Super Dark 1 (Super Dark Trilogy)

Chapter 13 - Deception

Somehow, I made it to school the next day. Nursing what felt like the mother of all hangovers, I hauled myself to first period Photography with Mrs. Murphy, arriving ten minutes late and looking like death warmed up.

“So nice of you to join us, Samantha,” Mrs. Murphy said icily as I shambled to a desk at the back of the class. “A phone call would have been nice.”

“Sorry, I woke up late.”

Mrs. Murphy squinted at me through her pointy designer specs. “Well, just as long as you don’t make a habit of it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

Peering across the room, it was clear that I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t made it in. Photography had always been a small group, but today it had whittled down even further to just four pupils.

Mrs. Murphy dimmed the lights, switched on the projector, and began flicking through slides of Mapplethorpe nudes. I began to relax a little. The darkness helped to soften my throbbing headache. I couldn’t have tolerated any glaring strip lighting after another sleepless night plagued by bad dreams.

 I’d give anything not to be here—but playing truant two days in a row just isn’t an option. I’m lucky enough I got away with it the last time.

“As you can see,” Mrs. Murphy said, pointing to a photo of a naked man, “Mapplethorpe’s style was very provocative. He was fond of creating striking black and white images that make an impression.”

She can say that again! Just looking at that toned torso was enough to set my pulse racing, and inevitably thoughts of Elliot crowded into my mind. I tried to force back the memories by grinding my teeth together.

Switching positions, I clenched my fists under my arms, drifting in and out of a semi-conscious state. I recalled the last time Elliot had held me in his arms, how warm and safe it had felt. I wish I could be with him now.

“You’re not falling asleep back there, are you?” Mrs. Murphy asked.

I snapped my head up and widened my eyes to demonstrate how awake I was. “No, of course not.”

“Good. I was worried we’d lost you there for a minute.”

Someone giggled.

Stretching out my legs and flexing my knuckles, I forced myself onto autopilot for the rest of the lesson, trying to cultivate an interest in Mapplethorpe and the late ‘80s New York art scene. But it was no use. My head was just too weighed down with problems. Elliot had high-jacked my brain.

The hour seemed to drag on forever. I was relieved when the lights finally came on.

“Don’t forget to leave your essays on my desk on your way out,” Mrs. Murphy called as everyone packed up to go.

With a deep yawn, I gathered all my stuff together and walked toward the door. As I passed, I threw my essay down on her desk; it was something I’d hastily cobbled together the night before and hadn’t even bothered to spell-check, but I was so out of it, I didn’t care.

“Can you stay behind a minute?” Mrs. Murphy asked. She was rifling through some papers on her desk.

Reluctantly, I stalled by the door, waiting for the inevitable dressing down for being late.

She took off her specs, blew into them, and polished up the lenses with her cuff. “Take a seat please. You don’t look very comfortable standing there.”

I slid a chair across the room and sat down in front of her. “Can we make this quick? I’m gonna be late for my next class.”

“It will only take a minute. I merely wanted to know if you’re okay, that’s all. You haven’t seemed yourself lately and, well …” She glanced furtively at my bruised cheek. “I wanted to check that everything’s all right with you at home.”