Glass Girl

by Kurk, Laura Anderson

  Her hand felt freezing cold but dripped with sweat. I resisted the urge to wipe my hand on my jeans when she let go of me. She was one of those women to whom it’s impossible to attach an age. She could be anywhere from forty-five to sixty-five and her breath had that sickly sweet reek that happens when you don’t eat for a while. It smelled so pungent that I found it difficult to concentrate as she talked to me. But she also wore a nice floral perfume that I found sort of comforting. This woman was full of contradictions, but I didn’t intend to stay long enough to sort them out.

  “Do you mind if I close the door?” Before I could answer, she lightly tapped the door until it swung shut.

  “No, I don’t mind.” I shifted my feet awkwardly, keeping my eyes on the door knob of the door that represented my quickest escape.

  She hadn’t smiled yet and her eyes looked carefully at my face. She was trying to get a read on whether or not I planned on surviving. She knew about Wyatt.

  She patted my arm and motioned for me to sit in one of the two chairs in front of her desk. She took the other chair and leaned forward toward me. Her legs were crossed. Her hands rested quietly in her lap. She was going into counselor mode; I saw her determination to help me wash over her features.

  “Meg, we’re really glad you’re here,” she started slowly. “I got a call last week from your principal at Canning Mills. Nice guy. He’s been worried about you and the transition ahead of you. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine,” I insisted quickly.

  She took a deep breath and continued. “He said you’re an extremely intelligent and sensitive person. And that you and your brother were very close. I want you to know that I’m aware of the magnitude of your loss, and I am here to support you in any way.”

  “Thanks, but I was really hoping to keep this to myself here,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “I was looking forward to blending in. How many people know?”

  Suddenly I felt very anxious, and my breath came out in little pants. I glanced at the closed door and estimated how long it would take me to reach the Jeep. My stomach muscles tensed in anticipation of flight. I’ll get in the Jeep and go east toward Casper and then I’ll find a major highway headed out of here.

  “Your file is completely confidential, Meg,” she explained, reading my mind. I had to give her an A for perception. “I have not shared this information with anyone else. None of your teachers are aware yet. But if you would like for them to know your background, I will speak to them individually or with you. Sometimes it’s nice to know that the adults around you are on the same page. We’re all on your side, Meg. You’ve dealt with more heartache in your young life than a person should have to in a lifetime.”

  I swallowed hard against the lump forming in my throat. Deny, deny, deny.

  “Thanks for your concern, Ms. Ewing, but I really just want to be like any other kid here,” I answered as firmly as my soft voice allowed. “I don’t want my teachers to know, and I especially don’t want the other students to know. I’m kind of surprised that Mr. Reynolds called you.”

  “Meg, he was concerned,” she said, gently. “It’s hard enough to be a junior in high school without having to deal with this. I will not share your story with anyone unless you explicitly ask me to. You can be sure of that.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Ewing,” I sighed, with relief. I could feel the tension in my shoulders easing a bit.

  “I want to make a deal with you, though. If it all gets to be too much and you need someone, my door is always open for you. I’ll never be too busy to sit and talk.”

  “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.” I looked quickly away from the concern in her eyes. If I allowed myself to feel the pain that was hidden in my heart right then, I wouldn’t make it through the day. I smiled at her and brushed off her sympathy with a backwards wave of my hand. I knew, though, that she could see the tears welling up in my eyes, and she changed the subject.

  “I’ve got your schedule here,” she said as she pulled a form from a file. “I made sure that you had a place in our AP classes. I think you’re going to have a great year. It looks to me, from your Canning Mills transcript that you’re on track to becoming National Merit Scholar material. Have you thought yet about universities you’re interested in?”

  “No, not seriously yet. My parents went to the University of Pennsylvania and that’s where my brother had been accepted. That would probably be my first choice.”

  “Well, I think the world is wide open for you, Meg. I’m really glad to have you as one of our students. If you don’t mind, I’d like to walk you to your first class,” she said. “We don’t get many new students, and it’s kind of a thing I like to do.”

  I sighed audibly through my teeth, unable to hide my disappointment. How anonymous could I be when the principal was introducing me?

  “Um, sure, if that’s what you normally do,” I said, wishing for the millionth time that I had a backbone and didn’t find it so difficult to stand up for myself. “No special treatment, though, okay?”

  She smiled. “Of course not, Meg. I like you already. Shall we?”

  She opened her door and motioned me out ahead of her. I walked down the narrow hall of my new school, elbow to elbow with my new principal, with a neon sign on my forehead that flashed NEW STUDENT! Ms. Ewing smiled and chatted with everyone as she walked me down the hall. She made sure to introduce me to a few kids who looked as unimpressed with me as possible. I’m sure I looked like I had dropped through a hole from another dimension into this little Western town. I had to figure out quickly how to tone down the East Coast look—less Urban Outfitters and more yee haw.

  “Your first class is AP English—it’s an American Literature survey course. I think you’ll love Mr. Landman. He’s been a favorite here for the last twenty years. Our school is small enough that you’ll be in class with the same kids most of the day. I’ll make sure someone knows to walk you to Biology next period.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” I insisted. “I think I can find my way if I have the room number.”

  “Okay, Meg,” she said softly. Smart woman, I thought.

  We entered the classroom. It was small, and the tiny windows I noticed from the outside seemed even tinier from inside. They were recessed a good foot into the thick concrete walls that were crumbling around them. I didn’t see any way to open them, either. No obvious latches or cranks. That could be a problem. I glanced back at the door we had just come through and saw that it let out into a hallway right next to an exit. That had potential, although it would set off an alarm when it opened. I wondered why in the world they’d put tiny windows in a school here when the view was so magnificent. I supposed that was why…they needed to limit exposure. The view would be too much of a distraction for most kids.

  “Mr. Landman, I’d like you to meet Meg Kavanagh,” said Ms. Ewing as she ushered me ahead of her. “Her family has just relocated here from Pittsburgh.”

  “Miss Kavanagh,” he said, smiling and reaching for my hand. “Pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Chapin High. You can sit anywhere you see an open desk, but let me introduce you first.”

  Darn. I could feel my face getting hot. I thought this must be what a turtle on its back feels like…exposed, vulnerable, paralyzed. I concentrated on steadying my breath in case I had to say anything. I didn’t want to sound like I’d been running a marathon. Here’s a Public Service Announcement for you, Meg. It would not be helpful to mention Wyatt right now. Do not tell them that you’ve walked through hell or that you were caught up in a tornado and spit out again in a strange Western town.

  “Guys, quiet down,” Mr. Landman said, a little too loudly for my comfort. “We’ve got a new student—Meg Kavanagh from Pittsburgh. I want everybody to be on their best behavior today so she’ll like us and decide to come back tomorrow.”

  All fifteen kids were staring now. A few chuckled at the lame joke. Most were smiling. I felt profound relief just from the simple fact that no one threw a
tomato at me.

  I said hello and started down the middle aisle. My eyes focused on an empty desk ten steps ahead. If I could make it to the desk without crying or confessing my past, I’d be able to breathe again. I noticed that one of the girls I saw in the parking lot this morning sat to my right. She looked really cute with long, curly brown hair and transparently ice blue eyes. She wore old jeans and a tight green t-shirt with a dachshund on it that said HAVE YOU SEEN MY WEINER? She must have cajones the size of Texas, and I admired her immediately for that. She was totally natural—like most of the girls here. My friends in Pittsburgh would be amazed. They refused to be caught dead without makeup on. But the girls here seemed to have better skin.

  She smiled and introduced herself. “Hey, Meg, I’m Tennyson.”

  “Nice to meet you, Tennyson. Cool name.”

  “Yeah, my mom feels big love for British poets,” she whispered, rolling her eyes. “If you have Biology next, we can walk together.”

  Tennyson’s friendliness relaxed me. As Landman started class, I glanced to my left and met the eyes of a dark-haired boy leaning forward on his desk with his chin resting in his hand—totally laid-back. He looked up at me and nodded his greeting. I felt heat flush across my face, and I looked quickly toward Mr. Landman, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw that he still watched me. He’d had to fold his long legs into his desk. His boots had seen better days, and his jeans unraveled in a curiously irresistible way at the bottom. He didn’t look like anyone I’d ever seen before. He really reminded me of an actor in an old Western—Rock Hudson in Giant—all dark intensity, pure hombre. He was definitely a throw-back. Belonged on a horse, I thought.

  “Some of you seniors have had a class of mine before,” said Mr. Landman. “Does anyone remember my favorite poet?”

  “Frost,” groaned an exasperated student at the back of the room.

  Mr. Landman continued, unaffected by the obvious disdain in the room. He closed his eyes and recited “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.”

  “What is Mr. Frost trying to tell us, Henry?” asked Mr. Landman when he opened his eyes again.

  My cowboy neighbor straightened up and cleared his throat. There was an uncomfortable silence and I assumed Henry had no idea what Frost meant.

  “The speaker,” he said quietly, “is at a crossroads.”

  Landman waited patiently for Henry to finish his thought.

  “He feels pulled toward the woods, but he knows he’s got to turn back because there are people relying on him. He’s got to be a man.”

  “Do you think death is represented here, Henry?” prompted Mr. Landman.

  “Yes, sir, I do,” said Henry. “I think he’s tired of life, but he’s too responsible to choose death. He knows living is always harder than dying.”

  He glanced at me after he said this and I quickly looked down, mortified that he caught me staring.

  “Thanks, Henry,” said Mr. Landman, with a look of pure joy.

  Landman continued with a quiet, thoughtful discussion of Frost’s psychological makeup. But I had trouble listening to him. I could only think about Henry. His insight shocked me. Who was this guy?

  When class ended, Tennyson picked up her books and smiled at me. Henry smiled too, and paused like he was waiting for something, before he strode slowly out of the room.

  I walked out with Tennyson and headed toward Biology. I saw most of the same kids going into the classroom, with one obvious exception. Henry.

  Luckily, Tennyson and I had every class together. She introduced me to her friends—the other girls I’d noticed in the parking lot. They all seemed nice enough. A bit suspicious of me, though. I knew I was hard to read. I didn’t want to be read.

  The day went amazingly well. I didn’t see Henry again. Maybe I’d imagined him. I turned the corner at the end of the day heading to my locker and I saw a group of kids laughing in the hall. I slowed down and backed flat against the lockers to figure out what was going on before they saw me. They all seemed to be laughing at a boy who looked like he might be disabled—he was small and rail thin. He smiled like he knew the score, but there was something not right. I picked up the conversation in bits and pieces.

  “Thanett, you’re such a chicken,” taunted a kid that looked like a linebacker. He used his size to intimidate.

  “Come on, Thanett, you can’t pass up a dare and you know it,” sneered a smaller, stocky boy.

  “We’ll let you come with us Saturday night if you do this, Thanett,” laughed a girl, who hooked her arm through Thanett’s like they were old friends.

  Thanett tried to answer them but his voice sounded rough and slurred. I realized quickly that he had cerebral palsy. I had a friend in Pittsburgh with mild CP and I recognized the jerking movements and speech problem. His was more profound. So, this was Annie’s son, Thanett, the manager of the football team. My heart pounded out a warning. I stopped in the hall and listened. They hadn’t noticed me yet.

  “Her name’s Meg,” said the biggest boy, obviously the ringleader. He stood at the front of the group; the others seemed to naturally fan out on either side of him. If you’re into reading body language, this would be an interesting read.

  “She’s mad hot,” he continued. “You just have to ask her out and we’ll leave you alone. Heck, she might say yes, Thanett. She could rock your world.”

  “She works for my mom,” Thanett mumbled. “I’m not asking her out. You guys are crazy.”

  “What Thanett?” laughed the girl. “Tee woks por u mam?”

  I cringed as she tried out a cruel imitation of Thanett’s speech.

  They all laughed. I heard someone walk up slowly behind me and pause, and then felt him walk quickly around me, pulling every nerve ending in my body with him as he went. It was Henry and he zeroed in on Thanett, and put an arm around his shoulder—cue the superhero soundtrack.

  “Hey, Than, how was your day?” he asked. “I hate the first day back.”

  “Hey, Henry,” mumbled Thanett.

  “You want a ride to the bookstore?” Henry asked. “I’m going right by there.”

  “Yeah, that’d be good,” answered Thanett, smiling a little now, obviously relieved to have some back-up.

  Thanett and Henry stepped out the front door of the school and crossed into the parking lot. The group continued laughing, and then slowly dispersed. I felt my knees shaking as they walked around me staring and chuckling, wondering how much of that I witnessed, but not caring if I’d heard it all. The leader of this band of merry men stopped beside me, close enough that I could feel his breath on my neck. He had the nerve to put his hand on my shoulder and run a finger across my collarbone. I shuddered and pushed him, but he outweighed me by a hundred pounds and I didn’t move him at all. He grinned and laughed under his breath.

  “You’ll come around, Meg,” he said in a low voice.

  As he walked away, he called back over his shoulder without turning around, “I’m Grayson, by the way, so you’ll know when we do hook up.”

  He laughed loudly this time and turned the corner to catch up with his friends.

  I will not be coming back to this school. I should’ve known this town was no different than any other place. What a crock. I can sign up for an online school. I’m responsible enough to make that work. I will not come back here. Wyatt would understand. People are just too dangerous.

  I promised Annie that I’d come to the store right after school. It took everything I had left to walk to the Jeep and turn downtown toward Wind River Books. I would’ve given anything to go home and disappear. Robin told me once that I would be more sensitive now that I’d lost Wyatt. Somehow the amygdala in the brain tends to hold on fiercely to memories created in stressful situations. Seriously? If a normal person isn’t affected by the hazing of an innocent boy by a bunch of imbeciles, then that person is crazy, not me. It’s got nothing to do with my amygdala.

  I remembered suddenly and—to my surprise—happily, that Henry had promised t
o take Thanett to the bookstore and I felt myself speeding up a little, hoping that I might see him again. I parked in a space right in front of the store, grabbed my bag and jumped out of the Jeep. I heard the door open just as my feet hit the pavement. It made me glance up and I met his eyes. Henry realized that I was going into the store so he waited to hold the door open for me.

  “Hi, Meg,” he said quietly, almost in a whisper—like he had to concentrate on being gentle since he’s so tall. “I’m Henry Whitmire. I was hoping you’d get here before I left. I wanted to apologize for the way those guys acted earlier. It couldn’t have left you with a very good impression of your new school.”

  He glanced back at Annie and Thanett and tensed his lips. “Annie, have a nice evening. Thanett, I’ll see you in the morning, right?” Annie and Thanett waved goodbye and Henry let the door close and then he turned his back to them so they couldn’t hear him talk to me.

  “They’re idiots, Meg, those guys at school. They don’t know anything about how to act right. I hope you’ll come back tomorrow so you can see there are people here who know how to mind their manners.”

  His hands were in his pockets and his shoulders were tense. I tried to look relaxed so that he could relax.

  “Um, of course. Is Thanett okay?”

  “He’s bigger than this nonsense. But he doesn’t know you were listening. I spared him that detail. I just wish he’d steer clear of those guys.”

  “Right. He should. Obviously. I plan to.”

  Henry smiled a little, and I swear I heard the angels sing.

  “So, other than the end of it, how was your first day?” He searched my face for the truth and I noticed that his eyes were really unusual—light brown with flecks of a metallic color that caught the light. They were liquid bronze—I’ve seen my mom paint with it.

  “Actually, it wasn’t bad—could’ve been much, much worse.” He doesn’t know how bad it could be, and I hoped life would spare him that pain.

  “So, will you be back?”