Page 39 of This I Know
I’mnottaking Ethan’s number.
That would fall in the category of tempting distractions that I absolutely do not need to carry with me in my pocket at all times. Not to mention, I am still kind of mortified about the whole phone incident.
So without a second thought, and without another look, I disappear.
Ethan
“Boy, she got out of here fast,” says the girl sitting next to my left. “Here. Take my number, okay?”
Before I have time to react, she grabs my phone off the table and holds it in her hands, twiddling her thumbs almost as fast as she’s been talking.
She’s adding herself as a contact. Okay. Cool.
When she’s done, she clicks it off and puts it back down next to me. The sound of aluminum against cheap school desktop makes a click.
“Text me if you get stuck tonight,” she says. “I mean it. No half-assing, please. I need to get a good grade on this.” Her hands fly as she collects her things that have been sprawled out among all four of us on the table. I watch her meticulous work, waiting for her to say more. She inserts each of her papers carefully into their designated folders. She lifts a pencil, examines its point against the light, and slides it into one of the spirals of a notebook.
This girl has it all together. I need to be like this.
She’s not like me, who’s still sitting here, wasting time, and couldn’t care less about the state of my pages or my pencil, and she’s apparently not like Avery, either, who I saw recklessly stuff all her things under her arm and didn’t bother to look over the assignment for more than twenty seconds.
This girl’s going to get her good grade.
Speaking of Avery, it felt strange being as close as we were a few minutes ago. Because, you know, the only other time that’s happened was at the hospital, in her private room ... without her knowledge. I know, it sounds as creepy as I feel. And I still feel pretty guilty and creepy about the whole thing, thank you very much.
I stand and stretch.
Everyone’s gone. It’s just this girl and me. And she must carry her entire locker around with her, because she’s still rushing to organize her things, spreading her arms over the entire table like a behemoth.
But me? I’m not in a hurry. See, lunch is next, and Julia’s been blowing up my phone all period to meet up in a few minutes. Apparently she wants to talk about all of us getting together again after school, at a time when I know my mom will be out. She said she had fun.
I didn’t reply to her much – just enough to get by without coming off as rude. I don’t want to give her the wrong message or encourage her in any sort of way, but my one-word replies didn’t faze her. The girl is persistent, I’ll give her that.
My classmate is finally ready to leave, and I follow her out. I’m stuck behind her and her mass of schoolbags, all of which wobble every which way as she walks and tries to balance them on her shoulders and the crook over her elbow at once. I’m beginning to grow impatient with her slow pace when I manage slip out from behind her and step into the hallway.
Then, in an instant, I see it.
I seeher.
Avery.
She’s still in the hallway, having not yet made her way to the cafeteria. She looks as beautiful as she did moments ago, just a few feet away from me at the table, and she’s moving with grace. Her head is turned toward someone as she walks, and she’s smiling at that unknown, lucky person.
Then she’s on the ground.
I stop.
It happens quickly and takes everyone by surprise, a collective gasp audible to us all. But I think it surprised her most of all. Her face freezes. Her fingers are fanned out in front of her, palms plastered to the ground in the same position they came to when she landed. She lifts her head in shock.
Someone standing above her looks down and puts their hand over their mouth.
Please, don’t start laughing. Leave her alone.
Every screaming instinct in my body is saying,Get over there. Lift her up.But my rationale is telling me to continue walking, to leave her alone, to play it safe and not get involved.You don’t want to draw attention to yourself.
My guilt kicks in. I couldn’t do that to her. I can’t leave her there. And something else kicks in, too. The way she’s fallen, so helplessly and after having done nothing to deserve it, together with the embarrassment I know she’s feeling, ignites something in me.My heart races against my rib cage and I clench my hand into a fist at my side.
The laughs of those surrounding her intensify, and my knuckles turn a pale white. In this moment I want nothing more than to rush to her, to gather her up and protect her in a way I failed to do the first time – the time when it really mattered. The time when my father attacked her.
