Searching for Normal

by C. J. Darlington

  “Backstage?”

  “Set design, lights, that sort of thing.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  Amelia hooked her arm in mine and guided me over to the other girls. For some reason it annoyed me, and I pulled away from her. I really wanted to hear his answer.

  “Was Shay just flirting?” Amelia said in a conspiratorial tone.

  I scrunched up my nose. “What?”

  Izzy giggled.

  “I was not flirting.”

  “He is kinda cute,” Amelia said.

  I crossed my arms. “Stop.”

  Amelia mirrored me; her voice still low. “Do you even know what flirting is?”

  “I was just talking to him.”

  “Since when do you—?”

  Izzy rested her hand on Amelia’s arm. “Hey, ease up.”

  I loved my friends, but I was not in the mood for teasing. I wished they could see that. And I didn’t care what they said. I was not flirting. Wilson was a nice guy, and it annoyed me that talking to him like a normal human being would be considered anything but that.

  More students filed in, and then Ms. Larkin gathered us all together. When I saw her, my resolve to quit the class wavered. I don’t want her to mistake me and think she is doing a bad job, but can’t she see I’m not cut out for this?

  With a clap of her hands, our class started.

  “Okay, everyone! Today is going to be fun!” Ms. Larkin’s exuberance oozed out of her. “As you can see, Wilson is here, and that means we’re using the stage and mics. First, we’re going to do a little improv feeling exercise. We won’t need the mics for that, though.”

  She produced a small green bucket, like what a kid would bring to the beach, and shook it a little. “In this bucket I have slips of paper with different feeling words. Each of you will pull a slip from said bucket and represent it in dramatic fashion up onstage. The rest of us will guess what your word is by your actions. The first person to guess correctly goes next.”

  If I never guessed, would I have to play along?

  “And yes, every one of you will be playing even if you don’t make a correct guess.” She glanced at me with a grin. “We’ll play until we run out of words. Who wants to go first?”

  Amelia’s hand shot in the air, and she waved it back and forth. No surprise there. She climbed up to the stage. It would be an interesting experience watching everyone else. Maybe I could focus on that.

  My friend immediately sat down on the stage and crossed her legs. She rested her elbows on her knees, chin in her hands. Then she rolled her eyes.

  “Apathy!”

  “Sad!”

  Amelia shook her head and started twirling her hair with her fingers. She yawned.

  “Bored!” Izzy called.

  Amelia jumped up and pointed at our mutual friend. “Bingo!”

  “Very good, Amelia,” Ms. Larkin said, clapping.

  We all joined in the applause.

  “Notice how she made use of her body language and facial expressions.”

  Izzy picked out a slip of paper, studied it for a second, then stuffed it into the pocket of her Doctor Who TARDIS sweatshirt. She took to the stage, and I tried not to envy her confident presence up there.

  She almost danced to the center of the stage and rested the back of her hand to her forehead. Looking off into the distance, she then held both hands to her heart.

  “Excited,” Amelia called.

  “Happy!”

  Izzy started batting her eyes and dancing around the stage, still holding her heart. She looked like the heroine of a rom-com if you asked me, but I wasn’t about to start guessing emotions out loud.

  “Romantic?” one of the guys said.

  Izzy fell to her knees.

  “Lovestruck?”

  “Yes!” Izzy jumped up.

  On Tessa’s turn she got up and dropped to her knees too. Face in her hands, she began sobbing what sounded like very real sobs.

  Without thinking, I said, “Sad.”

  Tessa stood up and grinned down at me.

  “Wait, was that the word?”

  Ms. Larkin handed me the bucket, and I wanted to act out the feeling annoyed or nervous. I finally just stuck my hand in and pulled out one of the three remaining slips. I unfolded it.

  Angry.

  I didn’t move toward the stage.

  Of all the feelings . . .

  “Do I have to do this?”

  Ms. Larkin smiled. “Yes, Shay. But I know you can.”

  “Can I pick a different one?”

  “The fact that you’re finding it difficult means you should do it,” Ms. Larkin said.

  She was just being a good teacher and trying to push me to do my best, but she had no idea. None. I can’t do this. Not right now. Probably not ever.

  “Shay, you need to get up there,” Ms. Larkin said in a tone that indicated she wasn’t having any more of my excuses. Couldn’t say I blamed her. I always balked at these exercises.

  I clenched my jaw and walked toward the steps. Push through. I had to obey her and “get up there” and just do it. No thinking. My friends had done it and survived. So had just about everyone else. Good things aren’t always easy, right?

  Climbing the two steps, I hated how quiet the room had turned. My hesitation was giving me even more spotlight, if that was possible. The bored kid who’d maybe not been paying attention surely was now. Tessa, Izzy, and Amelia probably had a clue how stressed I was, but even they couldn’t help me.

  Angry.

  I hated that no matter how desperately I tried to be a calm, easygoing girl, I couldn’t keep anger at bay. When I stuffed it down, it popped back up like a prairie dog. Why can’t I just be thankful I’m alive? My life was good. I was happy. I’ve seen a bright future for myself. All of that was snuffed out by one careless, stupid, disgusting, pigheaded truck driver.

  I walked onto the stage.

  How could he have done that? Was “just one more beer” so important? Was his life so bad that he needed to stop that night and drink away his troubles? Did he even think about anyone but himself?

  I faced my peers, my teacher. And memories rose, an insistent film inside my mind, blocking what I had been asked to do.

  Dad’s pickup had been cool, the air conditioning welcome in the eighty-plus-degree heat outside. I’d felt excited knowing my dad and I would have time to just relax together, eat overpriced hot dogs, and watch some amazing horses. I didn’t think it would be the last time I saw him. I never dreamed the last words he’d speak to me would be “Are you hungry?”

  My hands balled up, and my heart pounded in my chest.

  I never saw the truck coming, and Dad certainly didn’t. I remember the sound most. A terrible, crunching, reverberating thud of metal against metal, metal against flesh. And then pain.

  The students almost pulled me to the surface and out of the memory as they called out feelings thinking I was trying to act.

  “Scared!”

  “Shocked!”

  I just stood there, unwilling to move. I’ll never forget the last image I have of my father. Slumped forward. Propped up by the airbag and steering wheel. His eyes open. Staring at me. A trickle of bright-red blood dripped down his cheek and onto his starched, western shirt with the mother-of-pearl buttons.

  They told me I passed out, lost a lot of blood from the cut on my head. Next thing I remembered was masked doctors and nurses asking me a million questions, but all I could do was ask one of my own, over and over:

  “Is Dad okay?”

  The weeks and months in between flashed across my mind in a whirl of emotions and feelings. Kelsey’s and Jade’s faces hovered in my thoughts too, and I could almost feel Kelsey’s finger poking my chest again.

  “Fear!”

  “Anxiety!”

  I heard the students guessing, but I blocked out the actual words as the fire in my belly grew into a furnace. I swung around, desperate to quench it. A few props were kept in the sh
adows, and without thinking, I ran over and grabbed the first thing I saw. A chair. Rickety and scarred.

  Something took over me, and I grabbed that chair and ran it back to the center of the stage. I held it over my head for a second before I slammed it down onto the stage with every bit of strength I had.

  The wood cracked and broke. One of its legs flew off the stage in a burst of splinters and skittered toward Amelia and Izzy, who were sitting closest. Both of them flinched. Someone gasped.

  No one moved.

  My chest heaving in and out, the fire instantly shut down, and overwhelming shame took its place. My eyes filled with unbidden tears, and before anyone could guess another feeling word, I ran down the steps and out the classroom door.

  Chapter 24

  I RAN UNTIL I WAS OUTSIDE the front of the school, panting for air and shivering from more than just the cold wind whooshing around me. I almost kept running to I didn’t care where, but what little sense I had left hit me like the truck that killed my father.

  I sank to the curb and held my head in my hands. If I actually ran off the property, I’d get into even more serious trouble, and the school resource officer, Deputy Packard, would probably have to come get me. I couldn’t afford that. The repercussions of breaking a chair were going to be bad enough.

  I tried to breathe slower, but the oxygen didn’t seem to be getting to my bloodstream.

  The doors of Northside High School opened behind me, and someone’s shoes hit the sidewalk.

  “Shay!”

  It was Tessa.

  “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  She sat down beside me, and I felt myself sidle away from her. “Please leave me alone.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Please.” My voice cracked. “Don’t touch me.”

  But Tessa didn’t listen. She wrapped her arm around my shoulders. I tried to pull away again, but she held on. It was like I’d been in the accident all over again, which I didn’t understand. I hadn’t blocked the memories. I remembered it all perfectly. Why did that simple white slip of paper send me down that terrifying road?

  My shoulders shook, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

  “It’s okay,” Tessa whispered.

  Was it? I’d just trashed a chair and run out of class. Everyone would be talking about me.

  The November air tightened its chilly fingers around us. I tried to concentrate on my breathing again and took in a deeper gulp. I managed to relax my ribcage a little bit more.

  Tessa didn’t let me go. She didn’t try to talk to me either, which I appreciated more than she could know. She just sat there and let me breathe.

  I unclenched my fingers and realized I still held Ms. Larkin’s piece of paper. It was crumpled now, and even slightly damp from the sweat of my palms. With shaky hands, I unfolded it and handed it to Tessa.

  Angry.

  She took it from me and read the word. Then she folded her own fingers around it and silently stayed with me on the cement curb. Soon I could feel her shivering, and I knew we had to go back inside. I didn’t know if I’d get in trouble or not. But class would be ending soon, and it would probably be better if I at least showed my face.

  “What am I going to tell Ms. Larkin?”

  We stood up, and Tessa finally relaxed her grip on my shoulder.

  “The truth,” Tessa said.

  My whole body felt weak, like I’d run all the way to my aunt’s apartment without taking a break.

  “I’m really sorry,” I said.

  She waved me off. “Chad guessed your word, by the way.”

  “I bet he did.”

  “And it was an old chair,” Tessa added.

  “I hope Ms. Larkin doesn’t . . .”

  “She’s a Christian, you know. You could talk to her.”

  I wasn’t sure if that helped things or not, but at least she had an understanding of the concept of grace. I had a feeling I was going to need a lot of it after my outburst.

  Luckily Tessa had had enough sense to prop open the heavy door with her jacket, otherwise we both would’ve been locked out. A minute later we walked back into the classroom, and I tried to surreptitiously sit down in the back. Tessa came with me, and it did make me feel better to have her nearby. Izzy and Amelia were looking at both of us with wide-eyed concern, but it wasn’t until Ms. Larkin dismissed the class that they were able to rush over to us.

  “Oh my gosh, that was awesome!” Amelia grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me a little shake.

  It was supposed to encourage me. I think.

  “How did you do that?” Amelia seemed genuinely oblivious to my distress.

  I swallowed. “Do what?”

  “Shay.” Her eyes widened. “You literally broke. A. Chair!”

  I glanced at Tessa. “It was old?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought to use a prop like that. Don’t tell me you can’t act,” Amelia said. “I knew you had it in you.”

  But I wasn’t acting, Amelia.

  “Was your word angry?” Izzy asked.

  Tessa showed them the paper. They went on and on about my acting skills, nonexistent before, but now for some reason I have potential because I broke a chair? I was having trouble focusing and found myself tuning them out.

  Everyone finally agreed to meet up at lunch, and I was left alone in the classroom with Ms. Larkin. I tried to escape before she could talk to me, but no luck.

  “I will say,” Ms. Larkin said with a smile, “I didn’t expect that.”

  I think she was trying to lighten the moment, but I knew what was coming.

  “What happened?”

  “I . . . guess I got a little too into it.”

  Ms. Larkin wasn’t buying it. “You looked scared. There was a lot more going on, wasn’t there?”

  I decided to go the Tessa route and be honest. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I understand.” Ms. Larkin gestured for me to sit down in one of the chairs, and she slid another one close and sat down herself.

  I reluctantly sank into the seat.

  “You can’t be running out of class like that.”

  “I know.”

  “I can make an exception for you this one time, but . . .” Ms. Larkin rested her elbows on her knees and tried to look me in the eyes. “Your heart isn’t in this. Is there anything I can help you with to change that?”

  I hesitated. How about let me drop the class? But all my nerve to talk to her about quitting had splintered just like the chair. Maybe later I could muster it up again, but right now I just wanted to escape the classroom and Ms. Larkin’s kindness.

  “It’s not your fault,” I finally said.

  “I don’t want to see you fail, Shay, but I’ll be honest with you. I need to see a little more effort. You do not have to love drama, but it’s my job to help you give it a chance to impact your life.”

  Ms. Larkin paused for a second, and it unnerved me how she seemed to be looking directly into me. Does that mean she actually can fail me? What will that do to my GPA? I honestly don’t really care at this point, but I know I should. I should care about a lot of things, actually, but what is the point?

  My teacher let the silence spread between us. She was probably waiting for me to explain what I’d been feeling, what I’d been thinking. But what overcame me up on that stage had crawled back into a hole inside of me. The fire had been quenched.

  For now.

  Chapter 25

  I GOT HOME FROM SCHOOL, and all I wanted to do was crash on my bed. But when I walked into the apartment, Aunt Laura met me, and the look on her face told me that wasn’t happening.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I’m so sorry,” my aunt said.

  That was enough to scare me. My aunt held up her hand before I could panic too badly.

  “Everything’s okay, don’t worry,” Aunt Laura said, “but I just really wanted you to be able to say goodbye.”

  I frantically scanned the
room and instantly knew.

  “Stanley,” I said.

  “I had to take him to his new home.”

  As if my day hadn’t been enough. I instantly fought back tears, wanting to be mad at Aunt Laura but unable to muster the feeling. She was just trying to help the greyhound, and I’d known this day would come. That didn’t make me feel much better, though.

  “They . . . are you sure they’ll be good to him?”

  She came over to me, and I was surprised to see a mist in her eyes too. “I think so.”

  “He was a good dog.”

  “Is,” Aunt Laura said. “Is, Shay. He’s going to make his new family very happy.”

  I knew if I stayed and talked to her much longer, I’d lose it completely, so I excused myself to my bedroom and closed the door. In that privacy I lay facedown on my bed and cried into my pillow.

  Not long after, my phone buzzed in my pocket. The interruption helped pull me out of my funk, and I flipped onto my back. It was a text from Tessa.

  How are you doing? she asked.

  Me: I’ve been better.

  Tessa: Just know I’m here for you if you need anything.

  I paused. Why is she being so nice to me? She has her own stuff to deal with. But I thought about how she sat with me on the curb today. Who would’ve done that if she didn’t really care?

  Me: Thank you.

  Tessa: I wish I could help you more.

  Me: Stanley left today.

  Tessa: Oh, no.

  Me: It’s a good thing, but it’s not.

  Tessa: I know you loved him a lot.

  Me: It feels like nothing is going right.

  I stared at my phone’s screen. I hadn’t even begun to understand what triggered me to freak out so badly today in drama class, but at least I hadn’t been alone. Tessa and my other friends had stood by me. I wondered if God had known I couldn’t handle that by myself.

  I tapped out another text: I’m sorry I freaked out today.

  Tessa: You have nothing to apologize for!

  Is that really true? I felt like I did.

  Tessa: I’m glad I got to meet Stanley.

  That made me cry again. He wouldn’t be sleeping on my bed tonight. I wouldn’t wake up and feel his comforting doggie body against mine. There’d be no more squeaky-toy fetch sessions, no more leaning on my leg until I almost fell over.