Continuum

by Susan Wu

  I turn away from the window to face the blackboard and watch the clock slowly winding down. This is a habit I’ve been trying to break since the second hand seems to move slower when I watch it. We’re barely halfway through so I spend the rest of class carefully duplicating the photo of a Gothic cathedral into my notebook. When the bell rings, the class is shaken from our slumber and inattention, becoming mobile again.

  Navigating through the crowded hallway, I head outside to the gym building choosing to cut through the empty bank of picnic tables next to the school despite the cold. Pulling my jacket tight against my body, the wind blows through me as I angle toward the low brick building. Inside the girls' locker room, I quickly change into my gym uniform consisting of a light silver gray t-shirt with Everest Heights High School printed in navy across the chest and a miniature roaring panther with matching navy sweatpants with silver EHHS printed down the leg. Hastily, I pull my long hair into a high ponytail and switch out my boots for a pair of black low top sneakers before jogging out onto the football field.

  My breath comes out in little white puffs and my exposed arms are covered in goosebumps. The class is huddled together in clusters trying to keep out the cold. Coach Morris appears wearing his requisite navy and silver tracksuit, a shiny silver whistle hanging from a navy lanyard emblazoned with the school's initials. Coach Morris is about two things--playing by the rules and winning. If you don’t know how to play, you can’t win. With this logic in mind, we spend the whole class shivering on the faded grass of the football field while he runs down the list of every flag football rule and regulation in existence. The bell rings before he actually finishes.

  English. Calculus. French. Art. Lunch. Psychology. They all pass in a haze.

  Today is a day like any other.

  Ethan

  The pounding of lockers shutting around me echo the pounding in my head. Today is only Day 2 at Everest Heights High School. My body is still in a different time zone. This would be my seventh time moving in twelve years, but it doesn't make it any easier. Moving always leaves me feeling exhausted. This time around had been particularly draining.

  As I pull my books out of my locker, Mackenzie sidles up to me and leans against the locker neighboring mine a beaming smile spreading across her face. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot her friends huddled together whispering and giggling. Mackenzie was nice enough, but she was always surrounded by a group of girls who dissolve into giggles at the slightest provocation. That was not nice, in fact it was downright annoying.

  I put on my happy face as I shut my locker and greet her, “Good morning, Mackenzie.”

  Cue the giggling and eyelash fluttering. I give her friends a smile and a wave as they depart down the hallway toward the library. A group of girls, Freshmen by the look of them, scramble to get out of their way. My face aches from the polite smiles I have been forcing on my face all week.

  Mackenzie leans over and hooks her arm around mine, her curly blonde hair brushing against my skin. Her hair smells strongly of perfume. The abundant scent is sharp in my nose, intensified by my raging headache. Everything about Mackenzie is perfect and sunshine, from her shiny, highlighted blonde hair hanging down her back to the blinding gleam of her perfectly straight white teeth. Even her voice is deceptively sweet and singsong, dripping with molasses, “Good morning. Walk me to class.” It was more of a command than a question. It was only my second day and Mackenzie and her friends had already commandeered most of my time here.

  I casually unwind myself from her surprisingly strong grip, giving her my best polite but regretful smile, “Actually, I can’t this morning. I have to head over the administration office and see Mrs. Morrow, my last school sent in my transcripts late and my schedule got screwed up. They called my mom this morning and said they finally came in so I have to get my schedule adjusted."

  "Oh, that really sucks. Why don’t I come with you?”

  “Nah, it’s no big deal.” Her perfect white smile falters and I quickly add, “I don’t want to make you late for first period. I’m sure I can get everything straightened out this morning.”

  She pouts, "Will we see you at lunch?"

  At least I didn’t have to eat lunch alone as the new kid. "Sure, I’ll see you later.”

  It only takes Mrs. Morrow a few minutes to adjust my classes. With my newly rearranged schedule in hand, I head to first period European History. I’m early and only a smattering of students are in the room. Having studied European History in Europe, this class should be a breeze. I select a choice seat toward the back of the classroom near the windows. It’s starting to drizzle and the pattering of the rain against the glass is soothing.

  I flip through the European History textbook before class begins. The stained, yellowed pages of the dog eared textbook are filled with innocuous doodles and notes hastily scribbled in the margins from previous owners. A steady stream of chatter fills the room as the time inches closer to the final bell. I look up when a familiar scent wafts towards me. Mackenzie is maneuvering her way past a pair of boys chatting by the door, using her hips to knock them out of her path. One of them flashes her an annoyed look when he bumps into his desk, his books clattering to the ground. She takes the empty desk right behind me, her glossy pink lips grinning from ear to ear as she sets her books down.

  “Ohh, we’re in European History together. We can study together. Isn’t it great? It’s going to be such an awesome senior year!” Her eyes glaze over with that starry look that girls get when they start scheming. Before I can reply, the bell rings shrilly quieting the classroom down. Without skipping a beat, Mrs. Douglas starts reading off a faded notebook resting on the desk without ever leaving her chair. Or varying her tone. Or blinking.

  Relieved that I don’t have to reply to Mackenzie’s declaration, I turn my attention to the front of the classroom. My plan for senior year was for it to be as normal as possible. Even though I would be going to college next year, Everest Heights was going to be our home now and I wanted it to feel that way instead of another layover.

  My European History book is opened to a random page, partially covering my notebook. I pretend to scribble notes down. Instead, I start sketching out ideas for my next project. My dad had just brought me some amazing materials to play with from his latest trip.

  Without interrupting Mrs. Douglas’s steady droning, the classroom door swings open. Everyone looks up at the disruption and then resume their looks of utter boredom toward the front of the room.

  Standing in the doorway is the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on. Dressed simply in a leather jacket and jeans, her skin is creamy, almost translucent and her face is framed by long dark hair, windswept and wet from the rain, little droplets of water dripping off the long strands. Her eyes are a pale green that seem to glow against the dark backdrop of her hair. She glances in my direction, a look of annoyance flashes across her face. Just as quickly, it disappears as she makes her way to an empty desk across the room.

  Who is that girl?

  Fallon

  For once my alarm wakes me and I reach over and click it off. I sit up but stay in bed. It’s a miserable misty, gray morning. Something was different about the dream last night. What had changed? What did it mean if it had? I try to retrieve the details of the dream but the memory of it faded quickly after I woke up.

  Preoccupied by my analysis, I find myself running late to first period. To really make my morning, it is still cold outside this morning but just warm enough for rain. I pull up the hood of my jacket and run the entire way to school. I slide through the door five minutes into class, my hair clinging to my face and water dripping off my hair and clothes. Mrs. Douglas doesn't pause or even glance up from her notes.

  I am irritated to see Mackenzie, of all people, in my usual seat. I settle for a seat in the other corner of the room. As I pull off my wet jacket and take out my books, I notice the reason for Mackenzie being in my seat. There's a new boy sitting in front of my usual seat. He i
s looking at me with a curious expression on his face. When our eyes meet, his lips lift into a slight smile before turning back toward Mrs. Douglas. His eyes are the clearest shade of blue, his gaze penetrating straight through me. For a moment, I feel a fluttering in my chest before I snuff out the reaction.

  I chastise myself silently. That’s right. He is looking right through you. You probably look like a drowned rat and your boots squeak. Who are you? He’s sitting with Mackenzie Brooks! Get yourself together before you really embarrass yourself.

  Under the cover of my long hair, I discreetly peer over to the other side of the room. He is pushing back a stray strand of artfully disheveled chestnut hair that has fallen into his eyes as he scribbles down notes. His face is all angles, hollow cheekbones with a long straight nose and strong yet elegant jawline. I notice even his lips are sculpted as he chews on his bottom lip, concentrating as his pen moves across the page of his notebook. The muscles in his arm are taught under his black t-shirt, a black leather jacket hanging on the back of his chair. His dark jeans are fitted and speckled with paint and his boot-clad foot is jiggling impatiently as Mrs. Douglas reads on.

  The longer I look at this boy, the unfamiliar fluttering returns in my chest and my stomach twists into knots. Such strange sensations, this is what girls are always going on and on about. I’m horrified to admit to myself that I am attracted to him. When the bell rings, I realize I have spent most of class staring at this boy.

  I can't stand him already.

  I am feeling distracted from my restless night and, for once, am grateful when my lunch period rolls around. Lunchtime is the peak of the high school social feeding frenzy. I prefer not to participate. Normally, I take my lunch outside and eat at one of the picnic tables next to the forest preserve. It’s usually empty out there this time as year as the slightest bit of cold drives everyone indoors.

  I groan when I step outside my windowless classroom and see it is now raining even harder. The steady fall of freezing rain outside deters me from my lunch plans and I head back toward the cafeteria. Weather in Everest Heights never seemed to cooperate with me.

  There is a buzz of excitement in the lunchroom. I grab a red plastic tray and stand in the lunch line behind a group of freshman. I spot Mackenzie and her minions standing in front of them, chatting animatedly.

  Mackenzie is grilling them for information, “What did you find out about him?” She plops the school's unappetizing excuse for a salad onto her tray, along with an apple and a Diet Coke.

  Standing behind Mackenzie, Sophia puts the exact same lunch on her tray. “Well, he's in my third period French class.” Sophia continues with a giggle, “His French accent is très sexy. Monsieur Martin was completely freaking out that he finally had someone who could speak French in his class. He told Monsieur Martin that he lived in Paris for a while. How romantic.”

  The line inches forward and I can't stop myself from eavesdropping. Chloe pipes up, “I have fifth period Calculus with him. He sat next to that freak Megan Fischer. He was asking her about this sticker she had on her notebook. Then after class, they walked out together and they were talking about Vampire Weekend. She is such a freak. I don't know why he would waste his time talking to someone like her.”

  In a snarky voice, Sophia asks, “Vampire Weekend? Is that like some kind of weird ritual thing she does over the weekend?

  “I think they're like a band, Soph,” Emma responds, rolling her eyes.

  Mackenzie shakes her head solemnly, “He must be a total saint to even talk to her. Hot, smart, and charitable.”

  Emma lets out a gasp and grabs Mackenzie by the elbow, “Don't look now, but you know who just walked into the lunchroom.”

  They all let out a collective squeal before composing themselves. Mackenzie smooths down her hair and pulls down the hem of her sweater. They all leave the lunch line with Mackenzie sauntering out first. High school girls are like sharks when they catch a sent of fresh blood.

  I place a turkey and swiss on wheat sandwich and a banana on my tray. Standing by the cashier, I do a quick scan of the lunchroom to find an empty table. Sam Jordan is sitting in the center of the room with the football table. The cheerleaders, fully tarted up on a school day, are huddled together at the next table. Mackenzie and the gang are sitting at a table near by. They are huddled together chatting excitedly. The chess team sits in the corner by the lockers. The school band occupies the two tables next to that. Lower classmen are sprinkled throughout the room. I spot an empty table next to a window facing the forest preserve.

  I set down my lunch tray and slide my backpack off my shoulders. I rummage through my bag until I locate a pencil and my European History notebook. I flip past my sketch from this morning and go to a blank page. My hand starts moving across the page automatically, I am mesmerized by the forest during the rainstorm. Raindrops cling to the tree branches and the few remaining leaves, slowly dripping to form an icy barrier on the ground. Much like the icy barrier I keep in place between myself and the rest of the world.

  Ethan

  I look at the unappetizing varieties of slop in front of me, trying to decide if there are any edible options. I pick what looks like ham and cheddar on wheat wrapped in cellophane. Discreetly, I sniff the sandwich and place it on my tray along with an apple, a container of greek yogurt with peaches, and a carton of chocolate milk. Before I can get my change back from the cashier, Chloe is already standing guard next to me ready to escort me back to “the” lunch table.

  The lunch table is, naturally, in the center of the room. It allows for everyone in the cafeteria to watch (enviously and from a distance) as the popular kids talk and laugh and pick over their food. After attending so many different schools in so many different places, it was easy to dissect the hierarchy at Everest Heights High School within my first day.

  Chloe wedges herself in next to Sophia and Emma on one side of the table. Sitting across from them is Mackenzie and the only remaining chair. I gingerly set down my tray and slide into my chair. The girls each have a tray with an untouched tuna salad with wilted greens and a bottle of spring water.

  They start peppering me with questions before I can even unwrap my sandwich. Mackenzie leans in, draping her arm on mine, “How are your classes going?”

  “Uhm, fine I guess.”

  “Isn’t Mrs. Douglas the worst? Ugh, her lectures put me to sleep.”

  “She’s okay. I’ve had worse.” I unwrap my sandwich and take a few quick bites as they complain about European History.

  Chloe interrupts my eating, “I heard you are Bio partners with Sam and Liam.”

  Sheesh, I had only had my first Bio class today. I guess word travels fast in a small school. Was everything going to be like this? “Yeah, they’re really cool.” I open my container of yogurt and mix in the peaches as they start dishing about my lab partners.

  “Oh my God, did you see Liam’s new haircut? It’s amazing.”

  “He is super cute this year,” Sophia gushes.

  Emma sighs, “Super jealous. Why am I taking Physics?”

  Rolling her eyes, Chloe replies, “Puh-lease. You would totally die if they were your lab partners.”

  Mackenzie cuts in, “Ugh, seriously. Sam and Liam are jocks not lab geeks.”

  Sophia cuts her off, squealing excitedly and clapping her hands on the table, “Ethan, you have to try out for the football team on Friday!”

  “Definitely. I’ll put in a good word for you with Coach Morris. You obviously work out, did you play any sports at your old school?” Mackenzie says with admiration, giving my arm a squeeze. My spoonful of yogurt and peaches is midway to my mouth as they all look at me with stars in their eyes.

  Feeling awkward from all the attention, I dip my spoon back into the cup, swirling around the peaches, “Yeah, I played soccer and ran track. I’m not so sure about football. I never really played American football.”

  “Oh my God, Ethan. Football is like the sport to play a Everest Heights. The navy
and silver will look so good with your coloring,” Mackenzie says as she intensely scrutinizes my features while I try to eat my yogurt. She was probably sizing me up for a letterman’s jacket.

  “I’ve played some rugby and a few games of flag football. My dad wasn’t into American football when I was growing up, so I never really followed it. I’m a bit hazy on the rules of the game. Plus I’m not really too keen on participating in extra circulars this year.”

  This opens the girls up to freaking out about not having enough extra circulars for college applications. Which leads to an all out evaluation on which clubs weren’t completely lame that they could join this year to polish their resumes. It gives me an opportunity to let my eyes wander from my perch in the center of the room.

  I spot my mystery girl in the corner of the room. She is huddled in her jacket, the hood pulled up despite being indoors. She is sitting alone at her table, headphones in place. Her dark hair is swept in front of her shoulders framing her pale face. Her eyes are fixated out the window next to her table. From my vantage point all I can see are the vague outline of trees off in the distance, distorted by the icy sleet of rain coming down against the glass.

  As her eyes shift to take in the landscape, her pencil moves in quick, sure strokes over the notebook resting against the edge of the table. She never looks down as her hand moves across the page. She is biting her lip in concentration, her white teeth pressing against the dark pink of her lips. A little furrow is forming between her eyebrows as she sketches.