My Better Life

26

Gavin

The school isa collection of double wides shoved to the edge of town, like dust swept to the side of a room waiting for the dust bin. It smells like coming rain. The sky is washed out gray, matching the faded vinyl siding of the trailers. Behind the buildings, a merry-go-round turns in the wind, squeaking shrilly. There’s a teeter totter, a jungle gym, swings, a patch of grass. I suppose if I were a kid, I might think it’s nice, but looking at the classrooms, with their tiny windows, I doubt it. Not that I can remember, but I get the distinct feeling that school and I didn’t get along.

Jamie half walks, half jogs down the sidewalk towards the principal’s office. It’s the last double wide in the line-up, farthest from the parking lot. Jamie throws a nervous look over her shoulder, her cheeks white and her freckles standing out. Strangely, the feeling I’m getting from her is like the one you’d have walking on a narrow, treacherous mountain trail, one wrong move and you could plunge to your death. So you have to walk very, very, very carefully, because your life depends on it.

I frown at the tightness of her shoulders and the shaky way she draws in her breath.

It doesn’t make sense.

I have no idea what she’s so scared of, but for some reason I get the feeling it’s almost like she’s afraid of me. Or my reaction to whatever it is she has to tell me.

I’m not worried though. Maybe in the past we fought, or had differences or troubles. Maybe I did things, or she did things. None of that matters.

It’s in the past.

Sometimes life gives you a fresh start. I’d be a fool not to take it.

“Gosh darn it.” Jamie picks up her pace, hurrying down the cracked sidewalk. “I can hear her hollering.”

I tilt my head. Through the maze of old double wides, twisting sidewalks, and the cawing of a crow, I can hear yelling too.

Forget jogging, I grab Jamie’s hand and start to run, pulling her behind me.

I duck into the main office, pushing open the corkboard door, and focus on where the yelling’s coming from. Down the narrow hall, Shay backs slowly out of a room. Her shoulders are hunched, her eyes wide, and I get the feeling she’s considering being a cat again.

“You are just like your mother! Don’t you laugh. Don’t you laugh, Tanner Sutton. Failure isn’t funny.”

I’ve never known what a shrieking banshee sounds like, now I have a reference. It sounds like a high-pitched teapot, boiling over, whistling in fury, brought to life in Ms. Crum’s voice.

I reach Shay and grab her hand. She’s surprised to see me, her eyes go wide, and then she lets out a relieved sigh, gripping my hand tighter.

“Tanner’s in trouble,” she whispers.

I’ll say he is.

I take in the scene. Elijah and Tanner stand defiantly in front of Ms. Crum’s desk. Elijah’s chin is raised in a stubborn, give ’em hell kind of way that I recognize, and Tanner has that joyful devious light in his eyes that tells me he just pulled a prank worthy of a super villain.

I can easily guess what the prank was because Ms. Crum is standing behind her desk, a metal folding chair stuck to her behind. She’s twisting, grasping at the legs, trying to yank it off. Unfortunately, it’s not budging, it’s just stretching out the polyester fabric of her blue dress pants.

Ahhh, superglue.

I can smell the rubbery, chemical scent. I imagine to Tanner, it smells like victory. The little hellion.

Jamie hurries past me, her cheeks flushing. She nearly trips over her own feet when she sees the chair legs sticking out of Ms. Crum’s behind.

“What…what?” She turns to Tanner, her eyebrows sky high. “Tanner Robert Sutton. What did you do?”

Elijah winces. “Uh oh, Tanner, she’s using your middle name, you’re in trouble.”

Jamie rounds on Elijah her finger shaking at him. “Don’t think you’re in the clear.”

Ms. Crum smacks her hand down on her metal desk. The sound as sharp as a warning gunshot. “Jamie Sutton!”

Jamie snaps to attention.

Shay squeaks and hides behind my legs, peering out from behind me.