91 Petals

Chapter 1

High school. 

I hate high school.  I’ve already been in it one year.  One whole long year.  By the end of the year I was marked as a “loser”.  I have no friends. Not a single friend on the whole island of New York City.  I go to a high school with hundreds of other kids and not a single one of them cares to acknowledge my existence.  Not even losers that band together to create what is known as the “Loserdom” at my school.  In fact, I believe the citizens of Loserdom avoid me, like a plague.  I live in my own world.  I call it: Maxland!  In Maxland, everyone lives life to the maximum. 

                I don’t try to make friends with new kids because as the name suggests, Maxland does not welcome kids other than me, Max, my mother and my little sister.  I know it’s little-kiddish but I couldn’t care less.  It was the first day of my sophomore year.  The high school loomed in front of me and my empty backpack felt like it weighed a million tons.  Welcome to another day in the life of Max Peters, I thought. 

                My new classroom was on the second floor, where all the sophomore kids got to hang out.  Our lockers were there and our homerooms were on that floor.  My homeroom was a science classroom.  I sat in the back of the room, by the window.  There I got to work drawing.  I sketched the room, the people in it.  I sketched the girl with the blonde braid doodling on the blackboard and the guy with the buzz cut that kept staring at her butt.  I sketched the desks and the window and everything else I could see from my spot in the back.  The room was almost empty even though there were tons of people in the halls. 

                I think it’s pretty safe to say I don’t have any friends.  I’m sure if I did have some sort of secret friend somewhere they would have been waiting for me in front of the school with a smile on their face and a bag of chocolate chip cookies just for me and no one else.  If I had a secret friend, you would know. I would have let you know about them by now. 

                Once the bell rang, my school day dragged on like any normal day up until lunch.  I shuffled from class to class and between periods had my backpack ripped off my back and all of its contents shaken to the floor.  After that I would have to tediously crouch down and scoop up my books alone with no help at all.  If I got any help at all it would be some sort of “help” where a passer-by kicked me in the butt and scattered my stuff. 

                Lunch was a time when no one dared to bother me.  I got in line, got my lunch and shuffled to the back of the room to the emptiest table I could find.  I was being constantly pelted with spitballs when they called my name over the intercom. 

                “Would Maxwell Peters please report to the office?”  came the secretary’s voice over the PA. 

                The whole room went completely and deadly silent and all heads turned to me.   I stood up, the sound of my chair scraping against the floor echoing through the room.  I dumped my uneaten lunch into the trash silently and headed to the office.  I almost expected my mom to be waiting for me with tears in her eyes and some sad story to tell.  Instead I met my guidance counselor and the principal, Mrs. Welsh, standing side by side. 

                My guidance counselor was a man named William.  He had shaggy brown hair and was too skinny for his own good.  His eyes were deep set and dark brown and kind.  He smiled at me when I came in.  Mrs. Welsh was a heavy set black woman with a stern scowl and a dark brown bob.

                “Mr. Peters, we’d like to ask you for a favor,” William said. 

                “Okay look, if you want me to confess and say I was the one who—” I began. 

                “You aren’t in trouble Max,” Mrs. Welsh snapped cutting me off and making me jump. 

                “I don’t know if you’ve heard but there was a student who enrolled here.  Recently she was diagnosed with cancer and could not come to school.  Her parents asked if we could send someone from her class to check up on her sometimes, help her make a friend,” William said. 

                “And you want me to do it?” I asked incredulously. 

                “Yes,” William confirmed.  I stared between the two of them and then burst out laughing. 

                “You have to be kidding me.  Why would you send a kid like me to befriend some new girl I’ve never met?” I asked.  “I’m a loser and no one, no one, wants to be befriended by a loser.”

                “It’s part of your grade Maxwell and it counts towards community service.  Besides this could be a unique experience for you,” Mrs. Welsh said.  She handed me a composition book. 

                “You are to use the notebook to record what happens during the time you spend with Rachel,” William said. 

                I couldn’t believe they were doing this to me.  I shuffled back to the cafeteria.  When I reentered everyone was staring at me again. I ignored them and resumed my position in the back of the room. 

                The day went on like this.  I was quiet and kids would knock my books onto the floor.  At one point I was walking down the stairs and some jock pushed me and I dropped all my stuff and fell backwards down the stairs.  I didn’t hit my head or anything but all of my stuff scattered. 

                For the first time that day someone decided to help me.  The girl that carefully set her books down to help me had red hair.  She was about fourteen and was the only person in the whole stairwell full of people that bothered to help me collect my things.  Her eyes were a piercing green and her hair was tied back into a ponytail.  She was skinny and small.  Wiry, I think would be the word for her.           

                The girl was so nice she even bothered to ask me if I was “okay.”  I didn’t reply.  I just took my books from her and said, “Thanks,” and took off.  I sat through a whole Study Hall period in the library staring at the blank pages of the notebook Mrs. Welsh had given  me.  The pages inside were blank, untouched.  There was row after row of completely blank faint blue lines with nothing written on them.  They stared back at me daring me to write something.  I just ran my hand over the page and looked at the note scribbled on an index card taped to the inside cover. 

PASS THIS BETWEEN YOURSELVES

ASK QUESTIONS, ANSWER QUESTIONS.

DO WHATEVER.  NOTHING STUPID THOUGH.

                It was written in William’s chunky, all-caps handwriting.  I wanted to ask her so many questions already but all of the questions that ran through my head were questions I wanted to ask her in person.  I kept opening and closing the book just to hear the crackle of the spine as I opened it.  By the end of the day I still hadn’t written anything.  All I’d done was draw a flower with the petals falling off.  It was an ugly drawing but I still liked it. 

                Apparently, William had decided that he was going to take me to the hospital after school.  So he called my mom and got their permission to drive me to the hospital.  Nowhere, in all of this did he ever come up to me and say, “Oh hey Max, do you mind if I drag you against your will to a hospital full of dying people so you can meet this random girl you didn’t know exists?”

                 Instead he just pulls me aside in the hall and starts talking as he leads me to his car.  “I’ll be taking Rachel’s sister to the hospital too so you won’t be totally alone.” 

                I’m guessing this Rachel is the girl I’m supposed to be befriending.  When we got to the car I saw the sister he’d been talking about and almost dropped my stuff…again.