Monday September 26th, 2019
It's a day like any other at East Bay Academy of the Arts. The sky is overcast, the air is muggy, and the vegan drum circle is unfortunately practicing on the south lawn, forcing Leah to relocate for lunch to the courtyard. She sits alone at a rickety plastic table, already having eaten, completely absorbed in the novel in her hands. Reading keeps her mind from wandering too far, and allows her to decompress. For the moment, there's nothing to think about except the story coming to life in her head.
That is, until Ian plops down on the bench in front of her.
"So I had this dream last night..." Leah looks up with a raised eyebrow. "I was going to school in Iowa or somewhere, and all the kids wore Wrangler Jeans, and they didn't talk about bullshit the way kids around here do. They talked about real shit, like the price of wheat." Leah snorts, but Ian continues undeterred, "And I found the whole scene very soothing. What do you make of that?"
"Why don't you ask Topaz Kowalski." Leah gestures to the compost club members laying in the grass nearby. "She does dream readings."
"See," Ian lowers his voice, leaning forward conspiratorially. "That's what's wrong with this school. There's a girl named Topaz who reads dreams?" he scoffs. "Everyone's just too fucking interesting around here. I've got interesting fatigue and it's impacting my subconscious."
The complaint isn't a new one. EBAA is a prestigious private high school—highly selective, with a rigorous arts curriculum that only rewards those who claw their way to the top. In a place where everyone tries to stand out, it's easy to feel pushed to the side.
At least, in Leah's experience.
"Is that why you hang out with me?" she jokes. "I'm so bland it gives you a chance to recharge? I get it. My hair is all one color. I'm a virgin who still drinks dairy milk." Leah shakes her head, allowing some honesty to bleed into her voice. "Shit, I really am boring."
Ian holds up a finger. "Actually, by being the most normcore person in a sea of freaks, you've low-key turned the tables. You've become the freakiest freak of all." Leah smiles, and Ian leans back, content. His eyes drift somewhere behind her. "Well, either you or Fatin."
Curious, Leah turns around and sees Fatin Jadmani walking down the hallway, phone held out in front of her. She recognizes her instantly, the memory of 'the tampon incident' from last semester long suppressed but never forgotten.
"A true basic bitch," Ian declares, and suddenly Leah's glad she never told him about her embarrassing encounter. "A walking, talking Grey's Anatomy gif. God, I love her."
Leah laughs, facing her friend. "Why does she even go here?"
"You seriously don't know? Fatin is a cello virtuoso." At that, Leah turns back around, casting a final glance before the girl disappears down the hallway. "She's like a shoo-in at Juilliard."
Leah's laughter dies in her throat.
Of fucking course she is.
Of course even the most basic person at this school has some wild, dazzling talent. Something that makes them shine, sets them apart from the rest. Ian has art, apparently Fatin has the cello, and Leah is supposed to have writing, but every word she puts down on paper feels lackluster, even as Ms Wolfe continuously praises her. Surrounded by people who all have something going for them, Leah has never felt more insignificant. And if it wasn't for Ian sitting next to her in 9th grade English, she's positive she wouldn't have any friends either.
Ian catches her before she falls too deep into her thoughts. "Hey. You wanna hang out later? Maybe play some pool at The Rack?"
Leah declines, "I gotta finish this book. Ms Wolfe is really on my ass this year."
YOU ARE READING
haunted
Fanfiction"Wait." Fatin halts in the middle of the living room. She points her flashlight up at the ceiling. "Do you hear that?" Leah strains her ears, and picks up on the faint sound of rhythmic thumping upstairs. "Yeah." Leah chews on her lip, a nervous tic...