Dirty Little Secret

Maybe I'd missed something? Maybe I'd gone deaf (that would make the ASL I'd taught myself one summer actually useful for once). Maybe I had been transported into a different dimension seconds before without realizing it. Or maybe I hadn't been paying attention and had been called on in class, the very first day of school, to answer a question that I had not heard. Yeah, that was it. That was the reason Mr. Gordon, my english teacher, and every other person in the class room was staring at me.

"Uh," I took a brief second to look around at all the faces looking back at me. "I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?"

"No, I'm sorry, Ms.-" He grabbed a clipboard off his desk behind him and scanned it quickly. "Moretti. Did I interrupt you?"

"No, sir. I just-"

"Wasn't paying attention?" He slid the clipboard back into its place and crossed his arms. I tried my best to look apologetic.

"You caught me." I realized immediately that joking around was not the way to go.

"Ms. Moretti, do you think this is the right way to start off your senior year?"

"Not at all." I looked down at the notebook I had been doodling in and closed it. There were what i assumed were snickers coming from a few of the people around me. "I'm very sorry."

"I'll let it slide this time, it being the first day back and all. But, please, pay attention in the future."

"Yes, sir. You got it."

"Good. Now, as i was saying before, there's a lot of reading involved in this class and in order to better fit the interests of my students I am asking everyone what their favorite books are. That way I can try to integrate some things that you guys might actually enjoy. So, the question was, what is one of your favorite books? And please don't say Harry Potter, about 5 other people have already done so."

"Oh, well, um I'll probably enjoy anything put in front of me. I don't think that's very helpful though."

"No," Mr. Gordon shook his head, but there was a small smirk on his face. Maybe that was progress. "Not really. But thank you anyway Ms. Moretti."

"No problem."

School had never been a place I enjoyed going. Like a lot of people, I hated getting up in the morning just to be surrounded by people who didn't like me and that I did not like back. Franklin High had not been a welcoming place and the education provided was mostly subpar at best. Most of the teachers handed out the exact same syllabus every year. If you had an older sibling or older friends who took the same classes you were pretty much set. You could get away with minimal work and still end up on the honor roll. A lot of kids even handed in their siblings or friends work from the years before and the teachers didn't seem to notice.

If you've ever seen a television show set at a high school you could probably get the experience of going to Franklin. The most important thing going on, the thing everyone cared about most was football. Going to school was pretty much like being in an episode of "Friday Night Lights". Football reigned supreme and unless you submersed yourself into that world you did not matter. So for a fat girl whose main interests were art, photography, and staying in most weekends, like me, going to Franklin was like living permanently in hell. Although, Hell would probably be preferable.

My next class was art. I breathed a sigh of relief as the bell rang and I gathered my things. Art my was sanctuary. I headed out the door and down the hall, zig-zagging through the bodies that clogged the hallways. I was on a mission. I could picture paint stained tables and stools of the art room in my head as I got closer. The work of past students on the walls and the leaky sinks filled with unwashed pallets and brushes. It was all etched into my brain. I put my head down and picked up my pace. I needed to be in that room.

I was about 20 feet and one turn of a corner away when I felt myself collide, full force, into someone. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!"

"What the fuck! Watch where you're going fat ass! You could have fucking flattened me!"

I looked up at the person I had ran into and felt my stomach flip as I registered the face in front of me. Kate Davies. I took in the sight of her perfectly done hair and flawless makeup that made her face look even more angular than it already was and groaned internally. Shit. Kate and I had been best friends in elementary school. We were inseparable for years. We spent every second that we could together when we were kids. Sleepovers every weekend. Alternating whose house we'd go to after school during the week to do our homework then spend the rest of the time doing each others nails or singing and dancing along to whatever song we were obsessed with that week. We were as close as two friends could possibly be. Until middle school. In 7th grade Kate joined cheerleading and met new friends. Slowly I watched her grow more distant. Coming over less and less. Shouting out fewer and fewer exchanges in the hall until they stopped all together. By christmas break that year we were pretty much strangers and from then on she pretended she didn't know me. It wasn't until high school that the insults started. The cruel remarks and the pointing and laughing. At first I could have sworn I saw regret and hesitation in her eyes but eventually that faded away. If one of her fellow members of the cheerleading squad felt the urge to call me names or tell a joke at my expense she joined right in and at some point she become the one initiating it. I used to go home and cry every day. Mourning the loss of the best friend i'd had for years. Wishing she'd look back on memories of the fun we had and maybe apologize. But after a while I stopped crying. I stopped wishing she'd apologize. She wasn't the Kate I was friends with anymore and I had to move on.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going. Won't happen again." I quickly turned away and started walking towards the art room, even faster than I had been before, hoping this day didn't get any worse.

As soon as I opened the door to the art room I was hit with the smell acrylic paint. I took a deep breath in and stepped forward. Immediately I was met with the smiling face of Mrs. McCarthy.

"Lena! I've been waiting all morning to see you! How have you been? How was your summer?"

"It was good. Yours?"

"Oh, it was fantastic. I got a lot done."

"That's good."

"It is. We'll have to catch up at some point, get a coffee or something."

"I'd like that."

"Good. Well, you should go find your seat. They're alphabetical, name cards are on the tables, so I think you're near the sinks."

"Ok. Thanks." I gave her a quick smile before heading back to find which table I was at. Sure enough, on a table by the sinks, there was a card with my name on it. I sat down, pulled out my sketchbook and started sketching as I waited for class to start. I sat there and sketched, thinking about how the day had to only get better from that point on. Getting called out for not paying attention and then literally running into Kate had to be the worst that could happen. It wasn't of course. As I put the finishing touches on a small doodle of a cat I looked over and saw the other name card on the table. Andrew Kim.

Shit.