People say that they hate Mondays, all the time. After a two day pause on their responsibilities, being able to lie in bed half naked while they mindlessly scrolled on Twitter to see what their friends had tweeted for the day. Their short lived holidays were now abruptly coming to an end, having to start over the same cycle all over again. Five days of work, two days of play. If they decided to treat their weekdays like weekends, they’d be suffering the consequences.
But, what does that mean for you? You spent your couple days trying to already catch up on work, juggling through after-school choir, vocal practices, and trying to give Kate your best doe eyes as you convinced her to lend over some of her hard-worked pre-calc notes. You were spent! Blackwell Academy had just started to finally rock into motion, only 24 days in. God, it feels like every year you come back here, it only gets harder and harder. Mondays didn’t phase you, it was Fridays that would make you rile up. The dreaded countdown of when school would finally give you your 42 hours of playtime had you staring up at the clock, waiting, waiting, and waiting.
Only two periods in, you stood at your locker, trying to remember your locker code. Fuck! You wrote it down somewhere, right? You check your crossbody, looking for any sign of a crumpled up note at the bottom of your bag. You pull out a neatly folded post-it note (Hey, good for you! At least you’ve kept your papers folded up this year!) and unravel it, your finger and thumb turning the dial around to unlock your locker. Taylor Christensen, the blonde girl whose locker is right next to yours, walks over to unlock hers. She seems to remember it just fine. She looks over at you and gives you a polite smile, taking out a random black and green striped journal and closing her locker back up.
“Hey,” She greets you by your name, leaning on her locker. “Did you take that unit one chem test today? I have it last period, so I just wanna make sure it’s not too bad.” You glance over at her, shrugging as you took out your chemistry textbook. You looked back in your locker, looking for your pencil case. “No, I have Mrs. Grant.”
“Oh…” She says, looking a bit confused. If you were paying attention to her, you could basically hear the gears turning in her head. “I mean, I have her too, so.”
You pulled out your pencil case, looking back over at her. “…When did she ever talk about a test? She’s barely taught us anything.” If you were paying attention to Mrs. Grant, you would’ve known that she’s actually been going over quite a bit lately, like the atomic structures and properties. Obviously, you didn’t know what the hell any of the atomic structures were, which Taylor had to quickly explain to you. Right, you were faintly familiar with the topic. Faintly.
“We have to turn in the study guide for it when we come into class, so…” She trailed off, looking at the sheer… what-the-fuck-ness on your face. She lightly bit her bottom lip, opening her locker again and pulling out her chemistry textbook, the one that looked exactly like yours. She took a packet out of her textbook, handing it over to you. “You can take a picture if you want, just… like… switch up the words, right?”
You nodded, grateful for her hearteningly generosity to you and taking the packet. You nipped your phone from out of your bag, taking clandestine pictures and flipping through the packet. Some questions were still left blank, questions that you assumed she would ask before the test. You handed it back to her, smiling. “Oh my god, thank you so much.” You said, looking back down at your phone. Fuck, class was in six minutes. With all the pages you had to flip through in that packet, you’d be lucky if you even got half of them written down before you’d be late for class. She smiled back at you, humming. She looked away, but then turned back to face you. “Uhh… good luck, okay?” She said unconfidently, closing her locker back up and walking away over to Victoria, who you had just realized was trying to call Taylor over. You nodded, watching her leave and looking back at your phone.
Shit! Your six minutes just turned into five.
-
Class started about 8 minutes ago, and your escape route from Blackwell just ended. You had decided to stuff all of your shit back in your bag, hanging out in the school’s bathrooms while the bell rang. Staff walked in to make sure no one was in the bathrooms, and when Mrs. Wiemenn had told you to get a move on, you walked up the steps. Obviously, you had no classes upstairs, so after a while of aimlessly walking around, you walked back down and speed-walked over to the front doors, walking right out. You rushed your way over to the dorms, adroitly missing the janitor and flinching at a blue butterfly (it came out of nowhere, alright?), racing all the way up the steps to your dorm floor. You did consider just staying in your room to start working, but thought that your room would be the first place they’d look in if anyone noticed you had bumped class. Hell, your whole dorm floor would be the first place they’d look at. Why the hell would you go to your dorm floor? Are you dumb? Dumb floor?
Sorry.
Okay, well, you can’t leave now. You’re already here, and nobody has noticed that you’re really gone yet. Your second best option was… the dorm bathrooms! Cool, you had skipped there tons of times before during your sophomore year. It was basically foolproof, not many people would stay in there, nevertheless walk in there. As you walked closer to the bathrooms, you could already smell the stench in there. Okay, foolproof doesn’t mean smell-proof, but foolproofisfoolproofandiwon’tletyoutellmeotherwise.
You opened the door, and you were greeted to a foggy bathroom with a brown haired girl kneeling near an open window. Her cigarette was held loosely between her pointer finger and middle, resting on the window sill. She turned to face you, and you could see her heart jump in that exact moment with yours. Her eyebrows were thin and softly arched, yet her blue eyes suddenly turned cold as she realized it wasn’t a staff member. She looked up at you, and you could see the icy, miffed expression on her face. She turned away from you, taking another puff of her cigarette and tapping the ash off. You made little to no sound as you walked over to the other side of the bathroom, sitting down and awkwardly fumbling with your bag as you opened it up.
“Who are you?” The girl asked, turning back only to realize you weren’t in the same place as before. She put her back to the wall, spotting you and holding her cigarette in her hand still. You looked up at her and shrugged out your name, pulling out your textbook. She didn’t respond, just pulling her knees to her chest and looking down at the ground. She took another puff, then stood up to turn on the sink and wet her cigarette out. She tossed it on the ground and stomped on it, picking up the cigarette bud and throwing it out the window. She slid the window closed, turning around to look down at you again.
“…Why’re you here?” The girl asked, crossing her arms and looking down at you. Man, you felt a little feeble.
“…Skipping.” You answered vaguely, taking a pencil and a folder out, pulling the empty chemistry study guide packet from your folder. You put the folder to the side of you, placing your packet over on your textbook to use it as a makeshift clipboard. Her eyes glanced down to your movements, and then back up to your face. A part of you wondered if she had a staring problem.
“…First time?” She asked, blinking. You shook your head, taking out your phone and opening the photos from before. You didn’t say much, just wanting to get the answers down. She nodded, awkwardly looking away.
“You were that singer kid.”
Oh, for fucks sake.
You looked up at her, spinning your pencil in your hand as you bit your inner cheek. Oh, how you hated communication during times when you wanted nothing more to do other than freeing yourself from the stress going on in your life. “I am that singer kid, I’m on the choir.” You corrected her, giving a polite smile. She furrowed her eyebrows, kind of resembling one of those chain-smoker cowboys from all the countless movies you watched as a kid. She was just a cigarette away from looking like a female, scrawny looking Clint Eastwood. You could smell her next words, ‘why are you skipping if you’re on the choir? Aren’t you scared you’re gonna be suspended? Aren’t you worried if you’re gonna be kicked off?’
“Cool.” She said, looking down at the ground. For the next couple of minutes, she left you alone, leaning on the wall as she texted back and forth to some people. Ten, fifteen, just pure silence. You had written down most of the answers Taylor had given you, just finishing up jotting down the last two. Once you had, you flipped back to the front of the packet, doubling over to look at the questions Taylor hadn’t answered. Shit, you really retained nothing these past few weeks. You tapped your pencil’s end on the paper, trying to think of something.
“Can you stop that?” The girl asked, glancing over at you. You looked back up at her penitently, sighing as you whispered out a ‘sorry.’ You decided that after school, you’d just google up the answers and see if you could find anything. You started packing up your bag, putting all your stuff away and wondering how long it had been since class started. Damn, it’s only been about thirty minutes. You had basically another hour to spare, so, maybe music could help you get through the rest of the hour? You searched in the front pockets of your crossbody, surprised to find… nothing! You looked again, and again, triple checking to make sure it wasn’t just shoved down in an ominous spot. Yeah, they’re not anywhere. Unlucky you. This had to be the nadir of your day.
You sighed jadedly, lightly hitting your head back on the wall. You looked back up at the girl, who was… already looking over at you. Or, so you thought, she had just looked back down at her phone again. Maybe she was just thinking to herself. Well, she didn’t look too busy, maybe you could talk to her a bit.
“Why are youhere?” You asked, trying to ameliorate the situation you were in. She looked down at you, a slight pout on her face. “Why do you care?”
“Oh. I was just asking.”
A few beats of silence dropped by. One, two, three. “I’m skippin’ my chem class.” She responded, crossing her arms and walking closer to the sinks, leaning over one. “‘Cause my teacher is a bitch.”
“…Mr. Wile?” You snickered, shaking your head. “He’s not a bitch.”
“No, Mrs. Grant.”
“Oh.” Your eyebrows knitted together, a realization spinning into your head. “I’m in her class right now.”
“…For sixth period?”
“Yeah.”You said in a ‘uh, duh’ manner, smiling. You had never seen this girl, how could she be in your class without you even noticing? “I didn’t study for that test so I just bumped and went here.”
“We have a fucking test?!” The girl scoffed, running her fingers through her distressed hair. You poorly held back some chuckles, nodding. She groaned, squeezing her eyes. “Fuck.”
“It might be open note, though. I have the study guide with me right now.”
“I already did that shit. Mrs. Grant rarely gives out open note test.”
“Really?”
“Mm.”
Oh, fuck. You’re gonna have to do some cramming tomorrow. You exhaled, sitting crisscrossed-applesauce and cracking your knuckles. “What’s your name?”
“Chloe.” She sighed out, standing up straighter and fishing in her back pocket. She pulled out a loose cigarette- a little crumpled from leaning on the wall behind her. She pats her front pocket idly, trying to feel for what you assumed was a lighter. “Why haven’t I seen you in class before?” She asks, raising her eyebrows a smidge higher. You shrug, finding her question stupid and unanswerable. “…’Cause I’m usually in front?” You try and give her a sensible answer, not wanting to just brush it past you.
Chloe hums, slotting the cigarette in between her lips. She lights the cigarette, cupping her hand near the flame so that it would stay still. After taking a generous pull, she exhales, stepping back over to the window to crack it open. “Yeah, maybe.” She mumbles out, her cigarette moving in between her lips. “So, you just now want to skip in this bathroom?”
“No, I used to come here- but I’m trying to graduate early, so I can’t just… keep missing my classes and stuff. I’m only here bec-“
“‘Cause you didn’t study for your chemistry test.” Chloe finishes your sentence for you, holding onto the window sill as she kneeled down, trying to get as close to the opening of the window as possible. She looks outside, taking another drag off of her cigarette. “I mean, I’m not, like, makin’ fun of you or whatever. Still, kiiiiind of stupid if you’re already in a club.” She glances over at you, and there’s a faint smile painted on her face. “You smoke?”
You decline the offer, shaking your head. You pull your textbook closer to you, looking away for a moment. Chloe takes another drag off of her cigarette- Jesus, she’s just ripping that thing, huh?- And she tilts her head up, trying to get a better look at what was on top of your textbook. She sees the packet, dropping her head back and looking right at you. She hums, looking back out the window. “Right.”
You hum back at her, lazily spinning the pencil in your hand. “I didn’t know other people came here too.” You said, still trying to keep conversation. “I mean, I never really saw anyone else but me in here.” Chloe exhales another silvery cloud, the ashes falling on the window sill. You’ve just noticed that it’s starting to collect. “‘Cause nobody skips in school. They just bounce and go home or some shit like that.” She breathes out, hunching over a bit in order to not cough. She puts a fist to her mouth, trying to contain herself before letting out a couple pathetic rasps. “I-“ She coughs, again. “-only came here because I don’t have a fuckin’ car yet. My dad said he’d get one for me, never did.”
You hum again (fuck, all this damn humming) and tilt your head to the side. “You’ve been here all day?”
“Yeah, practically.”
“Oh.”
“Been bored as shit in ‘ere.” She groans out, trying to crack her neck.
“You wanna get out of here?”
Dead air lingers between the two of you. Her pupils are still on yours, she’s weighing her options. Shit, why did you say that? I mean, to be nice, of course, but why say it in… that tone of voice? Oh, fuck.
“…But you have class still.”
You nod, glancing down at the floor. She’s right.
“…But we’re not going far, right?”
“Nah-“
“‘Kay,” She puts out her cigarette eagerly, you notice her chewing on her bottom lip. Hm. “Just for fresh air, mm?” She starts to stand up, looking down on you to see if you’d follow. You falter a bit, but you get there. She stares you down until you start to realize that you’re the one leading, not her. Okay, okay. Got it. Loud and clear.
Yes, great! Fresh air, with a fresh girl. Breezy.
Okay, let’s refrain from the word usage of ‘breezy’ for the rest of our lives.