Page 35
Fairhope, January 7th, 2013
“Since we’ve covered cells, microscopes, and ecology last semester,” Ms. Mallory, my biology teacher, says, pushing her blue square glasses up the bridge of her nose, “we’re finally ready to tackle how the actual human body functions.” She beams like a kid who’s been counting down the days until Christmas. “This is my favorite part.”
I wish I could say the same. Biology has never really been my thing. Words are my love language, not cells and chromosomes. Though, I have to admit, Ms. Mallory does make science sound interesting. The woman has the kind of enthusiasm that’s impossible not to get swept up in. If biology were ever going to win me over, it would probably be because of her.
“Which means…” She points dramatically across the room. “Drum roll, please, Dylan.” Dylan Kimball starts pounding an exaggerated drum roll across his desk, making everyone in the classroom laugh. “We’re going to dissect frogs!” Ms. Mallory announces.
Half the class erupts in cheers, while the other half groans.
“That’s barbaric, Ms. M. Can’t we just… skip that?” Jordan complains, scrunching her nose at the thought of cutting into something already dead.
“It’s how we learn,” Ms. Mallory replies patiently. “Maybe one day classrooms will have realistic 3D-printed models instead, but for now, this is still one of the best ways to understand anatomy. I promise if you approach it with an analytical mind, it won’t seem nearly as inhumane.”
“Inhumane?” Jordan giggles as if Ms. Mallory just said something absurd. “I don’t care about the damn frog. It’s the smell. I don’t want to stink of dead frog bits all day. Gross.”
“And there she is, ladies and gentlemen.” Sienna lets out a derisive snort. “A true marvel of the human condition.”
“She wasn’t talking to you, Heartless,” Delaney Merrill snaps, shooting Sienna a look sharp enough to draw blood.
“Oh, bite me, Delaney.”
“I bet you would love that, wouldn’t you?” Sydney Pinkham interjects and then mouths a homophobic slur, making sure Ms. Mallory isn’t looking.
Sienna flips her off without missing a beat, completely unfazed by the snickers spreading around the classroom.
I’m not sure which word offended Sienna more. If I had to pick between the slur and the nickname Heartless, I’d choose the latter, since that one probably hits closer to home. Not exactly the most creative insult, but then again, these girls aren’t Shakespeare either.
Everyone in Fairhope knows Sienna isn’t exactly famous for her warmth. Personally, I think the nickname misses the mark.
Sienna is not heartless. She’s just the kind of person who lets logic rule rather than emotion. The kind of person who color-codes her notes, raises the class average without trying, and somehow turns every assignment into a competition she fully intends to win.
Type A to her core, Sienna is highly driven and painfully competitive. A perfectionist to a T. And yes, maybe sometimes that comes off as being a little cold.
People like Sienna tend to see the world in straight lines. Right versus wrong. Fact versus fiction. Problem versus solution. There’s not a whole lot of room for the messy shit in between. That can make her seem heartless. Still doesn’t mean she is, though.
As for her being gay, well, that’s something Sienna has never opened up to me about, so honestly, I wouldn’t know. Not that it would matter to me either way. You love who you love, and fuck those who make others feel any kind of shame about it. Still, Sienna has always been pretty private about such things. Although I’m pretty sure I caught her checking out Kody Cushman’s ass once, so there’s that.
“Ladies,” Ms. Mallory interrupts before the argument can gain any momentum, “let’s try to keep some decorum and focus on the task at hand.”
I don’t envy Ms. Mallory. Freshman classes are brutal. It’s the year everyone crawls out of middle school trying to figure out where they belong on the social ladder.
The Reds have already formed their little cult under Peyton’s command. The jocks have found their kingdom on the football field, where Milo wears the crown as their new star quarterback. The overachievers orbit around Sienna as if she were their North Star. And then there are the freaks. The outcasts, the afterthoughts. People like me. The ones who exist somewhere on the fringe of it all, close enough to watch but never quite close enough to belong.
Not that I mind. It’s not like I was ever anywhere but the bottom of the pecking order growing up. Why would high school be any different? I’ve made my peace with it. Actually, I prefer it. Who’s ever heard of a great writer who lived a charmed, perfect life before making it big? No one ever.
Experiences like these will give me character. They’ll teach me to see the world differently than everyone else. Or maybe that’s just the bullshit I tell myself to survive another painfully uninspired day at this fucking school. Whatever works, right?
I must have drifted off because the next thing I notice is a group of varsity football players wheeling stainless steel carts into the classroom, each tray lined with neatly arranged frogs waiting to be dissected.
“Thank you, boys,” Ms. Mallory says with a grateful smile. Once they’re gone, she claps her hands together. “So where was I? Ah yes. This semester you will no longer be working individually. Dissection is a collaborative exercise, so everyone will have a lab partner. You’ll share the same grade, which means you’ll both be responsible for the work.”
“Well, that sucks.” Dylan tips his head toward Brooke Trask. “Blondie over here isn’t gonna do anything. She’s too afraid to break a nail.”
“You’d understand if you got manicures, idiot.” Brooke proudly wiggles her glitter-covered fingers. “These aren’t cheap.”
“Who says I don’t?” Dylan holds up one of his sturdy, rough hands, flashing nails that look like they’ve been chewed within an inch of their existence.
The room instantly erupts with laughter, so much so that Ms. Mallory doesn’t even bother trying to talk over us. Instead, she reaches beneath her desk and pulls out her favorite toy for such occasions.
