Losing Leah

by Tiffany King

  My hand was damp with sweat, turning the schedule into a wrinkled, slightly smudged mess. “Uh, looks like Mr. Knight,” I answered, smoothing out the paper against my leg.

  “Mr. Knight? Lucky. I hear he’s good, but that’s an AP class. You must have a serious Einstein brain. I tried to get in last semester, but they denied me. Big loser, huh?” She held up her finger and thumb in the shape of an L against her forehead. “Have you taken AP classes before?” I gaped at her. Her quick-fire questions had me feeling loopy.

  She giggled at my expression. “Sorry. I know I talk superfast. My dad says if my brain was as fast as my mouth, I’d have no problem getting into Mr. Knight’s class. So, did you just move here?” she asked, switching gears.

  “Uh, not exactly.” I had no idea how to answer her question. I assumed everyone would automatically know who I was and would be too busy staring or trying to get away from me to ask me questions.

  “Really, where’d you go to school last year? Please tell me you weren’t an Eagle. They’re a bunch of assholes.”

  Once again, she rendered me speechless. I wasn’t sure what she meant by eagle, but calling a bird an asshole didn’t make sense. I sorted through her questions, trying to pick the easiest one to answer. I settled instead for something that would get her from point A to point B quickest.

  “I’m Jacob Klein’s sister, if you know him.”

  To anyone else her reaction probably would have been considered comical by the way her mouth formed a wide O before snapping closed. I kept my head up, waiting for judgment day to begin.

  In spite of what I thought would happen, Heather seemed to be more impressed than morbidly curious. “Oh, wow. You’re like a celebrity. I can’t believe I was such a ditz. Your picture was only on all the news stations, like every day. Sheesh, they even did a special announcement here at school when you were found. I’m not usually such an airhead.” Her words once again came at me as a rush of letters thrown my way, but this time I had no problem putting them in order.

  I let out a small breath of relief. If Heather felt disgusted being next to me she was doing an awfully good job at hiding it. “That’s okay,” I said. “The picture they used on the news was a bad one.”

  The picture was taken by someone who had snuck into my room and started snapping shots before Mom could kick him out. My hair was plastered to my head from sleeping and my face looked as pale as white sheets. It was disconcerting to say the least. That picture though was used by every news station for their stories about me.

  “I bet you’re sick of questions,” Heather said as we stepped away from the office.

  I shrugged. “Sorta. I’m more worried about what everyone is saying behind my back,” I admitted.

  “Please, anyone with half a brain is thinking you’re the bravest person ever. Anyone who says otherwise is probably functioning with a quarter of that.”

  I smiled. Maybe things wouldn’t be as bad as I feared. There might actually be people at the school who would treat me like anyone else. I thought calling me brave was over the top, but I also didn’t want anyone to think I was a prime candidate for a straitjacket.

  “I bet this is completely freaking you out. Dewy High can be a cesspool of cliques and drama sometimes, but you’ll get used to it. Are you freaking out? I know I would be.”

  I couldn’t help laughing at her words. “Freaking out” was one way to put it. “I am freaking a little,” I admitted, downplaying it a bit. “I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to figure all this out,” I said, holding up my schedule, which was still foreign to me.

  “Your schedule? That’s easy,” she said, pausing in the hallway. “Here, let me see it.” She held out her hand for my sweaty, crumpled schedule. “Okay, so these are your classes,” she said, pointing to the first column. “This is the room number, and this is your lunch period. Hey, you can eat with me and my friends if you want,” she said excitedly.

  Joyful thoughts danced in my head from her invitation. Lunch was an obstacle I wouldn’t even let myself think about.

  “Mr. Knight’s class is room 112, and the numbers run in sequence from there. One hundreds are on this floor and the two hundreds are level two. The cafeteria is down that hall. Easy, right?” Heather chattered along, barely stopping for air as she pointed to the left. “Oh, and the gymnasium is down that way, but I see you lucked out and didn’t get stuck with gym anyway. I’m totally jealous. My dad is, like, an exercise nut. He insists I take PE every semester. I think he’s afraid I’m going to get fat, but please. I bet I burn most of my calories for the day making runs for the office. You should see if you can become an aide next year and we can totally hang out.”

  We’d known each other for all of five minutes and Heather was talking to me like we were old friends. She was definitely cool. “Sounds easy enough,” I answered when I could get a word in.

  “Okay, I better head back to the office before Claudia sends out a posse. She’s always saying that I screw around too much on my runs. Please. I’m just more helpful than all her other aides. Mr. Knight’s class is right there. Do you want me to go in with you? I can do that. I probably should have offered that from the beginning.”

  Before I could even think about answering, she was already striding toward the classroom door. She opened it like she seemed to do everything else—in a rush. The door banged into the wall, scaring everyone inside, but Heather didn’t seem to notice as she flounced into the room without a care in the world. I envied her confidence.

  “Good morning, Mr. Knight, this is your new student,” Heather announced. I flushed when all eyes in the room pivoted to me.

  “Ah, yes, you must be Mia. I’ve been expecting you. It’s a pleasure to have you,” Mr. Knight said, holding out his hand. “I received your test scores on Friday and I’m not going to lie, they blew me away,” he said, completely ignoring Heather who gasped at his words and was rendered silent for the first time since I met her. “You know your history,” Mr. Knight continued, shaking my hand vigorously.

  I could feel my skin warming again. “Thank you,” I whispered, trying not to look at the class who was studying me even more intently after his statement.

  “I better head back to the office,” Heather said, whirling around wistfully. “Mia, I’ll meet you outside the cafeteria at lunchtime,” she said, exiting the room much like she had entered it.

  “Mia, you can sit in the empty desk next to Connor,” Mr. Knight instructed me. “Connor, raise your hand, please.”

  I nodded, making my way anxiously down the row so I could sit as soon as possible. Mr. Knight continued with the lecture he’d obviously been in the middle of when Heather and I showed up. It took me a few minutes to calm down enough to take in my surroundings. Some of my fear evaporated. I was sitting in an honest-to-goodness classroom and I was still alive. It was every bit as I imagined it would be, complete with overflowing bookshelves and a towering stack of papers on the edge of Mr. Knight’s desk.

  The desk I’d been assigned to was in the second row, three seats back, so I had a view of almost the entire room without having to crane my neck. The room was less crowded than I expected with fourteen students by my count, including me. Other than that, it lived up to all my expectations. No one was looking at me, which I was immensely grateful for.

  Mr. Knight talked until the bell rang. I noticed that everyone in the class was busily scribbling notes to keep up with him. Feeling like I was doing something wrong, I opened up my own notebook, but didn’t know what I should write down. He was discussing the first stages of the Civil War in great detail, but I already knew everything he was covering. I’d previously written a sixteen-page report on the Civil War and used every resource Judy dragged home from the library for me. The subject had sparked some interest in me so I devoured anything I could get my hands on.

  Mr. Knight had a soothing voice, and a nice way of explaining it that made the subject even more interesting, so it was easy to listen to him.


  Everyone scrambled to their feet in a rush when the bell rang. I grabbed my bag and peered at my schedule in a panic. My next class was room 122, so at least I was still on the right floor.

  “Mia, a word,” Mr. Knight called after me before I could follow the crowd out of the room.

  I paused at the door, wondering if I’d done something wrong. Maybe I was supposed to take notes after all.

  “Well, what did you think?” he asked.

  His question caught me off guard. When it came to school, no one had really asked me what I thought. Judy was certainly never interested in my opinions.

  “I liked it. You have a great way of explaining a tough, detailed subject.”

  “I noticed you didn’t take notes.”

  I shifted my feet. “I sorta know everything you talked about,” I answered, afraid he might get upset.

  He barked out a loud laugh, making me flinch. “That’s what I figured. I hope I didn’t bore you.”

  “Oh no. It was nice to hear your explanation,” I answered honestly. “It was more entertaining than just reading about it.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Feel free to add to the discussion tomorrow. I would love to hear your insights. You better head to class now before you’re late,” he said as students starting filing into his class.

  “Okay,” I answered, hurrying off. I didn’t see myself ever feeling comfortable enough to talk out loud, but I liked Mr. Knight a lot. If all my teachers were as cool, maybe school would be survivable. Between Heather and AP American History, I was feeling faintly better.

  I found my second-period class a minute before the bell rang. The room was fuller than AP History and everyone seemed to be looking at the same thing—me. I pretended I didn’t notice when three girls in the back leaned in together and started whispering while never taking their eyes off me.

  I stood at the front of the room, shifting from one foot to the next and wishing I could disappear to avoid the staring. It would help if the teacher would show up. Wasn’t the whole point of going to school to actually have an adult figure in charge? The second bell rang and I contemplated backing discreetly out of the room, thinking maybe I had the wrong class.

  The noise level swelled. Whispering became outright talking. I was clearly the topic of discussion, but no one was even trying to hide it. I needed to leave. I could not stand here on display in front of everyone. Before my feet could get on the same page as my brain the classroom door swung open and a harried-looking younger man entered the room.

  He looked like he had either slept in his clothes or pulled them out of the hamper. His hair was disheveled and standing on end and his face was covered in stubble, making him look unkempt. “I’m Mr. Cruz. Your teacher, Ms. Gritzki, is out sick today,” he said, running a hand over his hair, making it stick up even more. “Apparently, it’s now acceptable to call in at the last minute.” He tossed his briefcase on the desk. “Young lady, take your seat,” he instructed.

  “Uh, this is my first day,” I stuttered out.

  “Wonderful,” he sighed, snatching the slip of paper from my hand and scrawling his signature on it. “Sit there,” he barked, pointing to an empty chair to the far right of the room that was isolated from the rest of the desks.

  Embarrassment flooded my cheeks. Clutching my pass in my hand, I made my way to the desk, keeping my eyes on the floor in front of me. All the confidence I had gained during first period was long gone. I sank down in my seat, letting my hair fall across my face.

  “I’m not feeling the whole teaching gig today so entertain yourselves,” Mr. Cruz proclaimed, sitting in Ms. Gritzki’s chair. He plopped his feet up on the desk, obviously not caring that his shoes were sitting on a stack of papers. “Just keep it down. I have a headache,” he said, pulling a cell phone out of his pocket.

  His words were all the encouragement everyone needed. Desks scraped across the floor as they were pushed together and the talking became a steady hum in the room. Discreetly peeking out through my hair, I saw that almost everyone in the room had pulled out cell phones, except the girls in the back who were still watching me. I turned back to face the front of the room and let my hair fall down in place.

  Unlike first period, which seemed to fly by, second period felt like it was moving backward. I sat at my desk, watching the minute hand on the clock slowly tick around. I could make out snippets of conversation around me, hearing my name mentioned more than once. It was more of what I had experienced in the hospital. I hated that they knew all the sordid details. Most came from the trio in the back who managed to talk about me the entire period. It was official. Even after Heather and Mr. Knight, I hated school.

  The bell to end the period saved me just short of jumping from the window. I surged gratefully to my feet, ready to escape the oppressiveness of the room. I was in the process of retrieving my bag from the floor when I was shoved hard from behind. Caught off balance, I stumbled forward, catching myself hard on the desk to my left.

  “Oops, sorry,” I said instinctively. Years of living with Judy had trained me to always apologize even when I wasn’t at fault. One of the girls giggled when she reached her friends who all shot me the same look before heading out the door.

  Yay. High school was so much fun.

  Sighing, I rubbed my side which probably had an indentation from the corner of the desk. Mr. Cruz was too wrapped up in his cell phone to care.

  Third and fourth periods were marginally better. At least both teachers were present, but the whispering from my classmates continued. By the time the bell rang for lunch, I had resigned myself to the fact that Dewy High School was one of the seven realms of hell.

  Thankfully, Heather kept her promise and met me outside the cafeteria so I wouldn’t have to walk in by myself. The space was loud and far too chaotic to garner any attention over our entrance. I breathed easier as I followed Heather to her table.

  She kept up a steady stream of talking like before. All I had to do was nod my head in response to keep her going. She shifted conversations rapidly, but I found it oddly distracting in a good way. I was grateful she was at least treating me like a person and not a spectacle.

  “Katie and Molly, this is my new friend, Mia.” She finally came up for air to introduce me to the two other girls at the table.

  “Hi,” Katie said, looking down shyly at her plate.

  “Hey,” I answered.

  Molly’s response was slower to come. “Mia,” she said leisurely. I could see she made the connection. “So, you’re her, huh?” I waited for more of what I had been hearing all day in classes, even braced myself to leave the table when she made it clear she didn’t want me there. Nothing happened though. Molly gave me a smile and returned back to her book.

  At least it wasn’t a snub. My hands released their death grip on the edge of the table and the knot between my shoulders began to unravel. I opened my lunch bag and pulled out my sandwich, nibbling on the corner of it while Heather gave me more of an overview of Dewy High. She seemed to know everyone, or at least it seemed that way when she would point them out. I found it funny that she didn’t call them by their given names, but rather nicknames she had made up. “It’s only for people who get on my nerves,” she said, justifying her actions. Molly and Katie didn’t say much for the most part except to interject an opinion on someone she was talking about. Katie was quieter and answered in one-word syllables the majority of the time. Molly wasn’t shy like Katie, but she also kept her words to a minimum. She was the exact opposite of Heather. She only spoke enough to get her point across. All three turned out to be pretty cool and not just because they seemed to accept me without qualms.

  The bell ending lunch sounded way before I was ready for it. I didn’t want to go back into another new class. The idea of being on display for three more periods was as appealing as being dipped in chocolate and fed to ants. Molly saved the day when she asked about my schedule and announced I shared my next two classes with her.

  “I’m su
re you can sit by me in Mrs. Blaine’s class. She’s pretty cool,” Molly said, walking briskly down the hall.

  “Thank you,” I puffed, trying to keep up with her.

  We were the first two students to arrive in Mrs. Blaine’s room, which made the transition much easier. After she signed my slip Molly and I found two empty desks together. I realized I’d been doing things wrong all day. Getting to class early provided me a vantage point where I could observe the arrival of everyone else without being the one on display. By the time the other students arrived and filled the room no one noticed me.

  Molly got us to sixth period in the same manner and with the same results, making me wish I shared all my classes with her. It was a breath of fresh air compared to my earlier class periods. We parted ways after chemistry and I hurried to my last class of the day, anxious to test my theory.

  I had a better lay of the land and was able to find the room relatively easily, even without Molly as my guide. I wasn’t the first one to arrive, but there were only a handful of students seated when I hurried through the door. Most of them were too busy talking to pay attention to me, but I did notice while getting my paper signed that one girl in particular was studying me intently as I found my desk.

  I shifted in my seat, untucking my hair from behind my ears to shield my face. I only wished it were longer. Maybe then the girl staring would leave me alone. I pulled my notebook and pen out and began doodling on the page. At least I looked busy. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the girl rise from her seat and head my way. I scribbled a meaningless note on my notebook, so she wouldn’t know that I saw her coming.

  “Are you Mia?” she asked.

  I sucked in a deep breath, bracing myself for what she might ask next. I bit my lip in frustration. Why couldn’t people leave me in peace? “Yes—I am,” I answered, jerking my head up with the intention of telling her off.

  “I’m Amber,” she said, smiling sheepishly.

  I nearly fell out of my chair. Amber, my real-life childhood friend, who had also somehow found a way to live in a world that didn’t exist. Mia’s best friend was standing directly in front of me. And she looked nothing like she was supposed to.