And Then There Was Vince

Chapter 22: A Make Up and a Let Down

Ashley followed me to creative writing, jabbering about a reality show's finale that I hadn't made myself watch. I'd missed every episode while we were fighting and had no idea what to say. Luckily, Corinne and Mandy quickly fell in step as we passed their respective classes and filled in the gaps.

When we walked through the door to Mr. Bartlett's, Vince was already planted at a spot in the back. I felt myself break into a smile when I saw him, and he did the same.

I made a beeline for the place next to him, stopping the girls in their tracks.

I didn't notice their confusion or discomfort until I had sat down. They were all three standing there at the front of the room, waiting for me to come take ownership of the desk that had once been mine. It was slightly amusing to me when I thought about it. This path was the trajectory I had taken every period while they were shunning me, and it had become a habit to automatically go there at that point.

And if we're being honest, I didn't want to sit with them in class that day. Or ever. The choice would always be Vince.

Ashley made a face I couldn't quite interpret before whispering something to the other two. They each took their seats almost creepily in sync.

"What was that about?" He asked me. "Some new bullying attempt?"

"No, surprisingly," I said, starting to lay out my things. "She apologized to me this morning. I guess she expected me to sit with them again."

Now, it was Vince's turn to make faces. I saw a mix of something. Maybe confusion and unease.

"And...I guess you accepted it for her to expect that?" He asked, sounding nastier than he ever had.

"I told her we could work on it," I said. "I didn't tell her that what she's been doing to me was okay, if that's what you mean."

"But are you going to start hanging out with her again, is what I mean," He snapped.

I looked at him wide-eyed, feeling incredulous. I could tell that he was judging me, or that he was angry with me even. The very thought served as dry logs on my internal fire. I could feel all of my optimism slowly draining out.

"Maybe eventually," I said. "But not for a while."

"Unbelievable," was his short and harsh answer.

The day definitely didn't start off as I'd hoped. We did a writing exercise I usually had a lot of fun with. The idea was that the four rows of students would share a piece of paper. The first row would write comedy, the second horror, the third science fiction, and the fourth miscellaneous. Mr.Bartlett would set a two minute timer, during which the student in possession of the sheet had to write a contribution to the overall story. When the timer went off, that student would pass the sheet back. The final person in the row had to finish it. Then, the papers would be collected and the subjects would rotate, meaning everyone had a chance to write for each subject.

I tried very hard to get the fun atmosphere back. I found ways to shoehorn 70's disco music into every story. I mentioned slow dancing. I wrote about a feast for the richest of the rich. I expected some sort of a glance in my direction when Mr. Bartlett finally read them to close the class out, but for the most part, Vince didn't even look at me. Everyone else was laughing at the ridiculous plots we'd drummed up, and I was frozen with a quivering lip.