Forever Changed

by Tiffany King

  Megan and I continued to grow close, spending all of our non-school hours together. Even though she still wasn't talking, I learned she was more engaging than the girls I had shunned her for. I began to look forward to the time we spent together, while continuing to withdraw further and further from the school life I had once loved. Afraid that my sullen attitude was bringing Colton down with me, I eventually pulled away from him, choosing to eat my lunches in the library so he could start to integrate himself back in with our group without me holding him back.

  By December tenth, three months after my father’s accident, the oppressiveness of school began to weigh on me. The walls felt as if they closing in, and I found myself daydreaming into the chalkboard at the front of the room, completely tuning out the teachers. The first month of my return to school, the teachers treated me with kid gloves and pretty much left me alone, but by the second month, their patience began to wear thin. Most of them tried to break through the shell I had enclosed myself in, but at this point, I was sick of the attention. I almost preferred the indifferent stance my ex-friends had shown.

  “Ms. Cole, can you answer the question?” an impatient voice demanded, jerking me out of my trance.

  “What?” I asked, trying to focus on Mr. Mathews’ sarcastic face.

  “I wanted to know if you can answer the question from the textbook,” he said impatiently.

  “Um, what problem?” I asked confused, looking down at my math book that I hadn’t bothered to open.

  “Oh, forgive me, Ms. Cole. I didn't realize we were disturbing you. Perhaps you would actually like to participate now?” he asked in a biting tone.

  “Not particularly,” I muttered, not appreciating his attempt to shame me in front of the class. He’d been doing it to students for years, and had the reputation of being a complete jerk. When I was on the squad, he’d pretty much left me alone since it was rumored he had the hots for Ms. Hanson. He's been riding me the last few months once it became common knowledge I was no longer cheerleading. I’d been good up to now about letting his sarcastic remarks roll off my back, but I had enough now.

  My response made several students around me snicker and look at me appraisingly. It had been weeks since they’d heard a peep out of me and they were intrigued to hear my voice again.

  “What did you say?” he demanded as his face and bald head turned a vibrant shade of red.

  “I said. Not. Particularly,” I emphasized, dragging out each of my words.

  “Look here, Ms. Cole, just because you’ve had a bump in the road doesn’t mean everyone is going to cater to you for the rest of your life. It’s time to grow up and move on,” he said loudly, towering over me.

  I stood up suddenly, shaking with rage. “Fuck you,” I said quietly, looking him dead in the eye. The class around me seemed to gasp as one at my words.

  “You just won yourself a one-way ticket to the dean’s office,” he said, shaking with his own rage.

  “Whatever you say,” I said in the same condescending tone he’d been using on students for years. I snatched up my bag of the back off my chair and sashayed out of the room, letting my middle finger speak for itself. Enough was enough. No one understood what I was going through, and I was sick of all of them.

  “GO TO THE OFFICE!” Mr. Mathews' hollered after me.

  I felt like the weight of the world had just been lifted off my shoulders. That little act of rebellion at Mr. Mathews' expense had somehow liberated me and for the first time since the accident, I felt in control of a situation. Classroom doors opened down the hallway as curious teachers responded to the ruckus. I could hear the students crowing in each room as I walked by. I was just about to walk out the double doors when it occurred to me that one last act of anarchy would make this a truly monumental grand exit…

  The sirens from the fire alarm shrieked loudly behind me as I climbed into my car, watching the students pile out of the building hooting and hollering.

  I couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of the teachers and administrators trying to discourage the students from leaving. It was completely exhilarating to do something so blatantly defiant that I had never done before. I felt alive, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air around me.

  I felt so good I headed toward Megan’s school, deciding my hooky day would become her hooky day.

  The parking lot was nearly empty with the exception of the teacher’s cars. I pulled up front and leaped from the car relishing the lightheartedness I felt.

  “Why Kassandra, you’re early today,” Mrs. Mimi exclaimed. “And my, you look different.”

  “I do?” I asked, looking down at my scruffy jeans and t-shirt that had become my customary school uniform lately. Puzzled, I reached up to touch my hair, not remembering how I had styled it that morning.

  “It’s your eyes, they look lovely today,” she said, answering my puzzlement.

  “Oh, okay?” I said, walking over to the elaborate gilded mirror that ran along the wall.

  Her words made sense after studying my reflection a little. My eyes did have a certain sparkle in them that hadn’t been there in a while. Maybe being a bad girl suited me.

  “Are you picking Megan up?” she asked, breaking into my reverie.

  “Yeah, I thought we’d have a hooky day together,” I said, glancing away from the mirror.

  “I think she’ll enjoy that,” Mrs. Mimi said, punching in the door code so we could walk in together.

  Megan was happy to see me, though she studied me critically.

  “I thought we’d go see that new Disney movie, what do you think?”

  She nodded her head enthusiastically and slid her now cast-free hand into mine. Mom was supposed to take her to have it removed, but wound up backing out at the last moment and begged me to take her place. I tried to decline, knowing she had to leave the house eventually, but when she turned her pleading eyes on me, I couldn’t help relenting. The only time we got her to leave the house was for Thanksgiving, and I know that was only because the memories of past holidays at home were painful.

  Removing the cast had been no picnic either. The doctor accidently cut Megan with the saw while removing the cast. To make her feel better, I entertained her with stories of my many cheerleading injuries, including a broken arm, just like hers. Knowing I had gone through the same thing seemed to help, and she put on a brave face while the doctor finished removing the cast. Her poor arm underneath was a grey, dusky color, but the doctor had told us it would pink up in no time. His words proved to be true, and within weeks, you couldn’t tell the difference between her two arms.

  My lighthearted mood continued throughout the movie, and Megan was obviously having a good time also, the way she sat there beaming at the screen. The sun was just beginning to set by the time we got into the car to head home. I steered into the driveway, surprised to see a maroon sedan in my usual spot.

  “Wonder who that is, Peanut,” I said, helping her out of her car seat.

  She shrugged her shoulders which made me smile.

  I opened the front door for us, juggling the Chinese takeout I had picked up on our way home. Mom had pretty much stopped cooking since the accident, and once all the sympathy casseroles ran out, I took over the job of making sure dinner got put on the table. Needless to say, we’d been eating a lot of takeout.

  I was surprised to find my mom in the front sitting room considering we rarely used it. That is until I saw Mrs. Leighton perched on the opposite loveseat.

  Crap. Mrs. Leighton had been trying to get me to come in to talk to her for months, but I had deflected each of her attempts.

  “Kassandra, there you are,” Mom said, sounding strained.

  She looked absolutely panicked. This was the new Mom though, a shell of her former self. I missed my vibrant, confident mother who loved to entertain and go out, yet another casualty of the accident.

  “Kassandra,” Mrs. Leighton said, looking more severe than I’d ever seen her.

  “Why don’t y
ou go read for a little while, Peanut? We’ll eat in a few minutes,” I said, giving her a slight nudge toward the staircase.

  Mrs. Leighton waited until Megan was upstairs before talking.

  “So, like I told your mother, Kassandra, your behavior today was quite alarming,” Mrs. Leighton said, looking at me pointedly.

  I glanced at mom to get a gauge of her reaction and was shocked to see her looking more alert than she had for months. “Kass, what happened?” she asked.

  “Um yeah, well Mr. Matthews was being a real jerk,” I stuttered out.

  “That may be, but cussing out a teacher is intolerable. Even more so is falsely pulling a fire alarm on school property,” Mrs. Leighton said sternly.

  “I know,” I said, looking down at my folded hands.

  “The principal wanted you suspended,” she said, holding her hand up when I started to protest. “But I stepped in and intervened on your behalf,” she continued.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. There will be consequences. First, you must write a letter of apology to Mr. Mathews', and secondly, you will have detention for the remaining weeks of this quarter.”

  I nodded reluctantly. A week and a half of detention, I could handle, but writing a letter of apology would be a harder pill to swallow.

  “And you will come in and see me during lunch three times a week for the rest of the year.”

  “What?” I squawked, looking at my mom for help, but she only nodded her head in agreement.

  “That’s the deal if you’re going to return to school,” she said, leaving no room for negotiation or argument.

  “Fine,” I said, standing up to leave the room. I stomped up the stairs, losing the high I had gotten being a rebel. The last thing I felt like doing was pouring out my guts to some teacher that got off on being over-the-top nice.

  Word of Kassandra losing it in Mr. Mathews' class reached me before I even made it to first period the next day. It was common knowledge that eventually someone would snap in Mr. Mathews' class, but I never would have thought it would be Kassandra that would give him the finger. She became an overnight sensation as everyone applauded her actions. Pulling the fire alarm was just the icing on the cake and earned Kassandra the title of Bad Ass of the year.

  I had endured Mathews' prickish attitude as a junior and was lucky to make it out of his class without an incident. I was pissed when I heard what he had said to Kassandra to push her over the edge. For just a moment, I regretted not having my dad’s hot head. I would have liked nothing more than to cram my fist in Mathews' face.

  “Did you hear she only got a week’s detention? That’s sweet.” I heard a pimply face sophomore say to his gaggle of friends. “That would be so worth it to tell that dick off. My sister had him two years ago, and he had her in tears almost the whole year. Why the school keeps an ass…”

  His words faded away as he and his friends turned the corner. He was right. A week’s detention wasn’t all that bad, but I had a hard time picturing Kassandra surrounded by the crew that was normally doing the time in the auditorium after school.

  “I think it’s hot she dropped the f-bomb, now I wanna see what else she’ll do with her mouth,” Dwayne, a loud mouth junior who had always grated on my nerves said as he and a couple of other jockstraps walked by.

  Without taking time to consider my actions, I had him by the collar and slammed up against the long row of lockers.

  “What the hell, man,” he said, trying to act tough.

  “What’d you say about her mouth?” I said in a deadly serious voice for his ears only.

  “Dude, I was joking,” he said as I released my hold on him.

  “Keep your mouth shut about her or you’ll find something shoved down your throat. You got me?” I threatened as him and his buddies backed away.

  I could hear him muttering about my dad as he walked off, but I noticed they had picked up their pace. How I had gotten a reputation as a badass was beyond me. With the exception of what just happened, I hadn’t been in a fight since junior high when Mark Bartlett had roughed up Drake in the locker room after gym class, just to show him up. I waited until the next day and let him know what a real punch felt like. I had endured enough beatings from my so-called dad over the years that I could put one on when I needed to. I got suspended for that one. Even though it was worth it for wiping the smug look of the punk's face, I struggled afterward with the gut-wrenching reality that I was becoming my dad. I had decided at the moment I would never throw another punch if I could help it.

  “Mr. Clark, did I just see you put your hands on another student?” Mr. Cribbs asked, appearing from around the corner.

  “Yes, sir,” I replied, recognizing my opportunity.

  Five minutes later, I strolled through the hallway on my way to Smokeville with a week’s worth of detention stuffed in my back pocket, along with my drumsticks.

  Writing a letter of apology turned out to be easier than I had anticipated. I realized whether intentional or not, Mrs. Leighton had given me an easy out. Detention, on the other hand, weighed heavily on me the next morning as I got ready for school. We’d seen the losers who frequented afterschool detentions when we needed to grab props for a certain cheer routines from the auditorium. We'd have to endure the obvious comments and whistles because of our short skirts. Depending on her mood, Lacey would either egg them on by sucking seductively on her finger as we walked by, or just flip them off if she was in a pissy mood.

  As the day progressed, my apprehension grew and I fought the temptation to blow the whole thing off, but the thought of flunking out and maybe having to go to summer school changed my mind. I had been slacking off enough this year as it was, so I really needed to pull it together.

  “Hey, stranger,” Colton said, coming up to me after seventh period. “I heard you finally had something to say in class yesterday,” he said shooting me a mischievous grin before nudging me with his hip.

  “Ha, what can I say? I guess my inner-rebel is coming out,” I said, joking with him for the first time in months. “Besides, what person hasn’t wanted to tell Matthews to f-off?”

  “Right, I just never thought it would be you who got the honor.”

  “Well, how 'bout we give you the honor and you can serve my detention,” I said, shooting a grin his way.

  “No can do, chica, I have to flip burgers this afternoon.”

  “What, you got a job?” I asked incredulously. As far as I knew, money wasn’t an issue for his family, with his father being a lawyer and all.

  “Yeah, my dad has some grand scheme to man me up by making me get a job,” he said sarcastically.

  “Man you up? You’re about as manly as they come,” I said, throwing a mock punch at his bicep. What the hell is that all about?” I asked confused.

  “It’s too much to delve into now. I’ll tell you some other time so I don’t ruin your “detention high.”

  “You’re a crack up,” I said tossing my bio and world history text books into my locker before slamming the door.

  “Lunch tomorrow?” he asked hopefully as I started off toward detention hell.

  “Can’t, I have to see Mrs. Leighton,” I said with a grimace.

  “Ugh, counselor session?” he asked.

  “I guess.”

  “Maybe it'll help,” he said quietly, sounding a little unsure.

  “Maybe,” I said, sounding doubtful. Maybe if she let me cuss out more teachers during the session, I couldn’t help thinking to myself as I entered the dimly lit auditorium.

  I signed in with the teacher's aide that had the unpleasant task of making sure none of us skipped out. I walked down the slanted aisle, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. After a few moments, my eyes were able to scan the rows of seats and my heart sunk when I saw the hard-edged faces and sneering looks of the other attendees studying me. Finding an empty row, I walked several seats in so I could have the space completely to myself.

  I pulle
d out my iPhone and opened up Facebook. I’d stayed clear from the social network scene over the last few months knowing Lacey was making catty remarks about me. I never bothered to check any of the comments until I realized I had more than two hundred missed notifications. Clicking on the oldest one, I was surprised by the words I read.

  Sheesh, Lacey, stop being such a beeyotch, she just lost her dad. What did you do, bury your compassion with that stick in your ass? A senior I rarely talked with had commented. I couldn’t help but snicker as I pictured Lacey’s face when she read the comment.

  For the next half an hour, I clicked through all the messages, surprised that the majority were all favorable toward me. I had been so wrapped up in the way my friends had treated me after the accident, I pretty much assumed everyone would feel the same. I just figured no one would want to hang out with "Ms. Doom and Gloom," as Lacey liked to call me.

  There were tons of private messages to me, expressing their sympathy over my father passing. I swallowed a lump in my throat that so many people I had once considered beneath me had shown more decency than those I had trusted the most. Overcome with mixed emotions, I set my phone to the side and scanned the room. A handful more students now filled the seats, and I found the row in front of me no longer empty.

  I studied the person that sat almost directly in front of me and couldn’t help admiring the thick hair that slightly curled at his collar line. It was a rich auburn color that most girls would die for. Mesmerized, I leaned forward to see if it was a supple as it looked.

  I jerked back just before my hand could reach its destination. What the hell was wrong with me? Cussing a teacher out, pulling a fire alarm, and now, almost touching some guy's hair I didn’t even know? I was definitely losing it.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a light tapping noise in front of me. Leaning forward, searching for the source of the noise, I saw the occupant in front of me was Maddon, drumming on his knee with a pair of drumsticks.