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The bus is right on time and I take the same seat I occupied this morning with Camden. My mood isn’t as great as it was seven hours ago. I hate this shit. I hate the sham of my life. I’m sick of it all, sick of pretending to be someone who isn’t even fucking real. In a juvenile move I punch the back of the seat in front of me. It doesn’t even hurt and I want it to hurt. But I can’t sit here punching the furniture until my knuckles bleed or I’ll probably get kicked off the bus.
The bus is pulling away from the curb when I happen to look up and I’m startled to see Camden. She’s just standing there in the middle of the snowy courtyard, still as a statue, her arms crossed, her posture stiff. And even though I can’t clearly see the expression on her face I’m sure of one very perplexing fact as she stares straight at me.
She’s absolutely furious.
Camden
So this is what it’s like.
To really connect with a guy and constantly look ahead to the next time you get to see him. Over the years I’ve had crushes. I’ve had school dance dates and brief flings and inconsequential hookups. But nothing compares to the way I’m falling hard and fast for Ben Beltran.
In class I’m useless for the entire day. I daydream and scrawl heart shaped doodles and remain extremely aware of Ben’s presence whenever we’re in the same room. It’s a testament to my willpower that I manage to stop myself from climbing into his lap and treating the class to a sex ed lesson.
Halfway through the morning I have an epiphany.
I’m going to lose my virginity to Ben the first chance I get.
Lunch is spent in the newsroom. The last issue of the year goes digitally live in the morning and even though I’ve got the layout memorized I want to conduct one more proofread before the meeting after school. But neither my heart nor my head are invested in the task and I keep rereading the same sentences over and over without comprehending what they mean.
No one feels like working in the afternoon and you can almost taste the restless energy in the classrooms. Everyone is already in vacation mode with the holiday break nearly here. Usually this would annoy me because I pride myself on remaining focused no matter what else is going on but today my brain is all mush and romance.
My last class of the day is world history and Ben is not in it. My heavily pregnant teacher, Ms. Adduci, declares the hour is ‘self study time’ and encourages us to work on the thesis projects that are due in the spring. I’m sure she is not surprised when no one does this. Instead people watch videos on their phones or nap at their desks. Some members of the jock crowd cluster together in the back of the classroom to share offensive memes and compare obscene stories. I’m just minding my own business at my desk and halfheartedly trying to skim over my notes for my thesis project on the French Revolution when I distinctly hear my name. Followed by laughter. Not silly, good natured laughter. Mocking, scornful laughter.
I’m not the type to wither away with shyness and act like I don’t have ears so I turn around to see what the racket is about. I am not surprised to see Todd Bellinger back there, flanked by some of the less talented members of the football team. There’s a nasty grin on Todd’s face, the kind that girls all over the planet are uncomfortably familiar with seeing from assholes like Todd and I curse my own foolishness for hooking up with him at that stupid party last spring. Still, there’s no reason for him to be so fixated on that one time. It was months ago, we didn’t even go very far and I’ve made it clear that he’ll never be touching me again.
“Were you saying something?” I fire, expecting that Todd will just sneer, roll his eyes and return to his buddies.
That’s when I notice Corby King. He’s not sitting in their circle but he is close enough to hear whatever they’ve been saying. He’s looking at me with a mixture of embarrassment and apology because he’s actually a decent guy and whatever garbage has come out of Todd’s mouth is obviously foul. Then he shoots a glare at Todd and Company and growls, “Knock it off, guys.”
“Fuck you, King.” Todd scowls, confident in the fact that he’s got sufficient backup in the room to take on anyone. He turns an ugly smile in my direction and my stomach performs an unpleasant flip. “Things are getting freaky down in the valley, huh? Maybe it’s worth taking a field trip down the hill to slum with you and your hometown girls.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You and Beltran.”
A sour taste rolls through my mouth. “You’re crazy.”
“Oh yeah? Fuck boy was shooting his mouth off in the cafeteria. He offered up his finger for a sniff and I said, shit, I remember that.”
Howls of laughter follow and I hear the teacher crossly remind us that the last bell has not rung and we should be working quietly. She says my name when I stand and gather my books.
“Rest room,” I choke out and sprint through the door.
I know Todd’s laughing harder than ever but if I’d stayed I might have burst into tears and nothing would have been worse than that. My chest hurts and my head is cloudy.
“It is just us, Camden.”
He wouldn’t lie to me about that.
He wouldn’t jump at the first opportunity to gloat about getting me on my back.
He wouldn’t ridicule me for the sake of getting some laughs from the biggest lechers in school.
Or would he?
The halls are nearly empty and I don’t seek sanctuary in the girls’ bathroom. Instead I make a beeline for the one location at this damn school that I feel at home; the headquarters of the Black Mountain Academy Bulletin. The room is a small one, located all the way at the end of the long corridor past the gymnasium. There are two rows of computers set up and a large smart board stretches across the front wall. At the moment the only person inside is a sophomore named Rodney. He writes the music and entertainment columns and he’s typing away on a keyboard at the far end of the room while bouncing his head in time to whatever music blasts through his earbuds. I receive a silent nod when I enter and then he returns to his screen, leaving me free to sink into a chair at the opposite end of the row and lay my head down in my arms like a small child.
I don’t want to be wrong about Ben.
