♫ Brutal - Olivia Rodrigo
Back in Algebra, the room suddenly comes to a warp. Mr. Fisher's deep voice booms as it feels like every set of eyes in this small classroom are focused onto me.
Can they all tell I'm stoned?
Anxious, I gnaw my nails down to the quick, darting my eyes side to side. The sound of the clock hanging on the cream wall next to me ticks louder and louder as the seconds pass by, as if to taunt me.
A shrill bell rings, causing me to jump three feet into the air. With wide eyes, I snatch my backpack from the floor and dart out of the room joining a sea of pleated skirts flooding into the halls.
Pushing past the invaders, I dash to my lockers—making out a set of familiar faces.
Naila clings on to my arm, flashing her phone in front of my face. "You got high with Jack Moody?" she screeches, showing off what appears to be a text message I sent to her.
She knows I'm high.
My heart thuds against my chest and it suddenly feels like I'm getting both too much air and none at all at the same time.
Feeling like I'm being backed into a corner, I look for my escape before sprinting off down the hall, rounding the corner until I disappear into the bathroom.
The sink faucet leaks a steady drip into it's basin and my body lurches towards it. Flipping it on full blast, I stick my mouth beneath it, sucking in gulps of cold water.
It's a wonderful sensation. I stick my whole face under it—rolling around to soak every inch of my head and crunchy fried hair.
"Molly!" a voice shrieks. "What are you doing?"
Two sets of hands pull me from my water haven. Naila and Jade stare back at me with wide eyes.
"Are you okay?" Naila squeaks.
"Your eyes are bloodshot as hell," Jade states.
Are they really? My head whips around to the mirror behind me, sending water droplets flying around every which direction. Red, sunken eyes stare back at me. Yellow, wet matted hair frames my pale face.
My reflection looks frantic and scary—I don't recognize her.
I crumble to the tiled bathroom floor, pulling my knees to my chest to cradle them. Water drips from my head, creating a small puddle around me on the ground.
Another shrill bell cuts through the air sending my hands clasping around my ears.
"Molly, we have to get to class!" Jade exclaims reaching down to grab me. I shake my head and try to wriggle away from her grasp.
Naila joins in to help her. They tug at my forearms, trying to remove me from my safe ball on the floor. But I won't move. I'm staying here forever—this bathroom is my home now.
In a tussle, I use my feet to kick them away as we grunt and groan waging our war.
"Ladies—what are you doing?" a voice shouts at us as the school bell silences.
With wide eyes, I stare back in horror at the blonde headed woman. "Get to class—all of you," Principal Wells tells us.
My friends offer one last stern look down at me before scrambling out of the room.
Molly, get up off the floor.
Her blue eyes stare back at me, as I take a deep breath rolling over onto all fours, attempting to stand.
"Molly? Are you alright?" she asks with concern.
Shaking my head, I try to avoid her crystal eyes, but she leans down to meet me. Extending a hand, she attempts to help me to my feet but pauses to examine my face.
With a frown, she says, "How about you come with me to my office, instead."
....................
Slumped in the small office, I sink further into the deep maroon cushioned chair. Across from me, sits Principal Wells, arms crossed, a scowl etched into her face behind the heavy oak desk.
"Molly," she says sternly. "I'm going to ask one last time. Are you under the influence of drugs?"
Avoiding her eyes, I stare down at the dark navy carpet beneath my feet. The collar of my white polo is drenched, sitting uncomfortably against my neck.
"No," I muster. "I am not."
The woman lets out an exhaustive sigh. "Okay, I am going to have to go through your things. Please hand over your backpack."
Shaky hands reach towards my sky-blue backpack before I reluctantly hand it over. Perching it onto the desk she begins unzipping pockets, plopping out a colorful array of notebooks and pens.
Then, she reaches into the side pocket, pulling out my phone. My body stiffens as she swipes across the screen, lighting it up.
Immediately a frown falls onto her face and she slowly turns it towards me. "Molly, you left open a Google search: Can I die from too much weed?"
I bite my lip and sink even further into the chair, trying to disappear right into its cushion.
"Can you tell me where you got the weed?" she asks softly.
Still avoiding her eyes, I shake my head slowly. "I did not do any weed," I say in a monotone voice, sticking to my story.
Again, she sighs. The sound of her nails tap against the screen of my phone, until she speaks once more.
"Oh my god, I just smoked weed with Jack Moody," she states and my eyes jump to hers. Presenting my phone to me once more, she says, "You sent that message to your friend Naila, thirty minutes ago."
Damn.
She rubs a defeated hand over her face, setting my phone down onto her desk. "Molly, we're going to have to call your parents in for this."
My eyes screw shut—just lovely.
"And, I'll call Jack in to discuss this matter," she adds.
A pit forms into my stomach. "What—no," I screech. "Why?"
Please, don't tell Jack Moody I accidentally ratted him out. We just had such a nice time—my redemption from the drunken Saturday night at Burger Shack and now this is going to ruin everything.
He's going to hate me.
"Molly, he gave you drugs," she explains. "We have to bring him in."
I sigh, realizing I've lost this fight—and Jack Moody.
Nervously, I chew on my already gnawed off nails as Principal Wells picks up the shiny black phone on her desk. Her fingers punch buttons as she begins to call down the hall, retrieving Jack Moody to ruin everything for me.