The Con

by Nicole Marsh

  Inhaling deeply, I unburden my truth. “I was dating this guy and I lied to him around the time we first met. I was also tutoring his brother after I quit my job at the Breezy Motel. Then he found out about my lie from someone else and everything blew up in my face. He won’t talk to me now and his family told me they no longer need me as a tutor.”

  Ms. Rigs perches on the stool in front of me as she nods. “Well, your first love is always the hardest to navigate, because you lack any experience. Without knowing more of the story, I can’t give you further advice other than if it’s meant to be, he will find a way to forgive you. If he can’t, he probably didn’t love you enough and you shouldn’t settle for him anyways. You have your whole life ahead of you to find the real thing.”

  Her words soak into my consciousness. If Collin loves me, or at least thinks the bond we were building could evolve into love, he’ll find a way to forgive me. The sentiment echoes what Katie said yesterday, and I cling on to hope that maybe they’re both right.

  Without allowing me much time to dwell on her words of wisdom, Ms. Rigs continues, “As for the recent loss of income, I actually do have a solution for that. I have another student that approached me, searching for a tutor. You can use your homeroom period three times a week, the days you are not with me, and her parents will pay for your time. Is that something you would be interested in?”

  “Really?” I ask, surprised.

  “Of course,” she replies calmly. “You’re one of my best students, I think she would benefit greatly from your tutelage.”

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” I agree readily, without even hearing the name of the student. It doesn’t matter anyways. No matter how difficult the student is, it’s infinitely better to earn money and stay in my trailer than risk becoming homeless from a lack of funds.

  “Perfect,” she replies. “Now I want to review a few more items in your prep book. Please turn to page 342.”

  A renewed sense of purpose fills me, as I bask in the feeling of being employed once more. I turn the pages of my prep book, feeling lighter than I have all week. Bolstered by my newfound optimism, I review some of the more complex math questions that will be on the test.

  Surprisingly for a chemistry teacher, Ms. Rigs is exceptional at advanced math. Maybe the two subjects are closely tied together, more than I originally thought. Either that, or she’s helped her fair share of students prepare for the SAT. Neither would surprise me at this point.

  Our final study session flies by as I immerse myself in the last practice exam provided by Ms. Rigs, immediately following our review. Scribbling nonsense on the scrap piece of paper she left on my table and blacking out circles on the test page, I work through the equations until only three minutes of the period remain.

  “Okay, put down your pencil, McKenzie,” she states from her post at the front of the room. I comply with her request and gather my belongings as she strides to my table.

  Ms. Rigs makes quick work of correcting my answer sheet, handing it back at the same second the bell trills, signifying the end of homeroom and the completion of our study session. “Very good. Only three of your answers were incorrect. I expect you to do very well tomorrow, McKenzie,” she says with a warm smile. “Come to my classroom on Monday for your first tutoring session, and good luck,” she finishes, her expression relaxed and unconcerned, like I’ve already aced the test in her mind.

  “Thanks,” I respond, as I don my backpack and give her a small smile, moving to exit the classroom and continue to my history class. “See you next week.”

  “Oh, one more thing, McKenzie,” Ms. Rigs says, opening a drawer in her desk. She rifles around for a second before standing and passing me a lavender colored gift bag with white tissue paper peeking out the top. “Just a little something for tomorrow,” she says with a warm smile, as I accept the bag.

  Unsure how to react, I hug the gift against my chest. “Thank you, Ms. Rigs,” I reply, grateful for everything she’s done for me and surprised by the gift.

  She nods and gestures to the door, excusing me from the slightly awkward situation. I take her cue, exiting into the hall without lingering to open the present.

  Distracted, I wander down the hallway, stopping to swap out my chemistry books for my history text. Gently, I place the present inside my locker to keep it safe, until I can open it in the privacy of my home. My mind is swimming with random math facts and curiosity over the contents of the gift, as my hands leave the smooth sides of the lavender bag.

  When I absentmindedly shut the metal door and face the corridor, intent on walking to my next class, I smack into a broad chest covered in a sky-blue t-shirt. I follow the muscular pecs, up a thick neck, until my eyes hit a pair of emerald colored orbs. The second our gazes connect, Collin parts his lips to speak, but he’s interrupted before any words leave his mouth.

  “Collin,” Isabelle shrieks from just down the hall. She strides towards us, and I notice Collin is standing very close, with his hands gripping my biceps. Isabelle continues screeching, “Collin, I’ve been looking all over for you! Have you been avoiding me? Collin!”

  Isabelle’s last shout of Collin’s name suddenly breaks through the fog surrounding my brain. “I have to leave,” I whisper, slipping out of his grasp and hurrying towards history class.

  I hear him take two steps towards me, his shoes pounding against the linoleum floors, but thankfully he doesn’t chase me down the hall.

  Practically sprinting to escape, I slip into my class earlier than usual and slide into my seat. I focus on calming my racing heart, and by the time the bell rings again, I have it mostly under control.

  My entire second period passes in a daze. I half-heartedly take notes while my brain comes up with dozens of scenarios of the words Collin was about to utter, prior to Isabelle’s interruption.

  Should I have stayed? Was it a total chicken move to leave before he spoke?

  I ponder every possible scenario until a headache builds in the back of my brain from the tumultuous thoughts whipping through my mind. I’ve never been so grateful to hear the bell for lunch, the ringing noise relieving me from the endless loop of my thoughts.

  Shoving all my belongings into my bag haphazardly, I leave in a hurry, pushing past my classmates in my haste to escape. I’m the first person in the hall, other students trickling slowly out of their classes as I rush to the cafeteria.

  I irritably wait for a tray to pick out whatever the best-looking items are in the free lunch line. The students in front of me feel like they’re taking eons to pick out some damn soup and I barely contain my impatience, tamping down the urge to tap my foot and hurry them along.

  When I finally make it through the queue, that has grown three times in size since I got in line, I snatch up my tray and head in the direction of my new lunch place. I’ve been zipping through every action in a rush, wanting to find Katie as soon as possible, so I can tell her what happened with Collin.

  My long legs make short work eating up the distance to the library. Bumping the handle with my hip, I push open the door and make a beeline to my usual spot. Plopping down my tray, I sit at the table with Heather, Katie, Summer, and three other girls from the cheer team. I think the librarian likes that students are finally hanging out in here, because she’s let our slowly growing crowd eat at one of the tables every day this week, without a single shush or request for silence.

  When I drop down into my chair, Katie briefly glances up from her phone and mutters, “Hey Kenz.”

  She immediately turns back to the screen, her fingers moving rapidly, and her brow furrowed as she continues whatever she’s doing. My brow scrunches in question, but Katie doesn’t notice. She’s in her own world, gaze locked on whatever her phone contains. Looking across the table, Summer’s bright eyes connect with mine and she dramatically mouths, “ALEX.”

  I instantly feel like a horrible friend.

  I’ve been spending almost all my free time with Katie this week. She’s listened to every
single one of my complaints and thoughts about Collin, reassuring me and lifting me from my pit of despair. Not once during our conversation, did I bring up Alex, or what happened after Collin and I left her party.

  It’s not that I’m not interested. I’ve just been distracted by everything else happening. Even as I think the words, they feel like an excuse. Katie has been dealing with stuff too, and she’s made time for my problems.

  Barely containing my regretful sigh, I tap her shoulder. She reacts slightly, giving me only a portion of her attention. “Just one more second,” she says curtly, then turns back to her phone. I don’t move a muscle, wanting her to know I plan to wait until she’s ready to acknowledge me again.

  A few minutes later, she finally puts her phone on the table and gives me her full attention. Her eyes are watery, as if she’s on the verge of bursting into tears if she spends just one more second in the conversation she was having with Alex.

  I rise from my chair, abandoning my free lunch tray. “Come to the bathroom with me, Katie. I have something to tell you.”

  She nods and slowly stands. I watch as she hesitates, glancing at her phone and I link our arms together, practically dragging her with me before she has a chance to grab it. Katie stumbles briefly, taking a couple quick steps to catch up with my steady stride as I steer her to the closest bathroom.

  Pushing through the door, I check the stalls to make sure we’re alone before twirling to face her. “Okay, so what’s the deal with you and Alex?” I ask, keeping my tone gentle, but firm. I don’t want to scare her off, but I also want to convey that I’m serious about knowing what’s going on in her life.

  Katie sighs and hops up onto the countertop, her shoulders sagging with the weight of her despair. “Well, he seemed interested during my party. He even stayed to help me clean after everyone else finally cleared out. I was optimistic about it, ya know? Like he finally noticed me.” She sighs again, then continues morosely, “I asked him to stay and watch a movie when we were done cleaning, but he declined. Now he’s been distant ever since.” She glances away briefly, swiping a couple tears off her cheeks. “I think he’s worried about starting a relationship part way through senior year, in case we end up at different colleges. I’ve tried reminding him Berry College is both of our first choices, but he says that doesn’t mean we’ll end up there, together.”

  I lean against the counter and wrap an arm around her shoulders in a side-hug, giving a brief squeeze. “That really sucks. I’m sorry I didn’t ask earlier, and kept telling you about all my Collin drama, when you had boy trouble of your own,” I respond.

  She smiles at me, her eyes still watery, the tears present in her eyes are barely contained, but the expression is genuine and reassuring. “That’s okay. I wasn’t really ready to talk about it yet anyways.”

  I nod, appreciating Katie’s friendship even more. Not only did she listen to me complain about the Collin situation, endlessly, but now she’s attempting to comfort me when I’m supposed to be the one comforting her. “Do you think maybe he’s just not that interested and is using college as an excuse?” I ask, while thinking over the Alex situation.

  “I’ve thought about it,” she confesses, her voice sounding small. “Maybe if I wait out this year, he’ll see we’re meant to be together when we end up freshmen at the same college,” she says, jumping off the counter and using a scrap of paper towel to swipe at the mascara running down her face as tears overflow from her eyes.

  I step forward for another hug, pulling her against my chest, and smooshing her until I finally feel her arms raise and wrap around me, returning my embrace. When we separate, I keep my tone firm, my chocolate gaze searing into her eyes. “You are worth so much more than some… kid, that’s afraid to get into a relationship because you might break up later. Katie, you’re an amazing friend, beautiful, kind, cheerful, and so, so fun. Wait for Alex, if you think that’s what you need to do, but don’t wait so long that you miss out on something better.”

  Katie nods slowly a few times. Then, as I watch, her face transforms into an expression of determination. I’m not sure if it means she’s giving up on Alex or if she’s going to work double time to ensure he’ll never forget her. What I do know, is that he better watch out. Katie is fierce and I would hate to be on the receiving end of her wrath.

  She squares her shoulders and offers me a smile. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, like she’s practicing the expression rather than showing joy, but it’s a start. “Oh, before I forget,” she says. “Do you need a ride to the SAT’s tomorrow?”

  Appreciation warms me from the inside out. I look at my bestie that’s going through her own drama, but still anticipates my needs and tries to help. Winding my arm through hers, I lead her to the door as I reply, “Nah, I think I’ve got it covered.”

  Chapter 35

  I wake up early, before my alarm, and allow myself to lay in bed for a few minutes soaking in the peaceful, quiet morning. Today I’m taking the SAT’s and sending the results to Berry College, Florida State University, and The University of Alabama as part of my admissions packets.

  This test is the first step in my new life; the first step in leaving this place for a fresh start.

  My mind begins to gradually feel more awake and I slowly roll out of bed to prepare for my day. Opening my closet, I pull on a pair of dark jeans, courtesy of Katie, and a loose-fitting long-sleeved blouse, also from Katie.

  Wandering to the bathroom, I pick up my brush and slowly tug it through my dark strands, until they’re tamed into a sleek, straight sheet. I quickly throw my hair into a French braid so it’s out of my face for the day.

  Next, I stroll into the kitchen, reaching into the cupboards for the box of protein pancakes that Ms. Rigs gave me. I intended to wait to open her gift, but as soon as I got home, I tore into the bag, curiosity compelling me to find out what she thought I still needed. Nestled inside the tissue paper was the mix, a bottle of real maple syrup, and a pack of freshly sharpened number two pencils. The items were accompanied by a note scrawled in Ms. Rigs’ cursive script that says, “For tomorrow… protein powers the brain. Good luck!”

  Heeding her advice, I prepare to cook a big breakfast to fuel my day ahead. I leisurely add water to the powder, stirring the mix with intense concentration. It’s been years since I’ve made pancakes. The last time I can remember, I was five or six and my mom helped me stand on a chair and stir the batter with an old wooden spoon that no longer exists in the trailer.

  It’s been so long in fact, that I have to look up instructions on what temperature to use and how to tell when they’re done. With the information pulled up on my phone, I cautiously plop blobs of batter onto the only pan I own, aiming to create perfect circles.

  Following the boxes instructions to produce enough pancakes for one to two people results in a stack big enough for six. Sitting down at my small table, I smother a portion of the fluffy discs in syrup and consume as many I can. After eating my fill, I still have a large stack left. I don’t want them to go to waste, so I wrap them in plastic and stick them in the fridge for later.

  Stuffed to the brim, I grab my backpack and keys, preparing to exit the trailer. With one last glance around, I spot the number two pencils and shove them into my bag as well.

  You can never be too prepared.

  Outside I mount my bike, pedaling hard to spur myself into motion, then letting myself glide down the bumpy dirt path as far as possible, to prevent getting dusty. As efficient as it is to catch a ride, I’ve kind of missed the calm that comes with riding my bike. My legs rhythmically pumping the pedals as my brain freely wanders over everything that’s happened to me in the weeks since school started.

  The ride doesn’t feel nearly as long as it should, as my preoccupied mind distracts me from the scenery whirring by. It seems like mere seconds pass before the sign for Golden Oaks High, my intended destination, comes into view. With thoughts still whipping around in my brain, I screech to a halt in front of the
bike rack and use my chain to secure the old hunk of metal.

  Straightening from my position near the tires of my bike, I square my shoulders and stride through the entrance of the school. The double doors leading inside are propped open and just past them sits a desk for check-in manned by two women that appear to be PTA moms.

  A small queue of students are waiting to be checked in. I join the line, standing behind a guy with short red hair. The entire wait, I fight hard to keep my nerves at bay. Each step I move forward, closer to the table and taking the SAT’s, increases the anxiety trying to break free in my mind.

  “Next,” the lady on the left, with a short, brown bob states.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I step towards her and say, “Hi, I’m here for the SAT’s, McKenzie Carslyle.”

  She nods, barely glancing at me as her finger skims down the list placed on the table. Her finger stops a third of the way down the page, and she finally looks at me. “ID please.”

  Thankful Ms. Rigs prepared me for this, I snag my school ID from my pocket and hand it to the lady. She checks my name off on the list and returns the card, which I promptly slip back into my pocket. “Classroom 204. Keep your ID handy, your proctor will check it again when passing out the test booklets. Next.”

  Her quick dismissal surprises me. I’m forced to shimmy out of the way, as the next student almost bowls me over to get to the check-in point. With a deep sigh, I move further into the hallway to locate room 204.

  I hear a familiar cackle and instantly freeze, my gaze scanning left to right until I spot Isabelle. She’s leaning against her locker chatting with another student, half dozen feet to my right. They hug briefly before parting ways. I watch with wary eyes, hoping we aren’t in the same test room.

  I’m unable to force my feet to keep moving and Isabelle’s dark gaze locks with mine. She sneers, remaining rooted in place. Her stance and expression are like a challenge, daring me to approach her.