn’t have to do it, but he’d thank me if he knew the real reason why.
Chapter 4:
I rush into school, knowing I’m most likely late. I’ve spent the morning watching the new neighbors across the street from my apartment. They’ve been moving in boxes and assorted furniture from pick-up truck deliveries over the last few days. There appear to be no men or children, only women who, if I had to guess, range in age from not much older than me to their 50s. I wonder why a bunch of adult women would live together in the middle of a neighborhood. I didn’t mind the distraction. I don’t want to get to school any earlier than I have to, but now I don’t look forward to being on display if I walk into the classroom when everyone else is already sitting down. I clutch my backpack and walk a little faster.
“Cutting it kind of short, Ms. Tatum, aren’t we?” asks Principal Williams. He’s standing in front of the office.
“Sorry. Overslept,” I lie.
“Get an alarm clock,” he says.
“Yes, sir.”
“Remember, we have rules here.” I nod my head to acknowledge his reminder.
Now, thanks to Principal Williams, I really am late for English. I don’t know if Mrs. Swengel notices me sliding into my seat late since she’s writing on the white board when I get to class, but no doubt my classmates do. I’m still getting “Hey, what’s up?” looks from a lot of the guys. Most of the girls are narrowing their eyes like they can’t believe I’d dare come to class late my second day of school. It sounds so vain and cliché to say they hate me because I’m pretty, but if they only knew what I was capable of they’d hate me for far worse.
“Hey!” whispers Ty. I ignore him and immerse myself in the world of Civil War America. The history and English departments have partnered to teach a unit on slavery and the Civil War. I think Mrs. Swengel must be a romantic because there are plenty of great fiction books set during the Civil War, but Gone with the Wind? What a strange and lovely English assignment. I’m not even behind on the reading, either. The fact that the class is already halfway through the epic 1000 page love story of Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara doesn’t faze me a bit. I’ve read the book twice. Of course, Mrs. Swengel doesn’t know this fact. I can’t tell her, either. No one needs to know that I’m a hopeless romantic or that I’m an avid reader or that when I was little I’d make Laura be Melanie and I’d be Scarlett. Sure, I was fourteen playing make-believe, but Laura was only nine and begged me to play.
“Why can’t I be Scarlett?” she’d whined. “She has the best parts.” Every year we watched Gone with the Wind as a family on a boat anchor day. That’s what Dad used to call those times when all we wanted to do was plant our butts on the couch and not move for hours.
Dad would grumble and pretend to be on his computer while Mom and Laura and I curled up on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn between us, but I saw him watching over the top of the monitor.
“Because I’m the big sister,” I’d said. “And if you want me to play with you, then I get to make the rules.”
&n
bsp; Rhett Butler was played by the poster of Justin Bieber that hung over my bed. Laura would giggle when I’d talk to him like he was really in my room. “Oh, Rhett!” I’d swoon and plant a big kiss on Justin’s paper lips.
“Who would like to volunteer to catch Mae up with our English assignments since our book is so long?” asks Mrs. Swengel. I snap back to attention pushing Laura out of my thoughts.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll catch up on my own.”
“I think a little study group to go over the book would be both beneficial to you and also to the others in the group. Discussing a book gives one perspective and appreciation for the written word. If no one is going to volunteer, I think Carmen and Ty will be fine. During study hall last period, you can come down here to discuss the book.”
I don’t bother arguing. I know I won’t win. Plus, it’d just make me look more suspicious. Get it over with, I tell myself. Two and a half more months, and I’ll have that diploma.
At lunch the girl named Carmen waves me over to her table. She seems nice enough from my observations of her interactions with other kids. But I don’t need friends. Sarah is one of the reasons why I left Andersonville. I didn’t want my best friend to die, too.
“Hey,” I say as I walk toward Carmen.
“Have a seat,” she says pointing at a spot across from her and next to other senior girls I recognize from class. They are introduced as Zoe and Sierra, and neither seems thrilled with Carmen’s offer.
“No, thanks,” I say. “I’ve got to call my mom before next hour. I’ll just eat in the courtyard outside.” I’ve gotten so good at lying it’s kind of scary. When I look up from Carmen’s table, I notice Principal Williams spying on me from across the cafeteria. Carmen follows my eyes.
“Yeah, he’s a jerk. Dodge him if you can. He wants everyone to know that this is his school. Avoid him like the plague.” I nod and walk slowly to the courtyard with my tray. “See you in study hall!” I hear Carmen yell as I get to the door that leads to the courtyard outside the cafeteria windows.
When I’m safely outside, I try to eat, but my mind isn’t much interested in food. I set down my ham sandwich and pick up my phone. I scroll through my contacts. I should delete them all. It’s not like I’m going to call any of them again. They are just names now. Yet, I can’t help but think if I erase the names, I’m erasing my past. And if I do that, then who am I? And who were all those people that once meant so much to me? Maybe if I see Sarah one more time, I’ll feel better. She won’t know I’m there, but I need to see my best friend. I didn’t exactly leave on good terms.
“This seat taken?” I look up and into the wide smile of the Pacific Ocean. It’s Ty.
“Are you always happy?” I can’t help but ask.
“Wow, that’s a great greeting. No, I’m not actually. I’m just trying very hard. I’ve been assigned to show you around, and you keep blowing me off.”
“Consider your assignment complete. I can find my way around.”
“Have you considered that perhaps you’d fit in here a bit better if you let people talk to you? And that if you tried, you wouldn’t seem like such a bitch.” Oh, good, I’ve achieved bitch status, and it’s only day two. Perfect. Now everyone will leave me alone.
“Just go,” I say. The last thing I need is to get close to a boy and not just for his safety.
“You have some chip on your shoulder, Mae Tatum.”
“I know,” I whisper too loud.
“Then change it because I imagine you’re pretty cool underneath that tough-ass exterior. Don’t be late for study hall.” I watch Ty walk out of the courtyard. He has a confident walk, not cocky though. I’m not used to guys who stand up to me. The last guy in my life walked away when reality smacked him in the face but not before stomping on my self-esteem.
I think of excuses I can give Mrs. Swengel to avoid the study hall meeting. Nothing sounds plausible. She’d just reschedule. I suppose it won’t do any harm to discuss my favorite book with a few strangers. They are just strangers after all, and nothing bad seems to have happened to anyone I know casually. What makes someone a casual acquaintance and a close friend, however, is a fine line I haven’t been able to clearly define. No sense taking any chances.
I take a deep breath, grab my copy of Gone with the Wind, and head to Mrs. Swengel’s room. Carmen and Ty are already there. Carmen is playing with her phone. Ty is hunched over his desk, writing fervently.
“Hey!” says Carmen. Her apple red lipstick highlights her face, but I commend her. Not everyone could pull off that look. With long black hair piled into a bun of top of her head and thin long legs, she reminds me of that ballerina in Laura’s jewelry box that would spin ‘round and ‘round every time she opened it. I know I’d like her, given half a chance. I just can’t.
“Sorry I’m late,” I say. “Still finding my way around.”
“Maybe you should let me finish your tour,” Ty says. He smiles. Can’t he stop?
“I’ll figure it out,” I say. Carmen looks from Ty to me and back again. She smirks. I am glad she finds this all amusing.
“Fine. Then let’s get to this then. I need to leave for the track meet by 4:30,” says Ty.
“Work’s at 5:00 for me.” Carmen pauses like she’s waiting for me to ask her where she works, but I don’t ask. I do, however, feel bad that Carmen and Ty have had to give up their time to “teach” me something I already know.
“Look, I know this book inside out. I’ve seen the movie at least ten times and read the book a couple of times. Let’s just blow a few minutes in case Mrs. Swengel shows up. Then you can go. Make up whatever you want to tell her.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Carmen asks.
“I didn’t want to sound like a know-it-all,” I say. That is partly the truth, too.
“Well, I guess I can understand that,” she says. “Do you mind if I work on my biology homework?”
“Go for it,” I say. I turn to Ty expecting a rebuke. He stares at me.
“Do you really care that people would think you were a know-it-all? You’re only here for two months,” he says.
“I care. And what difference does it make to you?”
“Let me finish showing you around,” Ty says.
“I told you I was fine. I’ve been in school for two days.”
“If you care so much about what others think of you, then that should include me, so come on. I have twenty minutes before practice.”
“Can’t you take a cue?” I ask. Carmen’s grinning again behind her biology textbook.
“Yeah, you’re oozing ice. But I can take it. I’ve been known to make a few girls thaw.”
“Oh, man, Ty,” says Carmen. “That is so lame.” She cracks up laughing. He stops smiling, looking red in the face.
“She’s right,” I say.
“Then take pity on me, and do it for my ego. Give a guy a chance.” He throws Puss in Boots eyes my direction. He is the best looking creature I have seen in a long time. I shake away the thought. If he only knew the secrets I was keeping, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t even talk to me. But I know he won’t stop bugging until I agree to go on his stupid tour.
“Fine,” I say.
“See you, Carmen.” Ty waves. “Tell Mrs. Swengel we’re taking a working walk to discuss Gone with the Wind if she asks.”
Ty grabs my hand when we get into the hall.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I have to lead you in the right direction.”
“Then why don’t you guide my feet?” I ask sarcastically.
“Because your hands are far prettier than your feet,” he teases.
“How do you know I don’t have pretty feet?” Oh no, I did not say that. Ugh.
“Mae, I am not that kind of guy. This is a first date. I do not need to see your naked feet.”
“This is not a…. Oh…you…you are incorrigible!”
“Incorri…what? You really are a brainiac.” He laughs. I a
m fuming, but something inside me rises from my toes to my head preventing me from walking away. I am angry at myself. I am not that girl. I have changed. I have! Once before, my poor choices sent a runaway train barreling out of control, smashing into my life and shattering it forever. Even those that remain in the aftermath live a life of suffering. I ruined their lives, too. I can’t let myself get close to anyone. I grab my hand away from Ty’s and run because that’s one thing I know I can do.
Back in my apartment, I lock myself away from the feelings of the present and dive back in to the memories of the past. It’s a day like this when I wish I didn’t live alone. I stand in the shower, the hot water pouring over me, searing into my skin. Oh, God it hurts so badly. This isn’t how a seventeen-year-old should live. This isn’t fair. I close my eyes but see Dad. I squeeze tighter. I feel Grandma clutching me in her arms the moment I learn about Laura. I hear Laura calling out to me, “Macy, you did it. Mom is going to let me ride my bike all the way to the gas station by myself to buy a Slushie. You’re the best sister ever!” It was my fault. I’m the one that told Mom she was too strict with Laura. She was eleven, after all, not a baby anymore. Since Dad had died, Mom lived her life perfecting the definition of overprotectiveness. Laura was hit by a car on the way home from the gas station. Her lips were still blue from the Slushie when we saw her at the hospital. She was already dead. Grandma died right after, of a broken heart. Dad, Laura, and Grandma. It was all my fault. Then I ran away.
