Vertiginous

Zelma Chapter One

Zelma sat in a worn bathroom stall rubbing her face miserably. The hangover was unbearable.  Her head hurt, her heart ached and the voices around school swam in her mind like minnows, she wasn't able to grasp anything fully.

She slipped her phone out of her pocket to check the time, ten more minutes and the bell would ring for dismissal, but she wasn't in the best mood to wait that long.  Toilet water sprayed her black skinny jeans as she chucked her phone into the toilet. A bit of regret and confusion overcame her but she pushed it to the back of her mind.  Her fingers trembled as she pulled the handle down and flushed, somehow relieving her. She slowly walked backwards, taking all her effort, until her back hit the stall's door and slid down to the floor, hugging her knees.

Her mind wondered thinking about the nonsense that always seemed to roam in there. The bell rang and she jumped, the distant ringing still echoed in her brain as she scrambled out of the stall.  She quickly reached for her aphotic, black lipstick and slowly traced over her lips shakily.

Zelma rushed past the crowds of people stoping at their lockers to mingle.  Everyone's voices drifted in and out of focus in her head, making it hard for her to concentrate on just walking. She still had a headache as she slowly made her way towards the front door.

"Miss Zelma, may I see you in my office please?"The counselor had stepped in front of her, blocking her way to the doors.  She tried not to make eye contact as she walked around her, completely ignoring her, and walked off.

"Miss Zelma!", Mrs. Coughman half squealed as she followed her out the doors. Again, she ignored her until Mrs. Coughman gave up and let her go.

Zelma trudged home, impassive and expressionless. The hangover was passing already, but she still couldn't get herself to think straight.  After five minutes of her walk home passed, she noticed a loud wail of a police siren, annoyed and tired blaming the person who was getting pulled over for now a train wreck inside her head.

The wailing came closer, and closer, and closer, slowly approaching her. She turned around, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck crawl with nervousness...  The police car stopped abruptly, with a loud squeal at the break.   Zelma took a deep breath and braced herself, "Here comes jail again," she thought.  The window rolled down as a gorgeous pair of deep brown eyes, and a headful of red hair poked out. The face of Wyatt.

"Wyatt what the h-", She started freaking out the minute it dawned on her that he had stolen a cop's car.

"Shh! its technically not stolen! I found it in some junk yard!" he quickly defended himself, though it wouldn't have mattered, he's done worse.

"Hop in!" Zelma pulled the creaking handle and climbed inside the back of the car, the seats not very welcoming, considering they were built to hold fugitives. She'd been there, done that, not going in again.

The stiff seats made Zelma flinch as she decided not to lean back.

"Wyatt, a police car? Why would it just be in the dump? I don't think they trash these things..." She stuttered at the end, her throat uncomfortably dry, she still wasn't used to talking to people today.

He turned from the drivers seat to face her, then looked back at the road. Not letting her see his 'oh shucks' expression.  

"Oh god Wyatt, you're so stupid!" She rolled her eyes at him and his thoughtlessness.

"Relax! if I were to have stole this, I'd already be chased down, behind bars." That made Zelma relax her glare a little, but she still narrowed her eyes at Wyatt.

"Just...drive me home."