1977- a short story

5

    "What is this again?", Ellen picked at the brown blob on her tray.

    "Good question but I'm afraid I can't answer.", Phoebe said, wrinkling her nose.

    "I suggest we dispose of it with extra precautions, it's probably radioactive.", Ellen proposed sourly.

    "Your sarcasm is just as radioactive and we've survived over two years of exposure so I think were fine.", Lillian said while looking down at her tray. Whenever she came up with some smart or sarcastic comment, she was usually too shy to say it with confidence. Knowing Ellen, she would probably take it as a compliment anyways.

    "Good to know I have cockroaches for friends.", Ellen said with a broad grin.

    Their retorts continued to take the conversation to new levels of irony and all of them struggled to keep a straight face.

    Once silence settled in between them once again, they glanced at their food which had barely been touched.

    "I wasn't hungry anyways.", Ellen said, dumping her tray and leaving.

    Phoebe rose from the table too as the bell rang, but instead stopped behind Lillian. "You have something on the back of your shirt.", she stated.

    "What? Oh, hm that's weird.", Lillian mumbled absentmindedly.

    They dumped their trays, dawned their backpacks, and joined the commotion of passing period corridors. The rhythm of steps was so ingrained into their heads that when Phoebe grabbed Lillian's arm and pulled her aside, they seemed to interrupt some sacred natural process.

    Lillian gazed at Phoebe strangely. "What?"

    "Take off your backpack.", she commanded with an uncharacteristic authority.

    Her confusion lasted only a split second longer as her heart sank with stunning realization. The backpack had rubbed too hard against her back.

    Complacently, she slipped her arms out of the straps of her bag and set it down gingerly.

    Phoebe placed herself behind Lillian and started to examine her. "It's blood.", she stated, knowing full well that Lillian couldn't deny it.

    She struggled to respond as a lump materialized in her throat.

    "What happened.", she earnestly spoke. Although it was a question, Phoebe pronounced it like a declaration.

    "It's the alcohol.", Lillian choked out.

    The hallway was much less crowded than it was moments ago. In the little niche in the floor plan, the rejected corner had much dimmer lighting than the main hall. As Phoebe stared intently at Lillian, she couldn't bring herself to make eye contact. Instead she gazed at the few remaining people rushing to various doors as her vision.

    "What do you mean? What did the alcohol do, who's drinking?", Phoebe's questions prodded her.

    Lillian continued to look elsewhere. "We're going to be late. We need to go to class."

    "C'mon, Lil.", Phoebe's face contorted with agony. It was clear that was the least of her current concerns.

    Lillian took a deep breath and closed her eyes, only to open them directly at Mr. B who studied the two of them with a placid expression. The late bell rang.

    He took out a notepad and scrawled a few words down and tore the page off swiftly. "Here. Give this to your teacher so they know not to count you tardy."

    Phoebe began to shower him with gratitude in a composed manner as he continued to start his path down the hall once again. But before doing so he turned to face the two of them again. "Whatever is weighing on you, it's nothing that you aren't strong enough to handle.", he said with solemnity.

    At those words Lillian buried her face in her hands and the accumulating water in her eyes overflowed.

    After Mr. B had exited, Phoebe prodded once again. "What's happening."

    "He was just mad...", Lillian struggled between labored breaths.

    "That's no excuse what did he do.", Phoebe's question came out as a statement yet again.

    "A belt.", she managed.

    At this point, both of them were in equal amounts of anguish. "No.", Phoebe whispered, a feeble attempt at denial.

    "Yes.", breathed Lillian, a confirmation. "Yes."

    In each other's arms, the two of them united themselves into one figure, shaking in the corner of that corner of the school. And minutes passed, brimming with grief. Time seemed to freeze and the abandoned hallways were illuminated with those ugly florescent lights that buzzed softly if one listened closely enough.

    "You're not going home tonight. You're coming to my house.", Phoebe assured after a while.

    Lillian's concession was almost immediate. She was too exhausted to contradict. "Ok."

    "My house tonight, ok?", Phoebe repeated softly.

Alright so it came to my attention when I was workshopping this in my creative writing class that people thought there was more. And me being a mean little writer chose to leave the ending here, ambiguous. I'm so glad if you've made it to this point the attention this story has gotten is warming. Since this is based off a true story though, it's safe to say that in real life it has a hopeful ending.