A Collection of Short Stories

Infamous

That day I knew what it felt like to be famous. It was more like a standing-out-in-the-crowd sort of famous. Every single set of eyes in McKinley High were trained on my head, back, or face, depending on where they were standing. All of the whispers that were too hushed for me to make out were about me. Every thought that crossed the minds of students of all ages, races, cliques, and social ranking was about me. So yes, in that moment, I knew what it was like to be famous.

I made my way self-consciously down the crowded halls, careful to keep my eyes low, holding my books in front of me defensively. It's funny how a confident, non-caring person can be turned into a mess of insecurity when so many people are watching your every move. I made sure to avoid eye contact, but that was easy, because not a single student would meet my gaze. The moment I looked up they'd whip their head around and act as if they hadn't been staring at me just seconds ago. Their whispering would stop when I was within earshot, and resume the moment I stepped out of range. I tried to act like I wasn't phased by their weird behaviour, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened to make them act like this. But I'll admit, it was hard. I'd never had many friends, so walking around school alone was nothing new. But usually I managed to blend into the walls and go unnoticed, but now it was like I had taken centre stage.

Once I reached my locker, I opened it and shoved my backpack inside. The group of girls to my left shifted a couple feet away from me. I tried to act like I hadn't noticed and continued to fuss over what was inside my locker.

Throughout the whole day, people avoided me. When I picked a seat at the back of the classroom, everyone would purposely sit way up front, even the slackers. None of the students would look me in the eye, and neither would the teachers. They never called on me in class, which is a relief. I was beginning to like my reverse fame.

The crowds would part for me in the halls now, I didn't have to shove my way through the mess of people once. I sat alone at lunch, and the tables nearest mine remained unoccupied throughout the break. You must be thinking that this is unusual behaviour for high school students. Or that I'd go home and cry because I felt lonely. I'll admit, it was a little overdramatic. But not lonely. I was Moses, parting the waves as I strode through. That day, I stopped believing I'd make friends by the end of the year.

For the rest of the week, I spoke to no one. No one sat near me at lunch, I was never called on during class, not a single soul made eye contact with me all week.

And all because I'd found the body.