I wanted to run.
Clearing her throat and sounding like she was on the verge of tears herself, Ms. Reynolds went on to the next order of business. I hoped it was something mundane, like a change in the dress code or something. It wasn't. Today was just not my day.
"In light of the recent tragedy, the school has decided to implement a much tougher policy on illegal substances. No drugs, no alcohol, no weapons...on or off campus. Any offense will result in immediate suspension. A second offense will lead to immediate expulsion." A buzz went around the room and I raised my head to stare at her, disbelieving. It was understandable that the school would be tough on that stuff on school grounds, but the school was going to try and stop high schoolers from partying off campus? Because of me? A few harsh words were muttered and more than a few harsh looks were sent my way.
She raised her hand and the buzzing quieted, if not stopped. "Now, this isn't to punish, this is to discourage. We want you all to be safe." She extended her slim hands to the side, like we were all in this together. I heard a few people mutter my name and swear. "There will also be a Safe and Sound club starting, to further promote...a more cautious lifestyle." Her eyes flicked to mine again when she said that and I could tell then, that she believed it too. She thought I'd been drunk. By her look and tone, she didn't seem to be condemning me for it, mistakes do happen after all, but she believed it, and she was hoping I'd join this little "purity" club.
My jaw clenched. They're all so wrong. Breathe...in...out. Calm down. I glanced over at the new girl, Sawyer. She met my eye and her brow furrowed, like she didn't get why I seemed to be repeatedly targeted. I sighed softly; she would soon enough.
Ms. Reynolds let out a shaky breath and shook her head, a large smile brightening up her almost gloomy face. I noticed a few girls in the room wiping tears off their cheeks and a few guys still muttering about the no substances stance the school was taking. No one looked at me again, but I felt the heat of every non-existent stare. Ms. Reynolds next words did absolutely nothing to dispel that feeling.
"Okay, for your first real assignment, I'm going to go easy on you. Just write a two page essay on what you did this summer. Simple right?"
My jaw dropped as I gaped at her. What I did this summer? I mourned the loss of three of my best friends. I yelled. I cursed God. I cried, no, I sobbed, for countless hours. I went to funerals, where kids and adults alike shunned me. I was alone...in my grief and in my overwhelming guilt. I still was. And she wanted me to...write about that?
Her eyes flicked over my face as she scanned the groaning room. They passed over mine again as she looked at all the students and then her head whipped back around to stare at me. "Oh...Lucas." Her face paled and her mouth dropped open as what she'd just asked me to do sank in. Her eyes watered and she shook her head. "You don't have to...you can write whatever you want."
Every head in the room turned to stare at me; most held bitterness, some outright anger, some just curiosity. My breathing got shallow again and I could feel my stomach start to rise. God, I was going to get sick right here in front of everyone. I grabbed my bag and bolted out of my chair. I couldn't do it. I couldn't calmly sit there anymore. Coming today was a bad idea.
As our seats had a bar holding up the writing table, you had to get in and out of them the same way, so I had to pass Will again. Seeing as how he had the maturity level of a five year old, he stuck his foot out again. And since today was really not my day and I was concentrating more on not throwing up or hyperventilating, or some odd mixture of the two, I tripped over his damn foot again.
I fell hard, both hands and knees hitting the ground this time. The entire room laughed and my head started to swim. I wanted it to be over with. All I did was make a mistake. All I did was drive poorly and lose control of the car. Why did no one believe that?
Soft hands helped me up and a voice cooed in my ear. "It's alright, Lucas. Everything will be alright."
My heart stopped. It was Lillian's voice that I'd heard in my ear. Her sweet, musical tone that had driven my heart straight to near imploding with love back when she was alive, and I was hearing it again, hearing it clearly. My head shot up as my legs straightened underneath me. I snapped my head around behind me, fully expecting to see Lillian, see her delicate arms under my elbows, helping to steady me. But it wasn't Lil's pale hair that filled my vision. No, I was met with black hair.
My brows scrunched as I looked back into Sawyer's gray eyes. She had sounded so much like Lil. I reached out and grabbed a lock of her hair, ignoring the sound of the class still laughing and Ms. Reynolds trying, without much luck, to subdue them. Her hair was soft but undeniably black. I didn't understand. My eyes watered and obscured vision added to my breathing and stomach problems.
"Lil?" I asked quietly, wondering if I'd gone completely mad.
"Come on," Sawyer's soft voice responded, not much sounding like Lillian at all anymore.
She reached behind her to grab her bag off the floor and then shuffled me forward and for a moment, I couldn't understand why. When we got to the front, she hastily told Ms. Reynolds that she was taking me to see the counselor. I wanted to roll my eyes and tell her I was fine. I wanted to go sit back down and yell at everyone that I was fine. I couldn't though. I couldn't speak and my eyes were really starting to tear up. I'd just clearly heard my dead girlfriend's voice. I wasn't fine.
Ms. Reynolds nodded and swooshed her arms toward the door, almost looking relieved that I was about to be walking through them. A crumpled up piece of paper hit the back of my head as Sawyer opened the door, but I ignored it. I ignored it all and focused on putting one foot in front of the other, while keeping my breaths deep and my stomach down. That was enough to think about.
The door shut behind me and I slumped down, putting my hands on my knees and bending over, praying I didn't get sick in front of her. She rubbed a hand on my back while I took embarrassingly big breaths.
"Are you...alright?" she asked hesitantly.
I shook my head forcefully. Alright? No, I hadn't been that in awhile.
"Do you want me to take you to that counselor person?" She adjusted her book bag on her shoulder up over her head so the strap rested across her chest.
Again I shook my head. No, I did not want to speak with some high school grief counselor. What did they know about being responsible for ending the lives of three people that you loved? What advice could they possibly give me? One day at a time. Things will get better. Time heals all wounds. It was all crap and I didn't want to hear it.
"No...I just want...quiet." I finally got out between big breaths.
She nodded and started pulling me away. Confused, I looked around. "What are you...where are we going?"
She half grinned at me, her pigtails swishing around her shoulders. "Somewhere quiet."
She pulled me down to the first floor and for a moment I thought she was going to pull us back into "our" bathroom. She may have actually been about to do that, but when we reached the last step on the stairs we noticed Coach Taylor going in there. We both flattened against the wall so he wouldn't see us.
Coach had been my mentor in football since I had played Junior Varsity freshman year. While he was an exceptionally hard and stern man, he'd always been there for me, supporting me and encouraging me in his drill sergeant sort of way. Darren and me both. He'd been the one to see real potential in me and had worked tirelessly to stoke it. I wasn't sure what he believed about the crash...but I was sure I didn't want to find out just yet.
Sawyer didn't seem to want a run-in with a teacher either, so once the bathroom door closed, she pulled my hand in the opposite direction. She pulled us towards the janitor's closet and I felt my body tense up. Kids made out in there, just like they did in every high school across America. That wasn't what was making my already on the edge stomach rise further and twist painfully though. No, I wasn't afraid of being in a dark, enclosed space with a pretty girl. I was afraid of the ghosts that awaited me in that room.
Lil and I had been nearly nak*d in that room before. I know...not romantic, but we'd been in love and desperate to connect and just...feel each other. That room held the echoes of light moans and memories of soft skin and heated kisses. Even without walking into that room, flashes of the encounter filled my head: Lil's shirt dropping to the floor, her bra following, my shirt last to the pile, her sitting me down in a folding chair, her straddling my lap, our bare chests pressed together, my lips on her fragrant skin...fruity, like peaches, her hands snaking between us to unbutton my jeans...
I pulled away from Sawyer just as her hand reached the knob. She looked back at me surprised, and maybe a little hurt too, but I couldn't worry too much about offending her because I was about to lose whatever trace amount of food was in my stomach...and doing it all over her, would most definitely offend her.
I bolted out the front door and down the few steps leading up to the building. I just made it to the edge of the stairs when my stomach had had enough. Falling to my knees at the beauty bark surrounding a few decorative bushes under the windows...I threw up. Great.
It was just once, and very quick, but enough to make me feel like a jackass when I sensed Sawyer watching from behind me. I silently thanked fate that I was a few feet from the window and hadn't just done that in front of a room filled with unsuspecting students. With a shaking hand, I wiped off my mouth and sat back on my heels.
After a few calming, deep breaths in the stillness of this cool autumn morning, I turned my head to look at Sawyer. I had no idea what she'd think of that, what she thought of anything about me. If she had pieced together any of the conversations she'd probably heard this morning, she probably thought I was hung-over and heaving my alcohol soaked guts.
Looking over at her dark head, tilted slightly to the side, brows slightly bunched together, all I could read from her was concern. Still not saying anything, she extended a hand to me. I looked down at the hand, the silver ring upon her thumb that shone even in the faded gray light of this overcast day, and finally reached out to grasp it with my own.
Her hand was cool, since we were outside, and I noticed then that she still didn't have a jacket and she was shaking lightly. As we stared at each other for a moment, I dropped her hand, shrugged off my jacket and flung it around her shoulders. She started to protest and shrug it back off, although her face seemed reluctant to do so, but I immediately broke off her objections.
"I don't want it," was all I said. And I didn't want it. I didn't want that reminder of the popular, outgoing, happy-go-lucky guy I used to be. I wasn't him anymore and I didn't want to pretend that I was. I never wanted to wear that damn jacket again.
She only nodded as she took in the expression on my face and the dead evenness of my tone. She ran her arms through the sleeves and hugged the fabric to her chest, like she hadn't worn a coat in so long she'd almost forgotten how nice it could feel to be warm and cocooned.
I shivered a bit in the chill now, but I welcomed it. It woke up my senses, cleared my head, and my lungs indulged in the crisp, damp air as I took long even breaths. She studied me silently for a moment more before quietly saying, "Do you want me to take you home?"