Dolls

Chapter 9: Homecoming Week

      Tuesday arrived slower than I ever expected. Monday was filled with extremely boring homeschooling lessons from Father and calls from the school saying that I had missed classes and if I didn't have a note excusing the absences they'd be recorded as unexcused. I wasn't quite sure what that meant, but Father told me he'd write me up a note, saying I was sick and they'd take it without any questions. I tried to pretest against lying about it, saying that he could get int trouble if he was caught. Father refused to listen to me, saying that they wouldn't notice if the note was signed by a serial killer.

     So, I was dropped off at school, the note clutched tightly in my hand. I followed the flow of students inside, eager to get rid of the paper. I hurried off towards the main office as soon as I could escape the throng of students surrounding me. Sighing as I stepped inside I took a look around the office. It smelled strangely like a nursing home, Estee Lauder and baby powder.

     I ignored the smell and pushed towards the front desk, glancing down at the woman in front of me, her grey hairs showing through the bad dye job, her hair puffed up and smelling like too much hairspray. She glanced up at me, the bright blue eyeshadow not doing anything for her dark eyes.

     "Yes?" she asked me, emotionless, her lips making a slight sound as if they were sticking together from all the deep red lipstick she had smeared on them.

     "Um..." I began, taken aback slightly from the mass of makeup on her puffy face. It wasn't all that appearing to tell the truth, but I wasn't going to say anything about it. That would be horribly rude. Instead I explained my predicament as innocently as I could. "I was out sick yesterday, and so I have a note to excuse the absence," I explained, hoping it sounded alright.

     Sighing softly the woman nodded. I was sure she got hundreds of stories like this throughout the year. She took the slip of paper from my hand, glanced at it and began punching away at the keyboard in front of her.

     "Alright, thank you darling," she muttered, "You can go off to class now so that you're not late."

     After that I hurried out of the office, eager to rid my nose of the strange smell. It wasn't extremely pleasant. As soon as I had exited the room and began making my way though the hallways my mind ventured back to thoughts about Sam. Would he really understand? He could be mad at me for not saying something. Or maybe he wouldn't talk to me at all. I just hoped he would listen.

     However, as I stepped towards my locker, twisting the dial till it reached the numbers of my combination a voice carried across the hallway, calling my name. A familiar one that had just recently began putting butterflies in my stomach whenever I heard it. I had just gotten my locker open and was so startled by it that my hand jerked, immediately slamming the metal container shut again.

     Sam jogged over to me, laughing. I guessed he had seen me jump. "Did I scare you Charl?" he asked me, a wide grin on his face. "Yeah," he murmured to himself, "I like that. From now your nickname is gonna be Charl," he announced with pride, "Unless you don't like it."

     I was still in shock that he was talking to me, so I didn't answer him right away. Maybe he didn't remember what had happened. "Aww, you don't like it, do you?" he sighed and I could see the disappointment clear on his face. It was evident he had been trying to come up with the little pet name for a while.

     "No, no!" I suddenly exclaimed, trying to reassure him, "Sorry, I was just a bit surprised by it. But I really like it," I said, smiling. His disappointment vanished and was replaced by the boyish grin that I enjoyed so much. I sighed softly, "Um Sam," I began, my voice slightly serious, "Aren't you even a bit mad at me for Sunday? I mean I was right there. I could have talked to you then, and Father was so rude. I'm just sorry about that," It all seemed to spill out and once, my words like a jumbled mess.