by Nick Rossi
For a split second, she thought that Bennett knew exactly what was going on: that she was a farce and that this whole elaborate charade was going to come to a grinding halt in less than a few months.
Sonya? Is that you? she felt like asking Bennett, and she would have asked exactly that if she knew that she wouldn't have come across as a completely psychotic person.
“Huh?” was ultimately all she could muster, looking confusedly at the girl who stood beside her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it or realize why, but she felt like Bennett was someone to be trusted. It was like Bennett understood her, slowing down the urgency of Marina’s demands and allowing her to feel like a true teenager, feeling things for the first time. It was like she had known Bennett for eons instead of only actually meeting her the one time at a party thrown by a girl that she had yet to meet.
“I’m exaggerating, Darcy,” Bennett replied. “The way everyone’s going on about it, you’d think we were all going to be judged by whatever today’s brings forever and ever”.
Still having no clue what Bennett was talking about, Darcy saw Claire entering the large front doors of the school just down the hallways from where they stood.
“Judged? What do you mean?” she asked, sounding rather dense person. Bennett laughed again, but not in a judgmental way.
“It’s Yearbook picture day, remember."
Yearbook picture day! she silently thought. That explains it.
As a senior, having an amazing yearbook picture was pivotal to longstanding success as a person, or that’s what all of the senior’s were thinking about anyway. She wished she could just tell them all that half of them would probably just throw the damn thing out in a few years anyway. She did understand, however, that as a senior, this was one of the last chances to leave a legacy of beauty and popularity, and with her semi-tired face and bad hair, she realized that her legacy was going to be neither beautiful nor remotely popular.
“Uh oh, here comes the party bus,” Bennett said, writing something down on a piece of paper she had taken out of her book bag.
“Here – call me. Maybe we can go to the mall or go shoot guns or something?” Bennett handed her the small piece of paper and taking off hurriedly, clearly not willing to take another chance on getting reamed out by Claire who was walking focused towards her. She decided to sit down on the small bench in front of the clock, suddenly feeling tired.
As Claire got nearer and nearer, she knew something was wrong. Claire looked awful, even though her sense of awful was still the goal of beauty other girls aspired to achieve. Her hair was perfectly stick-straight, but her face looked puffy and a subtle light shade of green. Taking a deep breath, she gathered up the little energy she had to deal with the emotional, physical and psychological tsunami that was Claire Marsh, and judging by the looks of her on that bright May morning, it was going to be a real humdinger.
***
After missing the first bell signaling the start of homeroom, both girls finally decided to leave the sparsely populated hallway once hearing the second, and final, sound. If they didn’t book it to their class, they knew they would both be getting in major trouble from their English teacher, Ms. Wright, who according to Darcy, was usually anything but right. In fact, Ms. Wright was usually so wrong about things that most of her students fell asleep in class and just read the Coles Notes to the books they had been studying.
While walking to the class, rather slowly at that, she found herself genuinely worried about Claire. Just moments ago, Claire had confided to her that she had been sleeping irregularly, and had been cramping for longer that her usual cycle, hence the light shade of green that dabbed upon her usual perfectly-tanned face. She knew what those symptoms usually meant, but she didn’t want to further worry Claire, who seemed just two steps away from a full-blow Mariah Carey style meltdown. It seemed, however, that Claire had been reading her mind.
“No, I’m not pregnant,” Claire blurted out, applying lip-gloss absent-mindedly. The red of the gloss made the green in her skin more pronounced. Darcy bit her tongue so she wouldn't say something judgmental. “Well, I shouldn’t be anyway. I’m on the strongest pill that the doctor would prescribe. It practically dries your ovaries out completely.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. She had forgotten how teens candidly thought that birth control pills as the complete and ultimate protective shield from getting pregnant.
“It was just a funny image – ovaries being dried out. Made me think of beef jerky or something,” Darcy lied, surprising herself at how easy it came into her head and out of her mouth.
“Yeah, well, I’m glad someone is laughing. I suppose I SHOULD take a test after all,” Claire continued. She pulled her tortoise shell compact mirror and looked at herself.
“Oh god, I look positively atrocious!” she screamed upon seeing her reflection before her. She pulled out her make-up bag, which resembled a carry-on piece of luggage, and began to manically apply various creams and powders from tubes that came in literally all shapes and sizes. She watched her friend apply all that make up, like a soldier preparing for war.
“Why did today have to be yearbook picture day? Do you think I can reschedule? Can I call in ugly?"
“Probably not,” Darcy had retorted. Claire sure thought highly of herself, she thought. “Besides, your make-up seems to be helping a bit."
“Helping what a bit?” Claire spat back, obviously bating her friend. Mood swings? Check, she thought. This girl might really be preggers.
Luckily, the first bell rang at that moment, speeding up Claire’s application of her ornamental warfare and dropping questioning of her comment. The actual yearbook picture taking wasn’t supposed to happen until after English class anyway, so hopefully by then she hoped she would have a chance to put on some make up herself. She needed to look kinda-sorta good.
Now, halfway through English class, the students were listening to Ms. Wright drone on about Death of a Salesman and its protagonist, Willie Loman, who at 63 years old tended to imagine events from the past as if they were real, which she thought was rather fitting as that perfectly summed up Mrs. Wrights teaching style and perspective on life: totally and utterly warped.
She heard her cell phone vibrate, causing her purse to slowly shift around by her feet. Claire, who was sitting next to her, was too on her phone, giving her the impression that it was Claire who was texting her.
While Ms. Wright turned around to write one of her classic manifestos on the blackboard, expecting the class to copy it down word for word, she pulled out her phone and saw there was indeed text message from Claire waiting for her.
“Preg test @ lunch?" it read. Darcy texted back quickly, before getting caught – “Totes there. Make sure u save ur pee” and put the phone back into her purse.
She heard Claire laugh when she read the text. She couldn’t help but wonder if Claire was actually pregnant and how that would absolutely change everything. She remembered having been pregnant once in college, and subsequently miscarrying. She could still avidly recall the odd mixture of pain and bizarre elation that came with the whole process. She had been excited on some level to having gotten pregnant, though it was incredibly unplanned, but her rational mind knew that there was no way she would be able to have and support a child. She genuinely did not wish that tumultuous thought process and experience on anyone, especially her new (old) best friend.
She quickly went back to day dreaming about how awful her yearbook picture was definitely going to turn out. She spaced out watching the back of Ms. Wright’s bleached blonde, and awfully dry hair as it bobbed while avidly writing on the blackboard in cohesive nonsense about poor Mr. Willy Loman.
Not knowing why, she had a strange inclination to look out the window of the classroom door, upon which she saw Luke waving frantically at her through the glass. No one else in the class around her seemed to notice the most popular boy in school manically throwing his arms about, and she had found it incredibly odd that Claire hadn’t noticed a
s her desk was right beside her own. She inwardly blamed it on all that she had on her mind.
“Ms. Wright, may I have the hall pass, please?” she chimed up, barely a whisper. The teacher turned around quickly as though being tapped on the shoulder, and nodded her head towards the hall pass that lay on the very messy desk. She speedily exited the classroom, anxiety in her tummy over what Luke possibly could want from her now.
***
As soon as she was outside the classroom door, she caught sight of Luke at the end of hallway. He gestured spastically for her to follow him and out the back exit door. Fortunately for her, there was not one single student in the corridor as everyone seemed to be in class. She temporarily debated following him outside, alone, and then realized that she was being overly cautious, as per the usual. She high-tailed it to the back door and went outside to the school field, where Luke sat alone on a poorly maintained bench that was littered with graffiti and carved initials of loves short, fleeting, and insignificant.
UH oh, she thought to herself as she walked slowly to join him. This may not have been such a good idea, she mumbled aloud as she noticed Luke’s cheeks were moist with tears.
She decided to take one more full panoramic view of the hallway that surrounded her before joining Luke and the pending uncomfortable confrontation that was sure to unfold. For a brief second, she thought she saw a flash of red hair vanish behind a corner at the end of the hall, but quickly realized it was probably just her paranoia manifesting imaginary images. She was genuinely surprised there weren't more psychoses popping up considering the recent string of events.
***
She couldn’t help but look constantly at the watch upon her wrist as Luke continued to blabber on and on somewhat incoherently, alligator tears running endlessly down his finely chiseled cheeks. So far, in what couldn't have been more than five minutes, all she really understood from him were the words “sneak, letter, and weird.” She couldn’t quite piece his rambling words together into a cohesive whole as he was being pretty dramatic. She had sincerely wanted to grasp what he was going on about in order to help me, but she had to get back to class or else she would be spending her yearbook picture time in detention.
“Luke, listen…” she tried to interrupt, but he was not being responsive to any kind of support or disruption. He had finally stopped crying and sat against the back of the wood bench they were sitting upon, bringing his knees close to his chest. His bottom lip still throbbed and she felt a certain heartfelt pity for him. She also found herself reminded of Arin Ray from her adult job, and with that thought brought all kinds of negative associations.
“I don’t know if it’s true but I feel like it is, and she’s been so weird and distant lately,” he droned on. Darcy looked down again at her watch, beginning to freak out when she noticed she had now been gone 10 minutes from class.
“Luke, I have to head back to English class,” she said, standing up. He looked up at her, eyes open wide and extremely sad. She felt wanted to be able to spend more time and listen to him but she couldn’t afford to get into trouble with the wrath that was known as Ms. Wright.
“Don’t go!” Luke said, standing up, moving close to her. Staring at her squarely in the eyes, the blue specks of his irises seemed to lock into the green specks in her own. “You’re the only one who understands me, Darcy”.
Knowing where this was ultimately going, and there certainly wasn’t going to be a happy ending, she attempted to move away. Luke, however, held her by the shoulders and pulled her close to him. His sudden strong grasp surprised her, taking over her instinct to rip herself away.
“Luke – stop. Someone is going to see us,” she whispered back to him trying to shake him off, but he would not budge. He was nearly twice her size and was as solid as a tree trunk
“I don’t care anymore. I can’t stand to be away from you. I gave you the space you needed, didn’t I? I’ve tried to pretend that the last six months didn’t happen and that you didn’t mean anything to me, but I can’t hide it anymore. I love you,” he said and pulled her close, kissing her intensely.
She felt his soft lips on hers, gentle but firm. She couldn't help but fall into his arms, letting the tension in her shoulders soften and get wrapped into the kiss that she found herself enjoying. Before getting too involved, she managed to pull herself away, her fear of someone seeing them taking over the craziness of the situation.
“This is so not a good idea,” she said, completely separating herself from their illicit embrace. She wasted no time in turning around and running back towards the school door, nearly tripping on a Coke can along the way. She had thought Luke would follow her, preaching his undying love loud enough for everyone to hear, but when she glanced back, he had sat back down on the bench and placed his head into his lap.
Part of her had wanted him to chase after her and take him in her arms, telling her again that he loved her, but another part of her knew that nothing could ever come of her and Luke. He was her best friends boyfriend, and even if he loved her (or so he thought), it would have to go unrequited.
Upon opening the red, heavy door that opened up onto the school's main floor, where her English class sat waiting, she was cautious to ensure that no one witnessed the bizarre interaction that had just unfolded beyond them in the school football field. Feeling like Carmen Sandiego, she sped walked to Ms. Wright, albeit begrudgingly.
Chapter 18
The students were lined up in several rows by surname. The energy had started to shift from apprehension to relief as students left the gym where the school photographers had set up camp. Claire, Rena and Darcy all stood beside each other, thankful that their surnames were all within a letter of one another’s.
Claire had managed to pull herself together after the marathon bathroom break that followed straight after English class. She had pulled Darcy and Rena into the stall with her and made them praise her for how good she had looked. At first she had thought that Claire was joking, and initially went with it, lavishing her friend with compliment after compliment and taking picture after picture with her phone. Rena was game too. But after a few minutes of this incessant ego boosting silliness, her effort began to wane, and she waited patiently for Rena to also give up and for Claire to join them all in a loud bout of laughter. It didn’t happen, and Rena just kept on goading Claire, while Darcy found herself grow quiet.
“You don’t think I look good enough for yearbook?” Claire said after it became obvious that she wasn’t interested in continuing to lavish inauthentic praise upon her friend.
She almost laughed out loud, sincerely thinking that Claire was also kidding around, having momentarily forgotten that she had just spent the last five minutes telling Claire that she was basically Scarlett Johannsen with a personality. Finally understanding that Claire was in no way joking, she looked at Rena for support but the other girl moved her eyes instantaneously to the cracked tiled linoleum floor.
“You look amazing and never looked better,” she finally replied. Claire smiled at her, and then went back to re-applying another layer of cherry red lip-gloss.
“I’ve looked plenty better, Ms. Pratt, and you know that for a fact,” Claire went on, a twinkle in her blue eyes. She looked at her reflection in the mirror one last time and turned around abruptly. “But I do look pretty incredible for only having slept three hours last night and cramping like a bitch.”
Rena laughed, her long, red hair bouncing madly upon her shoulders. Darcy watched as Rena also applied more lip gloss, slow and steady-like, almost copying every move Claire had just made. She stared intently at Darcy in the mirror while Claire bent down to tie her pink Keds, a sly smirk across her round face. She didn’t know quite how to interpret the odd expression. Was it a knowing a smile? A commiserate smile? She honestly had no idea.
The bell signaling the beginning of the pending picture taking rang loudly. Darcy stole another glance at her own reflection. The makeup that Claire had given her certainly helped he
r blotchy appearance but she still looked a tad puffy and tired after the terrible nightmare just the night before.
The line-up to take their yearbook pictures moved fairly quickly and the three girls found themselves talking casually about the upcoming weekend and the big senior stay over, an event that she was completely unaware of but both other girls seemed to be elated about.
The Senior Stay Over, she had quickly learned, was the second most important social event in the Flint Ridge High senior’s year, next to the prom. The whole senior class would be taking a giant bus over to Beach Bridge, a town four towns away that was known for its rustic cottages and pristine, white beaches. The school had planned special activities to commemorate the student’s four past years in high school. She got the impression that it was sort of a summer camp that was only three days long and acted a chance for all of the kids to bond before they went their separate ways at College. Speaking of college, she found it peculiar that her friends never, ever brought up what was looming post-graduation.
Though the idea of a stay over intrigued her, she couldn’t quite wrap her mind around the whole concept. In all the books she had read over the years, she had never come across the plot point of a stay over, and she wasn’t sure how she would handle such an event. She had just met all of these people after all, and having to spend two nights with them in relative wilderness would be a whole other level of crazy.
“So clearly the three of us will bunk, and Luke, Jason and Kieran will be in the room opposite us, Claire said, once again playing the alpha female of the group.
Kieran, Darcy thought. That’s a new one. Now she definitely didn’t want to go on the stay over, especially with Luke being right across the hall from her. Who knew what late night monologue he would orate to her, especially in the middle of the forest.
“Clearly,” Rena replied. She chose to remain quiet and looked around the room surrounding them. The line they were in continued to move rapidly as they inched closer and closer to the gymnasium doors where the photographers were just beyond.
