Song of a Sophomore

CHAPTER 14 - Fake Plastic Trees

As I stand there in my underwear in front of the cheerleaders and football players in the doorway of the locker room, time stalls. The two seconds it takes for the doors to swing shut is an eternity. I will my body to move, but it stands motionless, frozen in time. Every last nerve and individual cell in my body is shocked still, absorbing the absolute horror of the moment. Someone in the crowd of teenage boys whistles. The first bursts of laughter pierce me, knocking me back onto the cold cinderblock wall.

I want to disappear. No, I want to die.

The doors finally close. As the adrenaline rush kicks in, the entire scene takes on a dream-like quality, as if it is happening in slow motion on a movie screen. I am keenly aware of every sensation—blood pumping under my skin, smell of the new paint, bright bursts of laughter reverberating into the ladies locker room, amused expressions on the faces of my teammates, and the infuriated look on Coach's face. I flee, delirious, past the lockers and around the corner, into the very last stall, and slam the door. As I sink to my knees, a gut-wrenching sob escapes my lips and echoes between the tiled walls. It's the sound of a wounded animal.

The overloaded circuits inside my brain sizzle with electric current. Nothing seems real and it is terrifying like I am in the backseat with no one behind the wheel. Katelyn and Bethany are figments of my imagination and their wicked laughter plays over and over again in a continuous loop like a dizzy daydream.

I continue dreaming, making believe my mom is coming to rescue me.

"Rose, honey?" Gloria's  footsteps approach down the line of restroom stalls. 

I scramble to pull on my shorts and tank top, and yank my legs up off the floor and onto the toilet seat.

"I know you're there."

She stops in front of me. I recognize her long toes peeping out of strappy, brown leather sandals and red polished toenails.

"I got worried when you didn't come out of the building after waiting twenty minutes. I went to find Coach Roberts." Gloria taps her foot. "She told me what happened. I demanded she take action. Those girls are in trouble and they won't be cheering at the first game. Enough is enough," she says firmly.

"Mom, I can't believe you did that!" I gasp, half relieved, half in shock.

"What? Defend my daughter? Tell your coach about how mean the girls have been to you all week?"

I cry into my palms which are pressed tightly against my heated cheeks.

"Rose, come out. I can't talk to you through a door."

"No," I grunt.

"Okay, I'm coming in." Without hesitation, Gloria slides her thin and agile frame underneath the door of the bathroom stall on all fours. 

I jump up in surprise. My mother, the only person I need in the whole wide world, stands inches from my face and pulls me in close. As soon as my head touches her shoulder, the tension in my body releases and I melt into her embrace.

"There, there." She pats my back. "Get it all out."

I struggle to catch my breath between the sobs spewing from my mouth. 

Gloria patiently waits for me to quiet down before she speaks, gripping my face between her soft hands. "Here's what we're going to do. We are going to walk out of here with our heads held high. We will get in the car and drive right over to the Mexican restaurant you like. We are going to eat greasy quesadillas and drink soda and splurge for fried ice cream. Then we are going to go shopping at the mall and I will buy you a new outfit for every day of the week. You are going to look amazing and you are not going to let these bratty, spoiled teenagers get you down."