Tudor High (On Hold)

Chapter 3 - Make Me Wanna Die

The classroom was full of girls. Not that I did not anticipate it, but, it was a bit jarring coming from a school that let boys and girls learn side by side to a school that promoted segregation between genders. There was not a man in sight. I had expected as much since the school stressed their coed-non-coed shtick. After all, weren't children supposed to be seen and not heard? Or, was it heard and not seen? Either way, it made me want to say sorry, not sorry.

Part of me had hoped the brochure had been a prank. It would have been some sort of cruel joke. However, a cruel joke would have been better than this. I knew it was not going to get any better. Without any boys in the class, who was I going to stare at when I got bored?

The girls were of all shapes and sizes, some short, some tall, some slender, and some plump. Some chewing their pencils as if doing so would make them seem more grown up. They all had blank expressions on their features and I did not blame them. There was no excitement in the classroom, no spark, no sense of adventure. There was no eagerness to learn.

The door clicked as it opened and the girl from before walked into the room. She closed the door softly behind her. She straightened her pink plaid skirt and started to button up her blouse. The cross on her rosary bracelet twinkled as she did so, contrasting with her actions.

"Katherine Aragon," the instructor said, "good of you to join us."

"I am sorry that I am late." Kate sat down next to me, "What did I miss?"

Was she speaking to the person sitting next to her? I angled her a look. She was leaning towards me with a look of expectancy. I cleared my throat, "Um, you didn't miss much."

"Can you elaborate?"

"You did not miss a thing." I reiterated, "The teacher hasn't started teaching yet."

"Oh," she leaned backwards, "cool."

"Yeah, cool," I murmured, "What's not cool is being late for class so you could have a makeout session with your obnoxious boyfriend."

To my surprise, she did not lash out at me. She did not attempt to defend herself or Henry. Her long fingers grasped at her rosary; thumbing through the beads as if trying to remind herself that she still had a mind of her own. Every so often, I heard the words believe, God, Heaven, spirit and at last, Amen. Upon finishing, she turned to me, "I love him."

I found it hard to believe one syllable described a feeling that surpassed our existence. One simple word held immense power, however, could not express what it truly meant to be in love. Was it a concept? Was it a feeling? Was it even real?

"Oh." That was all I could say to her.

Considering her words for a moment, she writhed her hands as if she was trying to massage away an impossible pain. Lacing her fingers together, she glanced back at me, "I don't know why I told you that."

I shrugged, "It's fine."

She went on, "I don't have very many people to talk to."

My brow crinkled, "Why?"

Her voice quivered, "Because I'm dating him."

I sent her a look of confusion, "So?"

"He's the most popular guy at school and-"

I interrupted, "I'm confused."

She continued, "He's the most popular guy at school and I am the least popular."

"I still don't get it."

"You won't," Kate whispered, "you're new here. They'll be more accepting of you."

"Who's they?"

"The popular crowd."

"Why don't they accept you?"

"Because I'm the girl that got Henry. I'm the girl that wears this," she gestured towards her wrist.

"Then," I suggested, "stop wearing it."

Her blue eyes blazed, "Never. I wouldn't be myself without it."

She was either brave or stupid. I admired her for her willfulness, even when she knew her beliefs could make life harder for her. The teacher began to talk about whatever lesson she was teaching us. I could not listen because I kept on thinking about Henry and Kate. If she was having such a tough time being his girlfriend, why were they even together? That one word was sometimes used too liberally. The teacher began to write years and names on the board. I thought to myself that history made more sense to me than the life I was living. History was in the past. And, it was easier to dwell in the past than live in the present.

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