My first period class is math, and now that I'm in the theater class second period, I've taken notice of a certain someone who shares my first two classes with me and walks the long trek down to the fine arts wing a few yards ahead of me every day: Layla Monroe.
What makes it a little more obvious that we are in the same math class is that today Mr. Buford assigned new seats today, and guess who I'm right next to?
"You're the new girl in theater, right? Janie, right?" she asks after she sits her things on the desk beside mine and Mr. Buford continues down the line of desk pairs.
"Yeah," I reply. It's been a week, she has to know it's me, I mean, she sees me every day. I wonder if she really isn't sure of who I am or if she is pretending so as not to seem too intense.
She smiles a closed mouth grin and unzips her pencil pouch. She pulls out a stick of silver-wrapped gum. "Gum?"
I shrug. "Sure. Thanks."
"No problem. Anything for a fellow theater geek," she says with a chuckle.
She's not a geek in any sense of the term, I think. "So, you're really serious about theater then?"
"Well, maybe not as much as Patti. I'm sure you've picked up how crazed she can be about the class by now, right?" She laughs again. "She's a strange one. Don't you think?"
I shrug. The truth is that Patti is strange, there's no denying it. But she is good strange. Passionate strange. Knows-what-she-wants strange. I can get behind that kind of strange. I should have more of that energy in my life.
"We have a space open in our little troupe," Layla says. "We are super nice in my troupe, and we have, like, little hang outs after school. Both Taylor Valentina, you probably recognize her from the cheerleading squad with me, and Greg Sussek are super nice."
"I'll think about it," I say.
She must hear the insincerity in my voice, because she continues her sales pitch. "Taylor was a lot like you when I met her in 8th grade. She was shy, pretty but not really trying, and making poor social choices. I pretty much saved her, and now look at her. She's a cheerleader, she's popular, and she's had, like, a bunch of boyfriends. We could do the same thing for you, Janie. Definitely think hard about it," Layla continues. "We'd love a fourth person in our little group."
"Will do," I say, barely audible.
Mr. Buford sits the last pair of students in their seats and calls class to order. "Today we will be reviewing the quadratic equation, because according to your tests from Friday, we are still struggling with this concept. I know it's math, people, but we need to study for this class too. Now, take out your packets, and we'll review our notes before moving on."
His phone rings.
"Of course," he mutters to himself as he makes his way to the phone on the wall beside his desk. "Mr. Buford's room," he answers. "Uh huh. Yeah, ok. Does she need to leave now? Ok, I'll send her. Ok, thanks."
He hangs up and locks eyes with me.
"Janie Myers, they need you in guidance," he says before getting back to his instruction.
"See you second period," Layla says. "Let me know then if you need more gum or anything at all."
"Ok," I say as I finish packing up my things. Thank God I'm getting out of this situation, I think, hurrying out of the room.
Patti was right: Layla is trying to steal me. It was tempting, not going to lie. But even if I wasn't already in a troupe I like, I don't think I'd ever take her up on her offer. While it would be nice to be popular and to be known, it would mean I'd have to talk to people. I think I'd rather stick to my relative anonymity.
Once I'm out of Mr. Buford's room, I take my time to Mrs. Thomas' office. Whatever she wants has got to do with my reading. I struggle, but I'm not stupid. My boots squeaking down the empty hallway to the office is the only sound I hear, that is, until one of the history classroom's doors opens.
It's Thatcher.
He looks both ways down the hall as the door closes behind him, but when he catches my eyes, he smiles and starts toward me, even though the boy's bathroom is the other way, closer to the office.
"Wandering the halls too?" he asks, his voice barely over a whisper. He's too good of a student to get caught taking his time in the hall.
"Heading to the office," I say.
"Oh man, they finally caught you, didn't they?"
I laugh, but not too loudly. "I can't hide my talents as villain extraordinaire. The principals finally figured out my... evil ways," I stop to laugh at myself. "I'm sorry, I couldn't come up with a good story to go along with you. I'm terrible at coming up with things on the spot like that."
He smiles. "We will work on that one of these days we rehearse after school. But in all seriousness, you are going to the office? What for?"
I shrug. "Who knows. See you next period, though. Mrs. Thomas is probably freaking out wondering where I am."
"Oh," he says, starting to walk toward the boy's bathroom and the office. I follow close behind. "Mrs. Thomas, huh? She likes to talk. I met with her about my future plans back in September. Took two class periods. Good luck."
"You won't be mad if I'm late to second period?" I ask as we continue down the hall.
He shrugs. "I'll—well, all of us will miss you if you do, but no big deal." He stops before pushing the door to boy's room open. "We'll figure it out. See you, hopefully, next period."
I smile. "See you then," I say, walking toward the office. I must have taken so much time to get here that I've actually put Mrs. Thomas on alarm, because I can see her through the glass windows of the office, waiting for me by the front desk.
She smiles at me and opens the door for me as another woman who was sitting with her back to the windows stands up. She's holding a clipboard in her hands and a binder underneath her arm. That makes me nervous.
"Hi Janie, thanks for coming," Mrs. Thomas greets me, but I'm too busy trying to figure out who this woman is to respond. "This is Ms. Newman—."
"—You can call me Alice," the woman interjects.
"She is our school psychologist. Let's step into my office."
"Okay," I say, following the two smiling women into Mrs. Thomas' office.
Mrs. Thomas opens the door and Alice uses her free arm to usher me in first. I fake a smile and take the same seat I occupied the last time, when my mom was here. I take a deep breath.
Alice sits in the seat beside me, and Mrs. Thomas stands behind her desk.
"Janie, Ms. Newman is here to assess your reading skills and make a professional suggestion of services the school should offer you. She's going to ask you to complete a few different tests, but even though we call them tests, we don't want you to feel stressed out these."
"I will be able to get the best results if you are calm and just be yourself. Okay, Janie?" Alice asks.
I nod. "Yeah, I can do that."
"Okay, great. I think we are good to go, Mrs. Thomas. Thank you for letting us use your office."
"No problem," Mrs. Thomas replies as she gathers up some papers from her desk.
"Wait, are you going?" I ask.
Mrs. Thomas smiles and nods. "You'll do fine, Janie."
She pats me once on the back and then, just as swiftly, leaves the room. Alice takes a long breath before she starts into a bubbly introduction to my first reading test. Her voice is high and youthful. She's a young woman, probably not long out of college, with yellow hair like the Disney character her name reminds me of.
"Wait," I interrupt. "So are these tests going to tell me if I'm, like, well... if I have a low IQ or something?"
"No, no. These tests are going to tell me what you struggle with in reading, so that Mrs. Thomas and your teachers can make a plan for you about ways to best help you in the classroom. Traditional school like you attend isn't for everyone, and the way your classes are taught is not for everyone. What I am trying to determine isn't how you can change, but how your teachers can change what they're doing to meet you where you are."
"Where I am?"
She rests her clipboard on her lap. "What is equal for all students isn't fair for all students. If the equal treatment the teachers are giving you isn't helping you, then it isn't fair. So we need to put strategies in place to help the teachers make it fair for you."
"Do a lot of kids need strategies like that?"
She smiles with a sort of pouty lip. "Yes. Tons of kids. You are not alone, and you are not dumb. If you struggle, it's not your fault. It just means we need to do more to make the struggle less... real."
I laugh.
"That's what you kids say these days, right?"
"Sure," I say. Then I take a deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready to start now."
"Great. Let's begin."
The tests took two class periods, so I missed theater. But the tests went well, I think. Alice actually made me feel better about my very real struggles. She said she will talk to Mrs. Thomas and my teachers to figure out a plan for me, and then she and Mrs. Thomas will meet with me and my mom again to approve of everything. For the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe school isn't the enemy.
But thank goodness I saw Thatcher in the hall, otherwise I would have misinterpreted his message to me, which I check at lunch.
Thatcher Gorsky: This scene is going so well by myself. I'm killing it. (9:52am)
I finally respond.
Janie Myers: Thank goodness. You needed a lot of practice. (12:10pm)
Then I add in the laughing emoji, just for good measure. Then I put my phone back in my jean's front pocket, and take out my agenda from my backpack to write a to-do list for this afternoon's rehearsal with Thatcher. I packed a lunch today, so I take bites of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich while writing as Gina comes up to the table with her school lunch.
"Ugh," she groans. "The line was so long today. What are you doing? Are you writing in your agenda? Who are you and what have you done with my friend?"
I roll my eyes and chuckle at her, but the truth is, I want to be better, so yeah, I'm making changes.
Then Patti comes up to the table with her tray in hand. "Can I sit with you ladies?" she asks.
Gina stares her down, and before Patti can see the expression on Gina's face, I tell her, "Of course. Patti, this is my friend, like, my oldest friend, Gina. Gina, this is Patti, she's in my theater class."
Patti takes a seat beside Gina, who is glaring at me in confusion, like, "Why is this girl next to me?" Her cat eye liner streaks off her eyelids as she gives me side eye.
Patti, on the other hand, smiles obliviously as she takes a bite of her salad. Her hair is back to its frizzy yellow mess today and she wears a grey sweater dress with, you guessed it, tights and red shoes. Her red lipstick, of course, is smeared over her lips.
Both girls are my friends now. Both girls love and wear red as an accent. Both are completely and totally different in every other way.
"I like that name, Gina," Patti says. "Does it mean anything?"
"I don't know," Gina says, taking a bite of her chicken sandwich.
"Okay, cool. Patricia--that's my full first name--is Latin. It means noble, and it's also the female version of Patrick. Isn't that funny?"
"Sure," Gina says.
"So, Janie, you missed class today. Are you and Thatcher getting far in your scene?"
"Yeah, I did, but we are going to rehearse today after school. We aren't too far. I think I'm slowing us down."
"Why?"
"She thinks she's stupid," Gina cuts in. "She's not very good at reading, so she thinks she's stupid."
I feel sort of betrayed by Gina in this moment. My reading struggles isn't something I publicize. But Patti doesn't seem to care.
"I'm sure you'll be great. Lots of actors had issues in school. I would know, because I've read nearly every biography of every famous actor that's out there. It's my dream to be famous one day too." She takes another bite of her salad while Gina gives her some side eye. "So you and Thatcher are rehearsing outside of school?"
I nod as I take another bite of my sandwich.
"Great," Patti says.
Gina turns to her. "What do you think of our little girl here hanging out with this boy?"
Patti chews her food and shrugs. "Thatcher is a good person, but he's not my cup of tea."
"I've got to see this kid," Gina says. "I want to put my two cents in."
My cheeks flush with nerves. "There's nothing to see or talk about," I say. "We aren't hanging out, we're just rehearsing, and I'm not looking for a boyfriend."
"Who said anything about a boyfriend?" Gina asks with a sly grin.
I kick her under the table. "No one here is looking for a boyfriend."
"I am," Patti says sneakily, and Gina laughs, nudging Patti in the arm. Maybe the three of us can be friends.
"Tell me all about it," Gina tells her, turning in her seat to face Patti.
Maybe. Maybe my two worlds can collide peacefully.