by SL Naeole
I tried to take in a few slow, deep breaths, but instead it seemed like they were more quick gulps of tainted air. Knowing that I couldn't stall any longer, I finally stepped in, grateful that Janice had not noticed my hesitation; she was too busy digging through her side of the closet for what she mumbled was the "perfect skirt" that had a "perfect cut" and was the "perfect color". I was certain that I had enough flaws to cancel out the perfection without trying, so I simply let her go on and on about perfect clothes that went with perfect shoes, and needed the perfect accessories.
When she emerged from her closet looking like a sale mad shopper at a doorbuster sale, I almost ran out screaming. She had a gleam in her eye that you only saw in serial killers, sharks, and kids who got perfect scores on the SATs. I was terrified of that look, but remembering that I had asked for it, I just gritted my teeth and pretended that this was simply my getting ready for battle. I was heading to war, and I needed to look the part.
I didn't dare look in the mirror while Janice stripped, dressed, and primped me until I felt I'd actually shine like a newly waxed car. It was only afterwards, when she stepped to the side so that I could see my reflection in the large dresser mirror that I nearly fell over.
Janice had dressed me in a charcoal gray wool skirt that flared open around my knees just enough to give it some shape. Above that, she had put on me a white, three-quarter-sleeve collared shirt with satin pinstripes. It had a ruffled trim edging the hem where it buttoned up with tiny little black buttons, and was dressed up with a wide dark gray belt. Around my neck, she had placed a simple cameo choker with black ribbon. My hair had been pulled back into a neat ponytail.
I still looked like me. Only more put together. I smiled at my reflection, feeling like a complete and utter idiot and knowing that this was the last thing I should have done, but also knowing that it was too late to change now.
I quickly hobbled into my room to put on the left side of my favorite pair of boots and then went downstairs to shock Dad out of his Dockers.
Noticing that he wasn't in the kitchen, I went into the living room, but found that he wasn't there either. I suddenly heard the horn of his car honk and knew that he'd already started the car and was waiting for me outside.
Janice appeared then with my backpack in her hand. "I hope you have a great day back, Grace, and break a leg during your dialogue today."
I let out a sort of strangled laugh. "I think I already did that part." The overwhelming feeling to hug her suddenly took over me, and I reached out my arms to grab her quickly. She didn't let me go that easily.
"I'm very, very glad that you are in my life, Grace."
In that moment, I knew that I could say it back and mean it. "I'm glad that you're in my life, too, Janice."
It was enough for the both of us, but even if it weren't, the impatient honking of a familiar horn signaled that it was time for me to go. With my bag slung over one shoulder, I reached for the crutches that were had been conspicuously placed near the door. I had hobbled, hopped, and simply walked all throughout the house without using them once since coming home, and I certainly didn't want to start now. But the illusion of a cast was not as believable without the addition of them so I placed the butts under my arms and lurched out of the door in that familiar and awkward gait one associates with them.
Dad had pulled the car out of the garage and the front passenger door was open, waiting for me. Trying to be as graceful as possible in Janice's skirt and blouse, I tottered to the car, quickly trying to figure out how to get into it without falling flat on my face. I contemplated tossing the crutches into the car and then casually climbing in but with my luck, I'd probably end up taking out a window or two. I also wasn't sure if I could sit down in the seat properly in a skirt while holding onto the crutches at the same time, so doing that first and then pulling the crutches in behind me was also out of the question.
As I approached the car door, I realized I'd have to simply ask Dad for help. "Dad could you-" The movement in the car killed off whatever it was I had planned to say. The rear passenger door opened and in a fraction of a second, it was like I'd stepped out of reality and into a dream because Robert was there, his hand at my elbow, slowly removing the crutch from beneath my arm, smiling and looking down at me with his shimmering eyes.
"You look beautiful," he said softly, and I couldn't do anything but stare, my mouth gaping open, my heart beating fiercely in my chest; my mind was yearning to hear his voice again, only in a more intimate way, in the way it had grown accustomed to and now missed dearly.
I've missed you, too.
I beamed. I knew it from the way he looked at me, his smile a mixture of amusement and pleasure, to the way Dad groaned loudly from the driver's seat, annoyed and disappointed.
"Okay, let's get you inside before your dad changes his mind about taking me along and leaves me stranded." He said it loudly enough that so that Dad could hear him, even though I knew that he could probably get to school faster than we could in the car. Incredibly, my smile grew wider.
I held onto his hand as I lowered myself into the passenger seat, allowing him to remove the other crutch and place my right leg into the car. The cast prevented me from bending it, so it just sort of stuck out at an awkward angle, causing me to lean uncomfortably to one side. Robert quickly reached for the seat release to push it all the way back, immediately allowing me to sit more comfortably.
When he pulled my seatbelt across my chest and snapped it into place, I caught a whiff of his angelic scent and had to bite my tongue to keep from groaning--it smelled so...heavenly. And the hell of it was that I could do nothing about it. Not while Dad was sitting right next to me, his eyes glaring in response to Robert's forwardness. Not while I was so unsure of where exactly Robert and I stood. I just bit my tongue harder, and stared straight ahead of me, not moving or breathing until Robert had closed my door and wedged himself into the seat behind me, his leg room severely amputated by my seat's new position.
As soon as the car started moving, I rolled my window down and took in a great gulp of air. The crispness of the September morning was enough to clear my head. I looked at Dad, his face serious, his hands gripped tight on the steering wheel, and wondered why he was so tense.
He doesn't like me hanging around. Ever since he discovered that you were capable of liking guys...and that they like you back, his paternal instincts have kicked in and he's becoming very protective over your virtue.
I snorted at that, but turned it into a cough when I saw Dad look at me suspiciously from the corner of his eye. "I think I swallowed a bug," I improvised quickly. I looked into the side view mirror to see Robert's reflection staring back, his head cocked to one side as though he were puzzled.
I waited for him to tell me what he was thinking but I was met with only silence. He continued to stare at me during the twenty minute ride through traffic, his face growing more and more confused the closer we got to school. I didn't understand what kept him from telling me what was wrong, and that only caused me to worry as well.
When Dad pulled up into Heath High's parking lot, I nearly bolted out of the car, desperate to know what was so wrong. Dad's hand on mine was the only reason I didn't.
"Grace, I hope--I know you'll have a good day at school. But, if it gets too overwhelming, have the office call me." He patted my hand, like he used to when I was a little girl. I stared at that hand, suddenly wondering what I was doing. I wasn't ready to go back to school! I wasn't ready to be stared at again, to hear the whispered comments that were never meant to be quiet, or feel the chilly bite of cold shoulders. I definitely wasn't ready to do my soliloquy. All I wanted to do in that moment was crawl into my dad's lap and pretend I was seven years old again.
But, a warm hand on my shoulder brought me back to seventeen. I turned to look at Robert and despite the concerned look on his face, I suddenly felt my confidence return to me, as well as a few other feelings I probably shouldn't be having.
Robert's
face suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree. I can hear you again!
He helped me out of the car, handing me the crutches while filling me on everything that I had apparently been missing in the car. Or, more importantly, what he'd been missing. Apparently it was a lot. Immediately after my phony coughing fit, Robert had lost all ability to read my thoughts, and the growing silence in my head had confused him.
But what confused me even more was when I called out to you, you did not hear me. It was as if my thoughts were absorbed by the emptiness, and there was no trace that I had even been there.
I waved to Dad as he pulled away, his face tight, muttering something about boys and guns. I smiled, mildly pleased that this was new for both of us, and turned to face Robert, my mind beginning to run through what I had been thinking about that he hadn't heard. The reality that the only thing I had been thinking about was what was causing the concern to etch lines on his angelic face seemed to upset him more than it did bring relief.
My concern about his inability to read my thoughts kept me from noticing the stares from dozens of pairs of eyes, or the whispers hidden behind hands and folders. It wasn't until Robert and I started walking towards the school that I realized that no one was talking. I could only guess what was more shocking: my coming to school so soon after being hit by a car, my wearing something other than a pair of jeans and a ratty t-shirt, or my walking side by side with Robert, my book bag on his shoulder, his eyes gazing down at me.
Of course, everyone at school already knew about how he had been the one to find me and call 911. His reputation as a hero had already been firmly cemented as a Heath High legend. His stock had gone up as a result, and I could see it in the eyes of every guy and girl there. He had won everyone over without using an ounce of charm by saving my life, and the irony in that was almost too much to take.
Out of nowhere, a short, raven headed girl came flying towards us, her face positively glowing with excitement and happiness. She crashed into me, hugging me fiercely, sending my crutches clattering to the ground and my arms around her for support. "I'm so glad you're here! And oh my God, you look great! TGIF for sure!"
As soon as she loosened her hold on me, Robert had my crutches back under my arms, not wanting to weaken the charade that we both knew I was playing. "Thanks, Stacy," I mumbled, too shocked by the display of affection made so publicly, and with such a captive audience at that. I tried to take a step forward, but found my knees were knocking so bad, I was sure that my left one would be covered with a very large bruise from the cast on my right.
Stacy snatched my book bag off of Robert's shoulder, and looked at him. "Well, don't you think you should help her out? Some hero you are. Holding her book bag really isn't worthy of that title. I'm doing it right now, and no one's decided to have my baby." She stared at all of the girls who looked like they'd be willing to do much more than have Robert's child. Some of them looked very eager and willing to take my place, even if that included also being hit by a car and left for dead. But, try as I might, I couldn't find fault in any of them because I was almost certain that my face had the same look on it.
Robert laughed, and Stacy took that as her cue to start walking. "So, today's the day, huh?"
I nodded, stepping-pulling-swinging myself forward, trying to match the rhythm of her pace while also trying to not fall flat on my face. I hopped up the steps to the school's main entrance quite easily, feeling very thankful that even though I knew the snide comments about me were being made, I did not hear a single one. No one dared say anything within earshot of Robert because doing so would cheapen his actions, and no one wanted to do that.
I almost felt smug, which was not a feeling I had ever truly felt in school...or ever. I didn't trust myself to allow it to happen now, though. I still had a long day ahead of me, and the most difficult part wouldn't begin until the day was nearly through. I took comfort in knowing that the first half of my day would at least have me with Stacy and Robert by my side.
As we walked to Mr. Frey's classroom, I suddenly remembered that Robert had homeroom with Becca, Erica's best friend. He would be able to read her mind and see if Erica had shared any information about what she'd written for me to say today. I was almost too nervous to ask when I realized that simply by thinking about it, I already had...technically.
Is that what you want me to do?
I hesitated before shaking my head slightly, knowing that as imperceptible as it would have been to anyone else, he would see it. I couldn't ask him to cheat for me. I had never cheated before. Add to that the fact that I had never asked Robert to use his abilities to help me in any way, and I wouldn't start now.
The bell rang and my nerves started twitching. I knew that for better or worse I was going to have to go through with this, but that didn't mean that my body was going to want to cooperate.
I saw Stacy walk into the classroom, my book bag still on her shoulder, and turned my face towards Robert's to thank him and tell him that we'd talk in first period. He placed a soft hand against my cheek, and I pressed it into his palm, grateful for the way it calmed me and made me forget--even if for only a moment--what it was that was troubling me.
"Thank you," I whispered. It was the only thing I could think of to say. There was a lot more that we needed to talk about, but at that moment I could only say those two words and be glad for their existence.
"No, thank you." He bent down and kissed the top of my head. It was such a small gesture, mundane in so many ways, and yet...it was enough. I turned around and stepped-pulled-swung myself towards the desk that Stacy was keeping free for me. I ignored the blatant gawking that seemed to come from everyone, including a far from asleep Mr. Frey, and carefully slid into the seat next to Stacy who took the crutches out of my hand before I could protest.
"Why do you need these anyway? I swear you'd get around a lot faster without these sticks." She leaned them up against her desk and pointed to my book bag by her feet. "Is it in there?"
I knew what it was, and nodded my head. "It isn't going to win me any Nobel Peace Prizes, but I won't be sued for libel either."
Stacy grimaced at that. "I wouldn't put it past her to try and do it anyway, or at least threaten you about it. She's been talking about hers for the past two days and I have no doubt that she's planning on making you into the school's pariah. I hope that you're ready for it."
Ready for what? I had already lived through an emotional and physical nightmare. What else was there left for her to do? The thought of losing Graham again floated around for a bit, but flew away when I came to the decision that whatever his choices were, I had nothing to do with them anymore.
"I've already experienced the role of Pariah. She can't do anything to me now that hasn't already been done. I'm ready for this to be over with. I'm ready." I knew that when I was handed my script and I took my place onstage, I'd know for sure if I were truly ready, but at that moment, there was nothing else that could be done, no preparations I could make, and no words to make me feel more confident. I was as ready as I'd ever be. My only question was whether or not the day would drag or fly by. It didn't matter to me either way.
When the bell rang for first period it dawned on me that my entire conversation with Stacy had been the main focus of everyone else in the classroom. We were the only ones who stood up when the bell rang, and the first ones out of the door; everyone else was trying to quickly cover up the fact that they'd been eavesdropping with nonsensical chatter, very loud scraping of chairs across the floor, and books being slammed on top of each other.
Stacy found it to be highly amusing. I cringed at the thought of more people knowing about what was coming. With every step-pull-swing of my body, I drew closer to a pivotal moment in what was turning out to be one very interesting senior year in high school.
***
At exactly thirty minutes past one, I entered the auditorium that served as the classroom for sixth period theater. Robert had met me outside of English Lit, as he had with Biol
ogy, and carried my book bag while I did my best impersonation of a human pendulum.
As much as I knew he had wanted to talk with me about what had happened the night at the park, I couldn't deal with that and focus on what was coming at the same time. We sat silent throughout French class because he wasn't thrilled with not being able to talk about it. By the time Calculus was over, we'd come to an understanding that whatever there was to discuss would simply have to wait until the day was through and I had recovered, if necessary, from the damage that Erica's soliloquy was going to inflict on me.
The auditorium looked very empty when we arrived, our class sitting near the stage area, and Mr. Danielson standing onstage having a very animated discussion with another teacher about something I couldn't quite catch. Robert stiffened, which told me that he didn't like what he had heard, but wouldn't tell me what it was quite yet. I frowned, not liking the way his forehead creased up.
We sat down in the front row seats along with the rest of the class and waited for the bell to ring. I heard the door of the auditorium open up behind us, and tried to turn to see who it was, but Robert placed his hand on my chin and held my face immobile. The sound of dozens of feet stomping against the wood flooring of the auditorium caused my eyes to grow wide in my face, and my breathing to increase rapidly.
We had an audience, and from the sound of the buzzing coming from behind me, coupled with the nonstop rumble of feet, it was a large one. I kept trying to turn my face to see, my hands getting sweaty with panic, but Robert shook his head, his hand still holding my chin, his other hand gripping mine. You don't need to see it to know it's there. Focus on what you have to do. I'm here. It's going to be fine.
I looked into his eyes, seeing my reflection in them and realizing that I was showing more in my face than I ever could with just my mind, and that everyone could see just how I was feeling. Including Erica, who walked past us just then, her face wearing the same smug smile I had denied myself earlier this morning.