by Meg Elison
But today, I have the first-day feeling times a million.
People are staring at me like I’m juggling live crabs (Gecarcoidea natalis, maybe) while I walk. They’re also staying about as far away from me as you would from a person handling snapping, spidery red crabs.
First days mean no assigned seat, so at least I’ve got that. At least I don’t have to listen to a teacher mispronounce my name, or stand up and introduce myself to the class.
The next time I have to do that I swear to god I will tell them that my name is Tardigrada, and I’m from the cannibal planet Cambria.
I sit in my assigned seat. Raleigh says my name during roll with such a careful casualness that I could throw my chair at him. Every head turns to hear me say “Present,” as if I was going to announce the winning lottery number.
Today is never going to end.
Raleigh launches into the taxonomy lecture and I’m relieved to figure out that I’m not behind. I could pass the next test even if he gave it right now. Not so bad. I check out a bit after that, dreaming up a different life.
I snap in again when I realize everyone is back to staring at me.
“. . . since the biome video contest was canceled, I’ve changed the rubric so that your videos will count as one-third of your midterm grade. Most of you did very well, so that should raise some scores. For those of you who worked in groups . . .”
It sounds like every phone in the room is buzzing. They must be tweeting about it. I guess the project was canceled because of me? At least now people are looking at their phones instead of at me.
I pull Martha’s little black phone out of my pocket and try for a second to look at Twitter. Oh, right. It’s blocked.
I can get on a computer at lunch.
Jane snorts somewhere in the back of the room. I didn’t see her when I walked in, or Mackenzie. I know Kristi is in here somewhere. I am an expert in looking and not seeing. Normal. I am so normal. I have no reason to stare at anyone. They’re all weirdos, not me. Just look at my clothes. So normal.
The bell rings and I don’t move. I let people flow around me while I stare at my desk. Someone scratched a picture of an eyeball into it, maybe years and years ago. But it feels like it’s just for me.
I walk up to Raleigh’s desk. He’s smiling at his crotch again, so really nothing has changed.
“Hey, I’m supposed to check in with you to see what I need to do to catch up.”
He looks up at me and there’s just a second when he looks terrified. It passes, but it’s hard to forget.
“Layla. I loved your biome video. I watched it like ten times; I showed it to a lot of people. I was really impressed by your use of Latin taxonomy.”
“Thank you?”
“Please believe me when I tell you I had no idea. None of your teachers did. We suspected there was trouble, but . . .”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
He’s quiet for a minute. He looks like he’s deciding something.
“So, do I have makeup work? Or?”
“How did you turn in your homework last week?” He’s looking down again.
“I brought it to the office in the morning, before anyone was here.”
He gives me this funny smile, like he’s trying to hide that he’s hurt. I know that face.
“You’re caught up. You’re fine. Keep up your attendance, and you’re going to be just fine.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
I’m almost out the door when he calls out after me.
“That was really brave, Layla. That video. Like the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I don’t say anything.
If it wasn’t against school policy, I’d have my hood up during passing period. I wish I could be here but invisible. Like a ghost. Or inside a big tinted-glass ball.
I’m so sick of being stared at.
Someone says my name as I walk past, and I pretend to be as deaf as Sepia apama—a cuttlefish in the dark of the ocean without any sound receptors whatsoever in my strange, flashing body. I’m not even here.
I’m not walking into Honors English. I’m not sitting against the far wall. I’m not seeing Kristi sitting up in the front corner, hunched over something with Emerson. I’m definitely not seeing Mackenzie Biros walking up to me. Not staring at her bright-blue ballet flats.
“Layla,” Mackenzie doesn’t say, in a low and soft voice.
Alright, fine.
“Yeah?”
“I . . . I just wanted to say I’m sorry. About the other night. And also about a lot of things. I’ve always just kinda followed Jane, but I don’t really like doing it. You know?”
“Sure.” Bright blue with crisscrossed little straps. Just like real ballet shoes.
“I edited and re-uploaded that video, and tagged it #FindLayla. It’s got like a billion views.”
“Cool.”
“Layla?”
“What?”
“Jane is sorry, too. She just can’t admit it.”
“Okay.”
“Really. She totally feels bad about calling the cops. Her dad told her she should trick you into meeting somewhere so they could pick you up. And she got assigned to some community-service stuff, to make up for it. I did, too. She’s going to have to give you a written apology when she’s done.” She’s looking at her slippers.
If I threw up on those shoes, would they be ruined forever? Can you wash those? What does community service do for me, or for anyone else Jane pulled this shit on? What is the point of that? Literally vomiting on them would be more like justice.
I sigh. “I thought you were tired of following Jane. Aren’t you tired of apologizing for her, too?”
“I guess. I didn’t get in as much trouble as Jane, but the school counselor suggested I apologize, too. That’s for me, not for her. I shouldn’t have just let it happen. I just wanted you to know.” One blue ballet slipper creeps up on top of the other, like she’s trying to climb up herself. Like Phoenicopterus ruber, the classic flamingo, but in blue.
Am I supposed to thank her? I look up and yup, everyone is staring. I pull up my hood. Fuck policy.
“Okay, Mack. I get it. Thanks or you’re forgiven or whatever.”
She looks like that wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
I try again. “Look, I’m having a weird time. Thank you for apologizing. Okay? I get it. I understand that it’s over. I just want to be left alone.”
“Okay. Okay.” She’s headed back to where Jane is holding her phone in both hands, carefully not looking at either one of us.
The rest of the day goes like that. People are either staring or working so hard not to stare that they seem to be in pain. If one more teacher calls me “brave” I’m going to bravely swallow my own tongue.
My biome video finally leveled off somewhere around five million. My Twitter account is a mess; I have too many mentions to find anything.
Erica’s article about me came out the same day as the parking-lot video. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, and she admits that I ran out on her when I realized she was talking about me with Jane. I RT it.
The news made an edited version of the parking-lot video stream so that all the curse words are beeped out. I can’t watch the whole thing, but it has about a million views, too. There are a couple of websites that say they’re taking donations for my college fund or a trust fund for when I turn eighteen, but I’m sure they’re scams. Maybe I’ll dig through my thousands of emails later and see if someone is trying to give me money.
All I can think about to stay calm is that I’ll see Andy tonight. It feels like it’s been forever, like maybe he’ll be older or taller or look different to me.
I expected a lot more makeup work than I’ve got. Most of my teachers reassured me that I’m doing fine overall, and every single one of them told me not to miss any more days. I said I wouldn’t, but I don’t know if I’m in any position to make promises.
I’m not in charge of wher
e I’m going to be. That’s not a new feeling. Life with Mom was always lived on the edge of maybe waking up in the middle of the night to pack a bag and never come back. Or finding an eviction notice stapled to the door. It wasn’t up to me then and it isn’t up to me now. I don’t know how long I’ll be with the Joels, or if I’ll get put into something more permanent like an orphanage or whatever and have to change districts.
Nobody is in charge of taking me to school, are they? If I’m close enough, I’ll walk there. Or take the bus, but I can’t lie to a driver every day at the same stop, at the same time. Eventually I’ll have to pay.
Really the only time I was in charge was when I was on my own. And I couldn’t go to school then, or they would have put me back in this in-between place where I can’t be sure. I’m back to being a subject.
So I promised Raleigh I wouldn’t miss any more days. And when I said that, I hoped it would be up to me.
Martha picks me up in the same spot where she dropped me off. I see her before she sees me. Her face is all anxious like she’s trying to find something she thought she lost. I wave to her, and behind the glare of the glass, her face relaxes. I pull myself up into the passenger seat and buckle in.
“How was it being back?”
“It was okay,” I tell her.
“Are you very behind?”
“I guess not.” I don’t want to explain everything over and over again. How could I be behind? I’ve been on it the whole time.
She’s smiling. “Well that’s good news. Are you in any extracurriculars?”
“What?” How would I do extracurriculars? With what money? With who to pick me up after dark? Who does she think she’s talking to?
She glances over at me just for a moment. I’m looking straight ahead.
“Do you do any stuff after school? Like sports or clubs or anything?”
“No.” Why bother to explain?
Her brows knit a little. “No, I guess that must have been hard. Well, maybe in high school you’ll be able to get into some fun stuff.”
“Maybe. Depends on where I’ll be.”
She’s quiet for a while. We get through the traffic around the school, and everything seems to go faster.
“So, we’re going to see your brother tonight. Dr. Jones confirmed with me about an hour ago.”
“Good. Yeah, she said she would bring him. That’s good.”
“Are you excited to see him?”
“Yeah, of course,” I tell her.
“Is he your only sibling?”
I think for a second. He’s the only sibling I’ve ever known, but there’s a lot that I don’t know. I never considered it before, but really I could have half brothers or sisters and I’d never know it.
“Yeah.”
She sighs. “Just the two of you against the world.”
So far the world is winning.
Tuesday Night, Dinner
Martha tells me to wash my hands and face and put my backpack in the bedroom. For a second I look at her like she’s crazy, but I think it’s only because it feels so strange to be told what to do like this.
I wash up. In the room, I find the bed has been remade. I was supposed to fold the blankets down, kind of. I slide my hands into the layers, trying to figure out how she did it. Maybe she would show me, if I asked.
When I come downstairs, the Joels are both sitting in their living room. All of their furniture is big and soft and colorful. It’s the kind of thing people get when they have a bunch of kids who like to tear the place up. I guess they do have a bunch of kids, just not all at once.
Martha and Bert look really uncomfortable. I sit down in a chair across from the couch they’re sharing, and I wait for it.
“So, we didn’t think this was going to happen so soon,” Bert says. “But you’re going to be moving on tomorrow.”
I don’t say anything.
“We thought we could keep you for the week,” Martha says. “Just to get you back into the swing of school and all. But Dr. Jones says some changes have to be made right now, because of your mother.”
“What about her?”
They look quickly at one another. “We can’t talk to you about that just now,” Bert says. “Dr. Jones will be able to explain some of it. We just wanted you to hear it from us, so you could get used to the idea.”
Martha is looking at the floor. She looks sick.
I have about ten seconds to think about this before the doorbell rings.
I don’t wait. I’m done waiting. I run for the door and open it up and there’s Andy.
He’s wearing a little plaid shirt and khaki pants. His face is clean, and he looks like he’s been fed and bathed every day. He flings himself at me hard, hugging me around my waist.
“Layla Layla Layla!”
I hug him back. “Hey, Andy! Hey. Hey, how are you?” The blue-ringed octopus is back, tentacles jammed in my ribs, beak stabbed in my throat.
“I been really good! I got new clothes! See?”
“Yeah, I see! I got some, too.” I stand back to look at him. “Are the people taking care of you nice? Are they—”
“They’re the best!” His eyes are bright and his vampire grin is wide. “They said I can call them Mom and Pop, and they make me breakfast every day, and I get stories at night, just like you tell! They know the one about the three gilly boats, too.”
I laugh a little, just because he’s so happy. “Yeah, you love the gilly boats. Are you doing your word lists? Do they help you with reading?”
“Mm-hmm. Look!” He’s pulling off his blue backpack to show me his reading book from school. It’s not the one I remember.
“Look look look. ‘This is my hat. It is a red hat. It will not fit on the cat. My cat is a white cat.’” He smiles up at me, the happiest little vampire in the world.
“Really good!” I can’t help but smile back.
He stuffs the book back in the bag; I can hear paper crumpling underneath it. Dr. Jones purses her lips at him and I remember that we’re not alone.
“Oh, um. Mr. and Mrs. Joel, this is my little brother, Andy Bailey.”
He waves at them, but takes a little step to be behind me. They wave back.
We sit in the living room and Andy sits on the floor in front of me. Dr. Jones pulls out her tablet.
“Layla, Martha told you that you’re going to be relocated?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’m ready to go whenever.” In my head, I’ve already packed my bag. “Oh, here.” I pull the little black phone out of my pocket and toss it onto the couch beside the Joels. “Thank you for letting me use that.”
Martha looks down at it, still seeming like she’s somewhere else.
Dr. Jones waits a moment before starting again. “You’re going to be placed in a group home, like I told you that older kids usually live in? You’ll be with a couple of other girls around your age, and you’ll have contact with Andy. Also, you’ll spend a little time talking to a doctor.”
“A doctor like you?” Andy has one hand on top of my foot. She said “contact.” She did not say “visits.”
“Well, I have a doctorate in social work. I do some counseling, but you’ll be talking with Dr. Eileen Yu, and she has a doctorate in psychology.”
“Oh. I’m not . . . I don’t need to talk to a—”
Dr. Jones stops me. “Nobody is saying that you’re ill, or that you’re dangerous, Layla. This is someone you can talk to about all the changes that have happened. She’ll help you sort it all out and feel like you understand things better. Does that make sense?”
“I guess so.” My face is hot. I put my hand on Andy’s head.
Dr. Jones is looking at him now. “Andy, can you tell Layla about when you went and talked to Dr. Greenbaum?”
“Dr. G! He played Connect Four with me for a lot of games! And I won!”
Dr. Jones is nodding and smiling like it’s show-and-tell day at the kindergarten. I don’t want her to talk to Andy like she knows him better than
I do.
“And do you guys talk sometimes?”
“Yeah, he told me it’s okay if I miss Mom, and if I want to punch a pillow sometimes. And he told me a joke about big-mouth frogs.”
If he was a puppy, they’d give him a treat. All the adults look so pleased.
At dinner, Andy sits next to me and eats carefully, with a knife and fork. Someone must have taught that to him, because I’ve never been able to stop him from eating with his fingers. He excuses himself when he burps. Even his lisp seems better.
Who is this kid?
After a little ice cream, his foster parents come and get him. He runs and hugs them exactly like he did to me. I’m so glad that he’s okay and that they’re taking care of him, but I also hate this so much I could burn down this house and dance in its tasteful ashes.
They did steal him after all, when they took him away. It’ll never be the two of us against the world again, no matter what happens. It’s all playing out the way I said it would. He’ll forget the before-time and become somebody’s kid. I’ll always remember, and turn eighteen in some group home for gorillas who know sign language.
Andy turns around from hugging them and comes back to hug me. “I love you, Layla. I’m going to see you every week! And write you letters! Like this!”
Out of his pocket, he pulls a wadded-up piece of paper. It’s the letter I wrote him and gave to Officer Benson.
“You got it!”
“Yeah! A policeman in a police car brung it.”
“Brought it.”
“Brought it to me. He said it was from my sister and asked me a bunch of times where you was. But I didn’t know. And then Pop read it to me and I was so happy!”
I hug him again and look back to Dr. Jones. “I’m gonna walk them out.”
She nods and looks back at her tablet. The Joels look at each other.
Andy’s foster parents are already standing at the car, waiting for us. From the porch, I hold up one finger. Just a second.
I just want to see my brother for a minute more, just to see if we’re still the same as we were.
He looks around like he’s about to shoplift for the first time.
“Layla, I saw Mom.”
