The Bright Effect

by Autumn Doughton

  “Caroline!” my dad called from the hall.

  “Getting dressed!” I hollered back.

  “Ten minute warning.”

  “I’m hurrying,” I lied as I stared at the wildly-patterned leggings, cream-colored top, and bright teal scarf that I had picked out last week with Hannah’s help. The shirt was okay, but those leggings? Yeah, who was I kidding? That just wasn't happening. Not even on a good day... and today was not a good day.

  I threw the leggings and scarf in a pile on the floor next to my desk before pulling out a pair of well-worn jeans and a plain top from my dresser drawers.

  As I dressed, I thought more about my predicament. It’s not like I could reasonably be mad at Hannah for jumping at the chance to leave. Logically, I knew this was an opportunity of a lifetime. But knowing that didn’t change the fact that I was stuck behind in boring Oklahoma. Sure, Libby Park was pretty and quaint. It had been voted the “Top Historic Town in the Midwest” three years running, but that didn’t make it cool. Certainly not London-cool.

  Even steadfast, always-there-in-a-pinch, Owen Kilgore had been radio silent for days. He was off doing new and exciting things too. After a lot of pushing from his parents, he had agreed to transfer to Holy Cross this year because their lacrosse team was much better than Northside’s and it would definitely boost his college scholarship prospects.

  Nope, I couldn’t blame either Hannah or Owen for leaving, but that didn’t mean that I had to like it. No matter how I looked at the situation, I was officially and completely alone. And, as I tried to wrangle my mass of curly red hair into a simple ponytail, I decided I wasn’t happy about it. Not one bit.

  “Caroline! If you aren't out in five minutes, you'll be walking to school!” Dad yelled up the stairs.

  The threat was actually pretty tempting, but a flash of lightning followed by a thundering boom quickly changed my mind. If it wasn't raining cats and dogs, walking would have been a much better alternative to sitting in my dad's old beat up work truck that smelled faintly of oil, grime, and cigarette smoke for ten minutes of what was sure to be awkward silence.

  “Fine,” I mumbled under my breath before shouting, “I'm coming!” as I grudgingly stomped down the stairs. He was waiting for me at the front door with one hand already on the doorknob and his toolbox in the other. He was wearing a plain white shirt with a red flannel shirt over it, dirty blue jeans, and his work boots. He must have a job today. That was, so far, the only bright spot in this very gloomy morning.

  I’d seen pictures of my dad from when he was in high school. Back in the day he looked just like Val Kilmer in all of his Top Gun glory. Sadly, these days the only thing he resembled was a broken man in grease-stained jeans.

  “What took you so long?” he said, looking down at the toolbox in his hands instead of up at me. He never looked me in the eyes any more. Even though it hurt, it wasn't hard to understand why he couldn't. With my mess of red curls, the dusting of freckles across my nose, and my pale green eyes, everyone said I looked just like my mom.

  “I couldn't decide what to wear,” I grumbled. I really wished it wasn't raining. The eight blocks on foot would probably be worth it just so that I could pop by Starbucks for a Pumpkin Spice Latte right now. Even when the world sucked all around me, I could always count on PSL to remind me that there were still bits of happiness out there.

  For the last two years, I’d ridden with Hannah and her brother. But this year, I'd be depending on my dad for rides until I could manage to buy myself a car. I’d piled on the babysitting jobs over the summer to save up and I was almost there. Just a dozen or so more nights of getting my hair pulled by the Rennert boys and I should have enough. It would probably only be enough to snag a junker but I wasn’t going to complain. I’d take anything.

  Before she left, Hannah had advised me to ask my father for help, but I wasn't about to go there. Dad couldn’t spare the couple hundred dollars I needed or handle an extra insurance payment. God, he could barely cover the bills as it was.

  He was a contractor who was scarcely able to stay afloat in work. And it had been that way ever since Mom died.

  Plus, the old Victorian house we lived in wasn't exactly cheap to maintain. Even to these standards, I thought as I looked around.

  Mom had had huge plans for this place… historic tours or maybe even a bed and breakfast that would one day be featured in a five-page spread in Architectural Digest. But, like everything else, the house and the dream had faded when she had. Now I just hoped that the walls and the roof would hold through the winter.

  “Well, c'mon before we're both late,” he muttered as he handed me an umbrella.

  “Thanks,” I said as I took the umbrella from him. I grabbed my bag from the hook in the hall and dragged my feet out the door. The world outside was cloaked in a grimy grey. I blamed Hannah for this too. As if it wasn’t enough that she had abandoned me, it truly seemed that my bright and sunshiny best friend had taken the sun and all of its warmth with her.

  “Good morning, Mr. McKain,” a familiar voice rang out, surprising me. I looked up to see Henry, Hannah's older brother, walking up the sidewalk toward us holding a cup from Starbucks. Could it possibly be a delicious Pumpkin Spice Latte? My heart thumped with anticipation.

  Henry had on hoodie with Northside Buffalos written in red lettering across the front. The hood was pulled up, but his face still glistened with stray raindrops. He and Hannah had that weird sibling quality where they looked alike but not really. They both had light brown hair that faded to soft gold at the tips and wide-set eyes that seemed to shift between smoky blue and grey. Today Henry’s eyes seemed more grey than blue as though they were reflecting the dreary sky and my mood.

  “Caroline? Are you okay?”

  “I-I…What are you doing here?” I asked, secretly hoping that the coffee cup in his hands was for me.

  “Um, it is the first day of school, right?” he said as he handed me the coffee. My hero!

  “Yeah,” I answered, taking the cup from him gratefully and letting my hands absorb the warmth. Mmmm, it was definitely a PSL! Fall in a cup and so good for the soul.

  “So—I'm here.”

  “You're still going to give me rides?” I asked, dumbfounded.

  “Of course I am. Why wouldn't I?” Henry frowned, which drew my attention to his mouth and square chin. He hadn’t bothered to shave this morning and I could see a light smattering of stubble along his jaw. Hannah always complained if Owen didn’t shave, but if I was being totally honest, I kind of liked the scruffy look. It was rugged and… hot. Not that I was supposed to be thinking of Henry as hot. What was wrong with me this morning? He was Hannah’s brother and a taken man.

  “I, uh… I just figured with Hannah gone, you wouldn't bother.”

  “You know I'd never let ya down,” he said with an easy smile. “Remembered your favorite coffee and everything.”

  “Okay great, so Henry will take you to school,” Dad said, not even bothering to hide the relief in his voice. “See you this evening, Caroline. And thanks, Henry.”

  “Right. Bye, Dad.” I waved to his back as he hurried away.

  “Should we get going?” Henry asked, bringing my attention back to the fact that we were still standing out in the rain and, unlike me, he didn’t have an umbrella.

  “Yeah, sorry.” I raised the umbrella, stretching it as high as I could in an attempt to shield us both from the downpour. Henry, quite a bit taller than my five feet two inches, laughed as he took the umbrella from me and held it high enough for both of us. He rested his hand on the small of my back and my body suddenly rippled with an involuntary shiver.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “Mm-hmm,” I mumbled. Better to fake a chill in September than admit that my body just spontaneously combusted at his mere touch.

  “So are we picking up Elise too?” I asked hesitantly. Elise and Henry had been dating almost as long as Hannah and Owen had, which meant forever in my opinion. But, unlike Ow
en, I didn’t particularly like Elise Rivers. Call me crazy but blond, big-breasted and bitchy was not my idea of someone I wanted to spend time with. But I wasn’t a guy so what did I know?

  “No,” he said a little harshly before adding, “We broke up.”

  What? My brain was screaming with this new information. Though I’d never thought Elise deserved him in the first place, this was an unexpected development. Of course, I wasn’t sure that any man, woman or beast on the planet could ever really deserve Henry Vaughn. “Really? What happened?

  “I caught her messing around with some jackass from Holy Cross at a field party a few weeks ago,” he said.

  “What?” I sputtered. “Hannah didn’t mention it.”

  “I didn’t exactly hire a skywriter if you know what I mean.”

  “Right.” I shook my head. “God, Henry, I’m so sorry.”

  “No worries. I’ve had time and I’m fine with it,” he said with a casual shrug, but I could tell he was still hurt by the betrayal.

  If I didn’t like Elise before, I really hated her now. I wanted to press the issue, squeeze out all the dirty details but I could tell Henry didn’t want to talk about it, so I let it drop. I’d definitely have to ask Hannah about this later.

  The ride to school was a little awkward. Maybe it was because we’d been discussing Elise, or maybe it was because it was just the two of us and we’d never hung out without his sister. Not that we were hanging out. Henry was just giving me a ride to school and that was all. Actually, the more I thought about it, the more I thought that Hannah must have put him up to it. Yep, that would explain why he showed up this morning. She must have read my sad email and begged her brother to rescue me.

  So, that begged the question: was a pity ride to school better or worse than having your dad drive you to school? I couldn't be sure. Both options made me feel pretty pathetic though I knew which one I preferred. It was a no brainer. I’d take the pity ride with Henry any day. Especially if it came with a pumpkin spice latte. I took a sip of my glorious caffeinated coffee.

  “Have you talked to Jellybean much?” Henry asked, finally breaking the silence as he pulled into the school parking lot. Jellybean was a nickname Hannah’s family started using when she was a baby, and it stuck.

  “Yeah, I got a message from her this morning.”

  “Cool.”

  “Yeah, cool.” I didn't know what else to say and the uncomfortable silence inside the car was becoming unbearable so I figured it was time for me to make my exit before this got any weirder.

  “Well, thanks for the ride,” I said awkwardly. I did a wave/shrug thing before turning to fumble with the door handle. Then, of course, my foot caught on the strap of my bag which caused me to tumble out of the car. Nice. Real smooth, Care.

  “You okay?” he asked, jumping out of his side of the car with obvious concern while at the same time trying not to chuckle at my expense.

  “Yeah, I'm good. Fine. Golden.”

  “At least you saved your coffee,” Henry said, pointing to my still upright cup.

  “Right. You gotta have priorities. So… see you later. Or not. Whatever. Bye!” I scrambled like an idiot to make an escape.

  Yep. I should've just stayed in bed wallowing. Too late now.

  Little did I know that my day was about to get even worse and it wasn't even officially 8AM yet…

  “Ah, Miss McKain!” Mr. Kant, the school counselor, waved when I entered the building. He was panting like he’d been walking too fast and he had a phone gripped in his hand. “I’m so glad I ran into you before first period. I was going to have to come and find you.”

  “Um, okay?”

  “Let’s head into my office. We have a slight problem.”

  Dread filled me. What could possibly be wrong? I had never ever ever had a problem at school. The only time my name was called during announcements was to commend me for perfect attendance. And the only reason Mr. Kant even knew me was because he ran a peer counseling club and Hannah and I had both been members freshman year.

  “Can you tell me what it is?” I asked nervously as I followed him to the administration office. I had a photography class first period and it looked like I was going to be late.

  “Just a moment.” We walked past a group of students who Mr. Kant assured he’d see in turn, and ended up in a corner office. I tried to make myself as comfortable as I could on one of two stiff wooden chairs situated in front of his desk. You’d think a counselor would have comfortable chairs to be, you know, counseled in. But I’d only been sitting for about five seconds when my butt and back started to hurt. I noticed Mr. Kant’s chair was plush and comfy looking.

  After sitting down, he wheeled himself over to a filing cabinet and started rifling through a drawer full of papers. My nervousness kicked it up a few notches.

  “The first day is always hectic so we try to help out in different ways,” he told me. “I’m working on clearing scheduling kinks.”

  “Okaaaay?”

  “It seems that the photography elective you signed up for last year is full so you’ll have to switch to an alternative class,” he dropped this information in my lap as though it wasn’t a big deal.

  But it was. It was huge. I was not a go-with-the-flow kind of person. I didn’t just change class schedules on a whim. I calculated. I weighed options. I planned. And I had planned on taking that class.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, fighting against the desperation in my voice. “I signed up for this class last year. It was supposed to be guaranteed.”

  Mr. Kant, a.k.a., “The Troll Messing With My Schedule,” swiveled his chair away from the files to face me and said, “I think you understand that nothing in life is guaranteed.”

  “But…” my voice trailed off and I shook my head. “I don’t know how this happened. I was supposed to have this class to work toward being a yearbook photographer.” Hannah had encouraged me to go for it. I was already decent with a camera but I needed the class to even be considered for the yearbook position. If I didn’t take it this year, there was no way I’d get the position next year.

  “You are only a junior,” he said, like I was unaware of what my grade level was. “And you are aware, of course, that seniors get scheduling priority. Next year, that will be you, and you can organize your schedule how you like.”

  “But we’re talking about this year.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “Can’t you just slip me in? It's just a photography elective. It's not like it's a core class,” I argued. What was happening to me? I never argued with adults. I was a model student. I was a sit-in-the-front-row and never-even-tardy kind of girl.

  This wasn’t fair.

  I’d signed up for that class last spring. Hannah and I had talked about it extensively. She’d left me one of her cameras specifically for this purpose. I was counting on this. It was the only thing I had to look forward to this semester.

  “You’re right. Photography is an elective, and you have other options for an elective. Good options.”

  “Please don’t do this to me,” I said, now dangerously close to tears. I could feel my throat tightening and my eyes burning. “I’m begging you.”

  “If I made special arrangements for every student then where would we be?”

  “But it’s not for every student. It’s just me.”

  Mr. Kant, who I was now upgrading to “Jerkface,” didn’t seem even remotely sympathetic to my plight. He sat back in his chair and sighed. “That’s what everyone says.”

  “But I have a perfect record!” I wasn't about to give up yet. “I've never even so much as skipped a class. I get straight As!” Okay, so there was that time last year when I got a B in Calculus, but it was a B+ so that’s practically an A. I mean, hello, it was Calculus! “You can't make just a tiny exception?”

  “Miss McKain, I'm sorry but I can’t.”

  “But—”

  “I really can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re going to
have to choose something else for that time slot.”

  “Okay, fine. Whatever,” I conceded. Now that I knew I was getting nowhere fast, I wanted to get out of this office as soon as possible. Hopefully before I burst into tears in front of all the other students who were waiting to speak to the school counselor.

  He considered whatever was on his computer screen and said, “Your choices for first period electives are Intro to Theater or Marine Biology.”

  I choked on a laugh. “You're joking.”

  “Afraid not, Miss McKain.” A note of real annoyance crossed his voice, as though I was purposely being difficult. So what if the line of students outside of his office was growing restless? I wasn’t the one who screwed up my schedule. This wasn’t my fault. “Now, are you going to pick a class or will I have the honor?”

  Theater or Marine Biology? These were not good options in that they both sucked.

  I couldn’t help but feel like if Hannah were here, none of this would be happening. She'd have somehow convinced Mr. Kant to give me the class because she had that kind of power over people. I called it the Hannah Effect. And, if all else failed and she couldn’t get Mr. Kant to relent, she’d probably have dropped another class herself so that we could suffer through Romeo and Juliet or learn about the mating habits of squid together.

  “I’m waiting,” he said impatiently, giving me a pointed look.

  I found myself wondering, what would Hannah do? Costumes and bright lights or salty water samples and dead crab carcasses to examine?

  “Theater,” I said quickly. I just might have to get a bracelet custom embroidered with WWHD? to get me through this year.

  “Excellent.” Mr. Kant nodded and typed the change into his computer. He printed out the new schedule and handed it to me. “You're all set.”

  “Fine,” I told him ungratefully as I stared down at the slip of white paper. It looked innocuous enough, but it was solid proof that major suckage was ahead.

  “Intro to Theater,” I read quietly, my insides going icy cold. Theater. Theater. That meant acting. Being on a stage. In front of other people.

  Was I crazy? For all of my life, I’d made a point of staying off the radar. I didn’t go to school dances. I didn’t date. I didn’t make a spectacle of myself. If you searched “wallflower” in the dictionary, I was confident that my name would be listed under the derivations.