Bite Your Tongue

7:15 A.M.
Korinne;;

Since the majority of my summer had been comprised of unexpected events—Brian randomly saying that he loved me, Stevie convincing me to go to Europe with her, and this whole Jimmy drama—I hadn’t really given much thought to the fact that once school started, I’d be a junior, that’d I’d be skipping a grade. The news, since I’d been informed of it, had been filed away in a corner of my mind, shoved aside to the place where I kept things that I didn’t particularly want to spend too much time thinking about. I knew it was going to happen no matter what, but that didn’t stop me from pretending like I still had more time. When my mom had—shockingly—decided to take the day off of work on Saturday morning and drag me and Elias out to shop for new school supplies, I’d convinced myself that we were just going shopping way in advance and that there were still several weeks before school started again. I’d done the same when Elias had reminded me of the summer reading assignment I had to do, maniacally pretending that I was simply reading the books and writing essays and a dialectical journal for fun. But as I stared, bleary-eyed, at my reflection in the toaster, waiting for my Poptarts to be done, I wanted to slap myself for being so foolish.

The first day of school had arrived. I couldn’t pretend anymore.

Prickles of fear began to eat away at me after my food was done, once I’d taken a seat at the table. Sure, in terms of necessary materials, I was prepared—my mom had gone a bit overboard and purchased so many school supplies that Elias and I could probably make it through graduate school without ever having to buy another pencil or package of paper—but in terms of mental or emotional stability? Not so much. Having some friends didn’t automatically make me a people person. I knew I’d see everyone at lunch, but during other portions of the day, when I would be forced to deal with what would likely be complete strangers, I had no idea how I was going to cope. I found myself suddenly cursing summer, wishing the season a painful death. It had lulled me into a false sense of security, getting me used to the near-constant presence of one of my friends, only to abruptly push me back into the real world as school started up again. I bit into a Poptart angrily and wondered, with my sleep-deprived brain, if there was any way to cause harm to a season.

Elias joined me a few minutes later, shuffling into the kitchen with his eyes half closed and his hair dripping wet. He somehow managed to navigate his way over to the cabinet to retrieve his cereal and a bowl without bumping into anything. Box of Lucky Charms in hand, he sat down across from me and began dumping cereal into his bowl.

“Hey,” I said.

He grunted.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tired.”

“Did Maddie wear you out yesterday?”

It seemed that she came over every day, and though I’d sometimes see them watching TV in the living room, most of the time, they were in Elias’s room with music blasting, and I highly doubted that they were merely listening to the tunes.

Despite his fatigue, Elias gave a somewhat embarrassed smile.

“Shut up.”

I laughed quietly to myself and bit off another chunk of Poptart. Elias stared at his bowl of cereal, frowning.

“You forgot milk,” I said. “And a spoon.”

He let his head fall onto the table with a loud thud and swore almost as loudly.

Once we had finished eating, we headed outside. After so many days of not having to wake up before eight AM, it felt strange to be outside at such an early hour. My body was letting its discomfort be known; all I wanted to do was crawl back into the warm comfort of my bed and sleep for another four hours. Elias, on the other hand, seemed to have perked up. I suspected it was because he knew he was only minutes away from seeing Maddie again—he’d arranged for her to give us a ride to school, since our mom had yet to address our unfortunate car situation and we really didn’t feel like taking the bus.

We waited for about ten minutes. Then, a honk came from the end of the street, and I raised my eyebrows at the car that was coming toward us. Elias chuckled, seeing the expression on my face.

“Is she insane?” I asked.

“Nope. Just…eccentric.”

That’s an understatement, I thought, looking at Maddie’s car. She drove a VW Bug that must have been green at some point in time but was now almost completely plastered with pictures from what looked like every tabloid magazine in existence. Bits of her car’s original appearance peeked out from in between her unique decorations, giving the vehicle the effect of being haphazardly wrapped in newspaper—only instead of local and world news, her car displayed exaggerated stories about celebrities, accompanied by probably-manipulated pictures.

“Hey!” Maddie called through the open window. “Get in.”

Following Elias, I approached the car. He opened the passenger side door and gave Maddie a kiss before moving out of the way so I could climb in. Maddie gave me a beaming smile as I squeezed myself into the backseat.

“First day of school! Aren’t you excited?!” she exclaimed.

“Thrilled,” I said darkly.

I moved a large orange backpack out of the way and buckled my seatbelt. Upbeat music was leaking out of the car’s speakers—it sounded like a Katy Perry song, but I wasn’t sure—and the smell of coffee hung in the air, Once I was settled, Elias got into the front, and we were off.

The ride to school seemed to take less time than I remembered. I knew it took about fifteen minutes, but as we pulled into the parking lot, it felt like we’d left home mere seconds ago. With authority, Maddie claimed a parking spot, shouting that she was a senior now and therefore could park wherever the hell she wanted to. The person who had been vying for the same spot shouted a few unpleasant words back at her and zoomed off in search of another spot.

“I love being a senior,” Maddie said smugly. She and Elias struck up a conversation about all the cool things they hoped they’d be able to do now that they had seniority.

I barely heard them. My heart was thudding so loudly that it was near impossible to hear anything else. I wanted to calm down, I really did. But every time I managed to soothe my worry about one thing, another cause for concern surfaced.

“Are you planning on sitting there all day?” Elias asked.

I blinked. He and Maddie had gotten out of the car. Maddie was excitedly chattering away on her phone, her eyes bright with what I assumed was the possession of fresh gossip. Elias was looking at me expectantly.

“Yeah, I’m coming.” I said, scrambling to get out of the car. I shut the door behind me and straightened out my clothes. “I’m just…nervous.”

He frowned. “Don’t be.”

Before I could protest, he pulled me into step beside him and Maddie, and the three of us headed inside.

The school hadn’t changed much. The walls were still a pale yellow color; the lockers still deep blue. The atmosphere was the same, too, like the building had been permanently encased in a plastic bubble that sucked the life out of everyone inside. Welcome back, the building seemed to say.

I parted ways with Elias and Maddie after a few minutes, since they were headed to the yearbook office—Maddie was one of the new photographers, and she wanted to pick up her camera to get a head start on picture taking. After saying that I’d find them at lunch, I made a mental note to avoid Maddie if I ever saw her approaching me with a camera, and went in search of my first class, U.S. History. We’d arrived early enough that I didn’t really have to worry about quickly finding the classroom, which turned out to be quite fortunate, because it took me well over ten minutes to locate the correct room. I stood by the doorway for a minute, consulting my schedule to make sure I had the room number right, and stepped cautiously inside.

The room was arranged like most of the other classrooms I remembered, with several large windows covered by blinds on the far wall, a desk topped with a multitude of teacher supplies to my left, in front of a dry erase board, and about twenty desks arranged in neat rows in the remaining space. It didn’t even look like the teacher had arrived yet. The only occupant of the room was a very familiar-looking girl who was deeply immersed in the book in her hands.

Seated at a desk in the middle of the first row was Delia. A blue headband sat atop her head of curly black curls. A purple binder, a student planner, and a pencil were arranged neatly on her desk.

“Delia?”

She glanced up from her book, looking annoyed. But she brightened when she saw me.

“Korinne!”

“Hey!” I took the seat next to her, dropping my backpack onto the floor. “I didn’t know you’d be in this class!”

She closed her book. “Didn’t Stevie tell you? I’m a junior, too.”

“Really?”

I wanted to jump up into the air and click my heels. I’d always just assumed that Delia was the same age as Stevie and the others. It was nice to hear otherwise.

“So, how was your gymnastics thing?” I asked.

“Amazing. I got this little girl to get over her fear of the parallel bars, and it turns out she’s actually pretty awesome at them…”

We busied ourselves with talking, and I tried my best to keep up with all the gymnastics-related terms. I told her about London, though she’d been there already, and soon the room began to fill with people. I recognized a few of the older kids that had been in my classes last year, and of course, there were complete strangers, too, but as long as I had at least one friend in the class, I knew I’d be okay.

The teacher, a slightly fat, slightly balding man with ginger hair and tiny glasses, arrived just seconds after the warning bell. He placed his laptop and a steaming cup of coffee onto his desk, then sat down, looking at us with a friendly expression. More students trickled in. With the rush of almost-late students that flooded into the room as the final bell rang came Johnny, who gave the room a quick scan and immediately made a beeline for Delia and I. He slid into the empty seat on Delia’s other side—no one else wanted to sit in the front, apparently—and gave us a tired smile.

“Hey,” he said.

Delia and I greeted him and started to ask him about his summer, but then the teacher stood up and began talking.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Mr. Howard. Let’s just wait for the morning announcements, and then I’ll take attendance—”

He paused as another student rushed into the room—a gorgeous blonde with a slightly swollen stomach. Every ounce of the good mood I’d achieved over the last few minutes disappeared as I looked at Zoe. Despite having gained a few pounds, she looked amazing. Her hair hung in shiny waves around her face. She wore a flowy red shirt, dark wash jeans, and white flip-flops. I wanted to hit her.

“You’re late, Miss,” said Mr. Howard.

“I know,” she said, giving him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I had to go to the bathroom.”

His eyes lingered briefly on her stomach before moving up to her face.

“All right. Next time, though, check in with me first, so I don’t mark you as tardy.”

“Okay.”

“Have a seat, Miss…”

“Windham.”

“Have a seat, Miss Windham.”

Zoe obeyed and made her way over to a seat near the window. She dropped her large tote bag onto the floor and looked around, most likely inspecting her fellow classmates.

After recovering from the momentary interruption, Mr. Howard turned to speak to us again, only to be cut off by the sound of the announcements. He rolled his eyes and waited until they were over.

“At last,” he said, lifting a sheet of paper up in front of his face. “Okay, when I call your name, please give some indication that you’re alive. Bates?”

As he called attendance, I turned to Delia, who looked just as unhappy as I felt.

“I was hoping she wouldn’t be in any of my classes,” she said.

“I know. Me too.”

“Me three,” Johnny added.

He had a strange look on his face; an expression that was a cross between several different emotions I couldn’t even begin to decipher. I had just decided to ask him what was wrong when Zoe spoke up, once again drawing the attention of the entire class room.

“Um, excuse me?”

Mr. Howard sighed. “What is it, Miss Windham?”

I could tell that he was easily annoyed. I sincerely hoped Zoe continued being as irritating as she currently was and got herself thrown out.

“Would it be possible for me to have a seat closer to the door?” she asked. “I have to use the bathroom a lot,” Zoe said.

“Oh. Well…yes, of course.” Mr. Howard turned slightly pink. He clearly was also the type of man who was made uncomfortable by the mention of girly health issues. His gaze raveled over all of the desks near the door, and when he got to me, he stopped. “Would you mind switching seats with Miss Windham?”

My hands clenched into fists. I looked at Zoe, who gave me a sickly sweet smile from her seat on the other side of the room. I wanted to refuse, to say no, I would not switch seats with her; she could piss on the floor like an untrained puppy if she needed to. But I didn’t want to make a bad first impression on Mr. Howard, so I swallowed my rage and grabbed my backpack.

“Okay,” I said, trying to keep my voice as civil as possible. “I don’t mind.”

Mr. Howard beamed at me. “Excellent.”

“Thank you so much, Korinne,” Zoe said as we passed each other.

I resisted the strong urge to trip her. “It’s no problem.”

I settled into my new seat, and Mr. Howard continued taking attendance. And as I watched Zoe sitting happily in between Delia and Johnny, giving me smug looks every few minutes, I didn’t think my mood could drop much farther down on the happiness scale.

I was wrong.

The day only got worse from there. When U.S History had ended, I’d practically vaulted from the room, eager to get away from Zoe, and hurried to my Spanish class. Everything was fine for the first five minutes of class, but then, to my horror, Zoe had waltzed in, late again. I’d told myself that it was just a coincidence—we were both juniors, so it wasn’t strange for us to have the same classes—but after she’d appeared in my Web Design and AP English class as well, I started to think that she’d somehow done this on purpose. It was crazy to think that anyone would go through the hassle of matching their schedule to another person’s for the sole purpose of making them miserable, but if there was anyone I knew of who would do such a psychotic thing, it was Zoe.

By the time we got to lunch, I was ready to shoot myself.

Thankfully, the cafeteria was large enough that I didn’t even see Zoe as got in line for my food. Grateful to be away from her, I bought myself a sandwich and some Sun Chips. I ran into Elias and Maddie, who said they could come find me once they’d gotten their food. I went in search of a table and soon saw Stevie and Delia sitting at a table outside. I hurried towards them and dropped into the empty seat next to Stevie.

“Hey!” she said. “How’s your day been?”

I let my head fall onto the table. “I hate my life,” I grumbled.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

I lifted my head up slightly to look at her. “Zoe has been in all of my classes so far,” I said through gritted teeth. “Every. Single. Fucking. One.”

“Let me see your schedule,” Stevie said.

I reached into my backpack, retrieved the small piece of blue paper,and handed it to her.

“There’s got to be something on her Zoe won’t be in.” She began to read it aloud “U.S. History, Spanish 3, Web Design, AP English, Chemistry, Pre-Calc, Personal Fitness.”

“Wait a minute, Zoe’s in AP English?” Delia asked. “I didn’t think she was that smart.”

“Well, apparently she is. She even did her summer reading assignment and turned it in some fancy blue folder.”

Stevie set my schedule down. “I don’t think she’ll be in your math class—I’m pretty sure she’s only in Algebra 2. And she won’t be in your Personal Fitness class; we both took that freshman year.”

“Thank God.”

“Now, get your face off of the table. You don’t know what disgusting shit’s been on there.”

I realized quickly that she had a point and rose into a sitting position. Delia shoved the last remains of her veggie sandwich into her mouth and stood up.

“I should go. I promised Zacky I’d sit with him for at least a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

“Traitor!” Stevie yelled jokingly as Delia walked off.

Delia put an arm up in the air and gave Stevie the finger.

A few minutes later, we were joined by Jimmy, Matt, and Johnny, all of whom were already eating their lunches as they approached. Johnny sat down and continued inhaling his chicken fingers, looking miserable; Matt kissed Stevie and then resumed the rapid consumption of his pizza, and Jimmy, surprisingly, gave me a hug and soft kiss that made me forget all about my bad mood, at least for a few seconds. I hadn’t expected him to kiss me in public—-did that mean we were officially dating, or did he have to ask me for it to be official? I wanted to ask him, but I was soon distracted by Maddie descending upon the table with a small digital camera. Before I could cover my face, she’d snapped a picture.

“What the hell?”

“I wasn’t ready!” Stevie shrieked.

“Sorry,” Elias said, coming up behind his girlfriend. “She’s going a little crazy with the camera.”

“Yeah, no shit!”

Maddie apologized, too, and quickly settled down.

“So, how’s everyone’s day going?” Stevie asked cheerfully, once everyone was seated.

“Fine,” said Johnny.

“Pretty good,” Matt said.

“I’m officially the main yearbook photographer!”

“My girlfriend’s officially the main yearbook photographer!”

“Someone in the scheduling office fucked up and put me in AP Chemistry,” Jimmy said.

There was a brief moment of silence before everyone burst into laughter.

“It’s not funny!” he insisted, though he himself was laughing. “I have no idea what’s going on. I think I’m failing already.”

“Now there’s a definite possibility,” Matt said.

Jimmy seized Johnny’s bottle of Gatorade and aimed it for Matt’s face.

“Ouch!”

“Dude, that was my Gatorade!”

As the rest of us cracked up, I felt my annoyance at Zoe being in so many of my classes starting to fade away. I knew I’d have to deal with her for three hours every day, but at least I would have somewhere to escape to afterwards.

At least I wasn’t completely alone.

+++

1:58 P.M.
Brian;;

I wanted to die.

I’d never really given suicide all that much thought, but as I sat miserably in the back of our way-too-hot Personal Fitness classroom, watching an introductory video on the human body, it seemed like a pretty appealing alternative. I found myself inspecting the ceiling above my head, wondering what would happen if there was an earthquake. Maybe I could throw myself under a piece of falling debris. That would work, right? It wouldn’t kill me, probably, but it’d put me in the hospital with injuries hopefully severe enough to require lots and lots of medication that would keep me unconscious for a few days. I inspected other aspects of the classroom, and as I was trying to gauge the death-dealing power of a pencil sharpener, Zacky nudged me.

“Are you as miserable as I am?” he asked.

“I can think of at least ten different ways to kill myself right now,” I said.

Zacky snorted. “I’ve got twelve. Beat that.”

“Fuck you.”

I was beginning to wish that I’d taken this class freshman or sophomore year. I’d known that it was a graduation requirement, but I’d always been too lazy to sign up for it. Now I was stuck taking it as a senior, along with Zacky and about thirty other unfortunate kids. We were among the only seniors in the class; besides us, it seemed to be made up of the overachieving, Let-Me-Get-My-Graduation-Requirements-Out-Of-The-Way-So-I-Can-Take-More-AP-Classes type of freshman and sophomores. It sucked. I was just glad that this was the last class of the day and that I could go home afterward. All day had been spent hoping that Zoe wouldn’t be in any of my classes, since I already had to see enough of her outside of school and I didn’t think I could handle having a class with her. Thankfully, all of my classes—except for lunch, of course—had been Zoe-free, and I’d been able to somewhat enjoy things.

Our teacher, a nice but not exactly compassionate woman in her twenties named Ms. Simpson, shut off the video and turned on the lights. There were sounds of movement as people stretched or were poked awake by their friends.

“All right,” she said. “I hope you all brought sneakers, ‘cause today we’re going to see how fast you can run a mile.”

A collective groan echoed through out the classroom. Ms. Simpson frowned.

“Get over it. You have two minutes to put on your shoes or find some.”

“Good thing I wore sneakers today,” I said.

“I hate you.”

I looked down at Zacky’s feet to see him wearing sandals. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

“If you laugh at me, Brian, I will kill you.”

“I wasn’t laughing.”

Zacky gave me a dirty look.

“Give me one of your shoes.”

“What? No!”

“Yes! That way we’ll each have at least one!”

“I need my shoes, Zacky.”

“Fine!”

He hurried off in search of shoes. A minute later, he returned, looking relieved.

“Some freak girl over there brought like, ten extra pairs, in all sizes,” he said.

I glanced at his feet again. He was now wearing pink Converse All Stars.

“Um…”

“Like I said before, I will kill you if you laugh.”

I held back the outburst that was threatening to slip out. Then we followed the rest of the class outside into the hot sun. As we waited for Ms. Simpson to join us, I let my gaze wander over the other kids in the class, hoping I knew one of them and had just failed to notice it before. My eyes fell on the back of a girl with a purplish ponytail stretching her legs several feet in front of me, and my heart lurched. I elbowed Zacky in the ribs.

“Ouch! What the—”

“Is that Korinne?”

He followed my gaze.

“I don’t know, Brian. You’re the one who’s in love with her—shouldn’t you know what she looks like?”

“Well…I mean, I think it’s her.”

“Or maybe you’re just crazy and pretending that it’s her.”

I glared at him.

He rolled his eyes. “There’s only one way to find out, you know,” he said.

Before I could ask what, he stepped forward and shouted “KORINNE!” at the top of his lungs.

The girl turned around. It was Korinne, looking cute and confused as she tried to figure out who had been calling her name. I waved hesitantly, drawing attention to myself; she smiled and walked over to join us.

“Hey,” she said. “I didn’t know you guys were in this class!”

“We’re not really supposed to be,” Zacky explained. “We should have taken it like, two years ago.”

“Good job.”

“I know, right?”

We laughed.

“So…” I said. “How are you?”

I didn’t even know why I’d asked; the answer was obvious. Just from a quick glance I could tell that she was in a good mood.

“Good. Not really looking forward to running, but apart from that, I’m good.”

“Good. It’s…good that you’re good.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zacky roll his eyes. I knew I was being awkward and pathetic, but I couldn’t help it. I just didn’t know how to act around her anymore.

Korinne seemed to be amused by my failure of a conversation. She laughed, and the sound was more pleasing to me than the enormous amount of fries I’d eaten for lunch. I wanted to hold her, to kiss her; to beg her to tell Jimmy that he could go fuck himself, but I knew I couldn’t. I hadn’t seen her this cheerful in a long time, and a part of me wondered if it was because of Jimmy. And if it was—no matter how much it bothered me; no matter how miserable I felt imagining her happy in someone else’s arms—then I could no longer waste energy hating Jimmy. She deserved some happiness, regardless of where it came from.

Ms. Simpson finally appeared, brandishing a whistle. As we positioned ourselves to start running, I found myself next to Korinne. Being so close and not being able to touch her was torture; a torture I forced myself to endure. She was happy, and I wouldn’t mess with that.

Even if it meant that I was unhappy for the rest of my life.