Sometimes We Build Walls

Chapter Five

McArthur High was not prison. It was not a charter school like St. James, either. Rather, it was exactly like any other school I'd attended over the years; big, loud, and smelling of antiseptic. After filling out the mountain of paperwork and having a rushed meeting with a clearly overworked guidance counselor, I was on my way to homeroom.

"Okay, quiet down, folks." The teacher, a very tall guy in his early twenties, was saying as I approached the door. "Find a seat."

No one appeared to be listening, although there was a tiny reduction in volume as people made their way to desks and pulled out chairs. Some hopped up on tables or plopped on the floor below. Faintly, I could hear an announcement over the speakers above. "Today is the last day to hand in your yearbook orders."

As soon as the announcements were finished, the teacher asked, "Where is Charlotte?"

I jumped, hearing this, and then raised my hand. "Here." I said, sounding entirely too much like a question.

"Welcome to McArthur." He said, everyone turning to look at me. "Any questions, feel free to ask me or anyone here."

The bell sounded shortly after. People spilled into the hallways; the teacher shouted halfheartedly on their way out; "Make it a good day!"

I scanned doorways and room numbers, trying to find my math class in the mess of passing period. My math class was supposedly in 125, but all I could find were 124 and 126. Finally, I figured out what I needed was the next corridor down, so I doubled back.

Two periods later, I braved the cafeteria, taking a chance on a chicken sandwich that didn't look entirely inedible. I brought it outside, along with a bottle of water and some napkins, and then settled myself against a wall in the cafeteria. Farther down was a group of guys with handheld games, competing against each other, and on the other side of them was a girl and a boy, sharing an iPod, arguing over the music playing.

I took a bite of my sandwich. By the time I'd opened my water, taken a sip, and braved another taste, I noticed Ally approaching a redhead at some table. I watched her drop the backpack on the ground and slide into the bench beside her, leaning her head on the redhead's shoulder. After a moment, the redhead reached up, giving her a couple of pats on the back.

"Hi there!"

I jumped, spilling a few small pieces of lettuce onto my lap, then looked up. A girl in a bright green sweater, khakis, and white sneakers was smiling down on me.