I found myself, a week later, staring straight ahead at the smudges on the black board, surrounded by the familiar smell of chalk dust and dirty gym shoes.
"This blows." I looked over at the kid sitting at the desk beside me, a big chubby guy whose blonde hair jumped up in erratic spikes, like it'd had enough and was trying to get away. Chubby kid shrugged, only glancing at me for a second before returning to his comic book.
Oh sure, ignore me for the adventures of captain underpants, why not?
I craned my neck to look at the only other person in the big empty classroom, a thin girl with carrot coloured hair sitting at the desk directly behind me. She had huge wire framed glasses and watery blue eyes.
"And how did you land in the hell that is summer school? You flunk Biology too?"
"Yup," she said shortly, and shoved her glasses up her nose aggressively, blinking at me as if she was daring me to say more. I face forward again quickly.
This was going to be a very long summer. Curse my perfectionist mother. This was probably just a way to get me out of the house so I wouldn't catch her sneaking into Sara's empty bedroom again.
Instantly I felt bad for thinking that. I was a horrible son.
The classroom door was propped open, footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Finally the teacher, it was a wonder we hadn't all escaped yet. The owner of the footsteps breezed in, derailing my train of thought and I felt the easy smile slide off my face.
It was her.
She had blonde curls and wide blue eyes, gorgeous eyes, really. She wore faded jeans and black tattered high-tops and a red knit sweater. I knew that sweater.
"Hi," she said.
I shut my mouth and managed a shaky smile and a nod. She hiked her book bag higher on her shoulder, walking past me to sit at the desk on my left. Vanilla wafted by me, making my head spin.
It was her. How the hell was that possible?
"I'm Morgan. I don't recognize you, you from a different school?"
I jumped. She's talking to me, God, I'm such an idiot! What should I say?
"Hi."
Good job, Moron. Hastily I added, "Lucas. Nice to meet you. I'm from Farefield Academy, down the street. We don't have enough dumb students to hold summer classes, so I'm here."
She giggled.
I wanted to say, "Excuse me, were you recently in a horrific bus accident by any chance?"
But I couldn't, because she would think I was nuts. No doubt about it.
"Summer school sucks, huh?" Morgan said cheerfully.
My dazzlingly clever reply of, "Uh, yeah" was drowned out by the shuffle and clump of boots coming down the hall. The man that entered was tall and broad shouldered, but the way he walked stole his height away. He slouched like someone had punched him in the stomach, and he shuffled forward, hardly lifting his feet off the ground. He blinked owlishly at us.
"I'm Mr. Sarnoff. I'll be teaching summer classes. Since we all have to be here all summer, we'll try to make this fun." His light brown eyes flicked over us once, dismissed us as uninteresting and slid to stare blankly at the wall. I wondered what his idea of "interesting" was.
Chess tournaments? Golfing?
Mr.Slouch, as I mentally pegged him, sighed audibly and shuffled to his desk. What followed for the next several hours could hardly be called interesting.
At last, when my brains felt like they'd been turned to sludge and were leaking out my ears, Mr.Slouch shut his text book with a snap that made us all jump and cleared his throat. We waited for his proclamation, and at last he said, "That's enough for today."
I think we probably all sagged in our chairs with relief.
"See you tomorrow," Mr. Slouch was already gathering his things, clearly as eager to get away as we were.
I stood, catching Morgan's eye, and managed to smile charmingly this time.
"Day one down, only one hundred and twelve more to go."
She made a face, and even wrinkling her nose at me she was cute. "Thanks a lot. I didn't need to know how many more days of hell we have left." She glanced at our teacher, but he had gathered his books and was already striding for the door.
"He seems happy to be here," I said, taking advantage of the moment to study her face. How had I not checked her out at the bus stop? Huge blue eyes, silky hair, full mouth.
I bet she's a good kisser.
Morgan turned to look at me again, and I nearly jumped, guilty. She smiled."Classroom's empty."I looked behind me, startled. She was right. Chubby kid and Carrots must have made a beeline for it.
"Hell if I know why I'm still here. " I turned for the door.
I sort of hoped she would leave right away when we got outside. I didn't want her to see my mother pull up in her mini van. Since the accident last week she'd refused to let me take the bus. Not that I really blamed her, I was a bit nervous about the idea myself, but I think I would rather be hit by a bus again then have Morgan watch me get picked up by my mother. The van was light blue with splotches of faded paint and a dent in the door I'd made with my head at age thirteen. I'd ridden my skateboard down the driveway and t-boned the van parked at the curb. I still remember Mom yelling at Dad while she held a tea towel to my bloody face. If he hadn't insisted his precious truck had to be in the driveway, than apparently I wouldn't have face-planted the side of the van. There was no logic in that; I realize that now, since I would have just bombed into his truck instead, but mom never once let logic stop her.
Morgan and I sat on the steps of the school, and she told me she was waiting for her brother to pick her up. I thought about the bumper sticker on the back of Mom's van, (Repent, God Saves) and wished fiercely that Morgan's brother would get there first. I rustled around in my knapsack, emerging with a half eaten bag of pretzels and offered one to Morgan, who laughed.
"Thanks, do you always carry snacks with you?"
"I'm sort of addicted to vending machine junk food." I crunched a pretzel, keeping my eyes on the road.
"Understandable, I used to take one to eat on the bus trip home, before my brother started picking me up." Morgan pressed her books to her chest and shifted on the cement stairs, trying to get comfortable. "You don't take the bus?"
I looked at her sharply, heart beating fast and hard. Was she trying to say something? I almost blurted it out, but instead I said, "Not anymore. So you don't take the bus anymore at all?"
"Sometimes, if my brother can't drive me." She shrugged.
Last week? You know, when the bus flattened the bus stop?
I stared at her. "I know you from somewhere."
"No, I don't think so," she said firmly. She said it without even looking at me. That didn't make sense. If someone says, "Hey, I know you from somewhere," you look at them to try and figure out where, right?
I was still staring at her, puzzled and frustrated, when the sound of crunching gravel signaled a vehicle rolling into the lot. I looked up and groaned, hiding behind my text book.
Morgan giggled.
"Is that your Mom's van?"
For a moment I wished the cement would crumble and swallow me whole. Then I was struck by an even more horrifying thought. I pictured Mom emerging from the van, coming to get me, meeting Morgan...It was enough to have me vaulting off the steps.
Bye," Morgan cried behind me, "See you tomorrow, Lucas!"
I waved over my shoulder and kept running. I swear I could hear her giggling as I climbed into the van and shut the door.
Mom looked at my red face and said, "You're flushed. Are you alright? Are you sick?"
I'm fine," I muttered. "Just get us out of here."
"Did class not go well?"
The van shuddered as we got on the highway and pushed it past eighty. My voice came out slightly uneven from the vibration. "It was fine. Just boring."
"Who was that girl on the steps with you?"
I shut my eyes. "Just another student."
"Do you like her?"
"Mom," I protested.
"I should know what's happening in your life," Mom said. "You're my only child, I..." her voice was starting to get choked, and I sighed and laid my head back on the headrest, letting the vibrations rattle my brain around inside my skull.
"No, I don't like her. She's cute, but I don't even know her. She could bury her victims in the veggie garden for all I know. I just met her."
Of course I didn't mention that I suspected she was the fictional red-sweater-girl from the bus stop. I'd find myself checked into the mental health wing of the hospital faster than I could say, "Resperidone".
"I see." Mom's lips were a thin line, and she stared straight ahead at the road.
She was giving me the ice queen treatment now, for being short with her. The silence was almost a relief. I shut my eyes again, ignoring the fact that she was probably shooting frosty looks at me every so often. It was preferable to a lecture. Nasty looks could be ignored.
I thought about Mr. Slouch and how much it was going to suck listening to him again tomorrow, and then I thought about Morgan and how she might sit beside me again, and summer school suddenly didn't seem as horrible.
Why does crazy stuff keep happening to Lucas? Who is Morgan? More soon! Please vote and comment if you're enjoying so far! New updates every Sunday!
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