Where I Am Today

Chapter One

I am not thinking anything as I sit in her office and stare at the paddle on the wall. I am completely numb. The assistant principal calls me in here, calls the cops on me, and then leaves me by myself while she waits for the ambulance (all they would tell me about the other girl was that she was "unresponsive"). Why isn’t her clock working? I’ve been up here forever, and the big hand is still on the three. I think about using the phone, but then the door opens and I see that she has returned. I watch idly as she sits in her swivel chair, scoots around to get comfortable, gets up and rummages in a closet I hadn’t known was there, and then sits back down. She then proceeds to pop open a Dr. Pepper and quickly swallows three purple pills, looks at me and says,
“Have you ever taken antibiotics that taste as bad as they smell?”
I look at her for a second, and then begin picking at the sole of my shoe, which is propped halfway on her desk. I ask her if I seem scared to her, since I can’t seem to feel anything, and she shakes her head and leaves again. What an interesting conversation.

I look around at the pictures and realize that I am not in the “Good Old Boys Cub”—my father didn’t go to school here. I may be an honor student, but smarts won't cover everything. How am I going to get out of this one? You’re not, I answer myself. Remember? You wanted to get in trouble. That’s why you did it, right? Is that why I did it? I try to remember everything about the night before: going into the kitchen, finding the rum, pouring it into a water bottle until it was almost full. I remember all of that. I just don’t remember wanting to get caught. So why am I not scared, now that I have gotten caught? Is it because I don’t care anymore?

I am interrupted by the door- again- and she has returned, this time with my father. He looks like he has been crying for a while now. She looks at me and asks me to move into the next chair so my father can sit down. Silently, I oblige. Silently, I dodge all of his hurt looks. And, silently, I nod when my father can’t quite comprehend what she is saying. At times, it seems she is telling me what he has done, rather than the reverse, because he doesn’t seem to be listening. For the first time since I got in trouble, I feel guilty, and guilt is one feeling I don’t deal with very well. So I take the two pink slips and go to my locker. The halls are empty—the bell should ring soon, and I’m not in class, like an honor student should be. Instead, I am an outlaw, wandering the halls of an empty high school, alone but for the sound of my Converse slapping the newly waxed floors. My long, thin shadow seems to be mocking me as I descend into self- imposed darkness:
You... Messed... Up.

Visibly shaking away my depression, I stop by the band room to get my clarinet, and then I talk to my Spanish teacher. Of all the adults who speak to me about the incident, she is the only one who doesn’t tell me that I am too smart to ruin my life. Instead, she tells me she respects me too much to believe I don’t care. Of course. That’s how it always happens: the one person I thought hated me ends up inspiring me, and makes me cry. As I’m wiping my eyes, the bell rings and all of my friends come pouring out of classrooms. I realize that, despite our raging fights and differences, I will end up missing every one of these people by the time I get to come back. Then I see him, at my locker, like always. My knight in shining armor. Although he looks kinda sad right now—he probably knows I’ll have to leave.

And since my father took my cell phone, he probably knows we won’t see each other for a while. But instead of breaking up with me, you know what he does? He tells me to take his cell phone, and he’ll call me at ten. To keep myself from crying, I hug my closest friends (all two of them—no one else matters) and tell them not to worry. After all, who would I be to turn down an adventure like this? They laugh, and go to class. Where I should be, but can’t. So now I’m ready to leave this place. The place I once thought was a prison, but now long for in more ways than one.