I really wish Mom had texted me at lunch, instead of in the middle of math class. And I really wish I'd remember turning my phone on at vibrate, or at least silent.
"Callie, bring your phone to my desk," my math teacher, Mrs. Wilder, tells me from the front of the room as I'm reading the text. Mom mentioned that my anxiety meds have been refilled and that I can get it when I come home after school today.
I shut the phone off to save the battery before I give it to the teacher. Nodding in appreciation, she adds, "You can get it back at the end of the day." I return to my seat. "Callie, do you by chance know how to solve this problem?"
Giving her the correct answer, I slump in my seat and wait for the day to be over. Soon after, the bell rings, and I'm heading off to my next class. And the next one. And . . . the next one after lunch.
Along with the other students and teachers with not much grading to do, I zip out of the school campus as soon as the final bell rings. I realize after I've been waiting for five minutes for the bus I occasionally take that my phone is still in Mrs. Wilder's classroom. Knowing that my things aren't worth taking, I set them down in my place and head over there.
"I figured you'd be back," Mrs. Wilder says nonchalantly. She doesn't even bother looking away from whatever the hell she's doing as she opens the 'prison' drawer (translation: a special place for confiscated phones) and pulls out not one, but several phones taken from earlier. "Take what's yours."
I recently added a frog sticker to the plain back (my sister took the puppy stickers, which are pretty much the only good stickers in the package she got for the both of us), so it's not hard for me to find my phone underneath a couple of phones with Kim Kardashian-related cases.
Coming back out, I decide that I can check for any notifications while I'm waiting for the bus. There's another text from Mom, which basically says I shouldn't be playing with my phone during class. No shit, Mom, I think.
Facebook gave me a reminder, and I open it. Apparently, Jules also thought it was a good idea to text me during class, this time in English. This one is simply the number two and a happy face. I guess she doesn't want to spell out her excitement over coming back to school. Frankly, if she's ecstatic over that, then there's something going on with that girl.
I feel a tap on my shoulder. Annalee is giving me an odd smile. "Everything alright?" she asks.
Pocketing the phone, I answer, "I guess. Why?"
Annalee glances around. "I heard there was a fight at a party last week," she says, low. "And that you were seen running out of the house in a full panic mode."
"Does everyone in Fife know everything about what's going on inside its community and Edgewood's?" I ask.
She smiles. "Something like that," she says. "Enough kids transfer here from Edgewood, and vice versa."
"Oh."
Annalee reaches for her hair and pulls it up. As she makes a ponytail, she asks, "What happened?"
A tinge annoyed that I have to tell the story again, I do so while trying my best not to sound like a bitch. "That must suck," the senior says. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that."
"I'm used to it," I say. The buses are arriving, and one by one they stop and open the doors for the kids. I wait for my bus to pull up, and I say, "I gotta go. Um, have a nice day, I guess?"
"You too!"
I'm piled in the vehicle by the other students, most of which are already complaining about the homework they have to do. Luckily for me, I've already done mine in the classes, and I can just finish my very last project tonight.
That is, if Nancy doesn't bug me again.
__________
"Callie!" Before I can stop her, or even think to use my self-defense skills, Jules crashes into me from behind, trying to hug me. "I'm here again! Yay!"
"Yay," I repeat weakly. Already, people are noticing the scene in the halls. "Um, can you get off me?"
Jules sighs. "Fine." She lets go and turns me around. "But it's Wednesday! Which means I'm here! And what else does this mean?"
I finger the bottle in my pocket. I'd take my (full!) dose right now, but it's risky to do so anywhere public at school. I know a girl who once got suspended for two whole months because a teacher caught her giving one of her friends some Midol because said friend forgot her own.
And some adults say that teenagers these days are more selfish than the ones in the past generations.
"Um, what?" I ask.
She gives me a wide smile. "It means we can celebrate after school today!"
"What? When did that--" The gears shift in my head. I guess Jules wasn't asking me to come over when she told me about it on Facebook. "Jules, I don't think--"
"Of course, that's possible!" Jules grabs my arm and starts dragging me from where I was standing before. "Randy told me that he was tutoring you in music, and that gave me an amazing idea! You have no idea how often I get ideas like that!"
I say, mostly to myself, "I can't imagine."
Thank God, Jules didn't hear what I said. "My idea was that after you two are done practicing, then you can put on a show!"
"A show?" I ask. "Like, just me and Randy playing our violins for you?"
"Yep! Do you know how amazing that would be?"
I realize that we're getting closer to the school library. It's been so long since I've been there that I didn't even recognize the building until I saw the sign. Jules opens the door, still holding onto me, and she shoves the both of us in the place. I expect to see the librarian checking out books to students or shelving books that need to be in their proper place, or basically anywhere in the library.
Seeing the confused look on my face, Jules explains, "I think the librarian comes here after the first period."
"Then, why are the doors open?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "They're not." She walks over and pick up a piece of cardboard, bent from being lodged in between the doors, where the lock would be. "I put this in there sometimes," she says. "But only when I predict that I need some alone time."
"Alone time?" A memory of the conversation I had with May about the nickname Junkie Jules. Has she become so comfortable as to show me where she does drugs, if she does drugs?
What the hell, Callie? I ask myself. Why would you ask that at all?
"But not this time!" Jules says, interrupting my thoughts. "This time, I wanna show you something!" Sadly, all she's done is cement the Junkie Jules idea. While she's not looking, I quickly take a couple of pills.
Some part of me scoffs. You're concerned about Jules shooting up, but you're completely fine with popping pills yourself?
Shut up, I think. There's a difference between recreational drugs and pharmacy drugs.
Sure. Whatever you say.
"Are you coming?" Jules grabs my arm again, this time by force, and takes me to one of the aisles in the nonfiction section. From what I could see while passing by, at least one of them doesn't seem musty. I have a feeling Jules has a hiding spot as well as alone time.
She stops us by the second to last aisle. Jules steps into it, looking at the top shelves before. "You're going to love what I found on accident!" she says, standing on her toes and reaching a hand up to brush her fingers against the worn-down spines. "And after that, you're going to love me, and then we'll go to my house, and then--"
"Jules," I say. It's just one word that stops her.
She turns her head to look at me. "What?" she asks, putting her hand down and putting her feet firmly on the ground.
I slowly clench my hands into fists and stretch them out again. Letting out a breath, I ask before I can think again (or possibly for the third time), "Do you take drugs?"
Whoever said that words have power was right on the spot. I've never seen a smile drop so fast, and the kicked-puppy look taking its place. "You, you really think I'd do something like that?" Jules asks, her voice quiet.
"N-no, that's not what I meant--"
"Then what did you mean?" she interrupts. Her mouth is slightly open in disbelief, and at this point, I realize exactly how deep the hole I just dug up is.
I swallow. "I meant um, I heard a couple of rumors about that--"
"And you believe them?"
"What? No!"
Jules stares at me, this time with a certain hardness, the same as the one she gave the guy who she thought was winking at me when he was actually aiming at Annalee. "I don't believe you," she says. "And you shouldn't have believed those stupid rumors."
She walks past me, our shoulders grazing each other. I stay where I am until I can hear the doors close behind her as Jules storms out. From the sound of it, she hasn't bothered putting the cardboard back to where it belonged.
I walk to the entrance, and I see the brown material winking at me by my feet. I pick it up, and I open one of the doors with one hand. I put the cardboard in its usual place, and I leave when I have it where I want it to be.
