Growing Pains

Chapter 50 - Writing was an out of body experience

S K Y L A R

The line for the cafeteria moved excruciatingly slowly or nothing at all. If it kept on going like this, I probably would have to go to Spanish without any food in me, which was probably not a good idea, because I hadn't had anything to eat for breakfast either.

I had slept in. My dad had to come wake me up, which never happened. Most days I didn't even need an alarm. I woke myself up, the stress of the day anticipating itself on me, and activating my fight or flight response. Not this morning.

This morning, I could have slept well into the day, probably because I had been writing well into the night. Mr. Wyatt had asked for another story. I had been beside myself. Writing was an out of body experience and I had been wanting to escape myself for years.

My life had become a dichotomy of writing and not writing, and I was slowly losing control over it. More than once, I had caught myself writing dialogue on the margins of textbooks during class or losing track of a teacher's explanation in favor of playing out an idea for a new scene in my head. I was definitely losing control.

In front of me, so was a bubblegum group of girls. They had been losing it since I had gotten in line behind them, all of them wearing nice makeup, and nice clothes, and nice shoes, and nice perfume, and nice everything. They were losing it over the Cheer Sectionals happening in a few weeks, because apparently their coach had changed the routine last minute.

They had been dragging their coach's name through the mud for a while. Apparently, he had called a girl fat the other day at practice and told another one she needed to shave her legs as soon as possible.

I had wanted to be a cheerleader in my freshman year but hearing that, I was glad I hadn't even tried out for it. At the time, the reason why was the same as always: my parents. They thought that kind of environment would rot my brain and turn me into a full-on bimbo. I was fourteen, and I had spent the summer obsessed with Elle Woods from Legally Blonde. I wanted to be a bimbo. Instead, I had become a nerd with no redemption arc, no self-actualization. My brain hadn't rotten, but I wished it had.

In front of me, Kylie Green cut the line with Allora and Edward. I opened my mouth to say something and then closed it again. Kylie hugged one of the girls, the one who had been called fat during practice, and whispered something in her ear that made her smile. Allora and Edward went on talking about college admissions, or at least Allora did.

Edward turned around and said to me, "We're not trying to cut in line, I promise. We already had lunch. We'll get out of here in a second. Is that okay?"

I nodded, and he smiled before turning to Allora again to say, "Sorry. Go on."

By the time I got my food, a turkey sandwich wrapped in cling film and a green apple, there was barely half an hour left before the bell rang. All the tables were full, and I had no intention of standing in a corner, turning red, and wishing I could become wallpaper – no one ever looked at the cafeteria wallpaper – so, to the toilets I went.

I locked myself in a stall like I usually did, and finished my food in peace, leaning against the door, reading the scribbles written in sharpie on the wall. One of them said, Allora is a slut. Another one had the names Jacob and Vanessa written inside a heart, except the name Vanessa had been scratched out, and replaced with Ashley, which, surprise, surprise, had also been scratched out, this time, in favor of Harper. I didn't know who any of these girls competing for Jacob were but suspected they were cheerleaders because someone had written in angry handwriting, fuck you, V, you can't even do the splits.

I laughed. I wanted to get a sharpie myself and scratch Allora's name to replace it with Jacob, but I didn't. Vandalism probably wouldn't look good on my student record. Instead, I finished my food and walked out to wash my hands on the sink. By the time the bell rang I was already on my way to class, and someone was following me.