I rolled my eyes as Mr. Schrader put the cupcake on the desk in front of me. He patted my head like I was five and said, "You still get to make a wish, though."
Not that I believed in that crap, but I wished for something good to happen and blew out the candle. Everyone clapped and went back to their offices and desks.
Mr. Schrader sat on the corner of my desk and Ms. Gunn kept smiling at me. "What's the first thing you're going to do when you get rid of those crutches?" he asked.
"I was thinking I might use the crutches to beat the crap out of the brace. I'd like to see just how strong it is. Maybe run it over a few times with my dad's car."
Mr. Schrader laughed. "You might do more damage to his car than the brace. Those things are pretty tough." Mr. Schrader's phone rang in his office, so he got up and headed back in there. "Enjoy your freedom, Risa."
"Thanks, Mr. Schrader," I called out as he closed his door. I turned to Ms. Gunn and gave her a mock glare. "You know I hate chocolate."
She laughed again. I loved her laugh. It was this sort of high-pitched, squeak of a laugh like she was trying to hold it in and couldn't. It suited her well. "I know, dear." She squeezed my shoulders. "That's why I went downtown to Planet of the Cupcakes and found the most awful looking chocolate monstrosity I could, just to torture you. Now, you're gonna eat every bite of that, or I'll have Mr. Schrader move you into woodshop instead of this cushy palace you've been living in."
Okay, so I really loved chocolate, but again, I'd made it my life goal to be as difficult as possible. Ms. Gunn always seemed to see through me and had a way of allowing me to be difficult and making me do what she knew I really wanted all at the same time. I really loved her for that. She didn't try to change me. No one in the office tried to change me. Sometimes Mr. Stacey gave me slightly worried looks, but he never pulled me into his office for one of his "concerned chats" about my attitude.
"Oh, I almost forgot!" she said excitedly as she turned back to her computer and clicked several times. "Remember that article about the town preparing for—"
"The zombie apocalypse?" I finished for her. "Yeah."
"Well, they said they started doing it after what happened in Southern California, right? Read this. I think they have a solid point."
She got up and pointed enthusiastically to her computer screen. I sat in her chair and began to read.
Teen Who Mutilated Family Now Tied to Setenid Blight Infection
Toxicology reports on the body of 17-year-old Raymond Acacia of Independence, CA were recently compared to those of several infected bodies from Bishop, CA. Upon completion of toxicology and microscopic analysis, the regional coroner's office states, "There are significant similarities which suggest the abuse of mushrooms of some kind. At this time however, it is unknown exactly which species of fungi contributed to the psychotic episodes of these individuals."
CDC officials went on to identify that when combined with the Setenid Blight Infection, which weakens your body's immune system, abuse of any narcotic substance will lead to a stronger, even deadly reaction.
The state of mind witnessed in Raymond Acacia, Jay Reeves, and several other infected drug-users has demonstrated that the combination of infection and drugs leaves victims with the inability to think rationally, leading to the mutilation and slaughter of those closest to them. In addition, the more recent information filtering in from Barstow, CA where the Infection spread several months ago necessitating quarantine protocol, tells us that beyond mutilation and murder, drug-induced psychosis has led many to actually ingest the bodies of their victims.
Now more than ever, it can be said that the dangers of drug abuse are high and oftentimes unforeseeable.
"Eeww." I wrinkled my nose and looked back at her. "Ingesting their bodies? That's gross."
She smiled. "And zombie-like."
"Oh, you're right. Creepy." Thinking about the infection spreading to Armstrong made it even creepier because I totally wouldn't put it past our "criminals" to take any kind of drug they could get their hands on.
I stayed pretty busy in the office the rest of the period. Word had got out about a month earlier that there was a capable senior working in the office, so teachers started dropping off things for me to do. Copies to run, scantrons to scan, spreadsheets to create, papers to be stapled, hole-punched, or cut in fours—brainless work, really, but it kept me busy. I'd groan and grumble, and they'd just laugh and say thanks.
Sometimes they'd stand and chat with Ms. Gunn, and I'd put my two-cents in their conversations. Mr. Vigil stopped by a lot since fourth was his planning period, and he'd pull me into conversations about politics or ask Ms. Gunn and me about the recent creepy news articles he knew we exchanged. It was a comfortable routine, and it felt more like a home to me than anything I had anywhere else. It almost made me want to flunk out of senior year just so I could stay with them a little longer.
Since it was Friday, my lunch delivery services weren't necessary, but I did have to call in our standing pizza order. It was a bit of a power trip to have Mr. Schrader's credit card number memorized, but I'd given it so often, I couldn't help it. When I first started lunch runs, everyone gave me cash. It was a huge pain, but I was happy to do it instead of being thrown in some lame class. After a few weeks of chatting with Mr. Schrader and getting to know everyone, he just took the cash from me and handed me his credit card. When he found out I was still paying cash for my own food, he said he'd expel me if I did it again. I laughed, but he stared me down until I agreed to let him buy me lunch.
I was always kinda sad to leave my little home and go to fifth period, but now I was anxious and nervous as well. Would Brodie show up again today? Would he insist on sitting next to me? How would I feel if he didn't? Ugh. No. I was not going to like this guy. He was a delinquent. He probably drank and did drugs, and he probably stole things. Yes, I would simply refuse to like him. It was a wise decision.
Still, when he walked in, slapping the hands of a few guys in the back, acting like he owned the place, my pulse accelerated and my palms got sweaty.
"Yo, Mr. V," Brodie called out. "How's it hanging today?"
Mr. Vigil shook his head sadly. "I'm just fine today, Mr. Decker. How are you?"
"Eh, you know, can't complain." He sat down next to me, throwing his arm across the back of my chair. "How 'bout you, sunshine? How you doin'?"
I rolled my eyes and gave him a very terse, "Fine."
His hand massaged the back of my neck, making my chest tighten with nervousness, and I don't even know what. "Relax, sweetheart." He leaned closer to me. "I don't bite… unless you ask me to."
I scooted my chair closer to the table, and his hand fell from my neck down my back eliciting unwanted goose bumps on its path. Just then, Marcia Simmons walked in, and Brodie's attention thankfully transferred to her skirt, or I should say, her lack of a skirt. If she bent over, there was no doubt you'd be seeing London and France.
"Marcia, you sexy thang," Brodie called out as he put his hand out to her. "You're looking hot today."
She put her hand in his and giggled in that affected little girl way that was like nails on a chalkboard to me. "You can look anytime you want to, Brodie."
Out of the corner or my eye, I saw him kiss her hand. "I just might take you up on that, darlin'."
Did he have to call every girl by some ridiculous nickname? What was it Sara was saying about his inability to remember their names? Maybe that's why he did it. It didn't matter, really, because I didn't care. It made no difference to me. I busied myself with pulling out my binder and a pen. Drumming my fingers on the table, I wondered if he called any other girls "sunshine." No, damn it, you don't care! I yelled at myself.
Use It
Just as the final bell rang, Sammy came rushing in and stopped by Brodie. I hadn't really gotten to know Sammy or anything, but he seemed nice enough. He wasn't the chick magnet Brodie seemed to be, but his tall, athletic build, brown hair and warm brown eyes got him plenty of notic
e. When he started speaking Spanish or singing songs in Spanish or heck even mumbling in Spanish every girl within a fifteen-foot radius seemed to flock to him, except me, obviously. Still, he seemed nice and smiled at me after saying something to Brodie, which was too low for me to hear.
Mr. Vigil passed out the familiar "Think-Pair-Share" worksheet we'd used a million times. It was a simple eight-question multiple choice sheet where we were to discuss the questions, make an educated guess on the answers, and share our thoughts. They never bothered me before when I had Crystal as my partner, who paid attention and cared about doing her work. But now, as I looked over at my new partner, I groaned. This would not be fun.
"Okay, get to it," Mr. Vigil called out.
I wrote our names at the top and immediately, the harassment began.
"You know how to spell my name, sunshine?"
I gave him that do-I-look-like-a-moron expression. "I've written you several tardy slips, Brodie. It's not like your name is that unique."
"But you remembered it." He scooted his chair forward, so he was within inches of me. "That's sweet."
I had a feeling I was going to wind up with a headache from all the eye rolling he naturally made me do. "What is the primary reason for conflict in Congress and state legislatures?"
He pulled his fingers through several strands of my hair. "Are you gonna keep it black or let the blonde grow back out?"
"My hair color is not part of the assignment. We're supposed to be talking about the worksheet."
He stared dreamily at my hair, picking up a few more strands and letting them glide through his fingers. "You should dye it red, like Kool-Aid red."
I glared at him. "I would never dye my hair with Kool-Aid."
He chuckled, moving his Adam's Apple in a noticeably attractive way. "I didn't say you should use Kool-Aid, just the color. Although, cherry-scented hair to go with your cher—"
"Shut up," I smacked him in the chest, but he was solid, and it made my hand sting a bit.
"You're so sensitive about that," he smiled sweetly. "Like I said, I'd be happy to scratch that itch for you, sweetheart."
I covered my face with my hands in annoyance. "Oh—my—God." Sucking in a deep breath, I put my hands back on the table, palms down. "Could we just finish the freaking worksheet?"
"You already know this stuff, why don't you just circle the right answers while I amuse myself with your hair and your adorably blushing nose." He tapped my nose once and resumed playing with my hair.
It took me a full minute to get my brain back on track. He knew I knew the answers. But how did he know that? He'd barely been in class in the two months I'd been at Armstrong. How did he know anything about me?
"What are you doing this weekend?" he asked out of nowhere.
I turned to glare at him. "How do you know I know the answers?"
He arched his dark eyebrow at me, and his eyes sparkled with flecks of green amidst the foggy gray. "You answer mine, and I'll answer yours."
I wasn't doing anything any weekend. I would likely sit on the couch in my pajamas and watch TV while creating strange artwork on Dad's laptop. I wasn't going to tell him that, though. "Flying to London by personal invitation from the Queen."
His eyebrow arched even higher on his forehead. "I know you know the answers because I'm psychic."
"Just answer the question," I demanded.
"Why," he asked, smiling again. "You didn't answer mine."
I folded my arms across my chest and stared at the clock. Twenty minutes more and Dad would arrive to take me to my doctor's appointment, so I could stop wearing the stupid brace. Sarcasm aside, I didn't lie. I hated lying, and I hated liars. Kelsea was a liar. Bill was a liar. I didn't want any commonalities to exist between them and me. But it killed me to answer him because it showed what a loser I was. I had no family to hang out with, no friends to talk to, and absolutely nothing to do. Staring at my arms, I managed to mumble, "Nothing."
He ran his fingers through my hair again, grasping the back of my neck and guiding me to look at him. "Back when your hair was still blonde, I'd come to class, and you were so bored. The way you glared at everything and sped through all the work made me laugh. I didn't know why you bothered with it. I still don't. It's pointless, you know."
He surprised me with his honest answer. But the reality was we were stuck here. To get out, you had to do the work. "It's a grade, Brodie. You have to get them to move on. Don't you want to move on?"
He shrugged, but kept a serious eye-lock with me. "Sometimes yes, and sometimes not so much. What are we moving on to?"
Hadn't I just been feeling the same exact thing about leaving my office family? The shared sentiment caught me off guard. I hadn't expected to have anything in common with this guy other than the stupid attraction we seemed to feel to each other. I didn't like the unexpected.
I knew my heartbeat was too fast, and he surely noticed the way my breathing sped up. I had to pull my mask back in place. "Can we just get this worksheet done? Since we're both so smart, it should only take a second, right?"
He studied me for a moment and nodded gravely. I looked back down and tried to keep my voice even as I read the first question again. "What is the major reason for—"
He moved his chair next to mine and scooted so close to me that his left thigh pressed against my right thigh. He put his arm around my waist, making all kinds of hormones react in my body. Leaning his upper body so close to me I could easily kiss his cheek, he placed his right hand over mine and moved our hands and the pen toward the first question. I was so freaking flustered that I didn't even know how to react. My head was screaming push him away and everything else in me was screaming kiss him.
His warm breath sent shivers down my spine. "What is the primary reason for conflict in Congress and state legislatures?" He moved our hands to the first answer. "Nope, not this one." Then he moved us to the next answer. "Not that one either."
"Mr. Decker." Mr. Vigil stood in front of our table. "What are you doing?"
Brodie didn't move an inch. "We already know what we think. Now we're pairing and sharing."
"Move away from her," he said sternly.
Brodie pulled his hand from my waist and sat up straight again. He was quiet until Mr. Vigil walked away from our table. "There's a party Saturday at Crisper's house. Come with me."
My nerves were fried, I still hadn't caught my breath, and this guy was seriously wearing me out. I laughed in his face for like a solid minute. Mr. Vigil came back and gave me a concerned look. Covering my face with my hand, I waved at him. "Sorry, sorry." Somehow, I managed to get control of myself and looked at Brodie again. "No."
He didn't flinch or miss a beat. His immediate response was, "Why not, sunshine?"
"Why do you keep calling me that? I'm far from sunny and chipper. Is that supposed to be a sarcastic insult?"
"Not at all. Something about you makes me feel kinda light and sunny. I can't explain it better than that. And I'm an excellent judge of people." He tucked a few stray strands of hair behind my ear. "This whole black hair, sarcastic, tough girl thing you got going on—it's just a front." I glared at him, but he just moved closer, our noses only a few inches from touching. "Hey, your secret's safe with me. You do a good job—it's a good front—I'm just better at spotting who people really are than others."
Right, he was the freaking Yoda of Armstrong High. I looked back down at the stupid worksheet and circled all the correct answers in less than a minute then put my pen and binder away. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him still watching me.
My impatience finally got the better of me. "What?"
"Lemme see your pen again."
I couldn't hold back my exasperated sigh as I dug it back out and handed it to him. He surprised me by grabbing my right arm and turning it over, palm up on the desk. Along my arm he wrote his number and the words, "Use It."
"Change your mind about Saturday."
What was up with this guy? How
did he live with so much confidence? Didn't it make it hard to walk through doorways with a head as big as his? He didn't say, if you change your mind or In case you change your mind. No, it was a command.
Three beeps on the intercom had me sighing in relief. A male voice I knew to be Mr. Jones' said, "Mr. Vigil, please send Risa Neely to the front office for check-out."
"You're leaving?" Brodie asked in an almost sad voice that made me look at him. He actually seemed disappointed.
"I have a doctor's appointment." I pointed to my knee brace and leaned down to pick my crutches up off the floor.
He slid his fingers through mine, and I couldn't completely hold back my smile over the way he kept touching me like he was my boyfriend. For someone who'd been doing her damnedest not to feel anything at all, he was seriously derailing my progress.
"Saturday?" he asked.
But I simply shook my head, pulled my fingers from his, and hobbled out of the room.
My long trek to the office gave me the necessary time I needed to stop the ridiculous giggly feeling in my chest. When the newness of the feeling wore off, I realized I was being stupid. I didn't need some guy to come along and complicate things. I just wanted some peace and quiet.
Roomies
I smiled a little, realizing it was the last time I would have to negotiate the heavy office door with crutches. I wondered if Dad would be happy that he wouldn't have to trip over my crutches anymore. I always tried to keep them out of the way, but they seemed intent on falling down, and the poor guy couldn't seem to avoid them.
Looking around the waiting area, I didn't see him, so I hobbled down to Ms. Abbott's office, thinking he might be flirting with her. It was really awkward that he was seeing her, but I couldn't begrudge him companionship. I felt sorry for him really, for needing someone. I didn't need anyone, and I was perfectly happy that way.
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