Blame The Weeds (gxg)

14

I buried my head in my empty locker, trying to reorient myself as the warning bell clanged. It was finals day, I'd forgotten my pencil, and there'd be four exams in eight hours. In my current state, I was likely to write down metaphors during my calculus exam or scribble the equation for acceleration under a question about human rights—if I could come up with it. There were even disappointed whispers in the back of my locker. Why such poor effort, Miss Barone? You've had five months in this class. Be honest—you've focused your energy elsewhere. Your future was riding on this, and you've failed. We'll be seeing you next year. I pushed my head in further, squeezing my eyes shut as a roll of thunder reverberated through the school, the first of many summer storms. I'd been biding my time, but Finals Day snuck up like a phantom, winding its hands around my neck. It'd be patient over these next hours, choking me slowly, making it last. I gripped the metal door until it hurt. All I had to do was bring one goddamn pencil. I couldn't even manage that.

I'd scarcely slept or eaten and nearly tripped down the front steps this morning. My nose would have broken had Rue not grasped my shirt. All the distractions revolved around Luke's fall. I couldn't stop playing it out since last night.

Someone harshly bumped into me, hastening on their way. When I turned to glare, I saw two senior soccer players bolting through the crowd, one with a computer monitor and the other with a box of files. A small screeching man was running after them. I shook my head and shut my locker—and Freya's face was right behind it. I flinched back with a hand to my chest.

"What the hell?" I said.

"I called your house last night, but no one—"

"What? Why?" I asked.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," she said.

"Oh," I said, shaking my head. "Yeah, I went to bed. I'm...fine."

Freya nodded—then nodded again. She marked my split lip and then my plaited hair, eyes erratic and tired.

"Freya?" I said, but she blew out a breath, and her shoulders deflated.

"Define adverb." She held my wrist to read the time "You have two minutes." I opened and closed my mouth like a fish. "Walk and talk," she said, taking my hand and pulling me through the crowds. Everyone had their noses in their notes, shuffling their feet.

"I don't..." I trailed off as I jogged to keep up. I became acutely aware of Freya's warm grasp around my wrist. Someone was staring—then everyone. Or was it all in my head? Maybe the students we flew past never bothered to clock us. Or did everyone know something I was still trying to understand?

I took my hand from hers for the rest of the trip, hoping she didn't know how my mind was crippling me.

We stopped outside Reddi's room. It was filling quickly, everyone taking out their erasers and highlighters and pencils.

"Kar. Adverb."

"The one that describes verbs," I said. Freya beamed.

"You've got this," she said, reaching for my hand again to squeeze it. I swallowed my stomach back down. "Remember how Reddi thinks. Write what she'd want to read." I nodded again. "And maybe add a few smiley faces by your name to balance the sour look on your face." I shoved her shoulder, my lips breaking into a full smile.

"We're in the same boat," I reminded her.

"She hates you more, and my detention isn't that bad. But at least I have my lucky hair tie." She smiled at me softly, quietly, and lifted our hands. She'd somehow transferred the black elastic from my wrist to hers. My lips popped open. How hadn't I noticed that?