If Heaven Had Cheese Fries

by Stephanie Staudinger

  “You are excused from gym class.” He saved me from having to speak. “It’s covered. You can return to study hall if you’d like after. Mr. Medina does want to see you in his office, however. No matter how much pull I have in this school, it doesn’t allow me to stop that.” He smiled an honest and sincere smile that instantly made me feel a bit better about the predicament I was in. I liked him, I really did. It was enough to make me wonder about the possibility that he was a guardian angel, just like Glen.

  “Thank you,” I finally said to him, taking the excused-from-class slip that he held out to me.

  Mr. Nash stood up and for a fleeting moment, I thought he was going to extend his hand to me and pull me up. That was crazy, however, seeing as how he was just a teacher. Instead, I got up on my own and followed him out, wondering what it would be like to reach out and grab the hand of someone who was so sure of this world and all the roles we played in it.

  CHAPTER 10

  I had never felt so emotionally drained, and I hadn’t even survived my first week yet. I was excused from school early thanks to Principal Medina who called my father to collaborate the “illness” I had suddenly come down with.

  I wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep forever, but I was well aware that I had to be careful what I wished for. Burt snaked around my ankles the moment I was inside the front door. Although I knew I was alone, I still yelled out ‘Hello?” just in case. I still wasn’t used to the fact that the house was so big, that there were most likely rooms I hadn’t even explored yet.

  I had found some sort of meatloaf sitting in a container in the fridge which passed the sniff test. Burt gave an appreciative meow as I scooped some into a bowl for him.

  A feeling of homesickness settled into my stomach. I had a similar cat before. The name was gone from my memory like someone had taken an eraser, smudging out bits and pieces but failing to get it all. I knew what was happening and I hated every second of it.

  My head felt fuzzy again as I watched Burt scarf down his food before I even had the chance to offer a fork. After he was done, he realized I was staring at him. He stared back, unblinking, until I shook my head and headed to my room, where I had a mountain of homework to get through. The next two hours were dedicated to trudging through the backlog of assignments from me starting late. If only I could have timed my death better, I thought bitterly.

  I had a second chance at being a high school student, and I was determined to do it right this time.

  Mr. Nash had tucked all of my papers neatly away into their folder, the poem included. I had a moment of panic, thinking of Glen’s notebook, until I found it at the bottom of the backpack. I was half tempted to throw the poem away. That poem had caused my memories and thoughts to be manipulated into something new, something I didn’t fully understand yet.

  “Clear. Concise. Evokes feeling,” was written across the top of my poem along with his initials, E.D.N. Although I knew the class was supposed to be peer reviewing each other’s work, this was written in Mr. Nash’s neat handwriting.

  As I flipped through the rest of my things, searching for where I’d put the semester outline, the Polaroid picture fell out on the bed. I had completely forgotten about it. I turned it over in my hands to finally bring myself face to face with the quote.

  “Grief, I’ve learned, is love with no place to go.” It was attributed to a Jamie Anderson, a name I didn’t recognize.

  I read it again several more times, absorbing the meaning. I had never heard that quote before, but I instantly felt connected to my Polaroid. I wondered if it meant something to Mr. Nash, remembering the expression I had seen crossing his face when I picked it. Or perhaps, I had imagined the whole thing.

  I flipped the evening news and watched briefly before it became too much for me. Every time I saw another shooting or a car accident, I couldn’t help but wonder if someone had failed in their purpose. The fuzzy blanket and Burt’s warm purrs put me into a deep lull in front of the television. Before I knew it, I was dozing off.

  My body began to tingle. It felt as if my foot fell asleep first, and then that feeling snaked its way up my body until every last fiber of my being felt as if it was exploding, like an electric shock was running through me. I shot sat up, my hands immediately flying to the top of my head to make sure my hair wasn’t standing straight up.

  I used the walls to steady myself as I stumbled towards my bed, waiting for the feeling to stop. The clock next to my bed read 4:02 a.m. in glowing red letters when the feeling finally subsided. There was no way I’d be able to fall back asleep. The realization came before my head even made contact with my soft pillow.

  I couldn’t stay in an empty house any longer. I grabbed an oversized sweatshirt I hadn’t noticed before, cast over the back of a chair in my room. I brought it close to my body and took a deep breath in. It smelled slightly of cologne and had chewed-up strings. It meant something, a connection to someone. I must have had a boyfriend at some point, someone who had given it to me. The sweatshirt held no other clues; the man it belonged was too long gone, buried deep in my past where it was safer.

  I put it on and made sure to grab my notebook from Glen before heading out. I didn’t know where I was going, so I drove, hoping I’d know when I got there.

  The sun was beginning to make an appearance, alerting an entire city to the fact that they had been gifted with another day.

  I had driven another loop when I saw it. A small diner out near the interstate, surrounded by several fast food joints, their empty interiors illuminated by the bright fluorescent lights. The gravel parking lot was packed. The diner was the only place that showed signs of life. I parked a half a block down and took my time walking.

  A bell jingled overhead when I stepped inside ‘Deane’s Diner.’ The sign next to the door boasted ‘Bottomless Bacon and Coffee.’ The overpowering combination of those two smells wafted towards me.

  This was clearly the spot where the rest of the world got together while others slept.

  A waitress at the closest table to the door gave me a smile before leaning back over a table surrounded by what appeared to be construction workers, laughing as she took their order.

  I weaved in and out of the tables, finding a counter in the back where I could order coffee from. The menu had an overwhelming number of various coffee and espresso drinks. The line was thinning out while I studied the menu. I had to make a decision quickly, since there was only one man left standing in front of me. He was hunched over the counter, chatting up the barista as she took his order. The conversation stopped when he tossed something heavy into her glass tip jar, landing at the bottom with a clanging noise.

  “Appreciate you! It’s my first day on my own and you’re my first tip.” The girl peered into the jar. “Wait, is that a dollar coin?”

  “It is,” the man said, his voice barely audible above the chatter and whirring of coffee makers. “When my grandpa died, he left me and my brother a set of dollar coins which he collected through the years. His only requirement was that we do some good with them, and so I tip.”

  “Super cool.” The girl smiled at him before raising a finger to acknowledge that she’d be with me in a minute.

  The man in front of me, realizing that someone was now behind him, turned around to apologize.

  I was surprised to find myself staring into the eyes of Mr. Nash.

  “Oh,” we exclaimed at the same time.

  “A senior out of bed before the sun has barely risen. I don’t believe it.” Mr. Nash put his hand over his heart as if he was in shock.

  “Don’t give me too much credit,” I chided back. “After all, this is what I look like.” I gestured to my appearance.

  Mr. Nash laughed. It was soothing to hear. He moved aside so I could order.

  I was suddenly nervous to order, aware that Mr. Nash’s eyes were on me. I decided on a blended black cherry coffee drink.

  “They give you tiny chocolate-covered espresso beans with that,” Mr. Na
sh told me excitedly after I ordered.

  “Delightful,” I laughed.

  A moment later, Mr. Nash’s order was up. “Nice seeing you.” He gave me a head nod before heading towards a table near the windows.

  The line was quite long now. “Ma’am?” one of the baristas yelled to me. “I’m terribly sorry. We had to run downstairs to grab more skim milk, so it’ll just be a minute.”

  All around me, tables filled up until my drink was ready. The new barista slid it towards me after thanking me for my patience. Unfortunately, there was nowhere to sit. I had to laugh at my luck, yet again.

  An elderly couple was sharing a bagel at the end of a table which still had seats to spare. They seemed nice enough, probably willing to let me sit with them if I asked. I hovered nearby.

  “Abigail?” Mr. Nash called my name from a few tables away as a young couple slipped by me, taking the vacant seats next to the elderly couple, who greeted them with kisses on their cheeks.

  Well, that would have been significantly awkward. I headed towards Mr. Nash instead, failing to secure a table yet again.

  “You can sit if you’d like,” He gestured across from him. “You aren’t even under any obligation to talk to me. I just know how packed this place gets during the bacon and coffee rush.”

  I laughed as I took the spot across from him. He already had a large stack of papers and his laptop placed on the table, creating a wall of privacy between us. I slid my notebook out of my backpack and my eyes widened. Gone was the blue sparkly color that I had been taking notes in. In its place, was a red so deep that it almost resembled a pair of glowing eyes. What the hell was that, and was it watching me?

  “I’m surprised you found this place,” Mr. Nash continued, unperturbed by the bizarre change that was happening to my trusted book. “Most people let the gravel parking lot scare them off.”

  We were interrupted by a couple who came over to say hello to Mr. Nash and chat with him about the upcoming fall play their daughter was staring in. They referred to him warmly as Ethan and complimented him on how cool it was that he had co-written a custom play, the first of its kind for the school drama club.

  Mr. Nash turned his chair out towards them so he could converse, swinging his hands wildly as he described parts of the play.

  “You’re a man with talent,” the gentleman exclaimed, clapping Mr. Nash on the shoulder.

  Okay, I whispered to myself. He’s distracted. It might be the only opportunity I had to sneak a peek inside the mysterious red cover. Was that even a good idea? Maybe the spirit of Glen would be set free like some sort of Genie in a lamp parody.

  The cover felt warm to the touch, and I stopped for a minute, waiting for a sign to tell me not to continue. Nothing happened.

  Gone were all of the notes I had taken on high school students. In their place were rows and rows of notes, all written in calligraphy. Every page was perfectly laminated as well, as if telling me that these pages were not to be erased. They were different from anything that was inside previously.

  I quickly flipped through, letting it create a cool breeze which blew out. There had to have been hundreds of pages filled, which was strange, because from the outside, the book wasn’t thick enough to hold all of that. I turned to the first page, my fingertips brushing against the first sentence, and I felt a sudden jolt. It was the same jolt that had awakened me before. I jumped out of my seat, the book landing with a thud on the floor.

  “Everything all right?” Mr. Nash turned his attention towards me. The crease which ran across his forehead had deepened.

  “Everything’s fine.” Everything was not fine. “I totally forgot I had an assignment due, which I left in my car.”

  “I’ll hold down the fort.” Mr. Nash flashed me a brief smile before returning to his conversation. I grabbed the book off the floor, the cover still warm to the touch, and I raced out of there.

  I needed to be somewhere alone. The lights of the restaurant seemed too bright, and I couldn’t very well hang out in one of the bathrooms of a nearby gas station. There was some sort of embankment closer to the interstate which didn’t have a soul in sight. I sat near the bottom and opened the book again, running my fingers over the first page. The sentences wiggled underneath as if they were trying to jump free from the pages into my fingertips where they so desperately longed to be. Whatever this was, I had awakened it.

  My head suddenly started to pound, and I laid my head down on the grassy land. I couldn’t stay out there long for fear of being found and deemed crazy by a passerby, or even worse, Mr. Nash. I didn’t need to be saved twice. I looked back down at the notebook to shut away whatever unearthly thing was happening, only to find that all the words were gone.

  Something deep inside told me that I had just opened a book of memories that had entered my brain. Glen told me that I would forget my old life. What he didn’t say was how quickly or frightening that process would be.

  CHAPTER 11

  “You can say no.” Matt was leaning against the locker next to me. I could already tell that his sweaty hand was beginning to make an imprint on it, and it was grossing me out.

  “No,” I looked him dead in the eyes and repeated after him.

  “Not to me.” Matt jumped back as I slammed my locker shut. Sure enough, there was a handprint left on the locker next to mine.

  I headed down the hallway. Matt, of course, followed me even without an invitation to do so.

  Ever since my meltdown in creative writing class a few days prior, he had been keeping a close watch on me. While some would have found that endearing, I found it annoying. It made it hard for me to keep an annoyingly close watch on anyone else.

  “It’s literally social suicide if you skip out on the CC’s party,” Matt chided as he struggled to keep up with the fast steps I was taking.

  “Suicide, huh? What if I told you I was already dead?” I stopped as we reached the front doors of the school. It was 2:45 p.m. on Friday. I couldn’t believe that I had made it to my first weekend.

  “Funny,” Matt said. “I’d say you look pretty good for being dead.”

  I threw back my head and let out a loud, humorless laugh.

  Matt had been trying to get me to agree to their school year kick-off party that they put together at the end of every September. The group had a more technical name for it, the “school is back, everything but crack party.” Something told me that it was a place that heaven wouldn’t want me hanging around. Although, there could be clues there.

  “I told you,” I said, turning back to Matt as students started pouring through the doors behind us and towards freedom. “Alyssa is staying over, since she’s been having a rough week.”

  “I like you.” Matt patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. “I just wish you wouldn’t hang out with them.”

  I hated those snide comments from him. I knew that people who were pushed enough would eventually reach their boiling points. Matt was making sure the water they needed to do so heated up quickly.

  “Anyways,” I continued, pretending I didn’t hear his last comment. “It would be nice to have company, since I’m alone this weekend.”

  “Wait, you’re alone?”

  His full attention was now on me, and I was beginning to regret what I had just said. “Well, Dad has some small conference thing. Alyssa was alone this weekend too, so it’s good to have a kindred spirit.”

  “Right.” Matt lost interest in me, already clicking away on his phone so fast that I wondered if his thumbs hurt. “Okay, so listen.” He looked back up at me. “I’ll see you Saturday at the party.”

  “You won’t, but okay,” I yelled at him as he zigzagged through the crowd towards the senior parking lot. I gave him a few minutes’ head start before I followed suit and headed home.

  I didn’t mind being alone. I had started to acclimate to a house that was empty except for Burt. I just wasn’t expecting to see the notebook sitting out on my coffee table when I made it home. It had returned to i
ts usual blue glittery cover, but still, I wasn’t opening that thing.

  I picked it up and threw it as hard as I could. It landed with a satisfying thud underneath the dining room table. I hadn’t thought about it since the diner. It was hard to explain something I didn’t even understand. To put it simply, my head just felt more crowded when I left the diner. I was remembering things I had never remembered before, and suddenly there was a blurred line between who I was and who I was meant to be. Honestly, it was terrifying and I wanted nothing more than to light the notebook on fire.

  Still, it wasn’t as terrifying as the loud knock that had just jolted me from my thoughts. Did I somehow order that pepperoni pizza I had been dreaming about all day?

  “I’m not that crazy,” I muttered to Burt as someone rapped against the door again, more forcefully.

  I slid off the couch and onto the floor, army-crawling towards the front window so I could peer beyond the curtains at whoever it was. Although, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to recognize whoever it was.

  I did in fact recognize them. It wasn’t a delivery guy, it was the CC’s. Both of them were huddled together, attempting to peer through the small glass window in the door.

  How the hell had they gotten my address? I got up and nonchalantly walked towards the door, hoping they hadn’t see the spectacle I’d just made of myself.

  “Oooooh.” I had barely opened the door, and Carly was already shoving her way through.

  Claire let out a low whistle. “Now this is a nice home.”

  I looked around, following their gaze to the spiral staircase that led upstairs and to the open concept kitchen right off the foyer. I guess it was. I just hadn’t had much time to fully appreciate it.

  “So you are rich,” Carly stated as they both followed me towards the living room.