by M. C. Atwood
She comes up to us and I check out her outfit. It’s like Little House on the Prairie only way more conservative.
Dylan backs away from me and the girl. “Dylan!” I call.
At the same time the girl says, “John Luke! Are you coming to church tonight?”
It seems like the whole hallway stops. I look at Dylan and he’s shaking.
“Babe. What the fuck?” I say. Because now this scared thing is contagious. And who is this chick? And what is going on? I shake my head to try to clear it. The edges of the hallway are blurring out, like an old-timey photograph.
Dylan tries to get through the crowd, but Trent stands there with the basketball, still spinning it. Paul right by his side with a confused look on his face. That same pull happens. I get a picture of a sword in my head and then it disappears. The girl tugging her ear is beside him and now a flower flashes in my head and I’m not sure why. Purple.
“Dylan?” Now my body is shaking. The hallway is quiet. Dylan and I are somehow now in the middle of a circle of students and it feels like everyone is staring.
The Little House chick walks up closer to us and says, “Hey, John Luke? Are you embarrassed of God?” A wicked grin crosses her face. “You’ll burn in hell you know. For lying.”
I back up a bit. “Dylan. What the fuck is going on?” I stare into his cloudy stormy eyes.
“Babe,” he whispers.
ASHLEY
Kaleigh whispers in my ear, “Oh my god. The freaks are fighting.”
Then she and Madison laugh into each other’s shoulders.
Something doesn’t feel right. For some reason, I don’t want to stand here and stare at Gretchen and her boyfriend like the rest of these dumbasses. Seems pointless. And . . . something else. And also I can’t remember how I got here. Fugue state much, Ashley?
“Let’s just go,” I say and turn around. Right into Jane. She stands there and smiles at me. Like a fucking wolf about to eat a rabbit. This isn’t right. This isn’t how it goes. I’M the wolf.
“What.” I say, hard. “Get out of my way.”
To the right of me, in my peripheral vision, I can see the ball on Trent’s finger spinning and spinning and spinning.
Jane says, “Where are you going, Ashley? Off to meet someone?”
Her smile grows wider. And then my panic sets in. It’s like she knows something. And NO ONE knows anything. She couldn’t know anything, right?
I swing my hair back. “Per usual, Jane, I have no clue what you’re talking about. I just don’t think these people are worth my time.” Something is wrong with me. I can’t seem to make fun of Gretchen and Dylan. This sort of situation used to be my dream, but I can’t think straight. I muster it up and say low and hard, “Get out of my way, loser. Or you will be sorry. If I wanted to see freaks, I’d go to a carnival.” The words taste like acid in my throat. I roll my shoulders to get the ick feeling out.
But Jane doesn’t budge. She leans in closer to me and tickles my ear with her breath. “Do you think I’m pretty, Ashley?”
I yank my head away and step back, right into Paul. We look at each other for a second and I see a flicker in his eye. I feel it, too. We both squint at each other, like we’re trying to figure each other out.
Because we are.
What is it we know?
“Hey, Ashley, do you think Gretchen is pretty?” Jane asks. Her smile travels up her face, like too far up her face? It reminds me of something. Something fucking awful. I shiver and sweat starts down my back.
Now Kaleigh and Madison are looking at me. In fact, it feels like the whole circle is looking at me. Jane walks forward and I walk backward. She walks me backward until I’m standing by Gretchen and Dylan, who have stopped fighting and are looking at me. I can feel my fists clenching and unclenching, but it’s like I’m not in control. It’s wrong. All wrong.
“Well, do you? I mean. It’s pretty obvious you’re in love with her.”
The sweat trickles down my back and I swallow. I swivel my head, left and right, the hallway blurring. Everyone is looking at me.
Trent’s ball is still spinning.
Jane goes on, “Well go ahead, tell her you love her. It’ll be a big romantic gesture, right?” She starts laughing.
And then Kaleigh says, “Holy shit, you’re gay? Ewww.”
Madison steps back from me. “Oh my god, how many times did you perv on me in gym class?”
The whole crowd starts laughing, except Paul who looks confused. And the other girl right by him, rubbing her ear and looking confused, too. Whatever her name is.
Violet.
Her name is suddenly there. I’m sure of it. It’s Violet. And I know her.
But Jane is still coming at me. I have to do what I do best. That’s it. Deny, deny, deny. Survive. Because everyone would believe me. I still rule this school.
I. Still. Rule. This. School.
Jane looks at me. “Well? Come clean. Are you a lesbo or not? Come on. Go ahead and give me a kiss.”
I open my mouth to speak.
DYLAN
I do not know what’s happening. Somehow the chirpiest girl in the world is backing down Ashley Garrett, the bitchiest bitch in the world. Except it doesn’t feel right to call her a bitch. I don’t know. Things are fuck-a-doodle-doo-doo right now. Something is wrong, yo.
Ashley’s in the middle of the circle with us now. And the fuck? What’s this about her being gay and in love with my Gretch?
Before I can noodle any of this—that repressed chick, Rachel, outing me; Ashley going girl-love and digging on Gretch—Rhinefart pushes his way through the crowd around us, standing by Violet. Something creeps down my spine. Something about Violet. Like, first of all, how do I know her name? And something else, too. I want to hug her and I don’t know why.
Rhinefart’s smile is super extra creepwad. He says, “What’s going on here?”
Jane steps up by Trent, his douchetroll ball spinning spinning spinning. She says, “Oh, quick recap, Mr. Rhinehart: John Luke here was telling his trailer trash girlfriend, Gretchen, that he’s been lying to her about his name and other things. And then Ashley was just about to come out to Trailer Trash with a profession of love.” She laughs. “It’s a pretty good day, if you ask me.”
Gretch next to me, speaks up. “Trailer trash? Really. Like you fucking know me.” But the dig is weak. My Gretch can normally kick back hard. I can’t think of anything to say. I got nothing. Just this stupid feeling that something is off. Just this helpless feeling. I’m forgetting something. Something important. Something that’ll help here. I put my hands on either side of my head and smack smack smack. I need to remember.
Someone in the crowd yells, “Freak,” again and I know it’s for me. I feel itchy all over.
Rhinefart laughs. “Well, don’t let me stop it.” He cocks his head and looks at Gretchen. “Didn’t I see you at Walmart using EBT?” He looks over at Jane. “I am so sick of subsidizing moochers. Good God. Do what you want with them.”
I stare at him. Even Rhinefart isn’t THIS bad of a teacher, right? Gretch shakes next to me and holds her side. She bends over. The crowd has started talking now, a million voices buzzing around. It gets louder and louder and louder and I put my hands over my ears. Gretch does, too, and Ashley looks around like, WTF, yo?
But then someone clears his throat and the buzzing stops. Paul steps forward.
He’ll make things better. I don’t know why I think that, but I do. I just know it. Know he’s a good guy.
But all he says is, “Uh, I need to go to class,” pulling his backpack closer to him. But he doesn’t move.
“John Luke! Are you going to answer me?” That girl again. What is she doing?
Gretchen looks at me, “Why the fuck is she calling you John Luke, Dylan? How do you know this girl?”
“I . . .”
I look around and swallow. The whole crowd seems to be leaning in. Gretch’s eyes are hard. Ashley Garrett looks at me, waiting to see what I’m going to say. Paul clears his throat again and that Violet girl looks like she’s going to say something. I stare at them all, looking back and forth. I’m alone in this, turns out. It ain’t getting any better.
And I have to survive, yo.
“I have no idea, babe. Girl’s messed up.”
And the hall goes crazy.
PAUL
I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to leave. I can’t stop looking at Gretchen and Dylan and Ashley in front of me. And I can’t stop my skin from crawling every time I look at Trent’s spinning fucking ball. I feel warmth beside me and know it’s Violet. But on the other side of her is Mr. Rhinehart, the worst teacher in the world who super creeps me out. He’s like Angelo from Measure to Measure—someone sleazy and awful. And he’s not doing anything. He’s supposed to be the adult. And he’s not just standing there. He’s egging them on, even.
When Dylan speaks, the whole crowd goes nuts. I have no idea what he’s said because I’m thinking about the book in my backpack and how I need to get out of there and to my locker before anyone sees me. In the corner of my eye, I swear I see a flash of red as Trent’s ball spins. How is he keeping that spinning? I look at him and he smiles, his smile traveling across his face for a second in a way that makes me step back.
Right into Tracey. And somehow my backpack falls and my books scatter, the Shakespeare sonnets sliding into the middle of the circle, right by Ashley’s feet.
The crowd goes quiet again. And someone shoves me hard. I trip into the circle with Ashley, Dylan, and Gretchen. I reach for the book, sweat dripping down my temple, but Ashley picks it up. She looks me in the eye.
Then Tracey, who was bending down by my backpack, stands up, holding my Medieval tights.
How did they get in there?
Oh, god. Oh, god, no.
She holds out the tights pinched between her thumb and forefinger. She stands on the other side of Rhinehart. Who for some reason is standing really, really close to Violet. Like, crazy close. Violet looks like she’s trying to shrink into herself.
Tracey says, “What. Are. These. Oh my god!” Then she starts laughing and pointing at me. Everyone else starts laughing and pointing at me, too. Except for Violet, who is trapped in the crowd and is now under Mr. Rhinehart’s arm.
What?
But I don’t have time to think about that. Ashley Garrett has picked up the sonnet book. Somehow, the laughing dies down and again it feels like people are leaning in. Ashley clears her throat and looks around. She hands the book to me and looks me in the eyes.
My face is wet—I realize I’m crying. Super brave man, Paul. Well done. Your dad would be proud.
I take the book and she stares for a second and the pull I feel is huge. But it’s hard to think about that when I just want to run away, get the attention off of me. And in that split second, I can see in Ashley’s eyes the same thing. My heart sinks.
She laughs loud. “I always knew you were a dork,” she says at me. And the crowd starts laughing again. Then she turns to Jane, “And like I’d ever like Gretchen, Jane. She’s on food stamps. If I were a lesbo, I’d have way better taste. Poverty pie really isn’t my thing.”
Gretchen’s head snaps back like she’s been slapped.
I clutch the book to my chest and try to grab the tights from Tracey, but she starts throwing them through the crowd and they bounce from person to person, each one saying “ew,” and “gross,” and “loser.” The tears are back on my face.
Gretchen turns to Ashley, “Like I’d ever like you, you whore.” Then her eyes flash at Dylan. “And who the fuck are you, Dylan? Who’s this girl?”
The girl in the long skirt smiles a super creepy smile. “John Luke here goes to my church. His parents and my parents are best friends—both our families live in the Meadowlands community, far away from your hovel. We live in God’s shining light, Gretchen. John Luke and I are going to get married after high school.” She puts her arm through Dylan’s, but he backs away from her and she steps back into the crowd.
Gretchen’s eyes flash. “Is this true, John Luke?”
But Dylan swallows and then points. I follow his finger. He is pointing to Violet, now in front of Mr. Rhinehart. Who has his arms wrapped around her. He whispers in her ear and she looks at me with her eyebrows furrowed.
Dylan says, “Look at that. I think Violet is doing it with Rhinefart.”
VIOLET
This is all wrong. Everything is wrong. I know these people. These people in the middle of the circle. I’m forgetting something. What am I forgetting? I look at Trent and the basketball spinning and spinning. I feel Mr. Rhinehart’s breath in my ear and listen to his words, “You are nothing without me. No one else can love you. You are lucky I even noticed you. I’ll be tired of you soon, though. It won’t take long. You don’t matter. No one will believe you, no one will listen to you.” His words stab my ear with every syllable, to the point where my ear actually hurts. He says the same things over and over and over, like he’s not a real man, but mechanical or something.
Well, he’s definitely not a real man.
When Dylan points and the whole crowd turns their attention to me, Mr. Rhinehart’s arms tighten around me.
“Ew, gross. What a slut!” I look to my left and it’s Stacey and Laurie. They start laughing and backing away from me. “Don’t get your slut on me!” Stacey starts laughing so hard she looks like a donkey.
Laurie says, “Seriously disgusting. He’s, like, a hundred years old. But, really, you guys are a perfect match.” She leans into Stacey and they snort-laugh.
I stare at them, barely registering their words. What am I forgetting? The ball flashes in my peripheral vision. I’m forgetting something important. I need to remember.
Ashley and Dylan and Paul and Gretchen look at me, then look anywhere else, their faces pale and stricken.
They are scared. They don’t catch each other’s eyes. Dylan won’t even look my way. I don’t know if they even know my name. But everything in me says I know them. I know them. How do I know them? What am I forgetting?
The whole school is laughing at me.
But so much weirder: I don’t care.
Because of the thing I’m forgetting. It’s there, whatever it is. It protects me. It means that none of this matters.
Remember, Violet. Remember.
I feel my spine get straighter. Remember.
I feel power build up inside me, I feel it push goosebumps out.
The power grows, bigger and bigger, until I can barely swallow. I take Rhinehart’s hands and pull them down and off of my body. And then I step forward.
The crowd is still laughing, but the laughter sounds weirder. Forced.
I am calm.
I look at Rhinehart and say, “No.”
The voices around me get louder, but I say again. “No.”
I stare him down. I stare everyone down. I look them in the eye and I burn it into them. “No,” I say.
The voices taper off and suddenly it is dead silent. Then I hear it: click, snap, whir from somewhere. The sound echoes off the lockers.
Click.
Snap.
Whir.
I’ve heard that sound before. Somewhere, a million years ago. It stirs something in me. It mingles all around this new power I have, this new me.
I say it again, this time louder. “NO.” This echoes off the lockers and down the hallway. A million Violets saying a million nos.
Rhinehart steps back and snarls. “No one will ever love you. Who do you think you are?” His words multiply and ricochet all around me.
Who do I think I am?
Click.
Snap.
Whir.
Who
do I think I am?
Remember.
I am a fucking ninja-goddess-warrior.
And I am waking up.
An image flashes through my mind, a man in a bed, sleeping, a demon flying out of a clock, a skeleton in a closet. Trent’s ball spins spins spins in front of me.
A laugh starts in me. I step forward into the group. They are all looking at me.
“I know who I am.” And now the laugh grows bigger. A warm feeling spreads through me. I know these people. And they know me. We are not alone.
“Who do I think I am? I am Violet,” I say to the group in front of me. A flash of something—a cane, a top hat, the man in the bed sitting up.
Click.
Snap.
Whir.
The voices around us start up, buzzing softly but then building louder. I squeeze my eyes shut then open them. Remember. Remember, Violet. More flashes: dolls, a whale, running running running, Dylan doing a flip. The man in the bed sitting up.
Remember. Remember, Violet. Wake up. WAKE UP, VIOLET.
And there it is.
I open my eyes and look at my people in front of me. “Wake up,” I say.
Click.
Snap.
Whir.
Ashley stares at me and swallows. She’s almost there. I say softer, “Ashley. Wake up.”
Something shifts in her eyes. She stands up straighter, no longer looking like a hunted animal. The voices around us get louder. She shakes her head, as if to clear it. Then she turns to Gretchen, “I am Ashley fucking Garrett,” she says, like she’s just realizing it. Then she turns to the crowd. “And I am gay.” Then she smiles big. “And I do like you, Gretchen. Fuck it!”
The voices get louder, sounding angry now. Then she adds, her smile growing bigger, “So suck on that, bigots!” Kaleigh and Madison and Jane hunch together. Flashes of crows on a branch pop in my mind. But then: Ashley throwing her shoe, flipping over a railing, catching Dylan, her feet mangled. Tears have started in my eyes.