Private School Kings

Last Minute Plays

The next day I woke up feeling less sore than I had in weeks. The air streamed in my window as my alarm clock beeped a formidable tone. I wasn't even mad about it. It was 6:30, but I didn't feel tired. It was like the day off from lacrosse had brought me back to life. On top of that, it was Friday, which meant I had only one more day of classes to toil through until the weekend.

I pushed myself off the mattress, feeling revitalized. Juliet's bed was made and she was already gone. I changed in the room, stripping out of my pajamas and pulling on my uniform. Most of the bruises were fading. Even if I still had an ugly one on my jaw from last practice.

I squinted into the mirror and pulled my hair up into a ponytail. Then, I stopped. Heather and most of the other girls kept their hair down off the field, and I wanted to blend. I put the elastic back onto my dresser and let my hair drop with a sigh. This stupid school had so many stupid rules.

The junior hall was full of girls making their way to the dining hall. I put my head down and tried not to stand out. It was easy in the sea of skirts and blazers.

On the stairs where the girl's halls converged, I followed the mass towards the breakfast hall. Suddenly, a tug on my blazer pulled me out of the flow. It was Madeline, looking just as composed and flawless as she had yesterday. Even though it was early morning. She'd broken off from a group of senior girls I didn't know and pulled me aside.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Murphy," She said my name like it was a secret. "There's going to be a party this Saturday. Tim's going to be there, so you need to be too."

"How?"

"Just make sure Heather brings you along, okay?"

I wasn't sure how she wanted me to do that. I was about to ask, but she was already pulling away, returning to the masses. As I watched her retreat I realized that she'd slipped something into my skirt's pocket. It was a slip of paper, crumpled into a ball. I sighed, everyone at this school was so weird.

Taking my time, I uncrumpled the ball. It was a string of digits. My number, It said underneath. Only use it if you really need it.

I hadn't had a cell phone for the first two years of high school. When I came to live with my uncle he gave me his old one. It didn't do much more than call or text, and sometimes the ringer would go off for no reason, but it was more than I'd ever had.

I felt the same spike of joy I did every time I got to pull my phone out of my pocket and make a new contact.

In the dining hall, I sat at Heather's table again. Just like yesterday, everyone's eyes turned to me. It didn't feel exactly like yesterday though. Something was different. They didn't seem quite as hostile. Like, maybe I was on slightly better footing.

"Murphy?" Heather said my name like a question.

"Hi," I said, looking for an answer. "I just feel more comfortable over here. You know, with Fletcher and everything." I glanced at the table where he sat, alone again. "Is that okay?"

There was another long, tense, moment. One that had me wishing I could vanish into the cool air.

Then, finally, mercifully, Heather spoke. "Okay." Her voice wasn't exactly nice, but that was almost more comforting than if it had been. Her dubious tone, the lift of her brow, it all seemed sincere, and sincere wasn't something I was used to with Heather.

That day at practice the world seemed to have flipped on its head. For the first time, the girls were actually passing to me, and they weren't even aiming for my head. When we stopped for a water break and they all formed a little circle to stand around and gossip in, they didn't fence me out. Talia Humphrey even asked what I thought about her new stick. I told her I thought it was awesome. I didn't tell her it probably cost more than everything I own.

After practice, we all walked to the locker rooms together. It would be a lie to say that the inclusion wasn't getting to me, that it wasn't making me happier than I had probably ever been at Pruitt, but I knew it wasn't real. I hadn't earned it. Fletcher had, with his mind games, and I didn't even like Heather and her friends in the first place.

The important thing was that practice was almost over, and Heather still hadn't invited me to the Lord's party.

While I hadn't sustained anymore, my old bruises, though faint, still kept me aching while I buttoned up my clothes. After one more violent flinch, I caught Heather's eye. If there was guilt there, I couldn't tell. I hoped so because after that I made sure to flinch even harder when I caught her looking.

"Murphy," It came as I was fastening my tie, Heather's tinkling voice. I looked up. "Where are you from again?" She said.

"Iowa," I answered, but it came out sounding like a question.

"Oh yeah," She nodded, with a wolfish smile. "Some podunk town, right?"

It was pretty mean, but not in the way she normally was. This was the kind of mean she was to her friends. "Pretty much," I said, laughing in the way Talia always did whenever Heather went after her.

"You get up to a lot of trouble there?" She said, holding a cigarette that seemed to have emerged out of nowhere. "I hear small town kids know how to party."

From over her shoulder, Talia gave an affirming nod. "Because there's nothing else to do." She said.

"Some people do," I said. It was true, to a degree. Kids in Lamoni had had their fair share of parties, but I never went. I had my own reasons for that, but I wasn't about to share them with Heather. Still, it seemed like maybe confessing my inexperience was the way to go. Heather seemed like someone who might take a fancy to corrupting the innocent. "Not me, really. I was always too scared to go."

"Scared?" Talia asked.

At the same time, Heather said, "Have you never been to a party?"

I shook my head. "No," I said. That was a lie. I'd been to two. Drunk one lukewarm beer at each, and then walked home alone. It wasn't very exciting, and it definitely wasn't what Heather wanted to hear.

"My god." Heather took a long drag on her cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the corner of her mouth. Then, she held it out to me.

I gave a sharp intake of breath. I'd drunk beer, I'd smoked weed (once, but still), but I had never had a cigarette. Lung cancer had killed enough of the people in my town. Mothers, fathers, grandmas, grandpas, cousins, aunts, uncles...

"Don't worry." Heather said, nodding to the smoke alarm. "It's broken."

Well, I'd come this far. I took the cigarette, and put it to my lips, taking as shallow of a breath as I could. It still made me cough up a billow of smoke.

Heather smiled again, glee in her blue eyes, "Murphy, there's a party this Saturday..."

I couldn't find Fletcher at all that Friday, and Madeline proved equally evasive, but I decided that my news was important enough to send her a text.

I'm going.