Catch My Fall | ✔

04. Look, It's the Traitors

I didn't hate school. But when my mom dropped me off Monday morning, I wanted to fake sick.

What happened in that coat closet on Friday replayed in my head over and over again. I still didn't know who was in there with me. I didn't want to know.

That didn't stop Indy from trying to tell me all weekend. She texted me hints that, despite myself, I tried to decipher.

So far, the hints were:

He was cute

He looked good in a suit

He didn't normally smell like an abandoned onion factory

Those hints didn't help at all, but that didn't stop me from going through a mental catalog of Valle Vista boys. It also didn't keep me from checking the hand of every guy I passed as I walked across campus. Rings appeared to be very popular.

As promised, Indy came back up to her room to check on me that night. When she asked me why I ran and hid, I didn't have an answer for it. It was just...a lot. I was overwhelmed.

I didn't think I was the type to take a first kiss so seriously, but I was glad it didn't happen in a pitch black closet with someone I didn't know.

Indy bugged me for details about what happened that night. I kept my mouth shut. All of her guessing, thinking I had some hot and heavy make-out session in that closet, made me embarrassed to tell her that nothing happened.

My sister had so many stories and experience when it came boys. This was my first time having a story to share. Or, rather, a story she could speculate about. All I had to do was keep quiet.

Valle Vista High wasn't a large school. There were three main building at the front of the campus. Across the quad and outdoor lunch area, was the gym, locker rooms and swimming pool. There were trailers that housed even more classrooms near the student parking lot. That's where I headed.

My first class of the day took place in one of the trailers, but it was also where I hung out before the first bell.

As I made my way across the quad, passing the outdoor grill, I noticed a commotion in the breakfast line. The grill was only fired up during lunch. At the moment, two student cafeteria workers were serving those pre-packaged bowls of cereal and cartons of milk.

Andre Walker seemed to be the problem. He was easily recognizable from his hair. His curly high-top fade was dyed a honey blonde at the tips. He was also tall, with more muscle than you'd think was possible on a seventeen-year-old.

The football player and some of his friends appeared to be cutting the line. He was too busy on his phone to care that the emo kids he just pushed out of the way were glaring daggers at his back. And since the guy passing out breakfast was also one of Andre's friends, he didn't stop it.

The ego on some of the jocks at that school was astonishing. I rolled my eyes and kept walking.

My phone chimed with a notification. Without thinking, I opened it. There was another message from LaterTofu. I still hadn't read his other messages.

LaterTofu:
Or not
Forget I brought it up. Sorry
Are you still working on your butterfly?

The butterfly in question was something I was drawing, or trying to draw, for my mom. Mother's Day was months away and at the rate I was going, my surprise gift probably wouldn't be ready until then.

My mom loved butterflies. It was the theme of her bedroom. The little 3-D butterfly stickers that decorated her walls were a little too realistic for me and always made my skin crawl. But she liked them, so I tortured myself looking up butterfly references online. The insects were cute from a distance, but seeing their freaky little eyes up close gave me nightmares.