What Happened To Forever?

Chapter 5: Space Cadet

Grueling. Torturous. Tedious. Those are just a few adjectives to describe how horrible AP Algebra is. Plus, Mr. Lewis’s voice is monotone. It makes me want to flop down on my desk and go back to sleep. Devon, some weird delinquent who’s been in more than a bit of trouble with the police, has the same idea as he snores softly. Not surprisingly, Mr. Lewis is oblivious and keeps on teaching.His brown eyes look overly large behind his circular glasses, which is why everyone refers to him as Fly Guy.

Fly Guy continues to drone on and on about some test that’s coming up. I look over my shoulder to spot Taylor blowing her bangs out of her eyes. Taylor always struggling in Algebra, especially since her parents forced her to take the AP Algebra class. I guess blowing her bangs out of her face every two seconds isn’t helping her get an A. Or even a B. I’m pretty sure she’s got a C+ right now. 

“Brenna?” Mr. Lewis asks. Shit. Guess I’m a bit Space Cadet today.

“Um, can you please repeat the question?” I say, color flushing to my cheeks. Everyone turns to face me.

“I asked if you had your make up work with you,” he replied, sympathy filling his giant bug eyes. Grimacing, I open my binder and hand him the notes I had slaved over for hours on Friday. It was uncharacteristic for me to not procrastinate, but at that time anything to get my mind off of Caleb was worthwhile. He nodded and started flipping through them, probably surprised that the quality of my work was so good. Let’s say I don’t strive to get on honor roll, but I manage it anyway. Mom thinks I don’t try, which isn’t entirely true. School just comes naturally to me.

I shake my head, trying to clear my buzzing mind. I can feel everyone smirking at me. Taylor watches, concerned. I just want to sink into the floor right now. That would be much better than being gawked at like some strange, exotic animal. Now I know how those poor zoo animals feel. I try to concentrate, pushing away everything that didn’t concern whatever Fly Guy was lecturing incoherently on about.

 Finally, the bell rings shrilly and everyone scurries toward the door. I swipe my hair behind my ears and make my way to the hallway. Posters plastered above the lockers read, “Vote 4 Gemma! The Best Of The Best!” or “Yearbook Help Wanted!”

Yearbook. Damn it. I can’t believe I forgot Yearbook! I literally want to slap myself for forgetting. How stupid can one be? I’m going to get knocked over the head by Hunter, the editor, that’s for sure. I shove my way to the office, hopefully being able to spot Hunter and apologize. Some pack of boys shoot me a dirty look.

“Hey, take it easy ,” one jeers. I roll my eyes and saunter past. Finally, I spot Hunter on a bench with one of his Mathlete buddies. He’s a bit nerdy, but has the valedictorian position pretty much secured. I tap Hunter on the shoulder. 

“Hunter? So, so sorry about missing yearbook this morning. I’ve been a bit… distracted,” I say. An angry look washes over his face, but it softens when he realizes who it is.

“It’s fine. You’re in a rough spot right now. Just try harder to come, we’re understaffed as it is,” Hunter says. I can tell he would act differently under other circumstances. I’d probably be asked not to attend any more meetings. I weakly smile and continue moving with the crowd to the cafeteria. My phone vibrates in my pocket, startling me. I discreetly sneak a peek at who it is

Alex: hey, my beautiful and incredibly strong friend. how u doin? 

Me: okay. its been too crazy. and overwhelming. 

Alex: meet me by the vending machine. i got u a jamba juice blueberry smoothie(:

Me: ugh, u shouldn’t have. be right there.

By the time I get to Alex, my stomach is practically eating away at itself. I never had breakfast, but without this smoothie I would’ve wished I had. Thank god for Alex. He grins and hands me the cup. I suck on the orange straw greedily and lean up against the cool window. Outside, kids are sliding down the banister of the stairs, whooping and shouting. Alex follows my eyes to the bench I’m looking at. I sigh sadly. Too many reminders left behind, I think as the memory floods into my mind.

I’m reading on that same bench, trying to cram before my Chemistry test. I forgot we had a test that day, so any studying time was precious. It was one of the first warm days in March, so I was in my acid wash denim cutoffs and a fringed blue crop top with my sunglasses perched precariously on the top of my head. Someone threw a football right at me, knocking me and my belongings off the bench. Turning bright red, I scramble to pick up my things. Someone kneels beside me, grabbing my sunglasses and textbook. I peer up from under my overgrown side bangs to see a pair of icy blue eyes watching. I bet you can guess who it was.

 “Sorry,” he smiles sheepishly. “I’m still working on my aim.” I straighten up, brushing away the dirt that has accumulated on my knees.

“It’s… it’s fine,” I manage. His eyes are searching through me spookily, as if trying to decide whether or not I mean it.

“Caleb,” Caleb says suddenly, extending his hand. I shake it, beaming. The gesture has me cracking up, it’s so formal.

“Well, I’m Brenna,” I say.

“I know,” Caleb interrupts. I’m ready to call him a psycho/stalker when he continues “Alex has told me about you.” Phew, I think. I was starting to believe he was creeping on me.

I kick at the ground. “We’ve been really close since preschool, Alex and I. Oh, and also Taylor. Our moms were good friends. They’re not anymore, but we still stayed like brother and sister.” I ramble on and on and finally realize I haven’t been letting him get a single word in. Caleb seems okay with it, attentively listening as he nods. Such a welcome change from the usual meat-headed boys that go to our school.

“Well Brenna, why don’t I make it up to you? I’ll take you to ice cream after school. Sound good?” he calls as he jogs away.

“Sure,” I wave. I ended up failing the Chemistry test, but ice cream was fun so it was worth it.

The bell snaps me out of the other realm I go into while reliving these moments. Alex is frantically waving his hands in front of my face.

“Bren? Bee? You there?” Alex jumps up and down.

“Sorry. You’d better hurry, I need to get my books,” I rush to my locker and after a few unsuccessful attempts my locker door flies open, nearly smashing me in the face. The English teacher, Mrs. Albright, was so nice. However, her pet peeve was people who were late to class. 

I rush in the room about 3 seconds after the bell rings. Mrs. Albright shoots me her famed dagger eyes but keeps her mouth shut. She scans the classroom with her beady eyes.

“I’m taking attendance,” she announces. “Arnold, Elise?”

“Here,” Elise calls from the back of the room. She is the shortest in our grade but she took advantage of it, making herself the best gymnast I’ve ever seen. The Olympic gymnasts got nothing on her.

“Briarson, Caleb?” Mrs. Albright bellows. I cringe, silently begging to let her realize her mistake. “Where is Mr. Briarson today, class?” We’re all silent as her face morphs into one of understanding and sadness.

“Oh. I… I’m sorry. It slipped my mind…” she trails off, staring into the distance. “Such a tragedy. He was too young.” I feel sick. My stomach turns over. What the hell did Alex slip me in that smoothie? Coming to my senses, I realize I’m probably sick because of what we’re talking about. If I don’t get out of here soon, I will hurl. I bolt to the door and literally bowl over the Principal Carson. He’s so startled that he drops his Dunkin Donuts iced coffee all over me. The smell makes me proceed to promptly throw up all over his suit. Carson’s face contorts into an expression of complete and utter horror.

 Oh lord. This isn’t going to be good.