As the other students walked through the school’s mahogany doors, Brandi followed. Wondering how it was that one minute, she was, where she was supposed to be and the next, in another place entirely. Cursing under her breath, she grabbed a couple of things from her locker, and then, she went further down the hall to math class.
Ahead of her, she caught sight of a trio of teachers. Her breath caught. She was dismayed at seeing the curl. Edge of a pair of horn-rimmed glasses which she knew belonged to Mrs. Jenkins. Oh, great! she thought, feeling the huge expanse that she had often thought of as time, slip through her fingers. There was no way she would accomplish this feat in half an hour, she lamented, holding her head in her hands. Why had she squandered the night?
She dropped onto the black-cushioned, metallic chair, searching for her friends, but Roger and Teresa weren’t there. They had absconded. Why hadn’t she also received the memo? she thought, pulling books out of her bag and dropping them onto the desk, as if their usefulness meant nothing to her. She glanced out the window and forced herself to take a calming breath. Then she heard the side door open again and she caught sight of Teresa. A new and improved version of Teresa, who was wearing a pair of designer shades, and looked way too glammed up. Something inside of her shifted and she shook her head, remembering the party that she had been tricked into attending. She turned her face, hoping to avoid another confrontation, like the one on the bus.
It came anyway, (after she put the pencil’s eraser in her mouth and bit down).
From the other side of the room, Teresa seemed to smirk as she slipped into the seat beside Brandi’s. She rubbed her stomach, seeming somewhat discontent; then frowned and leaned forward as if to offer up some secret. Tidbit on life. “If I had known you were hungry,” she said, running her tongue playfully over her lips. “Then, I would have gotten you something.”
Brandi shifted in her seat, looking for clues that would have hinted to her friend, ex-friend that there had been some sort of invitation. She held her breath. Faintly disturbed.
While Teresa edged closer. Her fingers pulling the soggy pencil from between Brandi’s open lips. Her heart hammered in her chest as Teresa continued to inch closer. Her gaze leveled towards Brandi, as she shook the pencil in front of her friend’s face. Blinked. Her head inclined further. Forward. “There weren’t many people in the cafeteria.” She paused for effect. “Nobody from the bus, to admit, that they saw your trick.” The pencil stopped shaking. “Now you see it.” There was a whooshing sound, as it went like a javelin through the open window. Teresa dusted off her palms. “Now you don’t.”
Brandi’s jaw dropped, and she felt the pain returning to her side. It would be better to ignore Teresa. Not rise to her baiting. She exhaled.
The door opened and Mr. Ono, a slim Asian-looking young man, stepped inside, carrying an armload of papers. The other students groaned, on seeing him, sensing that it was another Pop Quiz Monday. Like a magic trick on the street corner, the objects on the desks disappeared. And the clock was reset as he distributed papers.
Meanwhile, Brandi pretended not to have noticed, and Teresa plastered a hand over her mouth and acted as though she was about to throw up. Seizing, her books tumbled into a heap on the floor.
And Mr. Ono reeled back, stuffing a hall pass into her pocket as she made her way to the door, which he motioned for one of the students to open and then shouted, “Make sure the nurse signs it.”
Teresa nodded, giving Brandi a look that seemed suspicious. Hinted at her guilt, while Brandi, rearranged the things on her desk. So much for literature, she thought, flipping through the five-page quiz. There was no way for her to tackle it and still finish Mrs. Jenkins paper on time.
She stuffed the latter into the former. Thinking her mother would applaud her for setting priorities as she attempted to re-write the essay. Burying her head in her books, she couldn’t help but remember her mother’s spiel that morning about college and the future. Her future. She crossed off a few words, because fate and destiny were things that should have been outlawed. And anyway, her future could wait.
In front, Mr. Ono arranged himself behind the rectangular desk. It seemed more like a prop than a regular piece of furniture. There he began to work out the structure of their final, because as he’d often explained to them about being proactive, now was as good a time as any. Why wait for the day, before the day, when you would have to sweat it out?
Like a sore thumb, Brandi hunched over her desk, and wrote out her essay on the various pieces of loose leaf. There would be no time to brainstorm ideas or proofread, what she had written.
She read the topic. “Do heroes exist on their own? Should their lives be freely taken?” She scratched her head, wondering how many cups of coffee Mrs. Jenkins had gone through in order to write something so pedantic, that it seemed almost amazing.