Page 4 of Strangely Normal

Chandler leaned down to kiss me, but I moved my face aside. His blue eyes went dark with anger. “What the hell, Eden? First you don’t return my messages and now I can’t even kiss you.”

“You can kiss me but not in here.”

“Come on, baby, you know I don’t like to attract attention.”

“You mean you don’t want to disappoint your friends by letting them know that you’ve been seeing me.”

“That’s not true.” He attempted the kiss again, and as I pulled my face away, his grip tightened painfully on my arm.

“Let me go, Chandler. I’m late for an appointment with the counselor.” Two guys opened the bathroom door.

“Get the fuck out of here! Go shit in your locker or something,” Chandler yelled. They backed out quickly.

The interruption gave me a chance to pull free and I fled out the door. Chandler followed me to my locker. Icy rage came off of him in waves. He leaned next to the lockers and glanced around casually as a group of cheerleaders strolled by.

“Hey, Chandler,” they twittered in unison.

“What’s up,” he replied casually. Once the coast cleared, he turned back to me. “Come on, Eden, don’t be mad at me. You know I care about you.”

I grabbed my book and slammed shut the locker door. “Then walk me into the quad right now and kiss me in front of your friends.”

His mouth dropped open but he was speechless. It was all the reaction I needed.

“Good bye, Chandler.” I spun away from him and headed to Mrs. Vickers’s office. I could feel Chandler’s heated stare on my back as I walked away, but truthfully I felt relieved to be done with him for good.

I knocked on the office door. “Come in.” Mrs. Vickers looked up from her computer with the thick glasses that made her eyes look huge. Her face flattened to a frown. “Eden, come sit down. I’ve heard word from the scholarship committee.” Her tone made my stomach clench up in a knot.

She removed her glasses and her eyes shrank back to a normal size. Her chair squeaked as she leaned forward and rested her forearms on the desk. “I’m afraid the news isn’t good. Your qualifications were stellar, but the committee felt that your history of poor school attendance makes you too much of a risk. You only qualify for a small scholarship. And since your parents neglected to file their taxes on time, you just won’t be able to get any financial aid. You could attend community college for a few years and then doors will open up for you.”

I stared at the woman and blinked. She’d just pulled the curtain shut on my dreams, and somehow, I was certain that once I walked out of her office she’d continue calmly on with her morning, stopping into the teacher’s lounge for a donut, coffee, and a dose of gossip before returning to her endless paperwork. And Eden Saxon would just be another number in her computer.

“I’m so sorry, Eden.”

I pushed to my feet and picked up my backpack. Not wanting her to see my tears, I faced the door as I pulled the straps onto my shoulder. I took one step.

“Hold on, Eden.” Her tone had sharpened from sympathetic to authoritative.

I turned back to face her but she circled around to my back. She walked back in front of me and held up her fingers. “What is this?”

The mystery of the lost joint had been solved.

“Mrs. Vickers,” I blurted, “I don’t smoke pot. That’s not mine.”

She walked back to her chair, sat down, and rubbed her forehead. She was silent for several torturous minutes. “This is very serious, Eden. I’m afraid I’m going to have to report this to Principal Edwards. You can explain things to him.” She rose again from her chair, holding my mom’s joint like she was holding a vial of deadly bacteria. “Follow me.”

“Holy crap,” I muttered as I trudged behind her through the office, past a stream of curious onlookers, and down the hall to the principal’s office.

She pointed to the bench lining the hallway wall. “Sit here.” She went inside and shut the door behind her. Definitely one of those times when I wished that my mom had been more like a real mom.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Vickers poked her head out. “Come inside, Miss Saxon.” Apparently showing up to school with pot on your backpack elevated you to surname status.

Principal Edwards was a tall man with a shiny, bald head and a welcoming smile but that smile did not make an appearance as I stepped into his office. He glanced down at the tiny stub of a joint on his desk and then looked up at me. “I must say I’m puzzled, Eden. You’re an honor student, and you’ve never been in this office for anything but accolades.”

“It’s not mine. It must have dropped on my backpack when I was walking down the hallway.” Tears streamed down my cheeks again. “You have to believe me when I say it’s not mine.”

He tapped his long thick fingers on his desk as he leaned back in his chair. It squeaked beneath the burden of his weight. “I have no reason not to believe you, Eden.” There was a long pause as he stared down at the joint. “I’m not going to report this to the school police.”

The tears flowed faster. “Thank you, Principal Edwards.”

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