If Heaven Had Cheese Fries

by Stephanie Staudinger

  “Oops, sorry, Nash.” He quickly took a seat.

  “Now I’m sure you’ve all noticed something new in the classroom.” He smiled around the room, stopping to make eye contact with me, which I returned. “My tie.” He pointed at his chest. I smiled at his joke. I knew he was hinting at me sitting there.

  Matthew groaned from next to me. “Naaash,” he said dragging out his name, “what did we tell you about making dad jokes?”

  A few kids in the class chuckled.

  “Alright. Alright.” He put his hands up as if admitting defeat. “We have a new student. Class, meet Abigail Henderson. Abigail, meet the best Creative Writing class in the county.”

  All eyes were on me. I looked around and raised my hand in a small wave. Several of the students I had already met.

  Noah and Alyssa were sitting together in one of the groups. Jenna was near the back. She hadn’t lifted her eyes up once to look at me. I spotted Claire and the pretty girl Darrington was yelled at for talking to in a different section. Thorton, the girl with the fire orange hair, was sitting near the front, her arms wrapped around her knees as she sat folded in her seat. Chase was sitting in a desk next to Mr. Nash’s.

  Mr. Nash was telling the class about me. It was a welcome change, not having to put the energy into a lie about who I was.

  When he concluded, I flashed him a smile of gratitude even though he didn’t realize just how helpful he had been.

  “Anything you’d like to add?”

  “I think you hit the nail on the head.”

  “Perfect.” Mr. Nash turned away from me and focused his attention on the rest of the class. “Now, Abigail is a few weeks behind in the semester. If anyone would like to--”

  Matt’s hand shot up so fast next to me that the paper on my desk blew to the floor.

  “With speed and agility on the basketball court and off, Matt wins,” Mr. Nash stated in a fake announcer voice as a few students laughed.

  “Don’t forget in the pool and on the soccer field too.” Matt winked at me and jingled his medals. I was willing to bet that he even slept in his letterman jacket too.

  “Abigail,” Mr. Nash said as he set a folder filled with quite a few papers on my desk, “Matt will help you catch up on last week’s readings. There are a few assignments in here you can work on at your leisure. I’m not going to expect you to do all of them. We’ll chat more about it later.”

  Students were now taking out their books.

  “You all read my mind,” Mr. Nash looked proudly around his class. “Who did the reading?”

  Noah raised his hand immediately.

  “Noah, you did the reading?” Mr. Nash approached his desk, smiling down at him.

  “I’m not going to answer that,” Noah said. “But aren’t you forgetting something?”

  Mr. Nash was quiet for a moment, racking his brain trying to figure out what he was hinting at.

  “She’s gotta pick a Polaroid.”

  “Oh, right!” Mr. Nash clapped his hands together. “Noah, you’ve always got my back, my man.” His playful banter with his class was a welcome break from the rigorous structure of the other classes I’d taken thus far. That’s why I wasn’t even nervous when he had me come forward to choose a Polaroid off the wooden pallet I had been eyeing earlier.

  “Picking a Polaroid is done at the beginning of every semester. I hate tests. Despise them, really,” he said as the class gave an audible groan about the testing part.

  “Preach,” Darrington yelled out from the back of the room.

  Mr. Nash continued, paying no mind to the classroom interruptions, which were likely a normal part of his daily routine.

  “Each of these Polaroids has a quote on the back. All the pictures were taken by the senior photography class over the years. Hence that one.” He got up to point at a picture of what appeared to be a black and white snapshot of a cat’s butt in the upper right corner. I could only imagine the quote that was on that one.

  “My favorite!” someone shouted out.

  Mr. Nash continued: “These quotes were said by various people. Some famous, some not so famous. You have all semester to use your chosen quote as a jumping-off point for your final project. Use the message to craft a song, tell a story, make a documentary, or whatever the quote moves you to do.”

  I nodded as he continued: “See, quotes have this power to unleash something within us. They make us feel. They make us vulnerable. Above all else, they remind us that we’re human. My hope is that I’ve chosen quotes that will stir something deep within each and every one of you.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jenna pretend to sniffle and wipe a tear from her eye while her group snickered.

  “I’m going to pretend that I didn’t see that, Miss Tucker.” He looked disapprovingly in her direction before turning his attention back to me. “Now it’s your turn. You’ll stand in front and grab the first one that catches your attention. It’s a bit of a game of chance. The pictures don’t always match up with the quotes.” He winked. Here I was in yet another game of life, this time swapping out doors of fate for the fate of my final project.

  I took my spot in the front and took a deep breath, fully aware that the whole class and Mr. Nash’s eyes were on me. This was some sort of senior ritual that the class clearly looked forward to. I let my eyes scan over the pictures quickly without trying to focus too much on one. I wanted to grab the first one that spoke to me.

  And there it was, in the upper right corner. It was a beautiful picture of a faded lighthouse, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. Everything from the night sky to the water surrounding the pier was alive with the color purple. The pop of white clouds in the background provided the only other color. Mr. Nash was right. I suddenly felt alive, irony which wasn’t lost on me at that moment.

  I reached out and yanked it down, clutching it firmly in my hand as if letting it go would release the magic of the lighthouse. I turned to Mr. Nash. A look I couldn't read quickly crossed his face. But then it was gone as he nodded at me.

  “Excellent choice. You’re welcome to share your quote with the class or to keep it a secret. Many opt for the latter, thinking it makes for a better and more surprising project in the end. I tend to agree.”

  I looked down at the photo, half expecting to see myself walking along the pier.

  “If you don’t mind,” I said turning from him and addressing the class with a stroke of empowerment, “I’d like to keep mine a secret.”

  “Booooooo,” one of my groupmates yelled out before Matt reached over and smacked him on the arm.

  “Very well,” Mr. Nash said. “Now, let’s get started with today’s lesson.”

  “Question,” It was Noah who had spoken up again. I saw his headband and curly mop shoot up from his desk as he raised his hand.

  “Yes?” Mr. Nash nodded in his direction as I made my way back to my desk, my breath catching in my throat with fear that he was going to ask something about me.

  “Whatever happened to the senior who took the picture of the cat’s butt?”

  The class laughed and I let go of the breath I was holding. I slipped my picture into my backpack, promising myself that I would read the quote the moment I was home.

  When I finally did pull into my driveway a few hours later, I was exhausted. Mentally more than anything else. There was no sign of life anywhere unless you counted the neighbor a few houses down who was piling sticks near the curb. I wonder if he had any insight into my mysterious family. It didn’t look as though I would be meeting them any time soon. The house was empty. Another scribbled note was sitting on the granite countertop.

  “Kiddo -- Emergency meeting in Hinkey Springs. Will be back this weekend. You’re on your own! You know where the money is and where the fully stocked pantry is. Call if you need. Love you. Dad.”

  I flipped it over. He had taken the liberty of drawing several emoji’s on the back. A modern version of texting which helped me feel connected to someone
I hadn’t met yet.

  I walked around the house, inspecting every last room. It was a house I could get lost in if I wandered too far.

  The pantry was fully stocked. I made myself a quick sandwich and took a bite. Something was missing. Aha! Guacamole. I apparently liked guacamole. I found a big Tupperware container of it in the fridge, still green in color. When I tried my sandwich again, I found that it made all the difference.

  I took my notebook, my folder from Mr. Nash’s class, and a can of Coke down to my room, where my door was shut. My sandwich was precariously balancing on my folder as I went to gently kick the door open. That’s when I heard it. A giant thud, as if something was being thrown across the room.

  Was it Glen? A robber? Could someone still kill me if I had just died a few months ago?

  Stop it, Abigail. There’s no intruder, I told myself. It’s better to be safe than sorry, however. I placed my plate and school belongings on the floor next to my door.

  I cracked it open a few more inches. No one was out in the open.

  “Hello?” My voice was unsteady, but only silence answered my call. I pressed myself against the wall and held my breath as I inched towards the closet. No one was there either. I gave myself a minute to steady my breathing before I was ready to check the rest of my room. Nothing was out of place. I did discover, however, that I had a walk-in bathroom that I hadn’t even noticed that morning. Pretty cool.

  I dropped down onto my stomach and lifted back my duvet, which was hanging over the side. I didn’t expect to see anything underneath. We all know that you stop checking for real monsters under the bed after the age of eight. Staring back at me, however, was a pair of glowing yellow eyes.

  CHAPTER 9

  At some point while I was in school, Burt had made the trek from heaven. He was curled up at my feet, purring away as I lay in bed. I hadn’t slept much during the night, tossing and turning, but he never left my side.

  Something told me that I’d never have another restful night of sleep again.

  “Did you know you used to be a mechanic?” I scratched Burt behind his ears, grateful to not be so alone anymore. He lazily opened one eye, surveying me. I squinted back at him. “Are you still a mechanic?”

  He shut both eyes, presumably going back to sleep. I wished I could do the same. The lack of sleep was making me a little delirious—after all, I was cracking jokes with a cat. After I had found him the night before, I’d stayed up reading about my new life from the little blue notebook Glen had given me. It frequently rotated between the notes I took and the notes that someone had taken for me. I wondered if I was reading the notes from the previous Abigail or from Glen. Something told me, I’d never really know.

  Those pages held some key points about my life up until that point. Being a lifeguard had been my first job. My mom had been named Rose, and she’d died while giving birth to me. My father had never remarried, choosing to immerse himself in work and taking care of me. The more I read, the more anxious I was to meet him. There were also a lot of gaps in my story, presumably there for me to fill in myself as time went on. I was living a real life ‘choose your own adventure’ story. Would life or death would be the final chapter? I thought back to the judge who had mentioned that Abigail’s spirit had moved on. What was she doing right now? Sitting on a bed in someone else's body a million miles away? None of this made any sense.

  I took a quick shower and got dressed for another day of school. This time I chose a pair of dark blue jeans, a white form-fitting turtleneck, and a yellow corduroy jacket that I found hanging in my closet. I didn’t know if it was my imagination, but my hair seemed to be a brighter shade of blonde than it had been the day before. It complemented the outfit perfectly. I brushed out the knots and made my way over to the school.

  A few leaves were starting to fall from the trees, blowing past my front windshield on my way to Margaret Fielder. We lived on the outskirts of town and it was definitely a pretty, albeit a slightly long, drive. I pulled into the senior parking lot, thanks to Matt’s little tip, and I was earlier than expected.

  There were more students milling about than there had been on the day before, including Matt and his buddies, who were lounging underneath a nearby tree. I hesitated over whether or not I should approach them, but as soon as Matt saw me get out of the car, he waved me over.

  “Morning.” He threw his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him in some sort of half hug which was fully awkward.

  “Hi,” I said. Claire and the pretty girl who looked like a tanner and blonder version of her were both sitting in the grass. I couldn’t help but notice that their backpacks were exactly the same but in slightly different colorways.

  Jenna was there too, lying flat with her head in Claire’s lap. Her eyes were closed, and she didn’t even bother to open them to acknowledge me as I approached.

  “This is Claire, who I think you know.” Matt put his hand on top of her head as he loomed above them like the beginning of some strange duck-duck-goose game.

  “And this is Carly, who you may get to know. She’s picky.”

  “I am not picky.” She emphasized the last word with a roll of her eyes. “I’m just sick of being creeped on by your friend.” She must be Darrington’s on-again off-again girlfriend who Matt had referenced. Darrington was nowhere to be found.

  “Anyways.” Matt ignored her. “We call them the CC’s because they look alike and they never go anywhere without each other, so in all honesty, you really don’t need to learn their names.”

  “Funny,” Claire said in a tone that showed she didn’t find him the least bit humorous. They did look a lot alike. Their straight and blonde hair was almost identical. I briefly wondered if they’d change it together for fall. Claire had a rounder face, one that naturally made her seem like the kinder of the two. Carly had a hard edge to everything she said, and her mouth seemed to be set in a permanent straight line.

  She must have taken a leaf out of Jenna’s book. I hadn’t noticed at first, but Jenna had opened her eyes and was sitting up as she scribbled something in a binder. It was like a mirror image of my actions. When she saw me looking, she snapped it shut and tucked it underneath her leg.

  “We’re plotting.” I couldn’t read her expression or her tone to know if she was joking or not. Her word choice was enough to send a shiver down my spine.

  “What are you plotting?” I hoped my voice sounded innocent enough, not dripping with the curiosity I was keeping bottled inside.

  Jenna looked to the CC’s, and they raised their perfectly plucked eyebrows in unison. One and the same, I thought.

  I caught Matt shaking his head briefly out of the corner of my eye.

  “It’s nothing,” Jenna finally answered. “A group project.” The girl was good--she didn’t skip a beat in her response--but a strange mood had definitely settled over the group.

  Well, two could play at that game. I took my own notebook out of my bag and quickly scribbled down Carly’s name, the newcomer to my own notebook.

  I was well aware that Matt was trying to peer over to see what I was doing, but I kept the book angled towards me. I winked at him before tucking it back into my bag. “It’s nothing.”

  I turned and walked towards the school alone. Perhaps that would pique their curiosity and we could do a tradeoff.

  I hadn’t heard from Matt at all during the first half of the day. Maybe they thought I had been a bit too much that morning. I was well aware that the first few days of starting at a new school were crucial. That’s when you were deemed worthy or not to join certain friend groups.

  It was hard not fitting in anywhere, even if it was just day two. I waved at Noah, who jogged by me in an effort to be first in line for lunch. I hadn’t noticed him the day before, but there was no way I could sit with him. He had gotten mad because I used a lavender-scented lotion during class that morning. As soon as I put a dab into my hands, he flipped his head around so fast that I thought his purple bandanna was goin
g to fly off.

  Back in the lunchroom, my confidence was diminishing. Matt and the CC’s had a different lunch period as well.

  I sighed and made my way over to Mr. Nash’s table. It was the same setup as yesterday. Mr. Nash, Miss Fry and her salad, Chase, and a girl who looked like a freshman were all sitting there, each doing their own thing.

  I hovered nearby, thinking better of it at the last moment. How desperate did I want to look?

  Too late. Mr. Nash was already waving me over.

  I maneuvered my way around a group of guys who had moved in front of me, and I took a seat right next to Mr. Nash. The new girl at the table looked up, flashing me a smile which revealed a full set of metal braces.

  Mr. Nash seemed genuinely excited to have me at the table again. “I see your lunch survived today.” He nodded at my floral lunch bag which I gingerly placed in front of me.

  I laughed. “No one has scared me yet.” I shook the contents out. I’d had the liberty of packing my own lunch, and a massive Cobb salad awaited me. I was half tempted to say ‘cheers’ to Miss Fry, who already had a piece of cilantro stuck in her teeth courtesy of her taco salad.

  “So how was your first day?” Mr. Nash asked, turning his attention completely towards me. I looked into his eyes briefly before I felt my face flush. I looked down, choosing to carefully drizzle ranch across my salad instead. He was wearing a simple maroon sweater which made his green eyes appear a shade lighter. I was mad that I even noticed that. It was a distraction I didn’t need.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “A lot to get used to.” If only you knew, I added mentally.

  “It’s definitely an adjustment period,” he continued. “As a teacher, it even took me a while to get the hang of things. Stick it out, though; this school will pleasantly surprise you.”

  Stick it out? Like I had a choice. Even if I wasn’t indebted to some mysterious God, I was still eighteen, and high school was expected of me.

  “I will keep that in mind.” I flashed him a smile before shoving a few bites of my salad into my mouth.