Continuum (15 page)

I sit down on the edge of the chair, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.  As soon as he settles into his leather armchair, I hold up my bandaged hand, “Nurse Sylvan said to inform you about this so you could notify my parents.  But you know my situation with my parents.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose and nods, “Consider me informed.  Now... it has come to my attention, that you've been acting out of character.”  I do not reply or even change my expression to acknowledge this statement.  He continues, “There are rumors that you were in a physical altercation with Mackenzie Brooks.”

I give him a noncommittal grunt, “I try to stay above petty gossip.”

“Miss Pierce, your behavior is concerning me.”  He pulls a manila folder from his file cabinet and throws it on the desk, my name is printed neatly on the tab.  “I've been keeping an eye out on you since you started at this school.  I have been very understanding because of your difficult family situation.  You've missed a lot of school already this year.  Five days so far this semester and the first quarter is barely over.  Is something going on?  I want to help you.”

“I missed school due to illness, Principal Mullens.  I stay out of trouble.  I am a straight A student.  I don’t need help.”

He flips open my folder and turns a couple pages.  “Are you aware that you have always ranked 11th in your class?  It's always precisely 11th place.  The students that comprise the top 10 have rotated positions throughout the years, but not you.”

“What can I say?  I'm consistent.”

He spreads out several written notes out on his desk, “Your teachers report that on exams, you will have all the work correct but somehow come to the wrong conclusion.  Your standardized tests are just short of the top 10th percentile.”

I always avoided being the best because my abnormality gave me an unfair advantage and garnered a lot of unwanted attention.  I hadn't been as careful as I thought.  “I guess I'm just not living up to my full potential.”

Principal Mullens lets out a deep sigh, “You don't participate in any extra curricular activities.”

I shrug, twisting my fingers in my lap.  “Cheerleading squad is all full up.”

“Miss Pierce, this is not a joke.  Miss Brooks's accusations are very serious.  As you know, we have a zero tolerance policy at Everest Heights.  Fighting means expulsion.”

His words should worry me, but they don’t.  “I understand the consequences of violating the zero tolerance policy.”

“I am not clueless about what goes on in my own school.  Miss Brooks has a... reputation.  I'm not going to expel you.  I'm not trying to dictate what you do, but this is your last year of high school Miss Pierce.  I think it would be fitting for you to try and squeeze in some extra curricular activities.  The dance committee needs help with the Homecoming dance.  I suggest you volunteer.”

The thought of expulsion didn't phase me but now a cold dread fills me.  Mackenzie and her goons would be on that dance committee.  “Is that a suggestion?”

He scans my file once more before closing the manila folder, “Not really.  They meet at 3:30PM in the gymnasium.  Do try and enjoy yourself.” 

Ethan

The day of the Homecoming dance has arrived.  It is almost one in the afternoon when I finally roll out of bed and wander into the kitchen.  The sunlight pouring through the window is making my head throb slightly as I put on a pot of coffee and pop a bagel into the toaster.  My reflection in the toaster tells me my hair is a wild mess.

The football team had won the Homecoming game the night before.  I met up with Sam and the team after a post game celebration at Sophia’s house.  I hope Sophia has very understanding parents because the house was pretty trashed when I left.  Even though it was about 40 degrees out, some genius thought it would be a great idea to uncover the pool.  When I cut through her backyard, it was littered with empty floaters-- red plastic cups and various types of cans and bottles.

Luckily my mom is enjoying a spa weekend in New York and that Sophia lives only about two blocks away from me.  I was able to stumble home around 3:00AM and sleep the morning away.  Sam and Liam were supposed to crash at my place but they were having too much fun with a pair of Lakeside cheerleaders to notice me sneak out.  I’m sure Sophia had a lot of people that crashed at her place last night.  By the way everyone else was partying last night, it would be a miracle if anyone else would have been able to make it home.

I pour myself a cup of coffee with a healthy serving of cream and sugar.  The first sip is blazing hot and singes my tongue but still tastes amazing.  I take a tub of strawberry cream cheese from the fridge.  I rip off hunks of piping hot bagel and scoop up big hunks of cream cheese straight from the tub.  The pounding in my head tells me I am going to need a lot of carbs and fat if I was going to get through the rest of the day.  

I start scrolling through the text messages that came in late last night/early this morning.  Sam asking me where I was and that he and Liam were going to crash at Sophia’s.  Liam texting to say he and Sam were going to stop by around 6:30PM and get ready over here.  And that as far as either of their moms knew, they had slept over at my house last night.  

The party bus would be swinging by around 7:00PM.  Not a lot of time to get ready but neither one of them knew how to tie a tie, so I imagine it won’t take them too long.  The bus was going to pick up the rest of the group at Max’s house closer to the school and drop us off at the dance around 7:30PM.  Mackenzie had also sent me a couple texts reminding me about the color of her dress and to not forget her corsage or that we were meeting at Emma’s house after the dance.  I delete those and another dozen texts without fully reading them.

After a solid week of everyone around me talking about nothing but Homecoming, I am feeling relieved that the festivities were winding down after tonight.  If last night was any indication, it promised to be an interesting night.  The one person I was not looking forward to seeing tonight is Fallon.  I knew she was going to be there tonight since Mackenzie had been complaining non-stop since she suddenly volunteered to join the dance committee.

After our encounter in the forest preserve next to the school, she had not uttered a single word to me.  She would look right through me when we passed each other in the hall.  She had given me the complete freeze out--like nothing ever happened between us.  I wonder idly whether or not she would be at the dance alone.  

I finish off my extra late breakfast and rinse out my mug and plate, sticking them in the dishwasher.  It is now past two.  I still have to stop by the florist to pick up the corsage.  Then I have to shower and shave before the guys come over.  I had my mom hunt down my good suit before she left for Paris earlier in the week.  I never bothered taking it out of the garment bag until last night and it needs a good steaming.  I don’t have my shirt and tie picked out yet.

I get myself ready to leave by brushing my teeth and putting some hair gel in my hair to tame it.  I’m changing into a sweater and jeans to ride to the florist when my phone buzzes on top of the dresser.  Another text message from Mackenzie.  I hit delete without reading it.

Fallon

The decorations committee has spent all of Friday afternoon and evening as well as Saturday morning setting up.  The rest of us arrive around noon to put the finish touches in place.  Having never attended a single dance, I am surprised at how the space could be transformed.  The bleachers have been folded up and pushed against the far wall.  Huge bolts of navy fabric have been hung from the ceiling forming a tent inside the gymnasium.  Round tables covered in navy silver tablecloths have been brought in and place on one end.  A large banquet is setup on the other end, the empty silver trays gleaming against the navy tablecloth.

Gina Thomas is head of the dance committee for Fall Harvest and today she is in a frenzy, her normally neat curls are wild and frizzy to match.  She begins barking out assignments to be completed in no more than three hours because everyone had to go home and get ready for the dance.  I spend the early part of the afternoon making large bouquets of navy and silver balloons to place as centerpieces on the tables.  At precisely 3:00PM, I place the last set of balloons down on a table and Gina dismisses us for the afternoon.

Exiting the gym in miscellaneous groups, the girls are squealing with excitement about tonight's festivities.  I drift away from the others and take the long way home, unsure of how to spend the next four hours.  I decide to make a detour at the grocery store to pick up some ingredients to make blueberry muffins.  I am in the baking aisle scanning the shelves for baking powder when I hear an unmistakably nasty voice behind me.

“Excuse me.”  Mackenzie is standing behind me in full make up with her hair in rollers, wearing a hot pink velour tracksuit that shows off about three inches of tanned midriff.  She is holding a box of cake flour.  Mackenzie's mom owns the catering company that is catering the dance tonight.

I inject some false friendliness into my voice as I reply, “I'm surprised to see you here, Mackenzie.  I didn't think you ate refined carbs.”

She eyes my shapeless gray sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up and black skinny jeans.  “We could all learn from my example.”  She pulls a couple packets of silver cupcake foils off the shelf.  “I guess I'll see you at the dance tonight.  You won't be able to miss me, I'll be there with Ethan Hayes.”

She turns around and disappears down the aisle without another word, leaving me standing there in stunned silence.  A mix of anger and jealousy form a knot in my stomach.  I knew I had no right to either of those feelings, but Mackenzie has a gift for knowing which buttons to push.

I abandon my shopping list and make a beeline to the cosmetics aisle.  I haven’t really worn makeup since middle school, but I have done enough dance recitals and school plays that I was familiar with the logistics.  There are so many options, I just start pulling any packaging that attracts my eye off the shelf.  

With my purchases in hand, I rush back back home.  It is now well past 4:00PM and I am sweaty from lugging my bags on the long walk home.  The streak of unusually warm temperatures combined with my interaction with Mackenzie has left a sheen of moisture on my forehead.  I head to the bathroom to wash away the afternoon.

I slip out of my t-shirt and jeans and jump into the warm shower.  As I shampoo my hair, I question the sanity of my actions.  I know I can’t be with Ethan.  I just wanted to get back at Mackenzie.  Show her that she couldn't push people around.  At least that's what I keep telling myself.  I shove those thoughts of out my head to concentrate on the task at hand—looking amazing at tonight's dance.  

I flip through my mental Rolodex of the dresses I own and it is limited.  Why hadn't I thought to buy a dress for Homecoming?  Right, because I hadn't cared until, oh, thirty minutes ago.  Too late for that now.  I rinse away the rest of the conditioner and turn off the water.  I towel off and put on a fluffy plaid robe.  I quickly towel dry my hair and painstakingly blow dry it straight.  I don't know how to operate anything to make my hair do something fancier.  I pad over to my closet and walk into the very back of it, groping in the dark until my hand hits chiffon.  

I pull out one of the dresses I had bought for my 8th grade graduation.  It's a simple black dress with a  delicately beaded, fitted v-neck bodice held up by thin spaghetti straps.  The skirt consists of several layers of draped chiffon.  I take off the robe and wiggle into the dress, slipping the spaghetti straps over my shoulders. The zipper slides up easily.  It still fits though I have grown a significant amount since I bought the dress and the hem grazes mid-thigh.  I am showing way more skin than I normally would in my t-shirt and jeans.

My usual array of beaded bracelets, vintage cuffs, and the watch that belonged to my grandfather are sitting on a silver tray on top of my dresser and I slip each one on.  I untangle the necklace my mom gave me on my thirteenth birthday.  My birthstone, the amethyst, cut into a teardrop and threaded on a delicate silver chain.  I never wore it after what happened that summer.  

With shaking fingers I secure the clasp, the cut of the neckline frames it beautifully.  Pulling on a roomy black t-shirt over my dress so I won't get any make-up on it, I sit down at my vanity and dump out the contents of my cosmetics raid.  I was amazed by the vast selection as well as the apparent improvements made since I last shopped for cosmetics.   

I have chronic dark circles because of my sleeping issues but the concealer instantly brightens my eyes.  Dabbing on a little bit of tinted moisturizer and sweeping blush onto my cheeks, my usually pallid skin comes alive.  I carefully rim my eyes with black eyeliner and sweep on pale silver eyeshadow on my eyelids and the inner corner of my eye.  I sweep on a couple coats of black mascara and dab on a some lip gloss to top everything off.  

When I evaluate myself in the mirror, I hardly recognize my own face.  I pull off the t-shirt and the whole look reflected in the mirror is overwhelming.  The black dress makes the snowy backdrop of my pale skin glow.  The thin straps show off my slender collarbones.  My green eyes look sultry under the dark sweep of lashes and my lips look like I’ve been sucking on a cherry popsicle.

I go back into the back of my closet and find the two pairs of heels that I own—a pair of strappy silver sandals that cut into my heel and a pair of classic black pumps that pinch my toes.  The prospect of walking to the dance in either is daunting.  Instead, I opt for my favorite pair of worn in, harnessed motorcycle boots.  

I rummage through the high shelves of the closet and find a small black beaded evening bag—a gift from my grandmother that I wore to a wedding once upon a time.  I fish out my keys, wallet, and cell phone from my book bag and cram everything into the tiny bag along with a compact and lipgloss for touchups.

Knowing the unpredictable nature of fall weather, I want to grab some sort of cover up.  But I have no shawl or even a dressy coat, so I just drape my leather jacket over my shoulders and leave.  A breeze has just started to creep in, but the night is still otherwise warm by October standards.  I walk at a brisk pace toward the school.  The dance doesn't start until 7:00PM, but I was supposed to report back half an hour early to help set up the ticket table.