Leftover Girl

by Bolick, C. C.

  Mr. Larson grinned and pointed at Ronald. “That’s right. On Fridays we get out of this boring classroom and do some cool stuff.” Whoops and hollers turned the room into a pep rally our teacher struggled to contain. “Now, I need everyone to take a seat in the lab. Two people per table, please. Find yourselves a partner you can work with all semester.”

  Most people rose at once, but I hesitated. Every school was the same sad story, as choosing partners always seemed to translate into one more popularity contest. I had no friends in Mr. Larson’s class, no one sympathetic enough to end my suffering. Even the newest guy in school would surely hear a ‘yes’ before me.

  At an empty table, I lowered onto a stool, broken along the edge with no back. Several students gathered in the center of the room, discussing who would get who. I pulled the drawing pad from my backpack and opened to a page creased at the corner, ready for my escape.

  “That’s pretty good.”

  I looked up in surprise as blue eyes admired my latest sketch. “Thanks.”

  Chase reached for the pad and claimed the seat adjoining mine. As he flipped the pages like a cartoon in slow motion, his eyes grew wider. “These are better than good. They’re great.”

  Everyone in lab negotiated a seat, but still no movement from Chase. Mr. Larson paused at our table with an array of manuals. “Color?”

  “Green,” we said, at the same time.

  Chase grinned. “Looks like we’ll get along just fine.”

  I reached for the folder. “How did you know I’d say green?”

  “I didn’t,” Chase said as Mr. Larson walked away. “Green is my favorite color.”

  He must be kidding. “Mine too.”

  “Sounds like we have something in common.”

  The need to discover more about this mysterious guy was increasing, and not only for Bailey’s sake. “How was the vocab test this morning?” Idiot, I thought, wanting to kick myself for reminding Chase of the scene in his mom’s class.

  He shrugged. “When your mom’s an English teacher, not doing well is kind of a waste.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I ever failed her test, she’d stay in teacher mode after school. Some girls that first day were saying how ‘cool it would be to have a mom who’s the teacher.’ I say they’re crazy. If I make the smallest grammar mistake, she’s all over me, and she hates contractions. Why do you think I was talking to Dr. Greene on the first day? The stupid computer placed me in her class and I was trying to convince him to have my schedule changed.”

  I listened, fascinated by the way his hands moved, by the animation in his voice.

  “You have no idea how it feels.” He took a heaving breath. “I bet you think I’m weird.”

  “I’m not the best judge of weirdness.”

  Chase shook his head and laughed. “You’re the worst liar.”

  “It’s just that you can’t be any weirder than me. And I do know how it feels to have a mom who’s a teacher.”

  The laughter stopped. “How can you know that?”

  “Because my mom’s a teacher here too. She’s Mrs. Delaney and math is what she’s teaching, though I’m glad pre-cal isn’t on my schedule this year.”

  “Yes,” he said, eyes slowly raking over me. “Her room is next to my fourth class. You have the same brown eyes and hair.”

  “She never minds helping with my homework. You might have her class next year.”

  “We move around a lot. I’m sure I’ll be at a different school next year.”

  “Moving’s a pain,” I said, but he’d opened the binder and started writing again.

  * * * * *

  “Can you believe that woman?” Bailey asked. After complaining for two-thirds of lunch, she showed no sign of stopping. “Hey, are you listening to me?”

  “Yeah, but I’m also trying to eat,” I said.

  “You don’t sound happy. What’s wrong?”

  She blinked and I prepared for her next move, while hoping she dropped the subject. Depression with the appetite of kudzu would be impossible to explain, especially when I didn’t fully understand the roots. Chase’s disconnection struck a nerve not open for discussion, even with Bailey. I gripped the fork until red lines sank into my skin. “What are you going to do about Mrs. Pearson?”

  “Don’t you mean what are we going to do?”

  “We?” An image appeared of Dad screaming at me twice in the same week.

  “We’re gonna fix this before my mom finds out. If she hears about me texting in class and Mrs. Pearson taking my phone, she’ll say no going out tonight. You know if I can’t go, you can’t go either.”

  “How do you know Mrs. Pearson hasn’t already called Aunt Charlie?”

  “Because I had Pade call her during first lunch. If Mom had changed her mind about letting me go, she would’ve said.”

  “You told Pade?”

  “Pade and I always cover for each other. Besides, he wants you to come.”

  I dropped the fork. “Pade’s going to the Fun Connection?”

  She smiled. “Football games don’t start ‘til next week.”

  “What about Sarah Beth?”

  “Forget Sarah Beth, she won’t even be there tonight. Her parents are going away for this ‘save your marriage’ retreat and they’re dumping her with the grandparents.”

  “But she and Pade are still dating, right?”

  “Don’t even act like you feel sorry for that girl. She’s not as nice as people say.” Bailey raised a hand, brushing away our argument. “Pade’s my brother and I’ve known him since before you were born.”

  “Like the difference between November twenty-fifth and January second makes you an expert on everything.” I shook my head and sighed. “You were saying about Mrs. Pearson?”

  “I’ve got an idea.”

  * * * * *

  Fifteen minutes after the last bell, Bailey and I slipped through the side door of building five on careful toes. Eerily silent, the hall stretched before us with open doors to either side. After passing three empty rooms and an abandoned janitor’s cart, we stood in the doorway of our first block. I hesitated, taking a step back, but Bailey pushed me inside. She put a finger to her lips.

  “Do you wanna get us in trouble?” she hissed, barely above a whisper.

  “Just making sure no one was coming,” I said.

  “Her meeting should give us enough time, but we’ve got to hurry.”

  As we reached the desk, looming like forbidden treasure at the front of the room, Bailey snatched open each drawer, pawing through the papers with record speed. “Here’s next week’s vocab test.”

  “Just find the phone.” I no longer hid the urgency in my voice or the desperation to escape Mrs. Pearson’s room.

  “I’ve got it.” Bailey held up the phone, her voice filled with satisfaction. “She’ll never know what happened.”

  I reached down to close the bottom drawer. “Let’s go.”

  Bailey pulled a black binder from the drawer before I could slide it shut. “This looks like the one Chase was writing in yesterday. Aren’t you a little curious?”

  “I think you’ve got the phone and we should go.”

  “Oh Jes, you’re no fun.” She laughed, opening the front cover and flipping through several pages of notebook paper. Chemistry notes, instructions on how to search for an I.P. address, maps of Delaware and Alabama. About halfway through, she paused and glanced up, face serious. Names filled the left side of the page from top to bottom, the names of every girl in first block. Notes followed to the right and some names were marked through, including mine. “Are you seeing this?”

  I swallowed hard. “I’m seeing.”

  Steps sounded outside the doorway and we sank behind the desk, Bailey still clutching the binder.

  “You should not be here,” Mrs. Pearson said and a man answered. I lowered an ear to the floor and glimpsed the gold shoes our teacher wore during first block. The man’s shoes were black and narrow
, curved at the toes like the boots janitors wore.

  “What should we do?” Bailey whispered.

  “You could be jeopardizing our mission by coming here,” Mrs. Pearson said, but still no sound from the man.

  Sympathy for the janitor bubbled inside me, his foot twitching in preparation of a run for the door. His voice shrank from hers and, despite a few English words, quickly changed gears with a language that made no sense. The gold shoes shifted forward and her voice rose, also spewing words I’d never heard.

  My cheek flattened against the cold tile as I struggled to catch a view of him. The man was dressed in the same dark green as the other janitors I’d seen.

  Mrs. Pearson pointed two fingers at the door. The handle turned and the door creaked open, bringing a rush of air against my face. I gasped when I realized no one stood on the other side.

  The man bowed and turned, his shoes silent across the floor, his eyes staring ahead. When he reached the hall, the sound of a cart echoed, metal on concrete, rolling away.

  Our teacher faced the desk and I froze, but instead of approaching, she spun and followed the janitor’s path. Her feet clicked down the hall as if her heels were marching inside my ears.

  When the sound faded completely, I released a breath, nearly choking. Bailey shoved the binder in the drawer and we ran all the way back to the hall door we’d used earlier. Free in the sunshine, Bailey halted, staring down at her hands.

  “My phone,” she said in agony.

  Again, I saw the door opening, no hands touching it. Then the notes next to my name: draws great, brown eyes, brown hair, no confidence.

  “Jes, you’re gonna call me an idiot. I was in such a hurry I threw my phone back in the drawer with that binder. We’ve got to—”

  “I’m done with sneaking into her room. Let’s get out of here.”

  Bailey crossed her arms. “What about tonight?”

  “If Mrs. Pearson hasn’t called your mom yet, maybe she won’t. You can apologize on Monday and she’ll probably give it back.”

  “I’ve tried already.”

  “Well, try again.”

  “There’s something weird about that woman.”

  Really, she just figured that out? I grabbed my backpack from the bushes and started walking.

  Bailey followed, in a fog. “Did you hear what Mrs. Pearson was saying? I can’t stand how formal she talks. Sometimes her words don’t even sound English.”

  “She was talking to a man, a janitor I think.”

  “Don’t you mean chewing out a man? I don’t care what language she spoke; I’d be taking upset to another level.”

  “Did you see them leave?”

  “I couldn’t see anything from under the desk, but I did hear the door when they left. Did you read what that creepy notebook said? Talks more than Lauren. Who is Lauren and how could he write that about me?”

  My fear had begun to subside, replaced by anger since the conversation was once again all about Bailey. “I don’t know why Chase would be writing anything about us.” Or why my name was marked out.

  “Maybe Chase is a pervert or creep or something. His mom probably found the binder and took it.” She brightened. “Or maybe he’s trying to find a girlfriend.”

  Mrs. Pearson words played again in my head, You could be jeopardizing our mission.

  “You’re not listening,” Bailey said.

  “I was just thinking about what Mrs. Pearson said.”

  “What did my mom say?”

  The voice froze my feet in the August heat, allowing Chase to block my path, cornering me with his eyes.

  Bailey stepped between us. “That she won’t give back my phone.”

  His eyes narrowed as he stared into mine, filling with darkness, and then instantly the darkness faded as he turned and smiled for Bailey. “My mom is stuck on the rules. She doesn’t like to be disrespected.”

  Bailey’s voice sweetened. “What do you think I should do?”

  His smile widened to match her voice. “You might apologize and be real nice about it.”

  Even worse, Bailey raised her eyebrows and mirrored his smile. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  I thought of the day she ‘called’ him in the cafeteria. How could she be so sure about a guy without even speaking to him? Sure, he was cute enough, but an image of me flirting with Chase forced a round of giggles. I covered my mouth in an attempt to stop the laughter exploding next. Chase and Bailey gave each other the ‘this girl’s crazy’ look, which only made me laugh more. Heat flooded my cheeks as tears filled the corners of my eyes. I struggled to a nearby bench and dropped down, swatting the threat of showers.

  Bailey lowered by my side, leaving Chase at a safe distance. “What was the L.E. all about?”

  His forehead creased. “L.E.?”

  Bailey giggled. “Laugh explosion.”

  “You speak your own language?”

  Bailey joined my laughter as she slipped an arm around my neck. “We’re like sisters, so yes, we speak our own language. But I have to warn you, when a laugh explosion starts it gets around to everyone.”

  I stared at Bailey. I’d known many friends over the years, some for weeks or even months before being lost to me, but never had someone called me a sister. The idea made me tremble while my heart soared.

  Chase smiled, this time with no resemblance to laughter. “I’m sorry about my mom.”

  Bailey straightened. “I was only worried about the phone mainly because we’re going to the Fun Connection tonight and if my mom finds out your mom took it she’ll have a fit. And we’ll both be stuck at home.”

  “Fun Connection? Is that in Credence?”

  “The Fun Connection is across the river,” Bailey said. “About thirty minutes from here.”

  Chase looked from Bailey to me, then back to Bailey. “I get it. You don’t need to worry about my mom tonight.” Turning, he walked away without another word.

  Bailey stood. “You don’t think he thought you and me…”

  “No, let’s go, you know Mom’s got to be waiting.”

  “I hope he was right about his mom.”

  When we climbed into the van, air rushed from the vents and cooled the fire in my cheeks. Already my fears were fading. Bailey would never be lost to me, and I only imagined a door opening itself. Door handles couldn’t really twist without someone on the other side. And Mrs. Pearson’s words—that was probably French or Italian or something other than the three months of Spanish I’d taken in the town outside of Phoenix. I placed a hand flat with the tinted glass and watched as people outside rode atop lawn mowers, filled every stall at the car wash, and followed wiener dogs down the midtown sidewalk. Maybe the night will turn out good after all. Just as the thought escaped, a noise filled the van, above the easy sounds of Mom’s typical sixties’ rock. Bailey jerked to attention and rambled through her backpack, until the noise had words, and a tune.

  Mom glanced in the mirror. “That’s probably Charlie.”

  Bailey put her phone to her ear, held by her shoulder as she linked her hands in silent prayer.

  The Fun Connection

  Aunt Charlie dropped us off in front of dark glass lining the main entrance to the Fun Connection. Pade followed, until he noticed Terrance and Skip and almost ran in their direction.

  I’d barely completed a sentence around Pade since telling him the kiss meant nothing. The thirty-minute ride had consisted of Bailey recapping the week next to me in the backseat. Aunt Charlie cut in once, just to ask if Bailey had every class with Chase. Each time the dark hair in front of me stirred, I remembered the softness of Pade’s lips touching mine, and excitement burned, though an image of his face after my words stole the thrill.

  “Do you realize we’re finally parent-free?” Bailey asked.

  Two elbows and a pair of skates grazed the side of my head before I moved closer to Bailey. The ceiling opened as we entered the main atrium to six rows of glass that held back the stars. Yellow wallpaper shin
ed like the sun, descending from the roof to the floor. My shoes squeaked along the tile, but no one seemed to notice the awful sound. Most people flowed from double doors to our right, dumping bags of popcorn as they passed. In front of us stretched the skating rink and to the left a putt-putt golf course. Up a winding staircase, each step aglow, rose an entire level Bailey called Gaming Galore.

  “How ‘bout pizza?” I shouted, above music that shook my feet and merged with at least a dozen conversations.

  “Don’t you ever think about fun before food?”

  “Just a quick slice,” I begged.

  Bailey chewed on her Slurpee straw and checked a text as I shoveled in two slices of pepperoni pizza covered by a cheese explosion. “Angel and Rachelle are getting their skates already,” she said, resting her phone on the table. “How do you think he did it?”

  I stared at the phone, giving up on savoring the sticky warmth against the roof of my mouth. “What?”

  “You know what,” she said. “Chase put this phone in my backpack and I never saw him do it. Did you?”

  “I didn’t see him near your bag.”

  “It had to be him. He even said ‘don’t worry about my mom.’ I can’t believe Chase did that for me.”

  “He could be grounded for weeks if his mom finds out.”

  “Isn’t he great?” She stared beyond me, through the glass that separated us from the skating rink, until her smile died. “Do you think he heard me call him a creep?”

  “Have you changed your mind?” I asked.

  “Maybe.” Bailey’s voice sounded at first uncertain but changed as she studied my face. “He must be an okay guy. I mean, come on, do you think he would have gotten my phone back if—” She covered her mouth, face streaked with red.

  “He didn’t like you?”

  Hope flashed in her eyes. “You think he likes me?”

  Jeez, I’d never act like a fan-crazed groupie over a guy in public. “He was flirting with you.”

  “When?”

  “You know, after you flirted with him.”

  “I did not…” she started, but smiled again as my eyebrows shot up. “Okay, maybe I did.”