Weightless

by Sarah Bannan

  “Somebody get the nurse.” Jason and Adam got up together and ran down the hall.

  Nobody spoke and we waited for Mr Ferris to tell us to get back to work or to stop staring or to say anything at all, but he didn’t speak. He put his hand on Carolyn’s left hand, and with the other took off his tie – dark, dark purple, with flowers on it, that you could only see if you looked really close. He struggled with it – why didn’t he use both hands? – and shook his head and breathed really hard as he finally pulled it off. He wrapped the tie around her left arm – she didn’t fight back. She kept the same look the whole time – just straight at Mr Ferris, straight into his eyes, never looking over at us, hardly blinking. Her skin went gray, grayer than anything we’d ever seen before, and her body was flopped into the chair – she looked like a helium balloon that had started to deflate – but her eyes stayed fixed, staring. The back of Mr Ferris’s head shook and shook: “What the . . . what the fuck . . .”

  Mrs Matthew came into the classroom with Jason and Adam – they said they couldn’t find the nurse – and Mr Ferris pulled Carolyn to her feet – she was lighter than his messenger bag, we guessed – and he left the room with Mrs Matthew. He didn’t tell us what to work on while he was gone, he didn’t even put anybody in charge. But as he left the room, we could see his face – he was crying.

  People said later that he cried because he was in love with her. They said she had cut herself in class, in broad daylight, in plain view, to get him to pay attention to her. None of this turned out to be true, or provable, but it went round and round and round, until Mr Overton suspended Mr Ferris on suspicion of inappropriate conduct. His picture was on the front of the paper. Blake told us he heard from the guys that worked the movie theater during the day that Mr Ferris spent every afternoon there, watching every movie showing, and if nothing new opened, he began again and watched them all over. He worked in alphabetical order.

  People were surprised he didn’t move. He wasn’t from Adam­­­sville, so what difference did it make? But he stayed around, and you might even see him at a football game or a basketball game, wearing jeans, no tie. He let his facial hair grow out, but it was kind of thin and patchy, and he started to lose his tan. Even people who had said the suspension was ridiculous, that all the stuff about him and Carolyn had been made up – even those people wished he hadn’t turned up at all those games. Get a life already. And stop being such a skeez.

  But all that was later, and he probably wasn’t the only one, the only teacher, to fall apart. At the time, we never thought about it from their point of view, this was all part of the job. We didn’t feel sorry for them, not really, and we didn’t think too much about Carolyn, either. We thought it was fucked up, that she took things a little far, but it was the kind of thing we all wanted to do, we thought. If only we had the guts.

  Transcript

  Carolyn: Is this going to take long? I have a Trig test.

  Mrs Matthew: It’s going to take as long as it needs to take, sweetheart. And I’ve already spoken to Mr Ferris, and you’re excused from the test, and from the rest of your classes for the rest of the day.

  Carolyn: Wow.

  Mrs Matthew: Why do you say “wow”?

  Carolyn: You guys must think this is pretty serious. Whatever this is.

  Mrs Matthew: People are concerned about you, sweetheart––

  Carolyn: Carolyn.

  Mrs Matthew: Excuse me?

  Carolyn: My name is Carolyn.

  Mrs Matthew: Yes. Of course. The fact is, we’re concerned about you.

  Carolyn: Who’s “we”?

  Mrs Matthew: Well, the faculty. Your teachers. Your peers. Your––

  Carolyn (laughing): Wow!

  Mrs Matthew: This surprises you?

  Carolyn (still laughing): It really, really does. Wow.

  Mrs Matthew: Well, people are concerned for you, Carolyn. You have friends here, you know.

  Carolyn: Oh, yeah?

  Mrs Matthew: Yes. YES.

  (Pause. 1 minute, 45 seconds)

  Mrs Matthew: Would you like some tissues?

  Carolyn: No, thank you.

  Mrs Matthew: Well, they’re here if you need them.

  Carolyn: Thank you.

  Mrs Matthew (pause): Can you tell me how you got the mark on your chest, Carolyn?

  Carolyn: What? Oh – I told the nurse already. My mother had a friend over and he smoked a cigar and it fell on me.

  Mrs Matthew: It fell on you?

  Carolyn: Yes, it fell on me.

  Mrs Matthew: How exactly did this happen?

  Carolyn: I explained it. Already.

  Mrs Matthew: Right.

  Carolyn: It was an accident.

  Mrs Matthew: Because if anybody was trying to hurt you, Carolyn––

  Carolyn: No.

  Mrs Matthew: We are legally obliged to ask these questions, Carolyn.

  Carolyn: Yeah, I get it. And I’ve answered them.

  Mrs Matthew: Okay. We might come back to this.

  (Pause. 1 minute 17 seconds)

  Mrs Matthew: Now, can you tell me about the marks on your arms?

  Carolyn: I don’t know what you mean.

  Mrs Matthew: The incisions on your arms?

  Carolyn: Is this actually meant to be therapy?

  Mrs Matthew: I just want to get a few things straight before we begin––

  Carolyn: Because I actually HAVE a therapist, you know? And he gives me advice and drugs and––

  Mrs Matthew: Your therapist gives you drugs?

  Carolyn: Yes, like, prescription medication.

  Mrs Matthew: Right – would you mind writing those down for me on this sheet of paper? And then we can move on to talk about some other things.

  (Pause. 3 minutes, 2 seconds)

  Thank you, Carolyn. That’s really very helpful.

  Carolyn: Okay.

  Mrs Matthew: I heard you and Brooke Moore had some kind of altercation last semester? In the locker room?

  Carolyn: That was dealt with.

  Mrs Matthew: How so?

  Carolyn: We had to talk to Mr Overton and Miss Simpson. We got ISS [In-School Suspension].

  Mrs Matthew: I see. And have you had any other incidents like that one since? That perhaps weren’t reported?

  Carolyn: Yes.

  Mrs Matthew: With Brooke Moore?

  Carolyn. Yes. And with other girls.

  (Pause. 32 seconds)

  But I don’t really care.

  Mrs Matthew: You don’t?

  Carolyn: No. I just wish if they didn’t like me they would leave me alone.

  Mrs Matthew: Leave you alone?

  Carolyn: Like, stop making fun of me. Harassing me.

  Mrs Matthew: Harassing you? Like, bullying?

  Carolyn: I don’t know what it’s called. But they’re mean. They’re horrible. And I try to be nice, but it doesn’t matter.

  Mrs Matthew: And what about the boys?

  Carolyn: A few of them hate me, too. But mostly they’re nicer than the girls.

  Mrs Matthew: I think it might be a good idea for you to cultivate a few more female friendships.

  Carolyn: I had those.

  Mrs Matthew: Yes?

  Carolyn: And now I don’t anymore. That’s what I’m explaining.

  Mrs Matthew: Tell me this: did you ever have close girlfriends, Carolyn?

  Carolyn: Me? Yeah, of course. Not tons, but yeah, I guess.

  (Pause. 42 seconds)

  When I was little, like four or maybe five – five, I guess, ’cause I had started school – my dad took me and Sara Stewart to the circus – Sara was my best friend and lived only one street away – and I remember loving the acrobats, you know? The ones that do the trapeze act? And there was one that could hold herself up – like pull herself up into a handstand by just using one hand – I can’t describe it, not really, but Sara and I were, like, “This is incredible.” And we held hands during the whole show – it was, like, three hours or someth
ing insane like that. When it was over, my dad bought us balloon animals – like, we watched the clown make them for us? And Sara’s was a flower and mine was a heart. When we stopped for gas on the way home, Sara lost hers and she cried and cried and cried – my dad’s face got all red in the front seat and he yelled at her or something – I can remember seeing his eyes in the rear-view mirror – and I was all panicked, like, shut up, shut up – but she wouldn’t stop – so I gave her my heart, and she stopped, like, immediately. But, after that, Sara wasn’t allowed to come to our house anymore.

  (Pause. 40 seconds)

  Can I have a tissue?

  I don’t know why I told that story. It’s so stupid. God, what a freak, right? What was that about?

  ENDS

  APRIL

  Chapter 23

  Brooke keyed Carolyn’s car. That’s what we heard. After the thing in the library – after Brooke’s search history had been passed around on Facebook – and after it was clear that Andrew was ignoring Gemma for Carolyn, that’s when Brooke got serious. It must have happened during sixth period – this was confirmed later – ’cause a bunch of people had been out in the parking lot right before the bell rang and Brooke had a free period then, and Gemma had a hall pass and we knew she’d helped her do it.

  Carolyn’s was a red Honda Accord from 2004, used but it looked good, and she got it for her birthday, which we heard was on April Fool’s Day or something. Her car was always clean and she had an Obama bumper sticker on the back and a Radiohead one, too. Her windows were tinted but you could just make out a stack of library books in the passenger seat side.

  It isn’t easy to key somebody’s car – not as easy as you’d think – and Brooke used her keys first, and then Gemma went over the marks just seconds later. And then they went around the car again. It looked like they’d tried to write something, too, to make some kind of message. You could barely make out an L and a T – but the S and the U were harder to read. Doing letters that curved was a lot more difficult and they hadn’t had the time to make it look right.

  Miss Simpson caught them. She was getting a Diet Coke out of the cooler she kept in the back of her Volkswagen Beetle – and she saw them crouched two rows of cars ahead of her, keys in hand. She called to them and they looked up, stunned and embarrassed and then trying to look casual. Miss Simpson smiled, closed her trunk and walked over to them.

  At first they pretended like they’d found it that way – that they were just texting Carolyn to tell her what had happened – wasn’t it awful? Miss Simpson hauled them into Mr Overton’s office, and they had to wait for twenty minutes for him to come out and see them. They got ISS for it – but Brooke’s mom complained and it was dropped. The school didn’t have any proof.

  When Carolyn came out to her car after class, she cried: we saw it happen. Andrew was with her and put his arm around her and told her not to freak out. When Shane came outside, we watched Andrew walk over to him.

  “You better tell your girlfriend to back off.” Andrew looked pissed. Angrier than we’d ever seen him.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shane kinda laughed. We didn’t know why.

  “Like hell.”

  “What the fuck? Why do you even care?” Shane was still smiling.

  Andrew glared. “Just tell Brooke to back the fuck off.”

  “You’re really losing it, Drew.” And Shane laughed again.

  “Fuck you.” Andrew was loud now. His fists were clenched.

  Shane stopped smiling. “Oh, yeah? I shouldn’t even be talkin’ to you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You think I didn’t see the way you looked at her when I was with her?”

  Andrew turned white. “Fuck you.”

  “I hope she’s worth it, Drew.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Yeah, you said that.” Shane turned to walk away. And then he turned back, got right in Andrew’s face. “She’s fuckin’ crazy, man. I’m telling you now.”

  They were standing so close and there were loads of us around them and some band kid called out “FIGHT.” Coach Cox started to walk over from the gym – Andrew and Shane looked his way – and Shane stepped back. We watched Andrew and Carolyn get into her car and, as the parking lot cleared out, they just sat there, inside her car. And, through the tinted windows, we could just barely see her head down on the steering wheel, her hair covering her face, Andrew’s arm around her shoulders.

  The marks on her body grew hard to ignore. As the weather became warmer, she couldn’t wear long sleeves anymore; they would make people suspicious or else they’d tease her and, plus, it was really, really hot. People talked.

  At swim practice, the marks looked scary. And they were gross. Coach Billy took her aside during practice and we could overhear him talking to her, if we kept our heads just under the high dive:

  “Can you swim with that rash?”

  “What?”

  “The rash on your chest and your arms?”

  A rash, for Christ’s sake. He was unbelievable.

  “Um . . . oh, yes. Like, yeah.”

  “Because it looks sore?”

  “Yeah? Oh, it’s not. It just stings a little.”

  “Well, the chlorine will be good for it. Will help keep it clean.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  A giggle from the fifth lane. Coach Billy turned and looked down at us, Carolyn still facing the bleachers, facing away, her arms crossed. She wore two bathing suits – like all of us – a normal one and a drag suit, keeps you faster at meets. But her drag suit looked cool, ripped just so, and it was faded teal and black and blue.

  Coach Billy knelt in front of us: “Do ten fifties on the clock, starting at the sixty. Five seconds’ rest in between each.”

  We pulled up to the side and pulled our goggles down, tucked our hair into our caps and pulled our feet up – we couldn’t watch them anymore, we had to watch the clock, and it became hard to hear once the second hand hit the sixty, and we kicked and pulled down the lane. During the rests, we talked.

  “Maybe she quit.”

  “Maybe he made her.”

  “Maybe it’s just really gross that she has those open wounds in the pool?”

  “Maybe that’s not allowed.”

  “Maybe she’s finally pregnant.”

  “Maybe she’ll just do anything to get attention.”

  “Maybe she’s a psycho.”

  “Maybe she’s pathetic.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  Carolyn sat on the bleachers while we did our fifties, wrapped in a paper-thin towel that just almost covered her body. She looked cold. Sometime during our drills, she left the bleachers, disappeared.

  After practice, we hauled ourselves out of the pool and jumped up and down – trying to get the water out of our ears. As we shook our heads, we noticed Carolyn’s phone, in its sequined purple case, sitting on the bleachers, next to a puddle she had left. We knew we shouldn’t have picked it up, or if we picked it up we shouldn’t have been rooting around, but we couldn’t help it, it was too hard not to and she hadn’t even locked her screen. No passwords, nothing. She wanted us to see it, we said.

  We scanned through her messages and that’s when we saw all of the texts from Shane and from Brooke and from Gemma. Maybe twenty or thirty of them? One from Shane: Leave me alone, whore. One from Brooke: Die bitch. One from Gemma: Dirty SKANK. Your a bitch. There were so many of them, some of them individual, some of them sent as group texts, and they were all different versions of the same thing – it made our stomachs flop and turn and we wanted the phone out of our hands as soon as we could. When Coach Billy started to walk toward us, we locked the screen and handed it over: “Carolyn left her phone.”

  We wished we’d had time to scroll back further, to see what she said to begin with, what she said to provoke, but we didn’t. We said that we were happy Coach Billy had it – then he’d
look through and he’d do something about it, try to put an end to all of that. It was one thing to bitch behind somebody’s back, and maybe it was kind of okay to be posting crap on Facebook or the Hot List. But this was different, we said. It was really fucking mean.

  Facebook

  BROOKE MOORE Its so pathetic when people have been treated like really really well and they act like their all victimized

  35 people liked this.

  Taylor Lyon, Gemma Davies, Shane Duggan and 7 other people commented on this.

  TAYLOR LYON I hate how she wears the same nasty ass hoodie like 24/7

  BROOKE MOORE looks like anorexic roadkill

  TIFFANY PORT nobody asked her to make a sex tape

  DYLAN HALL nobody wants to look at her bony ass in Duggs window

  SHANE DUGGAN I was so drunk. Didn’t know I was hooking up with a slut