The Story of My Face

by Leanne Baugh

  “Wisdom teeth?” she says.

  “Yes, and I’m sure some of you have already had them extracted. Another example. Abby?”

  Liam turns around and looks right at me. “Male nipples?” I say, and the class laughs. Liam keeps looking at me and smiles. I smile back, remembering Liam’s nipples, with little tufts of hair sprouting up around them. It looked kind of funny considering he doesn’t have any hair on his chest.

  “Interesting example. They are vestigial in a different way. They’re not left over from an evolutionary event, but instead from an embryological or developmental one. All foetuses effectively begin life in the womb as females. But when a Y chromosome is present, the foetus will produce hormones like testosterone and develop into a male. This makes nipples on males pretty much just decorative.”

  “Oh yeah,” says Paul, rubbing his chest around his nipples.

  ***

  After class, I pack my books into my backpack. Serena is chattering away at Liam, who is lingering at the door, watching me, obviously waiting for me. My heart’s getting another workout—I feel both excited and anxious. When Serena notices his eyes are on me, she leaves looking pissed off. Liam follows me out of the classroom and we walk down the hall.

  “What about the arrector pili?” Liam says, pointing to the goose bumps that seem to permanently cover my bone-rack body.

  “The what?”

  “The arrector pili are tiny muscles that cause the hairs on your body to stand up when you get cold.”

  “So?”

  “So, if you’re a furry woodland creature, this would provide insulation, but people aren’t hairy enough for there to be any effect. Therefore, the muscles are vestigial.”

  “Still reading Science magazine, I see.”

  Liam’s quiet for a bit. “Sorry I went apeshit on you the other night,” he says.

  “At least I finally know what’s going on with you.”

  “I’ve given myself the I’m-such-an-effing-coward talk in the mirror about a million times,” Liam says. “I didn’t think I’d ever have the balls to say it to you.” We come to a T-intersection in the hallway and stop. “I’ve been such an asshole to you, haven’t I?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m sorry about that. About everything. See you around, Abby.”

  “Yep.” I feel incredibly deflated as I watch him walk down the hall. I was hoping for way more from him.

  I push open the door to the washroom to find Serena sitting on the floor, legs splayed out. She looks dazed as two grade nines awkwardly step over her to wash their hands in the sink.

  “Serena?” I say.

  She looks up at me. “Were you talking to Liam?”

  I nod.

  “Were you talking about me?’

  “No, of course not. Are you okay?” She shakes her head. I sit down on the floor beside her.

  “I’ve got to get out of here or I’ll go batshit crazy,” she says.

  “Yeah, school can do that to a person.”

  “Not just school. I’ve got to leave home. Get as far away from this place as I can. If I don’t I…I…”

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “My parents don’t know me. They don’t even want to know me. They barely care about my marks, don’t want to hear about what I think or how I feel. Ever. I hear all the time how pretty I am, but that’s the only part of me they see. The only part they know. Just the surface. And even after all the face creams and makeup and designer jeans and organic food my mother buys for me, I’ll never be good enough, pretty enough, for her.” Serena looks at me, tears welling in her eyes. “Get this—she even signed me up for Weight Watchers. A precautionary measure, she told me.”

  “That’s just sick,” I say.

  “Not according to Mommy,” Serena says. “And it’s getting harder and harder not to believe her.” I put my arm around her shoulders.

  I can’t help but wonder that if self-acceptance is this difficult for a girl like Serena, how are the rest of us supposed to pull it off?

  “Are you going to be okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Serena says. But I’m worried about her.

  I’m late for drama, so I hurry down the hallway to the stairs. Schultzy walks toward me with an uncharacteristically stern look on her face. “I need you to come to my office.”

  “Why? Something wrong?” I ask.

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough. I’ve left a few messages for your father, but he hasn’t called back.”

  “Schultzy, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?” I follow her into her office where Mason, Dax, Mr. Hardy, and a woman police officer are all standing around. Schultzy closes the door. Mason smirks and Dax gives me the dirtiest look ever. This can’t be good.

  “Abby, this is Constable Kozma,” Mr. Hardy says. The cop nods in my direction. “It’s come to our attention that you’re selling drugs to students in this school.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say. “I don’t do drugs, I don’t even smoke pot.”

  “She’s totally lying,” Mason says.

  I pull my phone out of my purse and find the photos I took of Mason and Dax at the bush party with the pot.

  “See?” I hand my phone to the cop. “I’m not the one here who does drugs.”

  She doesn’t look overly impressed with my evidence. Hands my phone back.

  “Abby’s the one who gave us the pot. She’s one of the main dealers at Rocky View High,” Dax says.

  “I’ve been away from school for months, and I bet that hasn’t stopped either of you from getting high every single day,” I say.

  The police officer hands me a piece of paper. “Five other students signed a statement saying that you sold them drugs. Even prescription painkillers.” Everyone on the list is from Mason’s posse.

  “This is total bullshit.” I slam the paper on the desk. “These are all Mason and Dax’s friends. They’d jump off a cliff if they were told to.”

  “Who else would have easy access to OxyContin in this school?” Mason asks.

  “Come on Schultzy, you don’t believe this, do you?” I ask.

  “This is a serious allegation that we have to investigate,” she says quietly.

  “Well, if you really need something to investigate, Mason and Dax have been bullying me since the day I came back to school. Sending me horrible messages on Facebook, calling me names, physically intimidating me.”

  “You’re lying,” Mason says.

  “And let’s not forget Bear Bait,” I say.

  “Come on, how can you blame us for that?” Dax says. “Where’s your proof?”

  Mason belts out a snigger. “She’s just blaming us because she finally got caught.”

  “He’s the one lying,” I say.

  “Let’s deal with one issue at a time,” Mr. Hardy says.

  “I need to search your locker,” Constable Kozma says to me.

  “Schultzy, you know me. You know I don’t do drugs and would never sell them.”

  She gives me a sympathetic look. My heart sinks thinking about my locker that, of course, isn’t locked. Too easy for Mason and Dax to plant some drugs. A slideshow plays through my mind: Dad and me in Hardy’s office; Hardy handing me a letter with Expelled stamped across in bold red letters; me cleaning out my locker; the whole teaching staff and student body lined up on either side of the long hallway watching me leave in disgrace; passing Mr. Owen in the line, shaking his head; exiting a paddy wagon, handcuffed; into the police station; mug shots—front and side; Dad, Jeannie, and Grandma visiting me in prison, where I’m wearing a bright orange jumpsuit.

  Mason and Dax smirk at each other and at me with their arms crossed like tough guys, as I open my locker door and stand back. I feel dizzy as the cop rifles through my stuff, handing Schultzy my books, note
books, pencil case. She checks all the pockets in my hoodie. Picks up my bear figurine and inspects it closely. I hold out my hand and she gives it to me. I put it in my pocket, rub the smooth surface to help calm my nerves.

  The locker has been emptied. “There are no drugs in this locker,” Constable Kozma says and starts putting everything back in. A shiver of relief starts at the top of my head and goes to the bottom of my feet.

  Mason and Dax look totally shocked. “What?! There has to be,” Mason says. “I saw a bag of pot in there this morning. Maybe she already sold it to somebody.”

  Mr. Hardy looks sceptical.

  The cop gestures to the girls’ washroom. “Mrs. Schultz, would you mind joining us?”

  Schultzy nods and takes my arm as we follow the cop into the washroom. When we walk in, a few girls are fixing their makeup and brushing their hair. They look shocked to see the cop and quickly pack up and leave.

  With my arms outstretched, Constable Kozma pats me down. I’m only wearing a T-shirt and jeans, not many places to hide a bag of pot, or even a bag of pills for that matter. As Schultzy looks on, the cop pats down my back and legs. A grade ten girl opens the bathroom door, sees me being searched, and quickly leaves.

  “Nothing,” the cop says to Schultzy, then she turns to me. “This investigation isn’t over yet, Abby. A serious allegation has been made against you, and I’ll be interviewing the students who signed the statement.”

  We leave the washroom, and Kozma shakes her head at Hardy.

  “This puts the issue to rest,” Hardy says. “For now, anyway.” Even though I know I’m innocent, his severe look makes me feel shaky.

  “Letting her off is total bullshit,” Dax says.

  “Back to class. All of you,” Hardy says. Kozma follows him to his office.

  Mason faces me and mouths ugly bitch so that Schultzy can’t see. He traces a finger down his face exactly where the scars are on my forehead and cheek. I flip him the bird while pretending to scratch my forehead. I turn and walk away, feeling strangely empowered.

  Schultzy walks me down the hallway. “I told you on your first day back at school to come and see me if anyone was giving you problems.”

  “And I’m sure you know that snitching on bullies almost always makes everything worse. Besides, I’m handling it.”

  “Handling it? Looks like it’s escalated to me,” Schultzy says.

  She doesn’t know the half of it.

  “Do you have any proof that it was Dax and Mason who were the cyberbullies?” she asks. “Any emails? Facebook messages?”

  I shake my head. “Like it said on a website I found, block whoever is bullying you online. So I did.”

  “Good advice. But promise me from here on in that if there is even a hint of bullying from either Dax or Mason, you’ll come to me right away. Everyone in school has the right to be treated with dignity and respect. No one deserves to be bullied.”

  Knowing full well I probably won’t tell Schultzy a thing, I nod. She heads to her office.

  People look at me funny as I make my way down the hallway, and I don’t think it’s my scarred face for a change. It’s obvious that news of me being the Rocky View High drug lord has probably been texted, tweeted, and shared around the whole school. I stop at my locker—unlocked, of course. Note to self: bring your lock to school. I dump my books in my locker and head for lunch.

  Dad texts.

  Mr. Hardy just called, told me what happened.

  Ya, totally insane

  Anything you need to share with me?

  For real? Is he so disengaged that he thinks I could actually be a drug dealer?!

  Of course not!!!!!!!

  Okay, just checking. You can tell me all about this fiasco tonight.

  Oh joy.

  With big grins, Simon and Jackson almost skip down the hall toward me.

  “Why so excited? Finally figured out how to hack the Pentagon?” I ask.

  “Something almost as good,” Jackson says.

  “Come on, follow us,” Simon says, walking quickly toward the door. Across the parking lot, I see Hardy walk Constable Kozma to her cruiser. My whole body shivers. I could still be in deep shit.

  Simon and I hop in the front seat of his Jeep, Jackson in the back. Simon unlocks the glove box. “Look inside,” he says.

  A musty marijuana smell immediately wafts out. “What the hell?” I ask, looking around to make sure no one is ready to take photos with their cell phones.

  “Jackson and I were walking down the hall and saw Dax and Mason hanging out by your locker. I thought maybe they were going to write something else on it.”

  “So we hid around the corner and watched,” Jackson says.

  “Mason opened your unlocked locker and put something inside. We waited until they left and then opened your locker and found that bag of pot.”

  “They were obviously going to try to frame you for possession or something, so we locked it in here,” Jackson says, sounding rather proud of himself.

  “Holy shit. You guys totally saved my ass. I got hauled into Schultzy’s office with Hardy and a cop. All of Mason and Dax’s fellow goons signed a paper that I was selling drugs at the school. I even got body-searched.”

  Simon and Jackson high-five each other.

  “So, what are we going to do with it?” I say.

  “Give it back to its rightful owner?” Simon says, starting to put it his backpack.

  “Wait.” I dig in my purse for a piece of paper and a pen, and write a note. Dear Mason, I think you may have misplaced this. Enjoy killing the few remaining brain cells you were born with. Decide not to sign it. I open the ziplock and stuff the note inside. I think better of it and take the note out, scrunch it up and put it in my pocket.

  I shouldn’t really be anywhere near a bag of pot at this moment, but I follow Simon and Jackson to Mason’s truck, keeping an eye out for any spectators.

  “Well, isn’t that convenient?” Simon says, pointing to a rather large hole in the passenger window of the truck, cracks snaking out all around the jagged edges. Simon tries to stuff the bag through the hole, which, of course, makes the plastic bag rip. Most of the pot spills out on the seat.

  “Should we tell Hardy to search Mason’s truck for the pot?” Jackson asks.

  “Are you out of your mind?” I say. “I want this over with. I need a truce with these assholes.”

  But as we head back to the school, I know this is far from over.

  CLIMBING THE WALLS

  We’re barreling east down Highway 1, leaving the rolling hills and smell of fresh cow manure behind us. Grace drives Briar and me in her mom’s Volvo to the climbing wall at Eagle Glen Community Center in northwest Calgary. Normally, I would be ecstatic to spend a few hours of my school day climbing, even if it is just a little wall in a gym. But I’m so out of shape and my leg with the torn muscle and tendon doesn’t work like it used to. I’m so anxious that I’ve totally lost my climbing mojo.

  “I’ve got serious vertigo, absolutely hated the climbing wall last year, and the year before, and I’m sure I’ll hate it again this year,” Briar says. “Why do they keep making us come here?”

  “Because it’s actually a blast,” Grace says.

  Briar braids her long hair. “Yeah, but you two are mutant mountain goats. My knees start shaking when I’m about a foot off the ground.”

  “Abby’s the mutant. I’m a hiker, not a climber,” Grace says. “The only climbing I’ve done is on this wall in phys ed last year.”

  “I’m the mutant, all right,” I say quietly as I look out the window. I feel jittery at the thought of gearing up.

  “Wish I’d come up with the menstrual-cramps excuse before Serena did,” Briar says, pouting. “And why does this have to be a mixed class? I don’t want to make an ass out of myself in front of the guys.” />
  “How about a little whine with your cheese?” Grace says. She and I share a smile.

  We pull into the parking lot just as Liam gets out of his mom’s car, along with Jemal, Justin, and Gus. The thought of climbing sends my brain cells right back to the mountains. Clinging to a rock wall with Liam right beside me. Totally blissed out.

  “Always thought the climbing wall looked like a huge chunk of gray rock covered with weird-shaped, colorful pimples,” Briar says as we walk into the climbing-wall gym.

  I look up at the wall, about eighty feet tall. A shrimp compared to climbs I’ve done in the Rockies. Although climbing an actual rock face is way more fun, grabbing on to those colorful pimples is still good practice.

  I see Matt, my old climbing instructor, talking animatedly to Liam. They’re probably reminiscing about one of the climbs we all did together. When Matt sees us, he comes up to me.

  “Hey!” he says. With his bulging rock-climber biceps, he picks me up right off the ground and spins me around. Liam looks over, amused.

  “Matty!”

  “Geez, you’re as light as a feather. Where’s the beef, girl?” he says.

  “I’m trying to make myself as unappetizing as possible.” Matt hasn’t seen me in well over a year, and I’m surprised that he doesn’t study my face in the usual strange kind of way that people do post-bear attack.

  “Shit, Abby, it’s so good to see you. Sorry I’ve been such a slacker about keeping in touch and all.”

  “Not to worry, I haven’t exactly been venturing far from home. Definitely not into the mountains, if you know what I mean,” I say.

  “Gotcha. But we miss you out in them there mountains. Coming back soon?”

  “Not sure, but I hope to.”

  “One day at a time, as they say. Let me know when you’re ready, and we’ll plan an awesome day. Maybe we’ll even invite Liam.” Matt says “Liam” in a joking way, probably thinks we’re still together. Mr. Harris and Ms. Wong gesture to Matt. “Better get this party started,” he says and goes to talk to the teachers.