Clever Girl

Chapter 11: The Conspiracy Theorist

If the encounter with Stella has taught me one thing, it's that I'm not equipped to handle the real world. Anytime someone is mean or unpleasant, or I'm in an uncomfortable or awkward situation, I falter. I sink into my cool, lonely shell. For the last few years, I've locked myself up inside, its walls easily defined. Someone to serve her family. To love and care for only those within her comfort zone.

Now, when those walls are suddenly shattered and replaced by shards of cruelty and uncertainty, I don't know what to do. Where is the manual that teaches you how to successfully maneuver your wits through high school? That shows you exactly how to balance that with your drowning family?

"Tell me, Veronica. Is it true that Friday will be your last day at Apollo?" the guidance counselor asks. Her name is Marina. She seems nice, but nice is a social construct. It's her job. She's being paid to pretend to care about my problems. Stop it, Veronica. It's not her fault that Jay told everyone your business.

"Well... yes?"

"And why is that?"

"It's just... that I don't care for school. I'm over it."

"We try to help all of our students, Veronica. I believe there's possibly something much deeper there than not caring for school. If there's anything you need to talk about, any help you need, you can tell me. You can also trust that I won't pass the information along to anyone unless it's absolutely necessary. This is a safe space, Veronica. Please, tell me what's really going on."

The way her blonde hair falls in frizzy loose curls to past her shoulders, how her light brown eyes are framed by red-rimmed glasses, and how her purple cardigan is worn over a faded orange-collared dress shirt; it whispers of perfection. I wonder if her rather young age has anything to do with it. She can't be more than twenty-five. If she had been older, would she care? Or would her many years of practice have made her numb to teenage problems?

"Veronica?"

I blink away my millions of guesses about her. "Look, I'm not one of those students who obsesses over my transcript. Who agonizes over college acceptance, and worries about my future. There's nothing deeper there. I just don't care."

"I refuse to believe that about you."

What if I were to divulge my secrets to her? What would happen? Would she marvel at my genius? Tell the world about my abilities, and take me away from my family? Or would she stare at me with disbelief, wondering what could lead me to tell such an outrageous lie? Or would there be a lifetime of pity, and the involvement of therapists and government assistance and the tears of people I have never met before? "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. Sometimes a burnout is just... a burnout."

"Quoting Freud?"

"Who?" I say, quickly and with forced conviction. Maybe she'll buy it.

She smiles at me, then pulls out an appointment book, "I'm going to schedule more meetings, twice a week."

"But we've already been over this. I'm dropping out. Friday's my last day."

"So you say. But we'll see. I'll see you here on Monday."

***

For reasons beyond my understanding, Jay seems to be the only student at this school I'm not afraid of. With his smug face and his pretentious clothes and his obsession with grades. I can talk circles around him, whereas with everyone else, getting one word out is torture. All the anger that had gathered these past couple of days, my resentment towards him, my hatred towards Stella, and my absolute contempt for Cranston, has prepared me for this moment.

I find him at his locker, alone. I narrow my eyes with disgust as I march towards him. I slam his locker shut, causing a textbook and some loose papers to fall.

He faces me, looking just as angry as I feel, "What was that for?"

"Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Obviously I don't."

"So you're not aware that Cranston knows I'm planning on dropping out? He just happened to find out the day after I told you? Now I have to  see the student counselor, and they'll probably tell my parents, and all because you couldn't mind your own business."

Jay's expression softens greatly. An apologetic shadow crosses over, and the crystal blue of his eyes seem to blur. For a second I think he might apologize genuinely, but the second passes, he composes himself quickly, "So I told Cranston. Get over it. You can still drop out, princess."

He can attempt to mask his shame with all the snap comments he likes, but he can't hide the trace of regret still visible on his face, however small. As he opens his locker again and grabs books, I can see his eyes trying to find me, so I glare at him. "Why do you even care? What is it you're hoping to accomplish here?"

"I'm hoping you'll stop lying to me, and admit you're not actually a burn-out idiot." He faces me again and steps closer, "If you're really some kind of Mensa-level genius, you're wasting everyone's time, and making me look like the idiot."

"I'm getting really tired of your conspiracy theories. How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone before it finally sticks?"

"You're the one who came up to me this time."

"Only to tell you off for being a nosy asshole. Oh, and next time you break up with one of your girlfriends, leave my name out of it, so your psycho friend Stella doesn't attack me for something that has nothing to do with me."

"What are you talking about?"

Maybe he really doesn't know. But I'm not going to back up just yet. "Right, like you didn't use me as some sort of  bait for your amusement. I bet you thought it'd be funny to have your friends verbally assault me in the hallway."

"Who's being the conspiracy theorist now?"

"Still you. Tell your goons that there's nothing on between us, because for some reason they seem to think there is. And I'm going to tell you this one last time; Leave me alone!"

Is it shame? Or curiosity? Or just plain arrogance? I can read Finnegans Wake twice in a day without missing the value of a single prose, and yet I can't read the expression on Jay's face. His constant silence as he stares at me doesn't help, nor does the fact that the space between us seems to be closing. I'm not sure if it's my own curiosity that's making it so I'm standing still, almost daring him to move even closer. But for what?

"Hey! Nowhere, Colorado!" Will's voice cuts through the scene, making me aware that I'm suddenly a little light-headed.

I step back and face Will, composing myself, "Hi Will!"

"You still coming to the party, right? Don't you flake on me."

"I'll be there," I say, smiling, thankful for his presence. I'm not sure what would've happened had he not interrupted, and quite frankly, I'm not curious to find out. 

Will eyes Jay up and down, "Hey Ronnie, is this guy bothering you?"

"He's always bothering me."

Any uncertainty I had about Jay's expression earlier has completely vanished. The anger now is as crystal as the blue of his eyes. He faces his locker and hastily closes its lock. He then brushes past me, his shoulder pushing me back a step, and walks away without another word.