EXCEPTional

Ch. 5 (Chance)

*Chance*

  It had changed. It hadn’t changed much, but it was different. Outside the downtown area, things were the same: broken houses and recently mowed lawns. But downtown, things felt different, bigger, as though it had expanded in my absence. It looked like more businesses had implanted themselves—it was practically a bustling metropolis.

      Out of nostalgia, I cruised down the road, letting memory serve as my guide. Thankfully, my memory served me well, and I ended up in front of Bankington High.

      With its French doors, white pillars, and cobblestone steps, it certainly looked the part of a high school for the elite. It had been my school half of freshmen year, and then sophomore and junior year. I had found my confidence there. I started to wonder if the librarian was still there.

      Despite all the fond memories I had of this place, it wasn’t where I wanted to visit. I wanted to see the place that changed me, the place where things were more than memories.

      Shifting out of neutral and into drive, I roared down the street. I turned left and right, and finally, I came to the place. Smiling softly, I pulled into the back parking lot. Sighing, I stepped out of the Ferrari and leaned against it, hands in my pockets.

      Wellsworth High looked as shitty as it did those several years ago: broken windows, brown grass, bricks decaying and turning grey, renovations clearly haltered midway. This was the school of the middle and lower classes. It was also my school for my final year of high school.

      It was the beginning of summer, which meant there were no students here. But judging by the few cars parked, I had to assume there were a few teachers and kids in summer detention. Which meant the school was open.

      Walking through that door again brought back memories, but more importantly, emotions. As my footfalls echoed in the empty hallways, I saw faces I hadn’t thought about in years: Cranston, Tabitha, even Gina. Over there, Rory and Liam had embarrassed themselves after accidentally hitting on a substitute teacher. Here, I had seen Cranston get punched in the face. In there, Gina had threatened me.

      I froze. In front of me was a row of lockers. I knew these lockers, better than I thought I did. For it was here I first saw her. By that locker, I had first laid eyes on Bridget Young.

      Because seeing those lockers made me stupidly happy—the kind of happy that warranted a degrading nickname—I simply stood there and smiled. I felt like an idiot, standing in the middle of my high school’s hallway and staring at a row of lockers. But if they could see the memories coming back to life around me, they would have smiled too.

      Had five years really passed? Over five years, actually. I was 24 now. I had been through college, and now I was a world-famous model. Had that all happened within five years’ time? It seemed like such a short amount of time, but it was enough time for everything to change.

      Had Bridget changed? Of course she had. But how had she changed? I hoped she still glared at people with a force to stop a natural disaster in its tracks—it was one of those powerful things I would always remember. I hoped she still had those Hot Wheels lined up on her dresser, and a chaotic closet. I hoped those quirky things that I would never forget hadn’t changed, that they were still the same. But what did change about her?

      I couldn’t imagine Bridget still lived here. She had a big city personality, despite her small town upbringing. She belonged somewhere like Boston or even New York City. She’d thrive there. Here, she would just be trapped. She would be forced to settle down. I couldn’t imagine that spit-fire of a girl settling down with anything.