After I Wake (17 page)

A syllabus is placed on my desk, and I flinch at the sudden flutter of paper because I can't help it, but I slip it inside the book and pull out the assignment notebook I got a few minutes ago, flipping it open.

“Do I need anything specific?” I look up at the teacher for a moment before looking down to dig in the backpack for a pen with a good grip on it so my writing won't be too terrible. Well, I have been practicing too, and it's easier to write now than it was.

I quickly jot down everything I need for the class and put the book away as the warning bell rings and students begin to file in. Darcy shuffles in, yawning and clutching the mug of coffee she always has. It's larger than my head, and I'm glad that little things don't change and that she still has the giant mug. She can't function in the morning without it. She plops into the seat next to me, looks at me briefly, and places her head on the desk tiredly for a moment before popping back up, bolt upright. I smile a little at the fact that she reacted like I had always been there. It was oddly pleasant to think I could blend in a little bit, but Darcy was always tired in the mornings. I'd pass her in the hallway, and she'd be leaning against lockers, trying and failing to stay awake.

“Carter!” she squeals, moving to hug me but stopping herself and leaning back, seemingly unsure if I want a hug or not, and I don't, so I appreciate her stopping. “I didn't know you were coming back. I would have brought you coffee or something.” I smile a little more, but it falls off my face quickly, smiling feels a little wrong when I'm imprisoned in a school.

“Yeah,” I say softly after a moment. “I'm back and stuff. And don't bring me coffee. Bring me a cinnamon bun. Those are so good.” She makes happy noises because there is no other description besides happy noises, and they're really nice. The bell rings, and the teacher takes an immediate command of the classroom.

“Darcy, it's good to see you awake,” he begins as everyone laughs, including Darcy. He launches into a quick explanation of rational exponents and how we should remember them from last year and how we're going to build on them now, and then he collects the homework and passes out the homework from the last class. It's incredibly efficient.

The rest of the class blurs by as I scribble notes on a piece of paper I borrowed from Darcy, trying to catch everything the teacher says and write it all down somewhat legibly. The teacher finishes his lesson, assigns homework, and sits at his desk with five minutes left of class. I turn to Darcy so I can press her for information.

“Is class always like this?” I say.

“Yeah, usually. I mean, I think so.” She yawns hugely, gently pushing her hair off her shoulders. Darcy may have more hair on her head than anyone I've ever encountered.

“I mean,” she continues, “I'm not always the most awake person. I'm so unsuited for mornings. But yeah, it would seem so.” I ask her next what's up with school.

“Well, let's see….” She takes a large gulp of her coffee and tells me that Brittany is still an awful person, (and I'm not looking forward to seeing her this year. Not after what she said to me in the store). Darcy only has one class with her, and that Harper's been a little bummed because her hearing got a little worse, but she just turns her favorite movies up in volume and added subtitles, and Darcy said that it's really loud, but she doesn't mind, and that one of the boys in the drama department transferred to a private school, and she's worried because there aren't too many boys floating around in the drama department, and that there are going to be girls who will play boys, which was inevitable anyways, and she keeps going while I nod occasionally before stopping her when the bell rings to ask about her schedule.

My next class is biology, which Darcy is also in along with Brittany, but there are no assigned seats so I am dragged to the table where Darcy camps out, that is, thankfully, in the back of the room, and I sit there quietly and wait for the teacher.

Brittany literally sashays in and sits in the front of the class and doesn't notice me, but I look down to avoid the chance of eye contact anyways, because she's just a really awful person, and the encounter I had with her in the store is painful and bright in my memory, and I am glad when the teacher wanders in for a distraction as I repeat my process of getting forms and finding out what I need. As the teacher turns around to get a textbook, I have to pretend I don't hear my name being hissed with several insults attached to the end of it.

The morning continues in much the same way. Harper wanders into the biology classroom right before the bell and sits at the table, excitedly greeting me, and we chat about superheroes for a few moments, and I find out she's in my civics and Shakespeare classes, and Darcy is in my poetry class, and they are there to support me, and it's really weird because I never thought of them as friends before, and the experience is a new one, and it's strange. I'm not one for friends, but I suddenly have some.

Darcy is a little like Emmett. She's super friendly with everyone, but she's also a bit of a loner in the same way I am. She tells me before class starts that she still feels guilty for the party, and I have to ask her what she's talking about before I remember that she still feels bad about my hand, but that is the furthest thing from my mind, and I tell her and I want her to feel better. She smiles a little before yawning again and practically diving into her coffee mug.

Harper is loyal to Darcy. They're really loyal to each other, and it's kind of adorable. And Harper's so friendly anyways, and she's ready to accept me as a friend purely based on the fact that Darcy's glommed onto me, and it's really cool. And we did party together when we were drunk, but I don't know how much of that she remembers.

I decide not to ask about the fact that I saw Harper holding Darcy's hand for almost the entire class. I'll ask them during lunch because I've already been invited to sit with them.

 

 

L
UNCHTIME
ARRIVES
quicker than I thought, and I am glad for my civics class being cut in half by lunch because it may be the most boring thing I've ever encountered. I hurry to the cafeteria and stand awkwardly in the doorway as people mob all around me, all pushing toward the good tables. Darcy and Harper flow in in the midst of everyone else, and I throw some elbows around so I can maneuver my way over to them. I am greeted excitedly, and I follow them to a table in the back that seems to be their table. It's empty and waiting for us.

It's smaller than all the other tables, there only as an afterthought. I love it. I sit with my back against the wall and eat quietly while Darcy and Harper fill the empty space with their voices. They fill the empty air with sign language too. Harper is better at it, and she's teaching Darcy.

I look at them for a moment and then ask my question. “Holding hands?” Darcy blushes while Harper grins.

“Yeah.” Harper continues to grin, and Darcy leans into Harper, awkwardly putting her head on her shoulder. “Darcy's pretty sweet. And cool. I really like her and stuff, you know?”

“I get it. You two are a pretty cute couple.”

“Yeah?” Darcy asks hopefully.

“Yeah. Definitely,” I affirm.

“We're… not fully out. We're working on it, though,” Harper says. “I mean, I'm out and bisexual, but you know—” She stops talking and looks at Darcy.

“I haven't told too many people that I'm gay,” she admits. “I mean, you two know because you're in the LGBTQA club, and I'm out there but not to the rest of the school. But I really like Harper, and she's fully supportive.”

“Hella supportive.” Harper snickers. “We have to stick together. Us against the world and all that shit.” Darcy laughs, and I join in after a minute.

That's the end of that particular strain of conversation, and Harper and Darcy start talking about their weekend plans, debating going on a nice date, and Darcy turns to me and asks politely how I intend to spend my weekend.

Thinking forward, I have absolutely nothing planned for the weekend, except for homework and watching television and nursing my newest cut. And bugging Emmett. I tell them there's nothing of any importance but then go back a weekend and talk for a moment about the National Poetry Accolades, and Harper asks about the dress. Darcy assures her it's beautiful.

I pull out my phone and show her the pictures, and Harper gasps in surprise at my bare forearms.

“Sorry,” she apologizes quickly, “but I didn't think they were… you know. You were the source of so many rumors, and I didn't know which ones to believe. People were saying your arms were all scars, but other people were saying that you never actually tried to slit your wrists, that first day. Then you never came back to school and just, I don't know.” She swallows uncomfortably.

“Wait, where did those rumors even start?” My focus is off my sandwich, which, coincidentally, is gone. (I ate it.) But they have gotten my full attention now, sandwich or no. It didn't occur to me that people would know about the scars. Or that they'd know anything, but news does travel fast in small towns, especially in high school where everything is exaggerated for the story.

“We're not sure. Nobody knew, and then suddenly everyone knew. I personally think it was Gryffin. My theory is that he wanted the attention because you were already kind of famous and stuff with your poetry, and people started saying out of nowhere how much they missed you, but the day you weren't here, you know, people were badmouthing you and saying mean things and how you should kill yourself, but then we heard that you did, and Darcy would not stop crying….” Darcy puts her hand on Harper's arm, and her eyes are full of tears, and I look at them both in fascination. I'll acknowledge that I was not a good person, but people really hated me. That's surprising, how ferocious they were. I nod slowly at Harper.

“Go on.” Harper raises her eyebrows in response but keeps going, fiddling with a hearing aid, taking it out and checking the battery, avoiding looking at me. She takes a deep breath.

“Well, I mean, Darcy couldn't stop crying, and I was shedding a few tears myself, and we felt so bad because people were saying such mean things about you, and they just didn't like you, and I wasn't the biggest fan of you either, and that's mean because you're so different now but you were so, kind of, uppity, you know, like nobody could touch you and your poems were the greatest shit, but people still shouldn't be saying things like that because it's bullying, but you weren't here to hear it, and then suddenly everyone knew that you were in the hospital, and you became even more of a celebrity because everyone felt so bad all of a sudden because everyone here is a hypocrite and stuff, and I don't know what they were expecting. But I don't think it occurred to them that you were going to try and do what you did. People thought they were responsible for it, but you weren't even here when they were saying that, like you stopped showing up for a few days and then it happened and people got nasty, and then it was just kind of awful, and the teachers wouldn't tolerate it, but that didn't stop everyone from being mean in the hallways and stuff.”

Harper stops for a moment to lick her lips, and I lean back against the wall with a dull thud. I'm not sure what to feel, because I can feel rage blossoming like a flower in my stomach and hurt spreading through my chest and making it hard to breathe, but mostly, I just feel acceptance. People are incredibly cruel and also total idiots, and I can't really hold them accountable for my actions because they had nothing to do with it. But there are people at this school I want to slap repeatedly until they stop being awful people. I can't, though, because I really should be in this school and getting an education because I have missed so much, and so I'll politely refrain. But that won't stop me from imagining. People probably want to do the same to me, though, slap my face until I'm nice, but I'm not sure I'm even capable of being nice anymore. I just kind of am and that's it. Darcy's talking, and I pay attention to her.

“People said they were sending you mean things online too. Those people felt the worst.” Darcy swallows uncomfortably. “Have you seen any of that?” I shake my head.

“I haven't been online since… April or something. Didn't seem to matter, so I just didn't bother with it. I should check. The only thing I was updating was my blog, but then I stopped after I wrote a good-bye post. I guess I should go and check or something.”

“Well,” Darcy says, biting her lip, “maybe not. I heard some seriously nasty things.”

“I have to now, you realize it.”

“But it'll be awful,” she presses.

“I can handle it,” I insist.

“It'll hurt you.”

I grin a shit-eating grin and look at Darcy. “I can do it, because I have to go on to delete the account anyways.”

Darcy just nods.

“Hey,” Harper says with a grin, changing the subject, “do you have my number so we can text and stuff?” I am surprised to find that I don't as I pull my phone back out, and Harper steals it, putting in her number.

“Have you seen Emmett?” I ask when I get my phone back.

“He's in my film studies class,” Darcy mutters, “but he hasn't been here all week.”

“Oh.”

“Carter, you're his best friend, like he cares about you more than anyone in this school. Is he sick or something?”

I shake my head slowly. “He'd tell me if he was sick, like, he'd complain nonstop and shit. He hasn't texted me, and he's going through some stuff. I think I need to see him if nobody's heard from him,” I mutter. Then: “Wait, me? He's one of the most popular people in school, everybody loves him. He's such a people person. Why am I his best friend?”