Searching for Normal

by C. J. Darlington

  Kelsey’s nose wrinkled. “What? I was just asking for a book recommendation.”

  I started to sidle past her, but she stepped directly in front of me.

  “Seriously, what’s your problem?”

  Before I could respond, another girl came up beside me. Amelia hooked her arm in mine and pulled me away, waving over her shoulder at Kelsey and Jade as she did.

  “You have no idea how I’ve suffered,” she said, not skipping a beat once we were alone at the curb. “Please tell me you have it.”

  I couldn’t take in oxygen for a second as guilt smacked me in the gut at how close I’d been to losing it, not to mention letting those girls talk about Amelia like they did. How could I have let myself go there again?

  “Earth to Shay.”

  “Sorry.” I faced my friend.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” The temperature inside me dialed down a few degrees. “Do I have what?”

  “My phone!”

  I robotically fumbled in my backpack.

  “Why’s your hand shaking?”

  Dang it, does Amelia have to notice everything?

  I found her cell and handed it over, and she proceeded to pull me into a huge bear hug. “Thank you!”

  I was weird with hugs. I had to really know someone, love them even, to enjoy a hug, but Amelia hugged me the first day we met. I was so taken aback, it probably felt to her like she was hugging a mannequin, and I’d worried I’d offended her. But when Amelia hugged you, she really hugged you since there was a lot of her to hug. Now I always tried to hug back.

  She finally let me go, placing the back of her hand on her forehead in a dramatic gesture. “Last night I reached for my precious, and she wasn’t there. Then this morning, my nightstand was bare!”

  “It’s too early for rhymes,” I said, finally breaking a smile.

  “Oh, I’m not done.”

  Izzy joined us before Amelia could continue waxing poetic.

  “Hola, amigas!”

  I pointed at her knee-high, lace up boots and gave her a thumbs up. Izzy often wore leggings (she disliked jeans, but I decided not to hold that against her), and these boots had become one of her staples. She totally wasn’t up on fashion, according to her, but I was always impressed with how she somehow managed to look fashionable. Not that I’d know if a piece of clothing was in fashion if it bit me in the—

  “Shay saved me, that’s what’s up.” Amelia donned the dramatic voice again and waved her phone, but I could see her hint of a smile.

  Other way around, Amelia.

  I glanced over at Kelsey and Jade. They were both watching me. Kelsey puffed out her cheeks and pointed at Amelia, and I turned away. I should’ve known better. Should’ve been better. Hadn’t I learned anything over what happened this summer?

  I tried to focus all my attention on my friends. Izzy looked confused, and I held my hand to my ear like it was a phone receiver.

  “Again?” Izzy asked.

  “Yep.”

  I willed myself to switch gears. Classes started soon, and Izzy and I had World History together first hour. We needed to hustle, but I didn’t feel like hustling. I didn’t feel like doing anything, actually. But I slapped on a smile, said goodbye to Amelia and Izzy, who had to run to the bathroom, and promised Amelia I’d see her later in drama class.

  When I was by myself again, I dropped the smile.

  Chapter 4

  EXCEPT FOR FIRST AND SECOND GRADE, I’d done online school, so the high school life was new to me. I hated how much time we wasted, but walking down the school hallway was the real torture. It didn’t matter how many times I made the trek, I still felt like a lab rat. The students were the scientists studying me. When I confided in Amelia one time, she said she felt similarly but pretended she was Julia Roberts strutting down the red carpet at a premiere. It seemed to work for her. Me? I didn’t want to be an actress. I didn’t even want to be in drama class. The best I could pretend was that I didn’t care.

  Most days it didn’t work.

  My locker was on the same wall as Tessa’s, and part of me hoped I’d run into her. But she was usually early to her classes. I was often late, so we didn’t cross paths in the hall as often as you’d think.

  Today she was waiting for me at my locker.

  She smiled. “Hey.”

  “Hey, back.”

  “About last night,” Tessa said. “Sorry if we ambushed you.”

  “It’s okay.” I opened my locker and stuffed my backpack inside. A lot of the students didn’t even use their lockers, keeping their packs with them at all times, but I didn’t like lugging such a heavy bag around from class to class.

  Tessa held her English book to her chest and leaned against the locker next to mine. I couldn’t remember the name of the guy who owned it. Just that he always wore way too much cologne, and I could faintly smell it wafting out the vents.

  “I didn’t realize you lived with your grandparents,” Tessa said.

  I shrugged.

  “Shay, it’s a big deal, I know.”

  No, actually, I didn’t think she did know, but she was trying. I could give her that. She’d been through a lot with her parents’ divorce and her dad moving out.

  “Are you okay with it?”

  I managed a sarcastic laugh. I wanted to say I didn’t have a choice, but instead I just responded, “I’m fine.”

  “That’s what I always used to say.”

  “My aunt’s a good person. The bookstore’s interesting, I can walk to school, and she has a dog now. It’s not terrible.”

  Tessa nodded. “But it’s a big change.”

  “I should’ve told you guys.”

  “Your aunt does seem nice.”

  “I just . . .” The warning bell sounded, and I stopped myself from sharing more. “I better get going.”

  “Just so you know, you don’t always have to be fine.” Tessa patted my shoulder, and I was surprised how comforting the gesture felt.

  The problem with drama class happening before lunch was that I was always hungry by the time I walked in the door of Ms. Larkin’s room. I’d yet to fully relax during the class, and always being hungry—scratch that, definitely hangry—was not doing me any favors. I needed to remember to pack a granola bar or something to scarf down in between classes.

  “Shay!”

  If I had a dollar for how many times Amelia had yelled my name at school in the past week, I’d have enough to buy a horse.

  I waved at her across the room and gratefully deposited my cell phone in the shoe organizer Ms. Larkin kept near the door. No phones in class? No problem. Maybe Ms. Larkin was a Luddite too.

  Amelia might be scatterbrained, but she was always early to drama class. And apparently everyone else was too. I was the last of our group to plop into a chair.

  “Intercalate,” Izzy said.

  I swiveled toward her. “What?”

  “Word of the day.” Izzy puffed up a little. “I’m trying to memorize different words for class.”

  “But what does it mean?” Amelia said.

  Izzy clenched her eyes closed as if trying to jog her memory. “Um . . . to insert something. In a calendar, I think.”

  “Like our Christmas play!”

  Tessa and I both groaned at the same time. Labradoodle fit Amelia in more than one way. Sometimes she could be like a dog with a bone. Which reminded me . . . I elbowed Izzy. “My aunt’s fostering a dog. A greyhound.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Oh, my stars!” Her brother Sebastian was allergic, otherwise she’d probably have a menagerie of animals like I would.

  Ms. Larkin gave a few claps, and just like that our conversation ceased and class began.

  “We’re going to talk about the worst moments in our lives.”

  She said it like it was going to be fun, but I felt myself deflate. Great. Today was a “therapy” class. Ms. Larkin was fond of holding “sessions” where we talked about our feelings and how to tap into th
em for whatever character we were trying to portray. I had a hard-enough time playing my own character in my own life. I didn’t need to add a fictional person’s drama, pun intended.

  Tessa leaned toward me. “Breathe.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Me too.”

  I guessed what her worst moment would be, but she didn’t know mine. Either way, neither of us wanted to talk about it in front of our class.

  The first one to share was a guy named Chad, who I considered the male version of Amelia. He was completely gung ho for this stuff like she was. He practically leapt up onto our stage at the edge of the room and talked about moving away from his childhood home when he was ten and struggling to make new friends.

  “Good job. Next?” Ms. Larkin seemed to make eye contact with all of us at the same time.

  Amelia’s hand shot up, and our teacher chuckled, gesturing for her to take the stage. I could already feel my heart pounding at the thought of climbing those two steps, but Amelia took them with confidence and stood center stage, her legs slightly apart, her arms relaxed at her sides.

  Amelia’s face stilled, and I imagined her pretending she was another famous actress whose name I probably didn’t know. She’d told me she always liked to imagine real cameras rolling, capturing her performance for posterity. She glanced off toward the classroom’s window with a view of the school’s agricultural space, now dormant. I wished the view was of something else. Seeing the field always made me long to be free and out in the open air, cold or not.

  I focused on Amelia, wondering if she’d get tapped for being overly dramatic. But Ms. Larkin usually gave us a lot of freedom to express, especially in this format.

  “The worst day of my life was when my brother, Josh, got married.”

  Several kids started to laugh at her statement, but I saw a flash of hurt cross Amelia’s face at the reaction. She wasn’t trying to be funny.

  “My older brother was my best friend,” Amelia continued. “We could talk, really talk, about pretty much everything. When he and his girlfriend got ‘serious—’” air quotation marks around serious—“I was devastated.”

  Amelia’s eyes dropped to the stage for a moment.

  “What did that look like for you, that devastation?” Ms. Larkin prompted.

  “I stayed in my room. I ate a lot of burritos.”

  The class laughed again, and this time Amelia smiled.

  “Josh broke my heart when he left, but I am determined to rise again!” Amelia pumped her fist, and everyone clapped.

  I had to hand it to her. She belonged onstage, working a crowd.

  Two more girls went, and then it was Izzy’s turn. She climbed up onto the stage with less pomp than Amelia but exuding a quiet confidence. “When I was in kindergarten, my class went on a field trip to a corn maze.” Izzy’s voice seemed so relaxed, and it was easy to settle in for her story. “I got lost, and my teacher couldn’t find me. I remember how scared I was at being alone, and I felt panicked to find my way out.”

  Izzy glanced down at me, and I smiled at her.

  “It was a dog who saved me,” she said. “He just found me and led me out of that maze to his farm. The farm had a farmer, and he discovered me.” Izzy’s voice got a little lower. “I was still so scared. But he found my frantic teacher, and everything ended up okay.”

  When Izzy stepped off the stage, Ms. Larkin called my name. I wanted to hide in the bathroom. Anything but get up on that platform. My mind flipped through the scenarios I could share. Ms. Larkin had to know how much I would hate an exercise of this kind. Why had she picked this question? I could “connect” with a character just fine without digging so deep.

  I stood up.

  “You can do this,” Tessa whispered.

  I didn’t believe her, but I didn’t feel I had a choice. All eyes were on me as I crossed the carpet, then the floor, and then made it to the stage stairs. Two steps. That’s all they were. But they seemed insurmountable. I really didn’t belong here. Not in this class, not even in Riverbend.

  But somehow, I made it up to the stage.

  “Come closer to the edge,” Ms. Larkin advised.

  Why couldn’t she have picked the best moments of our lives? I could manage that. I’d talk about my first time riding a horse and how amazing that felt. Or when my dad and I took that road trip to California when I was twelve. But the worst? I’d had too many of those recently.

  I stared out at the class. Most of them actually wanted to be here. They wanted to learn what it took to put on a good stage production and how to become a better actor. Some of them dreamed of having an acting career.

  Then there was me. Forced to take the class because of school requirements.

  I looked over at Tessa, Amelia, and Izzy. I’d met this trio here, sure. We’d become friends, and I really needed them. Maybe I could focus on that.

  “When you’re ready, Shay,” Ms. Larkin said. “It doesn’t have to be long.”

  Clearing my throat, I let myself remember.

  “The worst moment in my life . . .” I swallowed the marble in my throat, trying to push out the truth. This was crazy. I didn’t need to bare my soul in front of the class. I could come up with a different bad moment. Like the time I fell off a horse and broke my arm as a kid and had to wait three hours to get to the hospital because my grandmother’s cell phone battery ran out and she couldn’t call an ambulance. Or the time I got an F on a spelling test and almost flunked English. No one would know any different.

  For some reason I glanced down at Tessa again, and when she grinned up at me, I thought of her concern at my locker and how she’d checked in to see if I was okay. I might be able to fool the class and even Izzy and Amelia, but I couldn’t seem to fool her. If I fibbed now, she would know. And even if she forgave me for not braving the scrutiny of the class, I would have lied to my friend.

  “The worst moment was . . . the day my dad died,” I blurted before I could talk myself out of it.

  Someone gasped, and I quickly searched Tessa’s face for understanding. I found it in her kind smile and hoped she’d also understand why I hadn’t first told her or the other girls this huge piece of my story.

  I ran my fingers through my hair and focused on the window. Anywhere other than the rest of my classmates.

  Silence. They were waiting for me to continue.

  But I was done. That was it. The cold hard truth in five words.

  Chapter 5

  I ATE LUNCH ALONE OUTSIDE. BY THE TIME I finished my peanut butter sandwich and McIntosh apple and washed it down with a bottled water, I was nearly frozen. Seemed appropriate. It wasn’t like I obsessed over my dad’s death every day, but the fact that it had bothered me so much to share even that small morsel proved how close to the surface everything was.

  I managed to avoid my friends, and pretty much everyone else, for the rest of the school day. The walk “home” helped a little. I climbed up the outside apartment stairs and let myself inside. Stanley and my aunt weren’t anywhere to be found, so I closed myself in my room and tried to read the science fiction novel I’d grabbed out of a box in the storeroom. I got a text a few minutes later from Tessa. It was just three little red hearts, and it calmed down my worries she would be hurt in some way that I hadn’t told her about my dad.

  I was still in my room when I heard Aunt Laura walk in the door.

  “Shay?”

  “In here!”

  “We brought pizza.”

  That woke me up. I met my aunt in the kitchen as the scent of pepperoni and cheese wafted out of the pizza box on the counter. Another box held breadsticks. My stomach growled.

  Aunt Laura smiled. “How was school?”

  I started to shrug, not really wanting to talk about it, but then I reminded myself my aunt was trying. We both had to make concessions every once in a while. I plopped down into a chair and rested my arms and chin on the small kitchen table.

  “It was okay,” I said.

  �
�Just okay?”

  “Drama was tough.” I told her about Ms. Larkin’s exercise. “I wish I could quit the class.”

  My aunt poured us water and set out two plates. “That does sound hard, but you’ll get through it.”

  “I just miss Dad so much.”

  “Me too.”

  Her response surprised me since my mom had died when I was so young. Before all this, I hadn’t really known my aunt outside of Christmas and birthday cards, and I figured she didn’t really have reason to contact Dad often.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Aunt Laura said with a chuckle. “Your father and I talked sometimes. Especially if you ever got ornery and he needed girl advice.”

  Well, then. News to me.

  “Shay, I think it’s best if we’re completely honest with each other.” She pulled a pizza slice from the box and gestured for me to do the same.

  I mumbled my agreement as I took a huge bite of the cheesy goodness. Stanley stood right beside me, staring at the slice in my hand. I studied my aunt while we ate for a moment in silence. She was my mom’s younger sister by ten years, which put her in her twenties when Mom had died. It was hard to picture what that experience had been like for my aunt since I had no siblings, but I understood losing someone.

  “What do you remember about Mom?”

  Aunt Laura finished off her pizza slice and licked her fingers. “She made me laugh.”

  “Dad always said she had a good sense of humor.”

  “The best.”

  “I wish I could’ve known her.”

  Laura held up a finger. “She also could be the most stubborn woman in the world.”

  I smiled. “Maybe it runs in the family.”

  My aunt laughed.

  “Did you fight a lot?”

  “Less than you’d think.”

  “What else?”

  “I remember when she told me she was pregnant with you. She told me before anyone else.”

  “Before her husband?”

  My aunt opened the breadstick box, and the garlic and oil scent filled the room. She took one out and offered me another. I got the distinct feeling she was avoiding a response but couldn’t figure out why. She took two bites before meeting my eyes, and I noticed the wrinkles around hers.