Finding Strength (Working Title)

Sarah struggled to get up the next morning. Her neck felt stiff and her legs hurt from being curled up all night. Sarah had quickly sensed her dad was drunk when he got home from work the night before, and she had retreated to her bedroom with hardly a word to him, dinner uneaten. Now, her stomach growled in protest.

Sarah dressed quickly, hearing her dad’s snores through his bedroom door, and she ate breakfast as quietly as she could. The kitchen was a mess from whatever her dad had attempted to heat up on the stove. It looked like it had originally been tomato soup, but the charred layer at the bottom of the saucepan didn’t resemble anything edible. Sarah peaked in the trash can (recycling had long since gone by the wayside with just the two of them in the house) and glimpsed a shocking number of crushed beer cans. Not wanting to look further, Sarah quickly shut the lid.

She tiptoed out of the house, running to catch the bus. She sat by herself as usual, not talking to anyone and gazing out of the window the whole ride.

As the bus arrived at Darryville High School, Sarah fought down the usual sense of panic that threatened to rise up in her throat. Her palms felt sweaty, her breathing shallow. Sarah kept her head down as she walked through the halls, worried that eye contact would just make her anxiety worse. Accidentally bumping into people made Sarah cringe, as if every person’s touch was a physical threat to her.

Sarah hadn’t experienced anxiety before her mom died, at least not in the way that she did now. She couldn’t explain, even to herself, why exactly it had happened; she only knew it had crept in insidiously alongside the overwhelming grief Sarah had felt upon losing her mom.

She knew her anxiety was obvious at school. The classmates she had been friendly with now rarely engaged in conversation with her, although Sarah didn’t know how much of the change was their unwillingness to talk to her or her own behavior. A couple of concerned teachers had even pulled her quietly aside on several occasions, asking her if she was alright.

“I’m fine,” she had replied, feeling anything but fine.

Sarah sometimes felt their eyes on her, those teachers; she knew they were concerned for her, but she had no way to describe to them the all-consuming anxiety and sadness she felt. Her grades had dropped since middle school, but she struggled to stay motivated, often finding it hard to concentrate. She couldn’t make herself care about fractions and the Civil War and books written by old men and homework when making it through the day without having a panic attack was a constant struggle.

As she walked down the sophomore hallway to her locker, Sarah spotted Sydney. The old, natural urge to wave hello to her former friend died quickly.

Sydney was leaning flirtatiously into the locker of a football player, giggling while twirling her finger through her perfectly dyed ombre hair (one of the many changes Sydney had made in her quest for popularity). Sydney’s make-up was pristine for so early in the morning, and Sarah felt a pang of jealousy; she had barely been able to change out of her pajamas that morning into an old sweatshirt and worn-out jeans, and her hair felt flat and dull compared to Sydney’s bouncy waves (which was most definitely due to the work of a curling iron).

“She’s just trying to live that fake Insta fabulous life,” Naomi had said of their former friend once on the phone. “You know, the kind where everything’s filtered and perfect? She’s making who she thinks are the right friends and doing all the things she thinks will make her look perfect, but trust me Sar, girl ain’t happy. She’s now more interested in status than friendship, and I guarantee you her new friends aren’t her true friends.”

Sarah knew Naomi was right, but it didn’t make the sting of Sydney’s snub any less painful. The three girls had been inseparable since preschool, but in 8th grade Sydney had started to hang out with Sarah and Naomi less and less until she abruptly stopped hanging out with them altogether. Naomi, always self-assured (a mystifying concept for Sarah), had been able to let go of the friendship without the feeling of rejection that still haunted Sarah.

Then, Naomi’s family had moved to New York right before high school, in the midst of Sarah’s mom’s sickness. Sarah’s mom had died just a few months later. Naomi had called and texted constantly, but it wasn’t the same.

Sarah entered high school knowing her close-knit trio of friends was no more, and her shyness grew. High school felt so much harder than middle school had, with kids needing to fit into labels that Sarah had never realized existed before: jock, pretty girl, art geek, skater, burnout, overachiever.

Sarah didn’t know what label she fit into, and it made the divide between her and everyone else feel insurmountable. The only label she could think of as she timidly walked through the halls, trying to stay out of everyone’s way, was invisible.

Sometimes, when she saw classmates who fit into one of the less desirable labels being bullied or teased by the cool kids, she almost felt envious of them: at least people paid attention to those kids. At least people saw those kids at all.

Sarah wanted so desperately to have someone to talk to. She saw groups of friends hanging out, laughing, and she missed laughing with Sydney and Naomi. She missed laughing with her mom and dad, before her mom had gotten sick. Sarah never laughed anymore.

**

The bell for third period rang, and Sarah sat down in her usual seat in the back corner of the room in geometry.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” someone asked. She looked up from her notebook to see a boy she didn’t recognize.
“I’m Noah,” the boy said, smiling.

Noah’s smile was lopsided, and yet there was something about it that Sarah was immediately attracted to. A lock of wavy, brown hair fell onto his forehead to frame dark brown, almond-shaped eyes. His green shirt brought out the tan in his arms, which Sarah couldn’t help but notice were muscular. He was wearing black jeans that were snug without being too tight; Naomi had once joked there was a fine line between skater baggy and hipster skinny, and Sarah thought that Noah’s jeans were the perfect balance.

Sarah felt herself blushing and cleared her throat. She felt like it had been days since she had spoken. Maybe it had been.

“No, I don’t think so,” Sarah replied, trying to smile back; she realized her smile muscles felt out of practice. “I’m Sarah.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Noah said. “I’m sure you noticed, but I’m new here. I just moved from Springfield.”

“I visited Springfield as a kid,” said Sarah, wanting to keep talking to this boy who looked at her and not through her.
“We went to the science museum there. I liked it.”

She paused, trying to think of something else to say. “I’ve lived here my whole life.”

Sarah had to keep herself from wincing. That has to be about the most boring thing I could have said to him.

“Nice! The science museum’s super cool. I don’t really know much about Darryville yet. It seems like a nice place.”

Noah was still smiling.

He smiles a lot, Sarah thought. I like that.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Sarah replied. “It feels kinda boring, but I feel like everyone’s hometown does.”

“That’s the truth. The science museum gets old when you go too often, trust me,” Noah said, chuckling.

The late bell rang, and Mrs. Henson started talking about slopes. When five minutes were left, she assigned homework and told everyone they could pack up a few minutes early.

Sarah started putting away her notebook, and as she did Noah asked, “Hey, what lunch do you have? I have first lunch, and it would be cool to have someone to sit with on my first day. If you’re okay with it, of course.”

“Yeah, definitely!” Sarah said, trying not to sound too eager. “I have first lunch, too.”

Sarah didn’t mention that she usually ate lunch quickly and retreated to the library to escape the noise of the cafeteria.

“Cool. Want to show me the way? I got a tour this morning, but I already feel lost--I have no sense of direction,” Noah said as he gathered his things and shot her his lopsided smile, making Sarah’s heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, the layout of this school makes zero sense. Do you need to get your lunch or anything from your locker?” Sarah asked.

“Actually, I do, and I think I remember the way back to it. This way goes to the east corridor, right?” Noah pointed as they walked out of the classroom.

“It does! Your sense of direction can’t be that bad,” Sarah said, leading Noah down the sophomore hallway.

“Oh, it’s terrible. I missed the school bus this morning and had to take the city bus. I got on the wrong one and ended up being 45 minutes late. No adulting skills,” Noah said, shrugging.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re only a teenager. You still have time to work on those adulting skills,” Sarah replied.

“I suppose that’s true. Don’t want to get too good at adulting too early. This one’s me,” Noah pointed to his locker.

Sarah stood nearby as he opened it up, trying not to let the noise of the hallway overwhelm her. She was starting to feel uncomfortable with the crowds of people.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Sarah asked nervously. “It’s kind of loud in the hall.”

“Yeah, crowds suck, right?” Noah replied, shutting his locker. “Okay, I’m counting on you to get us safely to the cafeteria. We only have 25 minutes for lunch, I noticed. That’s kind of not a lot of time to eat.”

“It really isn’t,” Sarah said, pointing in the direction of the cafeteria. “The cafe’s this way.”

She led the way through the crowded hall, weaving and looking back to make sure Noah was behind her. He gave her a reassuring smile when she looked back, and it helped her bear the crowd.

“Do you have to get your lunch?” Noah asked as they neared the cafe.

Sarah felt a surge of embarrassment. She hadn’t even thought of packing lunch this morning after last night, and her dad had forgotten to give her lunch money this week.

“I don’t usually eat lunch. I wait until after school to eat,” Sarah fibbed, thinking ruefully of the fridge that her dad had been stocking with beer instead of food lately.

“If you want, you can share mine. I have a lot of food,” Noah said. “Alright, where’s the usual lunch crew?”

“Um, I usually eat alone. My friends are in second lunch,” Sarah lied, feeling frustrated for lying and ashamed of her lack of friends.

He’s going to realize I’m a loser and ditch me so fast, she thought.

“Well, good, that gives me more time to get to know you,” Noah said, not skipping a beat.

Sarah’s feeling of embarrassment immediately dissolved into a feeling of gratitude. He is so cute, she thought again.

They sat in a relatively quiet corner of the cafeteria. Noah got out a turkey sandwich and chips and handed half of them over to Sarah on an extra paper plate. She started to say she wasn’t hungry, but Noah insisted.

“So, tell me all about Darryville High,” Noah said after a couple of bites of his sandwich. “What do I need to know? Any assholes I need to steer clear of?”

“We have a few assholes, but most kids are nice enough. It’s a pretty typical high school,” Sarah replied, hesitating for a moment. “Honestly, I don’t talk to that many people.”

Sarah didn’t want to lie to Noah. She was crushing on him pretty hard, but she also just liked his energy. He seemed confident and at ease, and being around him made her feel calmer.

“If you don’t mind me saying this, you seem pretty shy,” Noah said, quickly throwing up his hands in a placating gesture, “Which is totally cool! I just like chatting with people, you know, finding out their story. I don’t want to make you feel awkward. It just makes sense that you don’t talk to many people, being shy and all. My sister’s like that, too. She says I talk enough for both of us.”

“Is your sister here, too?” Sarah asked. “At Darryville?”

“No, not right now,” said Noah, his smile fading a little. “She’s in eleventh grade, but she’s still in Springfield.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” said Sarah, her feeling of awkwardness resurging. “I’m not trying to pry; just curious.”

“No, I brought her up. Don’t worry about it, it’s just a weird situation. I’m still getting used to it, honestly,” Noah said.
He paused.

“My sister and I have been in foster care for awhile. I just got moved to this new family’s house in Darryville. The family here is really nice. My sister’s name is Shannon. She’s cool. I bet you’d like her. You know, since I’ve known you all of five minutes,” Noah continued, his goofy grin reemerging.

“Wow, that’s intense,” Sarah said, not knowing what else to say. “I don’t know much about foster care.”

“It’s chill for the most part; we just got stuck in a bad situation in Springfield. The first couple we stayed with was great, but they were getting too old and started having health problems, so we ended up in the shithole--sorry if you don’t like swearing, but that’s the only way I can describe it--a shithole.”

“No worries on the swearing. Why was it a shithole?” Sarah asked.

Noah replied, “The foster care people there just didn’t care about us kids; they only cared about collecting the government paycheck they got for having us in their house. It’s messed up, but that happens sometimes. I mean, I think most foster care people are out to help. Our old foster parents were great before their health failed. Shan and I just got really unlucky with the new people.”

“Man,” Sarah said, “That’s crazy. How’d you end up here?”

“I had a chance to move in with the foster family here, and Shan really wanted me to take it. They’re new to fostering, and I think they were just nervous about having more than one kid at a time. I don’t blame them; I’m sure it can be really overwhelming taking in kids who you don’t know who probably have all sorts of emotional problems because of their parents.”

Noah shrugged. “Anyway, Darryville’s a better school, not that I’m a great student. I’m pretty average, to be honest. But I really like outdoor track, and Darryville has a good team.”

“I have a friend who runs. She’s really fast. She moved to New York, though,” Sarah said, instantly missing Naomi.

“New York is pretty far away. Do you guys still keep in touch?”

“We do, but she stays really busy. She does soccer and track and is in all kinds of clubs at her school. This is going to sound cheesy, but we mostly keep in touch the old school way--we write letters to each other,” Sarah said.

Sarah and Naomi texted occasionally, but they had decided writing letters felt more special. They both kept the letters, planning to someday bind them up in a book to look back on.

“That’s awesome!” Noah said. “I feel like our generation kind of sucks at communicating, you know? I like social media and all, but sometimes it feels really impersonal. It’s like everyone is trying to create this person online that they want to be, but it’s such a high standard that it sets people up to feel bad about themselves.”

Sarah sort of followed social media; she had Instagram and Twitter and Snapchat, but looking at and hearing about other people’s lives usually just made her feel lonelier. She rarely posted anything; the sting of not getting a lot of likes just reminded her of how few friends she had.

“Yeah, social media does that,” said Sarah, feeling encouraged. “I don’t really do social media that much. That’s actually why Naomi and I do the letter thing. She almost never has time to talk until late at night, and she has a lot of friends there that she hangs out with. She’s super outgoing. We’re really different that way.”

“Well, she sounds cool, and I’m glad you have someone to channel your inner 80-year-old with,” Noah grinned.

“Hey! I am not 80,” Sarah replied, enjoying the flirty vibe she was getting from Noah. “I am, at most, 65 on the inside.”

“Ah, good age to be. You’re like, retirement age but not too old to be able to go out and do stuff.”

“Exactly. I figured I would just skip the whole career thing,” Sarah said as the lunch bell rang. She felt a stab of disappointment that lunch was ending.

“Man, and I was just getting to know the real Sarah,” Noah said. “What’s your last name, by the way?”

“O’Malley. Yours?”

“Don’t make fun--it’s Whale. Like Noah and the Whale, the band.”

“Never heard of them,” Sarah said, as she got up from the table.

“You are missing out!” Noah said. “They are so good. I’ll have to get you the record to listen to on your record player while you write your friend her next letter.”

“Okay, okay,” Sarah replied, deciding to attempt a joke: “I at least have upgraded to a tape player; it’s the latest technology, you know.”

Noah grinned. “Good one. Hey, what other classes do you have? Maybe we’re in more together. Also, the waterfall schedule is pretty confusing to me.”

“Yeah, it takes some getting used to. I have Spanish with Mr. Rivera, chorus with Mrs. Jones, and pottery with Mrs. Rathburn today.”

“No dice. I take French, and I definitely don’t have the skills for singing or art,” Noah said as they walked out of the cafeteria.

“I have English tomorrow first thing with Ms. Griffith?” Sarah said hopefully.

“Hey, me too!” Noah said excitedly, looking at his schedule. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, definitely. This hallway’s me; do you know where you’re going?” Sarah asked peering at his schedule. “Ah, you need to go to the south corridor for chemistry with Mr. Smith--it’s the one with the orange tiles. The corridors are color coded; I don’t know if they told you that on the tour.”

“No, but that’s super helpful. I feel like that should be on the tour,” Noah replied. “See you later, O’Malley!”

“Bye, Whale,” Sarah said, instantly dissecting what Noah calling her by her last name meant. Was he friendzoning her? She tried not to read too much into it, and regardless she felt better than she had in a long time.

**

Sarah spent the rest of the school day thinking about Noah. She barely noticed the hum of anxiety that constantly coursed through her as she walked through the halls.

“That you, kiddo?” Sarah heard as she opened the door to her house. Her father sounded lucid.

“Yep, me, Dad.” Sarah walked in, hoping her father wasn’t smashed.

“How was school?” Sarah’s dad was sitting in the kitchen, looking newly clean-shaven and showered--a good sign that he was sober.

“Pretty good,” Sarah replied, feeling excited that she didn’t have to lie for once.

“Great, great. Hey, listen. I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t really get to check in with you. The time must have gotten away from me,” Sarah’s dad said, glossing over the truth.

He never admitted to having been drunk after he went on a bender, but the fact that he was clear-headed today seemed like a good sign. Sarah never knew how much he remembered--if anything--when he drank.

“It’s cool, Dad. Did you go to work today?” Sarah asked hesitantly, worrying that the question would annoy her dad.

Sarah’s dad was a mechanic. He owned his own shop, O’Malley’s Auto, something he was exceedingly proud of. Over the years, he had built a good customer base who supported the shop unfailingly, but now Sarah feared he wasn’t keeping the shop open as much as he should in order to drink more often.

“I went in for a few hours. Mrs. Collins came in today. She needed a new starter on her car. She said to say hi to you,” Sarah’s dad said.

“Oh, cool, I haven’t seen her since…” Sarah trailed off, realizing the last time she had seen Mrs. Collins, her old babysitter, was at her mom’s funeral.

She and her dad never talked about her mom. Her mom’s sickness had been so painful by the end, and the room seemed to thicken every time Sarah came close to bringing her mom up.

“I haven’t seen her for awhile,” Sarah finished, trying to cover up her mistake.

“She wanted to stop by the house sometime and make lunch for us,” Sarah’s dad said. “I told her we can plan something soon, but I need to get the house a little cleaner.”

Sarah looked around; the house wasn’t exactly dirty, but there were clothes and various knick knacks lying around the living room. Sarah’s mom had been a neat freak, and the house had always been nearly spotless when she was alive.

“Maybe we can do some cleaning now? Team effort?” Sarah asked.

“You read my mind, kid,” Sarah’s dad said, his gaunt face cracking a smile.

This was an O’Malley family tradition that Sarah’s mom had started in an effort to get Sarah to do chores; she believed that chores were more fun when everybody was pitching in. The O’Malleys would blare music and sing loudly together while they were cleaning the house. Sarah loved listening to her dad sing; he had been the lead singer in a band when he was younger, and she had always liked singing because of his raspy yet soulful voice.

“What are you in the mood for today?” Sarah’s dad walked over to the worn CD player. “A little classic rock? Punk? Something from the 70s?”

“Maybe ABBA?” Sarah asked, amused, knowing her father was usually too embarrassed to suggest his secret favorite band.

“If you insist, kiddo.” Sarah’s father grinned.

Sarah and her dad spent the next couple of hours straightening and cleaning the house. They ordered pizza for dinner, and Sarah did her homework in the living room after watching a few episodes of Jeopardy, another O’Malley family tradition.

Sarah loved spending time with her dad when he was like this, him chiming in with his extraordinary knowledge of trivia, answering and talking to the contestants like he was really on the show with them. He would call out Alex Trebek when he thought he was being condescending, and yet he still considered the game show host to be one of his favorite celebrities. Watching Jeopardy was one of the few times Sarah’s dad was actually outspoken.

Sarah realized that this might be the best day she could remember having since her mom died. Meeting Noah and spending time with her dad sober made her feel more normal, less anxious.

She went to bed feeling happy for the first time in a long time.