Tame Chapter 1

When I reached the bulletin board I was surprised to find that more than half of the sign up sheets had been removed and among the missing sheets was the Art Club’s sign up sheet. I acted on the first thought that came to mind which was to enter the central office and ask where it had gone.

After asking the secretary about the sign up sheets’ whereabouts she told me that the assistant principal, Mr. Milnan had taken the club sheets that were already full into his office where he was currently stationed at. Without permission, I hurried by the secretary’s desk and entered Mr. Milnan’s office.

The door was wide open and he was sitting at his desk. Mr. Milnan was an elderly man with puffy gray hair that resembled clouds. He had thick wrinkles in his flesh and his skin appeared to sag downward, revealing his old age. He was sitting at his desk writing something, but when I entered he paused to look up at me.

“Yes, can I help you?”

I inched further into his office unsure of what to say. Ashley and Lydia had told me that they had removed my name from the list and I wanted to check to see if they were just lying or if they had been telling me the truth. I knew that if they really did scratch my name out and the club really was full, then there was no way I would be accepted into it.

“Uh, hi, my name is Amanda Scarfield and I just wanted to check the Art Club sign up sheet and see if my name is on it.”

“Why? Do you not remember signing up for it?”

I shrugged. Mr. Milnan sighed then reached into his desk drawl. He pulled out a stack of papers and began to flip through the various club sign up sheets. When he found what appeared to be the Art Club sheet, he began to read each of the names off the list. Unfortunately, of the thirty names he read, mine was missing from the list.

“Sorry, your name isn’t on here.”

“But I signed up for it,”

“Well it’s not on the list.”

“Mr. Milnan,” I asked desperately. “Could you please let me add my name to that list? I really have to join that club.”

“I’m sorry Miss Scarfield, but the club is only open to thirty people and those spots have all been filled. It’s first come first serve. There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”

_____________

I walked home feeling miserable. I deeply regretted taking Heather’s name off that list because in the end it backfired and now I wasn’t even signed up for the Art Club.

I felt a deep stab of hatred forming in my heart toward those girls. Mr. Richwood had really wanted me to be apart of that club and now because of Ashley and Lydia I wasn’t even eligible to join. I couldn’t stand the thought of Heather and her little group taking part in a club they didn’t even care for just to get close to the Art teacher. Here I was, a person who loved both Art and Mr. Richwood, and yet I wasn’t going to be apart of the club.

He was going to wonder why I hadn’t signed up for it even after I had made that promise to him that I would. I shook my head repeatedly trying to erase an image the invaded my mind of Mr. Richwood being disappointed in me. I never wanted that to happen. He was going to hate me.

I wasn’t sure how, but I had to find some sort of way to get into that club.

_________

“So how’s school going?” asked my mother as we sat down for dinner.

We hadn’t had dinner with one another in several days and this was our first time sitting down together in a long time. My mother had the night off from work, therefore we were spending the day together.

“It’s okay,” I said as I began to pick at the peas on my plate with my fork.

My mother was in her mid-thirties, but due to the excessive odd hours she had to work that left her sleep deprived and exhausted she looked much older for her age. We both shared the same, silky, thin black hair, however my hair was slightly longer than hers because she often kept her hair cut low to the tip of her ear lobes.

I was overjoyed that we were going to spend her night off together, but I just wished that she would have had tomorrow off since it was Friday and would lead into the weekend. This didn’t discourage me at all because any time I spent with my mother was greatly valued.

“Just okay?” she then asked. “Any new friends or teachers you like?”

My heart jumped at the word “teacher”, but thankfully my mother couldn’t detect my accelerated heart and remained oblivious to my feelings.

“What about Heather?” she asked. “Is she doing well at the new school? Are you two having fun?”

“Yeah, she’s doing great.”

I didn’t want my mother to know that Heather and I currently weren’t speaking to one another because then she would want to know why we were fighting. The last thing I wanted was for my mother to know that I was in love with my Art teacher and that Heather and I were fighting over him.

I spoke to her a little about school and the classes, somehow managing to leave her under the impression that things were going great at school for me. I didn’t want my mother to worry about me or school because she had enough stress over getting the bills paid every month.

After dinner, we sat down and watched a movie together. I didn’t even care what it was that we watched. I was just glad to spend some time with my mother.

________

Friday morning I arrived at school and made my way to my locker. After exchanging my book bag for the books that I would need for the day, I then began to head toward the Art room. I was walking down a long hall way that curved at the end and led straight to the Art Room.

The halls were crowded with students who had just arrived and were accessing their lockers, while others were meandering in the halls or standing in small groups talking amongst themselves.

Half way down the crowded hallway, I spotted the teacher’s lounge a short distance away. My heart was caught off guard when the door opened and Mr. Richwood stepped out holding a small bundle of papers.

I was slightly too far for him to notice me, especially among the many other students in the hallway. I thought about calling out to him and maybe walking to class with him, but just as I was about to open my mouth a small group of five female students surrounded him at the door forming a horse shoe shape around him.

I paused where I was standing, lacking the confidence to take another step forward. The girls surrounding him were some of the most gorgeous seniors our school had to offer who had applied a little too much makeup that revealed their true intentions. From where I stood I could slightly overhear their conversation.

“Hi Mr. Richwood,” one of the girl’s greeted him.

“Um, hi,” he smiled politely and then asked. “Do I know… any of you?”

“No,” they said in unison.

“We signed up for the Art Club.” said a tall girl.

“That’s great.” Mr. Richwood said composing a professional tone. “The first meeting is in a week and I’m sure that you’ll all have a lot of fun.”

“I can’t wait for you to teach me how to draw.” said one girl who had applied far to much blush to her face making her skin resemble those powdered doughnuts they sell at bakeries.

“Well, there’s more to Art than just drawing. You see there’s-”

“You have a very handsome face,” interrupted a senior with long, puffy black hair who, after saying this, turned her face to hide a bashful grin that was spreading across her lips.

“Um…thank you,” he said eyeing the girl oddly. “But as I was saying, there’s more to-”

“Mr. Richwood,” interrupted another girl. “Can we walk with you to your next class?”

I shook my head disgusted by the sight and feeling slightly jealous. It was extremely difficult to have a crush on a guy that everyone else in the school was in love with as well because moments like these required you to regulate your emotions to a placid state or else you might do something that make people label you as emotionally unstable. I realized that I would never be able to relax because every time I looked up there was someone trying to make a move on him. If it wasn’t students then it was teachers.

I turned around to find a boy who was standing in front of a nearby locker staring at me. He was taller than me in height and had curly black hair that dangled over the edges of his head. I was guessing that he was an athlete, due to his athletic build. He was wearing a black t-shirt that read across the center “Work hard and be nice to people” and he had on black pants.

When he realized I had caught him staring at me, he slammed his locker shut and walked off in the opposite direction. I didn’t know who he was or why he was watching me, but suspected he was staring at me because I was staring at Mr. Richwood.

As I made my way in the opposite direction from Mr. Richwood and those girls, I made a mental note not to stare at him, blush, or do any of those other things that indicated someone was in love when in Mr. Richwood’s presence because people would stare at me the way that boy in the hallway had like I was insane or creepy.

I was the first person in the Art Room and I was slightly relieved that Mr. Richwood hadn’t arrived yet. I found my desk in the back of the classroom and began to unload my sketch pad from my pile of books.

Last night I had started a new sketch on a sheet of paper that had a list of names on it and it was being shredded inside of a large machine. I started to work on it for a few more minutes, but as students began to wander into the classroom I put the drawing away.

Heather entered the classroom with her phone glued to her ear. She was laughing extremely loud, but as she made her way toward her desk next to me she put her phone away. We hadn’t spoken since our argument, therefore I was caught off guard when she did address me, however it wasn’t for anything pleasant.

“Amanda, Lydia and Ashley told me what you did. I never would have done anything like that to you.”

“Look Heather,” I tried to explain. “I’m sorry, I was just so mad and I started to rewrite your name, but-”

“Look, I don’t care,” Heather said putting her feet up on top of her desk. “If you want a war, then you have one. I’m kind of glad you’re not in the Art Club…it’s probably best that way.”

I felt my face burning with fury, but before I could say anything else Mr. Richwood entered the classroom and suddenly my attention was far more devoted to him than it was toward Heather.

_________

After Mr. Richwood’s class I had Biology. I had taken my seat and was caught off guard when a familiar face entered my classroom. The person was the kid who I had caught watching me in the hallway earlier.

I was surprised that he was in my class, but realized that maybe the reason I never noticed him before was because there was nothing about him that stood out to me before. When he entered the classroom he stared at me for a moment and then directed his attention toward his seat.

Who was that kid and why did he keep looking at me?

My Biology teacher gave us some book work or what I liked to call “busy work” which was basically work teachers gave their students to keep them occupied while they did their own thing on the computer. My teacher told us we could work together and that the assignment would be due when the bell rang.

I wanted to complete the assignment so that I could use any extra time to draw. I was about to answer the first question on the page when my attention was disrupted be the voice of the kid who had been watching me in the hallway earlier.

“Your name is Amanda, right?”

I looked up from my book to find the kid standing in front of me. The rest of the students in the classroom were talking loud enough not to notice the exchange of words taking place between me and the strange boy.

“Yes,”

He took a seat in a nearby desk and slide it close to me so that he was sitting directly in front of me.

“Amanda Scarfield?”

“Yes,”

“My name is Dan Mebay,” he was silent for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “They said you’re Heather Drysdale’s best friend?”

Who was they? I didn’t know who this kid was or why he had a sudden interest in me and Heather’s friendship, which had been shattered for several days now, but I was curious as to what his motivation was for speaking to me.

“We use to be friends,” I then added. “Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering…,” his voice trailed off for a moment and he scratched the back of his heading looking away for a moment, uncomfortably. “…if you could tell me some things she might like…or maybe her interests,”

I suddenly understood what was going on. Dan was interested in Heather and wanted my help so that he could find out some things about how he could possibly take her out on a date or something. At first, I considered sending him away because I felt that he was only using me for information to get to Heather, but then I realized that he would come in use to me just as I would be as much use to him.

If I helped Dan Mebay out by getting Heather to go out on a date with him, then maybe she would fall in love with Dan, lose interest in Mr. Richwood, and we could become friends again. It was a long shot and a lot of maybes, but I desperate to try anything. Then maybe I could figure out some way to get back into the art club.

“Dan,” I said slightly allowing myself to grin. “Would you like me to help you get a date with Heather Drysdale?”