Speculos

Chapter One

Chapter 1

"Emerson Quinn," the loudspeaker crackles with the school secretary's nasal voice. "Please make your way to the office." I shut my locker with a bit more force than necessary and begin thinking words that past seniors had written all over the inside of my locker, which is as close to rebellion as you get in Doily, Texas.

"Again, that is Emerson Quinn, thank you." I wince hearing my name repeated over the popping loudspeaker. My mother had to give me a boy's name. People always think that she named me after Ralph Waldo Emerson, and I'd rather them think that than know she named me after the grocery store check-out guy she had a crush on in high school.

I remember the hole worn into my jeans, and it is without a doubt bigger than a quarter. I avoid the teachers who are sticklers for the dress code and, keeping my eyes down on the scuffed blue and white linoleum tiles, I shuffle my way across the school. This takes a whole 30 seconds in high traffic. The office door whines in protest as I push it open, and I wonder if it's possible that the door could be as sick of me as I am of it.

"You rang?" I look towards the secretary as I take my seat. Her look of sympathy coupled with her over-plucked eyebrows almost does me in, a little white powder and she could be mime. But I just look down at my latest library book and pretend to be engrossed in the cliché cover art.

"Sherriff Mulligan called... again." She clucks her tongue.

"Can't he keep her for the weekend?" I mutter under my breath.

"Don't I wish." Her hearing would make superman jealous. She turns her chair towards me conspiratorially, "you just need to-" the door that I've learned to dread opens and the secretary is all of the sudden engrossed in her work.

"Cynthia, that Griff kid is two days over the legal absence limit, and we are only one semester in—" the principal walks out, and upon seeing me puts a tight smile on her face as her pointed jaw clenches. I dig my nails into the threadbare orange waiting chair. "Good news Miss Quinn, your early graduation was approved, you're done with school as fast as next week." As an afterthought she adds, "But, you're welcome to walk across the stage with your class of course."

"I don't think that will be necessary." I barely overcome the temptation happy dance right in the middle of the office. See ya suckers! "But thanks."

"And prom!" The secretary cuts the diligent worker act and butts in, "You just have to go to prom!" Her face breaks into a smile as she peruses an old highschool memory.

Strobe lights, grind lines, and cherry kool-aid... like a bad Miley Cyrus music video.

"I don't know... maybe," I try to insert some enthusiasm into my voice, but I can tell that it is not quite the Oscar winning performance I had been hoping for. "I should get going, someone has to go get my mother."

"Yes, yes, of course." Is that real compassion I see in Principal Whitmore's eyes? Probably just dust. She writes me an excused absence slip and I grab my things, less than eager to make the walk across town. Luckily it's a small town, unluckily... it's a small town. People see, people tell, and soon the whole town is talking.

Passing the first building, and already had two looks of pity, three shaking heads, and one death wish, on my part. The Doily Bird Watching club (better known as the "Gossip Grapevine") members make their way out of the feed store. The only time they ever have anything to do with birds of any kind is when they end up eating crow. Several clicking tongues and I know my news has just made headlines. The speed of light has nothing on a couple small town gossips.

I do what I always do when I'm uncomfortable, study my surroundings... Not that I don't already have Doily's main square memorized, right down to the dandelions poking up out of the sidewalk cracks. It's very Mayberry around here. Old men sleep in rocking chairs. I'm pretty sure businesses feel obligated to keep them out front. The buildings boast peeling paint, cracked brick, and worn and faded letters from a time gone by. My favorite is the stonewashed "Adelaide's Saloon and Dancing" right on the side of what is now Doily's First Baptist Church. They tried to paint over it once. The Historical Society let that go over like a ton of bricks.