Symptoms of Life

“Aren’t you supposed to be training for the Olympics or somethin’?” Some girl beside me hissed, jabbing an elbow into my shoulder from just a few feet over.

I didn’t even bother blinking. Instead I rolled my eyes, and sunk back into the plastic chair and choosing to simmer my stare on the class overhead wordlessly. The teacher, at the front podium, droned on about the course: public speaking. In the back of my head I could hear her discussing and explaining future assignments, but I couldn’t bring myself to listen. It felt like the building was a million miles away, and just about everything was a dull echo in my numbed mind.

School was far from a good distraction no matter what anyone thought. All I could think of was home. My mind was stuck replaying images of homemade food, Chinese takeout on Tuesdays, diving practices, pancake breakfasts, stolen kisses, movie nights with my mom, and drunken ‘tea parties’ with teammates.

Sitting in class, all I could feel was him lying on top of me, leaving amateur kisses down my neck to my shoulder, bending deeper to my naval and then lower. I could hear his voice, asking me to kiss him harder in my head in the exact the same way I could remember the twists of a winning dive. I could remember the way I used to melt into his eyes and relax into his arms.

I could smell my mother’s cooking, with recipes her family had brought straight from France. I could taste the shitty ten-dollar bottles of wine that I used to buy with friends and drink in celebration – only to wake up destroyed the very next morning.

But I couldn’t see it. My mind was stuck with nothing more then a blurry image of their smiles, laughs trickled in and out of my ears, but I couldn’t see it. In public speaking class it was the same as me sitting alone in my new bedroom to dwell on misconnections, and bad fate.

“Well aren’t you?” The girl prodded, the bell rang out behind her voice, and she flipped her immaculate ponytail over her shoulder. Standing up she towered over me. Her thick black hair rested on her back and her brown eyes challenged mine. “Are you Florence Todd the Olympic Champion or not?” She pried, her long arms folding themselves across her chest.

“Far from it.” My throat caught, and I felt the embarrassment rising to my face. Dropping my gaze to the desk, I stood up slowly, before staggering out of the room. The hallway was swelling with people, they were all moving in the same direction though, towards the cafeteria.

I passed by the elevator, my shoulders clashing with passerby’s on my way to my locker section. Orange locker after orange locker decked the cinder block walls with only a few interruptions for doors.

Ducking into the stairwell I lowered my head and watched as my feet left the floor. Moving felt impossible. If felt like my new foot held the entire weight of the world, and each step caused an earthquake with the weight it fell down with. They dragged on the floor, barely able to rise, before falling back down.

“Fuck.” I muttered, grabbing the locker combination off of my wrist where I’d etched it earlier this morning.

“Hi gorgeous.” Liesl smiled, planting a firm kiss on my cheek. She sat back against the lockers, her eyes hard on the dynamic hallway scene. “Ready for lunch?” She asked holding up to brown paper bags.

Liesl was nothing like I’d imagined her. Before three weeks ago I’d never met her, I’d only been told of her. My mom only explained Dad’s leaving to me when a wedding invitation was received in the mail and I caught her ripping it up. He had two other children my age: Liesl and Griffin. According to Mom, there was absolutely no reason to meet them. They were dead to us.

Dr. David Todd, my father, left when I was about three. He moved in with his other lady, Angelina, and pledged to ‘make it alright’, he just never did that with us.

In my imagination Liesl and Griffin were both similar to me. We were all the same, and while we all carried renditions of my father’s blonde hair and crisp green eyes, our faces and personalities varied on an impossible level.

Liesl was beyond perky. Her eyes were everywhere, all the time, and she always had an opinion – on everything. She was social, and simple in that way. She rarely laughed, but was usually quick with a one liner.

“Let’s go.” I agreed taking the paper bag marked with an ‘F’ out of her hand, and following her down the hallway to the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was worse for a crowd. Thousands of teenagers were gathered around tables, their voices echoing off the glass walls and high ceilings. They were totally oblivious to anything as we walked in – nearly last – our destination locked on a table off to the side.

“This is where we always sit.” Liesl smiled, eyeballing a few of the inhabitants to move over.

I recognized a few faces at the table. Griffin was there, his arm wrapped around his girlfriend, Dia, and his face buried into the side of her neck. Next to me was Wes, Griffin’s best friend that was a permanent fixture in their house. I’d only ever exchanged a few grunts with him, but that didn’t stop him from wrapping an arm around me in a sideways hug type-thing.

Liesl’s good friend Cammy was also at the table. She’d also been over at their house visiting, more often than not, and seemed to be nothing more than a follower in a large pack. A few other faces smiled from around the table in between bites of left over lunches.

“Shit, get that girl a sandwich!” Cammy laughed, glancing up at me from her phone briefly, before resting her attention back on her cell phone. Her eyebrows piqued curiously.

“Dia, I saw Mr. Hughes this morning, he looked so fucking hot.” Liesl sighed, jabbing a fork into her Greek salad. “I actually don’t know how men like that exist.” She added before slamming a forkful of lettuce into her mouth.

Dia laughed, picking up her bottle of water, and taking a deep swig. “I know, I want one.” She teased poking Griffin on the cheek.

Griffin rolled his eyes though. “You told me he was a fuck up. That your brother went to uni with him and they were drug buddies.” Griffin’s eyes caught on Wes’s who nodded encouragingly. “He’s always stirring up trouble. He’s the worst faculty member ever.”

“Who is Mr. Hughes?” I sighed, my hands picking at the knee joint under the table. I looked briefly up at them, they looked almost shocked, before looking back down at my piece of untouched pumpernickel.

“He runs the band and guitar club.” Dia replied and I could almost hear the grin in her voice.

“Really not worth the hype.” Wes noted.

“A drug addict.” Griffin snorted sitting back in his chair, no doubt daring someone to defy him. “He’s got a shitty and useless arts degree. The school felt bad for him so they let him run a club for two hours a day.”

It was becoming more and more apparent that Griffin seriously admired Dr. Todd. That sentence was one I’d heard non-stop for the last week. That no daughter of his was going to sit at home and become a waste of space. So I was supposed to become a doctor like him.

The table fell quiet, as everyone picked their food up and continued to eat slowly. Until suddenly, Cammy and Liesl gasped.

“Shit, Flo. You did not tell me that you have a fuckin’ million instagram followers, and almost two million on Twitter! You’re fucking verified girl.” Liesl hissed, her voice dropping low enough to not be heard over the hum of the cafeteria chatter.

“I’m deleting those accounts.” I replied sitting back in the cafeteria chair, with one hand planted on my knee and the other cradling my head.

“No you’re not.” Liesl rolled her eyes, before focusing her attention on Cammy’s cell phone.

“Is this your boyfriend? In Paris?” Cammy squeeked, shoving the display of her phone in my face. A photo taken about eight months back sat squarely on the screen, showing off us on our trip to France for a competition. “You’re still together right?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I thought all guys in speedo’s were gay.” Liesl frowned, taking the phone out of her friend’s hand and choosing to flip through the images for herself. “You haven’t posted anything since you got here.”

“Who cares?” Wes asked his voice rising slightly while he shot Liesl a nasty look. He shook his head slowly and exchanged a knowing glance with Griffin.

“Um, Kelowna and Summerland are both totally Instagram-able.” Liesl countered.

I let myself slink back into the hum of lunchroom chatter. They were all talking, gossiping, discussing, whatever. The energy was high, and the most common topic seemed to be the splatter of poster’s on the walls for upcoming events, including: a spaghetti dinner fundraiser tomorrow night and a Valentine’s Day Formal in about a month.

The last time I’d spent a day in school I was twelve. After that I was homeschooled for the purposes of my training. It’d been five beautiful years of a classroom free life. My classroom had been the pool or the gym. The tutor would come and lecture as we stretched or ran. There was never a time to just sit and listen. Everything was mutli-tasking, always.

I could barely remember public school. I’d rarely been showing up before I choose to quit altogether. However, private school seemed to be a whole new ballgame. Maybe it was the age of the people I was dealing with it, not so much the caliber. The uniform itself was certainly off-putting, everyone matched in a black pair of slacks, plaid blazer, and white dress shirt. In the sea of everyone who looked the same I still felt entirely different.

They were all involved in a minimum of two clubs, it was a school requirement, and something I still hadn’t chosen to participate in. There was a list to choose from, but the majority of them were athletic or involved a skill I’d never bothered to learn: like playing an instrument or painting.

Griffin was on student council, a co-president with Wes, and also an active member of the science club. Liesl participated in photography and debate clubs. Wes was into baseball as well as his roll on student council, and Dia ran track and headed up the Drama club.

“C’mon.” Wes grinned, tugging me up from the chair, and wrapping an arm around my waist. “We’ve got a free period together.”

We stood up following the massive body of students out through the double doors before spilling out into the hall.

“That’s him.” Dia laughed, nodding to a man standing just outside the library. “That’s Mr. Hughes.”