Through the Break in Her Hair

Chapter 2

It took approximately one week for Mr. VanHorn and the rest of the class, (heck, the rest of the school!) to realize that Lindsey did not require any help academically. The girl was a genius, aces all the way. In fact, Mr. VanHorn started calling her that— ace.

"Better watch out, she might even be smarter than you, John," Mr. VanHorn smirked. So much for my place on the totem pole.

I couldn't figure out if I was jealous of her or just in awe of her. It made my head spin a little when I thought about it, so naturally that's all my brain focused on those days. Gain back my coveted spot of King of the math rock or try to win her over? It was a tough call to make.

Winning back my title was what I chose though, it was way easier than trying to figure out how to win her over. Mind you, I hadn't spoken to her since that first day and she wasn't lining up to break the ice with me either. I didn't take it personally. She had little to no interaction with the others in school. Unfortunately, not immersing yourself into this crowd automatically put you on the hit list for gossip.

Rumors of her past flew around the school like flies on a carcass. "She's demented, mentally disturbed," or "I heard she did time in juvy," and the saddest one of all, "I bet she was homeschooled, that's why she's all weird around us." The likelihood of there being truth to any of these rumors was slim to none. She was just quiet. Then again, who was I to comment. I was the funny guy, remember?

"Why is she over there?" Amanda Cushner said. The icy sneer in her voice was louder than all the commotion in the trough that afternoon.

Lindsey had, once again, parked herself in the most remote corner of the lunch room, closest to the bathrooms and the lunch line. Her blonde locks covered most of her face, only the tip of her nose and eyelashes stuck out. She ate with her head down, avoiding eye contact as much as humanly possible.

"The stench of her weirdness wards off all predators," I replied dully. Making fun of Lindsey gave me zero pleasure.

Amanda and her posse of girls snickered, Ben fell off his chair, and some kid named Josh, who had been trailing Ben all morning, snorted his milk. A spray of white shot from his mouth and nostrils, drenching the seat opposite of him. The girls in Amanda's posse shrieked and scattered, not wanting to take even a chance at being sprayed with any more nose milk.

The few tables that surrounded ours stopped eating, turned, and stared us down like we had a.) lost our marbles or b.) interrupted them in the rudest fashion. Since I was the only sane one at the table, I shrugged at the gawking crowd, hoping to disperse their disgruntled glances. It took a few seconds but person by person, they all turned back around, diving back into their own private worlds.

I looked down to see Ben climbing back up on his chair, clutching his ribs and wiping tears of joy off his face. "Classic, Johnny."

Amanda and the girls were semi assisting Josh in the cleanup of his nosexplosion, handing him clean, dry napkins from as far away as their hands could reach. Keeping his dripping proboscis over the puddle on the table, he would reach out and grasp at the air a few times before either he managed to snag a napkin or one of the girls got tired of holding them.

One of the trough-sloppers, aka lunch ladies, brought over an industrial sized trash can and a spray bottle full of liquid hell. Whatever they used to clean these tables could probably strip the paint of your walls or melt a penny or something. The smell was so noxiously strong that it bit at your nose and eyes, making them prick and sting and itch and burn and water, all at the same time.

"That's my cue," I said, hopping up from my chair.

I clapped Ben on the back and started to retreat before the snot milk clean up began. I wanted to put a considerable distance between myself and any green dripping napkins as possible. Ben was notorious for "food" fights. Really, I think he just enjoyed grossing people out, hence the distance.