If Heaven Had Cheese Fries

by Stephanie Staudinger

  Mr. Nash went back to highlighting parts of a textbook. I watched the bright yellow streaks fill the page. It must be nice to be so certain of something, even if it was just which information in a book was most relevant.

  “Mr. Nash?” I asked, popping a crouton into my mouth.

  “Hmm?” He looked up again at me, making eye contact. He was good at that even if it did make me a bit nervous. I suddenly felt the need to make conversation. “How long have you been teaching here?”

  “A year.” I had expected he had been there a lot longer.

  “It feels like much longer, however,” Mr. Nash added.

  “It feels like an eternity for those of us who have been here ten plus years,” Miss Fry chimed in.

  I opened my mouth to respond when I heard what sounded like my name being yelled. My ears perked up slightly, but I didn’t bother to look around. There was no way someone was looking for me. I was the new kid with a common name, irrelevant by most standards.

  Or not. Someone was now tapping me on the shoulder.

  I spun around to find myself face to face with Alyssa.

  “I was calling you,” she stated matter-of-factly.

  “Oh.” I put down my fork and turned towards her. “It’s loud in here.”

  She gave me a strange look. For a lunchroom, it was surprisingly quiet. Most people were inhaling their food instead of conversing with each other.

  “I was about to go grab nachos,” she continued. “Wanna come with and grab a seat at our table? We’re over there.” She pointed towards the windows. Far away from the volleyball table, a definite plus. That also meant far away from Mr. Nash.

  I looked towards him. He was still focused on highlighting, but I could see a slight smile playing across his face. He was seemingly proud that the new girl was making friends. That was the only nudge I needed.

  “I’d like that,” I said to Alyssa.

  “Well, come on.” She had actually taken the initiative to pack up my lunch for me. “The nacho bar is always long, and I need to be one of the first people to touch the sour cream.” I noticed her eyes narrowing on Chase, who didn’t even look up from the day’s stack of papers.

  I turned towards my table, struck by the sudden urge to thank them for taking me under their wing. Then I remembered I was only there because Mr. Nash had knocked my lunch on the floor, and the moment passed. I said a quick “Thanks” instead, and followed Alyssa. People were already moving out of her way and, as usual, I had to take two steps to catch up.

  “I didn’t know you had lunch this period,” I told her, my attempt at casual conversation.

  She had just grabbed a lunch tray, offering me one too. I shook my head no.

  “You sure? Because I’m a big girl who needs to eat, so I’m doubling up. You eating a measly salad next to me might make me have second thoughts.”

  “Fine.” I took the tray from her hand.

  “Good. You’re welcome for saving you, by the way.”

  “Saving me?” My ears perked up.

  “Yes girl,” she sighed as she reached over to grab one of the paper-checkered boats. “Sitting with teachers is high school-suicide. You’ll be shunned from about every group, including the lowest of the low. Us.” She winked.

  I nodded as she piled her nachos up with all the toppings. I mimicked her actions.

  “But those other kids sit--” I pointed out.

  She cut me off. “Remember I mentioned the sour cream?” She didn’t give me a chance to answer before she began excitedly talking. It was a story I knew she had been itching to tell me ever since she had ‘saved me.’

  “Chase sits at that table because he’s forced to help grade papers as punishment. Freshman year he got caught blowing snot rockets into the sour cream after the football team tormented him. He knew they all were going to eat the tacos that day.”

  “Oh, my God.” I put a hand over my mouth. “That’s disgusting.”

  “No, it’s fucking disgusting. Him and the football players are,” Alyssa corrected me.

  “Language,” an elderly-looking lunch lady with a hairnet which barely covered her curls scolded as she scooped a ladle of ground beef onto our nachos.

  “Sorry.” I gave her an apologetic smile and turned my attention back to Alyssa. “I have so many questions, but none that I want to ask.”

  “Yeah, you don’t,” she continued. “Nashy is a real saint, though. Probably because he didn’t eat the sour cream that day. But he takes those kids that have been bullied and, instead of condemning them to suspension or a lifetime of detention, he finds other ways to help them.”

  “What about that other girl that was at the table today?”

  “Oh, Linzie? She’s just a weird sophomore who is new this year.”

  To my surprise, Alyssa paid for my nachos. I didn’t have to race to catch up with her this time. She was walking slowly so as to not lose any of her toppings, which were piled on top, threatening to break free at any moment.

  “I’m a pro at getting my money’s worth when it comes to toppings.” She winked at me. “Ask me how I stack my boat sometime.”

  Noah was already sitting at the end of the table. There were several open seats that I was surprised I hadn’t noticed the first day.

  Alyssa introduced me to a few more people who all waved and said hi. No one seemed too keen on making any sort of conversation, nor did Alyssa, who was digging into her nachos. I picked at mine as we ate in silence. When I was finished, I took as much time as possible throwing my things away. I was struggling with what to talk about, finding it more difficult to converse with my peers than the teachers. I threw my napkins away one by one until there were none left. I forced my way back to the table, where Alyssa had finished her nachos in record time and was leaning towards Noah, whispering something in his ear. They both laughed and looked at me as I sat down. Were they gossiping? Thinking of disentangling themselves from the new girl already? I knew I was a bit of a bore but damn that was quicker than I thought.

  I tossed my hair up into a bun, still trying to get used to the amount of waves I now had. My table made no indication of banishing me just yet and so I got comfortable. I tucked my legs under my feet and placed the notebook flat on my lap. I added “Chase and snot rockets.” It almost sounded like a band name.

  I still had a few more questions and so I cleared my throat at Alyssa.

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “Yeah?”

  “Can I ask you a few questions?”

  “Uh, sure,” she said slowly as she popped a jalapeno in her mouth, the only thing left behind on her tray. “What kind of questions?” She hadn’t even flinched at the spiciness.

  “Just about the school and stuff,” I continued. “I want to make sure I’m not missing anything. I wanna know who's worth getting to know and--”

  “No one,” Noah chimed in immediately.

  I laughed, assuming it was a joke. “And who I should avoid?”

  “Everyone,” Noah chimed in again.

  Alyssa laughed as she shot him a disapproving look. “You wanna give her the rundown, or should I?”

  “Man.” Noah shook his head. “You’re more patient than I am with that gossipy shit.”

  “All right.” Alyssa looked at the clock which was inching forward slowly. There were still fifteen minutes of lunch left. “I could talk all day about the shit that goes on at this school, but I’ll make it quick. You’ve actually come right during some juicy shit.”

  “Yeah real juicy shit,” Noah rolled his eyes and Alyssa smacked him on his arm. “She’s dramatic A-F,” he laughed as he redid his bandanna around his unruly curls.

  I didn’t want to let on just how intrigued I was by this little tidbit of information. Day two at the school, and it seemed I was being pushed in the right direction.

  Alyssa took a deep breath as if she was about to give the speech of her life. She leaned towards me, crossing her arms over each other and holding my gaze intently.

  I w
as scared to blink.

  “Well,” she started, “a few changes came to school this semester along with the new principal. You’ve met him, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Total douche,” Alyssa and Noah said at the same time.

  “So he came up with all these rules which basically worked fine at his last school, which was some sort of less formal version of a boarding school,” Alyssa said.

  “Or a convent,” Noah chimed in again, interrupting Alyssa.

  “None of these new rules are very popular here,” she continued. “One of those was about the upcoming homecoming dance. There will be no close contact dancing, no music with any sort of swear words, what else?” She turned to Noah who took over.

  “Breathalyzers,” he ticked off on his fingers. “Appropriate attire, no midriffs showing, no cleavage. Sleeves for guys.”

  “I’m a big girl.” Alyssa gestured to her body. “My midriff is gonna show no matter how hard I try to tuck it away.”

  “That’s just for the dance,” Noah continued, lowering his voice to a whisper so that I had to lean into him to continue listening. “There’s other stuff regarding daily rules, but the dance is the big deal. The cocky jockeys are pissed.”

  Alyssa snickered, “I still love that nickname.”

  “So they’re planning an alternate homecoming at a secret location,” Noah continued dramatically. “Thing is, we’ve got word of it.”

  “And we’re going to destroy it,” Alyssa pounded her fist into her open palm, causing the rest of the table to look our way. “My mom forced me to be on the dance planning committee, and I’ll be damned if this crap ruins it.”

  The bell rang, but I was okay with that. I had more than enough information to go on for the day, and I was already envisioning the pages of my notebook filling up.

  Noah jumped up quickly. “See y’all in class.” His tall curly head bobbed through the crowd until he eventually disappeared.

  “You coming?” Alyssa was standing at the edge of the table, waiting expectantly.

  I nodded and followed her to Creative Writing.

  We were almost inside when Matt grabbed my arm, pulling me to the other side of the door.

  “Woah,” I yelled as I almost lost my balance.

  “Dude,” Alyssa yelled at Matt, “what’s your problem?”

  “It’s okay,” I reassured her. “I’ll see you inside.” She hovered for a moment, shooting him a look as if she wanted to say more before turning abruptly and heading into the classroom.

  “Yes?” I raised my eyebrows at Matt.

  “Hi!” he said as if he hadn’t just yanked my arm out of its socket. “What are you doing hanging around with her?”

  “We’re locker mates,” I told him, even though I very well knew that I didn’t owe a bossy 18-year-old any sort of explanation. “And she’s nice.”

  Matt sighed and gestured for me to go first into the classroom, which I did. As I passed him he whispered in my ear, “Just watch your back around her, that’s all.”

  He didn’t say any more while we waited for Mr. Nash to arrive.

  A black top hat was tucked under Mr. Nash’s arm when he showed up a few minutes later.

  “Magic tricks?” Darrington shouted from the back.

  “Yeah, can we make you disappear?” Carly shot a look at Darrington, who smiled at her as if he was grateful to get attention from her, even if it wasn’t good.

  Mr. Nash ignored their banter. “Magic tricks in the form of your next creative writing assignment.”

  The whole class gave a collective groan.

  “Knock it off,” he chided as he went from person to person, allowing each to pick a small folded-up piece of paper. “I have a lot of assignments to grade right now, since about half of you decided to turn in last week’s late. Therefore, we’re going to do some independent writing.”

  He circled around the room. When he made it to our group, only a few folded-up pieces of paper remained.

  He extended the hat towards me and I reached in, grabbing the paper that would decide my fate--at least for the next 45 minutes.

  “Write a poem about an important figure in your life,” it said in Mr. Nash’s neat handwriting.

  Oh great. Glen was out of the question. Dad, maybe? For all I knew, my dad could just be a never ending series of notes apologizing for working and not someone who actually existed. I sighed heavily and put my pen down on top of my notebook. This was impossible.

  “Is something wrong?” Mr. Nash was talking to me.

  “No,” I mumbled not wanting to draw any attention to my problem. “It’s okay.”

  “What’d ya get?” Matt whispered loudly to me.

  “Get to work, everyone.” Mr. Nash talked over him. “When you’re done, we’ll shuffle them around for peer review. Feel free to leave your work anonymous if you’d like. Sometimes that helps you dig deeper.”

  The class had gone completely silent except for the various sounds of pens and pencils scribbling across papers, stories deep inside my classmates that were bursting to be told.

  I looked up. The girl across from me wasn’t even doing her creative writing assignment. When she saw me, she winked and leaned forward so that she was inches from my desk. “If it’s anonymous, why bother doing it?”

  I watched as she took out her trigonometry homework instead.

  Mr. Nash didn’t notice. He was back at his desk with his feet propped up. He was wearing purple socks with the outlines of pineapples dotted on them. Cute.

  “All right, Abigail,” I told myself. “Enough procrastinating.” It was all anonymous anyway, so what did it matter? Fake it until you make it. I put my pen to the paper, and the strangest thing happened. I began to write. My handwriting was shaky at first, but then the words poured right out of me, as if being freed from somewhere deep inside. All of these thoughts were springing into my head, and I knew I had to keep writing. The pen glided along the paper in expert strokes until I reached the bottom of the page. My thoughts were now still.

  I looked down at my work. Holy shit, I had written a poem.

  My Greatest Protector

  Abigail Henderson

  A difficult past, a fresh new start.

  My father is someone with love and determination in his heart.

  A troubled soul, a new way to go.

  Moving again was the only thing he seemed to know.

  The biggest heart, a warm smile.

  Helping me through life’s every trial.

  Together since birth, just him and I.

  Moving here was something we desperately needed to try.

  Brown hair like honey, blue eyes like water run clear.

  From a little girl till now, calming my every fear.

  Working hard to provide over the last decade and a half.

  Him and me, tackling the obstacles in life’s path.

  A sorrow within bursting to be told

  His hand always reaching out to hold.

  Each time I read it, I felt the fear inside me growing steadily stronger. There were more thoughts bursting into my head, and I couldn’t shake them no matter how hard I tried. I was a blonde curly-haired kid crying because I wanted to play outside in the snow. Fast forward to a memory of me being six years old, watching in awe as my dad performed a basic magic trick. Then thirteen years old, crying because of an awful dye job that turned my hair orange. The memories wouldn’t stop; shapes, colors, places, everything was coming in faster and faster. Someone was screaming. I couldn’t take it anymore. I slammed my hands down on my desk and pushed my seat backwards, as far away from that poem as I possibly could. My head was pounding and stars dotted my vision. I blinked and it was all gone. The whole class was staring at me, including Mr. Nash. Did I make the scream I had heard?

  “I’m sorry.” I collected my books and stood up, a strange calmness coming over me as I addressed the class. “I don’t feel well. I will be going now.”

  And just like that, I left, leavi
ng them all wondering what possessed the strange new girl to have an outburst like that. I didn’t stop moving until I found a quiet staircase that led to the basement of the school where I knew art classes and teachers’ offices were. I just needed a few minutes alone to stop the tears which had started to spill from my eyes.

  “Happy?” I said out loud in a voice that was loud enough for Glen to hopefully hear without attracting the attention of anyone nearby. “Because I really don’t want to do this.” I laid my head down on my lap. “I don’t.”

  Nothing but silence returned my pleas. I lost track of time. The bell eventually rang to signal the end of my Creative Writing class. Was anyone pondering my departure? Next up on my schedule would be gym class. If the teacher didn’t miss me, chances were that my classmates would. I had proved to be a valuable basketball player during the first day’s scrimmage. Yet another skill I didn’t know that I had.

  I thought back to my dad and had an urge to find him and give him the tightest hug after being filled with the nostalgia of the poem. Sadly, he was still out of town through the weekend, and I would be left alone with thoughts that I wasn’t even sure were my own.

  Footsteps approached from behind me. I lifted my head up, hoping to be face to face with Glen. Instead, I was greeted by Mr. Nash.

  He placed my backpack down next to me on the stair and took a seat.

  “How did you find me?” I asked feebly.

  He smiled, quiet for a moment. “I’ve gotten to know this school pretty well for the past year, including where people go when they want to disappear for a little.”

  So my secret spot wasn’t so secret.

  “We had a wonderful student by the name of Lana who graduated last year. She was in charge of acclimating the new kids to school. I unofficially took that role over this year.”

  I wasn’t sure why he was telling me all of this.

  “So, high school is hard. It’s really hard when you start after all these connections and relationships are already formed. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed, but just know, you’re doing great. You’ll find your place and your voice as time goes on.”

  I nodded. His references seemed oddly prolific. The tears were gone but I couldn’t trust myself to keep a steady voice. What would I say anyway? There’s no way Mr. Nash, no matter how compassionate, would be able to understand what I was going through.