Scented

Chapter 3 - Something New

BRYAN

Bryan was standing there, the door clutched in his hand, when he realized he had to do this right. Otherwise he'd get shit from his dad tonight. So, he let go of the door and headed back in. He would stop at the front office, tell Mrs. Ali he was sick, and she'd let him go home.

It wasn't quite a lie. He was sick. Sick of smelling death.

Bryan rounded the corner and walked the few paces to the door with the frosted window that read, OFFICE. Opening it, he walked in. Mrs. Ali, a petite, olive-skinned woman with shoulder length black hair and a gentle disposition, was the school administrative liaison and his best friend's mother.

Perched behind her desk, she sat talking to a girl Bryan had never seen before. The girl's hair was autumn red and hung down to the middle of her back, reminding him of one of those decorative grass brooms in a country store window. If hair could have a personality of its own, wild would describe this mane.

Bryan had let go of the door, and it shut with a thud. The girl turned to see what had made the noise, and when their eyes met, he felt an instant connection. She's like me, he thought. While brown-skinned people come in all hues, he knew with certainty that she was just like him, a child who got to check two races on the school forms, a person with one black parent and one white. Her skin, what his maternal grandmother called high-yellow, was about the same color as his. She had a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose, and eyes that were hazel. She smiled at him, the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen in his life, revealing perfectly straight white teeth. She'd had to have had braces, too. Or really great teeth genes. She was delightful, he'd determined in that brief glance. And she was probably interesting. There were very few people Bryan thought looked like they'd be interesting, like they'd be worth finding out more about, worth risking reaching out to.

Bryan smiled back and walked towards them. As he got closer, Mrs. Ali looked up at him and smiled.

"Hi Bryan," she said, her Iranian accent barely noticeable. "This is Lauraline. She's new, here."

He nodded, stepped almost to the desk, just a few feet away from Lauraline. Pretty name, he thought.

"Lauraline," Mrs. Ali said, "This is Bryan."

Bryan lifted his hand to wave hello. Then, it hit him. Her smell. His eyes widened a little as he stared at Lauraline, realizing this scent harkened from her. Although he wanted to cover his shock, he knew he was doing a poor job. His jaw had gone slack, half popping open and the intensity of his stare was more than what was acceptable among polite society. While seeming normal — even though he knew he wasn't — had always been one of Bryan's top priorities, the shock with which he was blunted by her abnormal scent had left him unable to do even that.

He tried to remember what he had wanted to say. Whatever it was — something he'd thought would sound impressive to her; maybe he was going to offer to walk her to class — had escaped his brain. He stood there mute, feeling as lost as a floundering seal. Lauraline took a step toward him, as if she meant to ask what was the matter. But it was hard to concentrate on her when the scent seemed intent on penetrating him. It wasn't the scent of death, but it wasn't the one of life, either.

He wasn't sure what was going on, but he felt an urge to flee. Bryan took a step back and turned to Mrs. Ali. "I'm sick, and I'm going home."

Mrs. Ali crinkled her brow, frowned in worry. "What's wrong, honey?" she asked, taking on the motherly tone she often did with him.

He couldn't stand to be there. He had to go. Right now. "I'm going to vomit," he said, then turned, opened the door and quickly exited into the hallway. For a second, Bryan basked in the mingled scent of acne creams, hair spray and sweat. Then, he walked as fast as he could to the exit, pretending he hadn't heard Mrs. Ali call after him to wait. Consequences be damned. He wasn't staying one second longer.