From A To Z

Chapter 6

Monday, May 17

Ms. Speltzer was wearing a set of silver bangles that clinked and jangled as her hand traveled across the whiteboard. The faint noise didn't bother me. It reminded me of wind chimes. Or the distant jingle of my alarm trying to cut through a slow dream. Hunched over my desk, I kept my eyes on the board and willed myself to focus, but the words she jotted down remained a blur.

Monday mornings were the worst. I could barely articulate. Putting pen to paper was out of the question. To avoid disaster, I never wore shoes with laces or elaborate hairdos. The effort of staying awake and present in the moment took all I had.

This would change once I found my groove. By the fourth period, I would be sufficiently alert to hold a conversation. I would zap through Tuesday. Wednesdays were usually okay because once I made it to the afternoon, it was downhill to the weekend. The rest of the school week would fly by. Before I knew it, it would be the weekend, time to kick back and sleep in.

But just like that, those precious hours would fly by and the slog would resume. I would find myself in yet another classroom on yet another hazy Monday morning, failing to shake off the sleepiness. The struggle was real.

I listened to Ms. Speltzer's bangles sing and thought about making myself a paint-day soundtrack. Billie Eilish and Tate McRae for starters; tunes that I could dance to barefoot while swinging my paint roller. I needed all the help I could get because painting had turned out to be much harder than I thought. Despite my best efforts, yesterday I only managed to get one coat done. As a reward, I had to sleep on the living room couch because I hadn't realized how long it took to air a room.

Actually, the whole weekend was a bit of a letdown. I had hoped to meet up with Arlo and work on our project but when I texted him, he answered that he was busy. Watching BigFoot-age. Lame. He proposed we get together at school during one of our free periods. That threw me off. If he wasn't interested in seeing me outside of school, why give me his number? 

I saw him with my peripheral vision, slumped over his desk by the window. I had the feeling he was looking at me but I couldn't afford to turn and check. I didn't want to give him the slightest reason to think that I cared. No, what I was interested in, was making good progress on the Health project during school hours. That way, I would get to keep my weekend free and finish painting.

I would put on some music, tie a bandana around my head and get down to business. If done right, painting could be fun. I was sure of it. Elephant Breath. Dead Salmon. Pale Hound. If one could get creative about something as mundane as naming colors, I could get inspired to layer up coats of paint onto my walls.

The loudspeaker above the board crackled.
Zoe Wallis, please report to the principal's office.
My name floating in a sea of static. It sounded foreign. It didn't belong.

Marisol, seating right behind me, tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and my pen rolled off my desk. It landed a few feet away but it might have just as well tumbled down the Grand Canyon. Out of reach. No way I could bend down and make my fingers pick it up. Mission Impossible.
"You're a wanted woman, Zoe," Marisol whispered conspiratorially. "What did you do?"
I was wondering the same. This was not how Monday mornings were supposed to go.

Ms. Speltzer lowered the marker, miffed that I was still idling at my desk.
"Zoe?"
Right, she expected me to run to the office. I stood up, the weight of everyone's questions on my shoulders. Arlo's too; I could literally feel his eyes boring holes in my back. Still, I didn't turn to look.

Moving at a glacial pace, I lifted my backpack off the floor and grabbed my binder. Screw the pen, not worth it. What could the principal want from me? As I closed the classroom door behind me it suddenly hit me and I went weak at the knees. My mom. Something had happened to her.