Only If She Stayed

27. What's Going On?

Edgar's POV

"AGH! GET THAT AWAY from me. I don't want to smell like smoke before my economics class," I hissed at Tyler, swatting the white smoke streaming off his cigarette.

"There's an endless array of things you can spray yourself with." Tyler insisted, pointing to the row of fragrances and air fresheners lined up on the wall. "Take your pick. You wanna smell like a Hawaiian breeze or honeysuckles?"

"I want you to fucking MOVE." I inhaled into the collar of his shirt, holding the shot glass over the table. Gradually, I moved my nose out from my collar and to the rim of my glass, knocking the drink back and slamming it down on to the table with a wince.

Tyler hadn't left from the couch, which annoyed me even more. "Stand over there if you're going to smoke! Do I have to repeat myself?"

Tyler scoffed but complied, strolling up to Cam, who was struggling, trying to open a bottle of beer. He handed Tyler the bottle, solving the solution instantly, knocking off the cap with the edge of the window frame. Tyler took a lighter out his back pocket, relighting his dimmed cigarette. The flames licked the end, bringing it back to life as he inhaled, deepening the burning ember to a rich red-orange.

Occasionally before class or between classes, we snuck into the storage unit that was no longer used by the staff. It hasn't been in use for over two decades. Previous students at West Vista occupied this spaced. It was the size of an attic. Throughout the years, students had made an effort to make the room more welcoming, pushing in an aged couch from the theatre department. They had retired old pieces of furniture and a student who was aware of this room planned to retrieve it all, finding it a new home. With the couch came a coffee table and a wooden rocking chair.

Cam and I brought in the coffee maker and rug, giving it a more homey vibe. There was previously a mini fridge in here before we took over. We all chipped in to put drinks in the mini fridge, filling it entirely with vodka, water bottles, and soft drinks as chasers.

It was like our own exclusive student lounge. Only difference between ours and the teachers were two glaring detail: we smoked and drank on school campus, unapologetically I may add.

On the walls, there was a collage of students from the past, captured with a disposable camera. Most photos were always a week before graduation with a matching date stamp on the corner of the picture. The photos dated back to the eighties, showing us all of the horrible fades and trends from the past. I found humor in the terrible fashion choices.

One photo in particular was my favorite. A student from the class of 1997 showed up to school with hair-nets which apparently was a thing back then. His hair was jelled to such an extreme point that it made each strand look like spikes sprouting from his scalp, making the ensemble even more atrocious. One dash of green paint was swiped under his eyes like football players, resembling one of the members of a boyband.

"Hey, Edgar," Tyler called out, flicking the remaining second half of his cigarette out the window. "What's up with your dad? I got a note about my classes this morning."

"How am I supposed to know?" I shrugged. "He doesn't talk to me about work."

"What did the note say?" Cam asked.

"It said that I got a D or lower last semester and that I needed to go see the counselor. I don't remember getting a D."

"Does it say which class you had a D for?" I asked.

"No, it doesn't. But I specifically recall that I didn't get a D." He hissed, swearing under his harsh breath.

"That has nothing to do with my dad," I concluded. "Talk to the counselor and figure out what's going on."

"What class do you have next? I need to go to the counselor, too. I could go with you," Cam said to Tyler.

"I've got English with Mr. Powell."

"Me too," Cam and I said in unison.

I was happy to know I had more than one of my friends in the same class as me.

"You sure? I didn't see you in class last week. I would've known-"

"I am in that class. I skipped a bit of the first week," I quickly informed, ducking my head as I stared at the bottom of the cup. 

"Oh, yeah, I remember you weren't showing up towards the middle of the week. What did you get caught up with that was more important than school?" Tyler's curiosity sprouted into the conversation, observing me with heavy eyes.

Every time I skipped a day, these questions reemerged in my group of friends. Ditching wasn't a common practice and not many students participated in playing hooky. In American teen movies and shows, gaining an absence wasn't a big of a deal-and from what I gathered, it was even encouraged by peers during the last year of high school. 

I didn't get why Tyler bothered asking me when I never told him. It was a cycle. I'd skip a day, Tyler would bring it up, and I'd brush it off to the best of my ability, animosity stringing each of my words together.

"It's nothing that concerns you," I snickered, dusting the armrest of my chair. There wasn't anything on there that needed to be brushed off, but I kept myself busy from looking at him in the eyes. "My dad contacted my teachers and I know their lesson plans for the day I missed. I'm all caught up. It's fine."

"You're lucky you've got a dad as a facility member or you would've been kicked out by now," Tyler noted. "I've never missed a day. Even when I'm sick, I still attend."

"No one asked," Cam rolled his eyes, snatching his lighter back from him. "You speak too much for your own good. Have you ever thought of minding your own business?"

"Why don't you take your own advice, huh?" Tyler snapped back. "I was having a discussion with Edgar, not you."

"It wasn't a private talk. I've every right to intervene, especially with how noisy you're starting to get."

"Starting," I scoffed. "It isn't new."

"You know what is new though?" Cam chimed. "Did anyone else hearing that the new kid Ashton is dating Edgar's old girlfriend. He's from Australia," he said in a weird way, elongated each vowel as if it was a mystical place that none of us could access. Logan noticed this too and rolled his eyes. It was becoming a reflex. 

"I didn't see that." Tyler piqued in interest, standing straight up off the wall. "What's their deal? You guys only broke up last week."

"I don't care," I uttered.

But I did care.

I cared so much my heart ached inside of my chest. 

At this point, I was hoping they were talking about a different Ashton and a different Rose than the ones I knew. But the likelihood of that being the case was implausible. I kept my lips tightly sealed, not disclosing my plans, and let the conversation unfold, remaining as only a spectator.

"How can you say you don't care?" Cam asked. "You didn't seem like you didn't care the other night when I came over and -"

"Shut up," Logan said for me. "She's capable of doing whatever she wants."

"We shouldn't let them get away with this so easily," Cam explained, swishing around the content of his drink around in his glass. "I was able to talk to some of the kids who work in the theater department - and I was able to get some keys."

"Keys?"

This sparked my interest as well.

"Where are you going with this?" I asked. "You're not thinking of doing something extreme, are you? I want to be involved in it." I spoke up, gaining an awkward silence from the room. The bell for first period echoed throughout the hallways, and still, there was a deafening quietness in our group.

"Oh...I..." Cam was at a loss of words, growing red in the cheeks with every passing second. "I didn't think it out fully yet."

"What's the plan then?" I looked at the circle of pale faces around me. It was like they had seen a ghost. "What's the big idea? I don't have all day."

"The plan is simple," Cam offered, "we're going to get Rose back with you. By any means necessary."

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