“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, grabbing my lit book for first period.
“Not much,” he said, leaning against the wall. “So, how was your meeting with Mrs. Leighton?” he asked as we made our way down the hall.
“Ugh, don’t ask,” I said, already dreading my next meeting with her.
“It couldn’t have been that bad,” he said, nudging me with his shoulder as we neared Ms. Johnson’s class.
“Believe me, it was. She’s trying to get all my deep secrets out of me like we're friends or something,” I said, making my way through the door.
“I don’t know, I think it'd be kind of nice to spill your guts to someone without worrying about who they’re going to tell,” he said, sinking down in his seat two rows from me.
I looked at him questioningly, but he kept his eyes firmly on the dry erase board at the front of the room. What a strange thing to say. Did he have something he wanted to tell me?
I waited impatiently for class to end so I could talk to him, but he was up and out of his seat the moment the bell rang. "Colton, wait." I gathered my stuff, hoping to catch him, but by the time I got out the door, he was gone. My impending meeting with Mrs. Leighton today pushed my confusion over Colton to the back burner as I contemplated using the cram
ps excuse to duck out and go home.
Against my better judgment, I stayed and before I knew it, fourth period was over and it was time for round two.
“Kassandra, it’s nice to see you again,” Mrs. Leighton greeted me, giving no indication of being upset about my abrupt ending to our last meeting.
I looked at her balefully, waiting for the prying to begin.
She sat back in her chair with her hands folded in her lap, watching me, but not saying a word.
I stared back, confused by her silence.
I watched the minute hand on the wall clock behind her move at an excruciatingly slow pace as the silence between us stretched on.
“I was a spoiled brat,” I finally said when I couldn’t take the oppressive silence a moment longer.
“You’re a teenager. All teenagers are brats,” she said, shooting me a small smile.
“Fine, I was a bitch,” I said, going for the shock factor.
“All women can be a bitch at one point or another,” she said, shocking me by repeating my choice of words.
I couldn’t help the small smile that crossed my lips before turning somber again. “I was one all the time. I complained constantly, and expected everything to go my way,” I said quietly, looking down at my lap.
“Kassandra, you’re a teenager, those things are expected. Your dad didn’t hold that against you.”
“How can you be so sure? He was always giving me ‘what if’ scenarios. 'What if I wasn’t a cheerleader? What would I do instead? What if I wasn’t so popular, would I miss my superficial friends?' He might as well have been talking to the wall. I would have died rather than give up cheerleading or all my friends. But I didn’t die. He did.”
“Why did you give up cheerleading?” she asked, shifting gears.
“Because,” I said, pulling on a frayed string on the knee of my jeans.
“Because why?”
“It’s what he would have wanted,” I said as the bell rang, ending lunch period. I jumped to my feet and headed for the door.
“I’ll see you Wednesday, Kassandra.”
I nodded my approval.
I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to mentally prepare for detention. I convinced myself that he had most likely served his time and wouldn’t be there, but as I entered the large room, I saw him sitting in the same seat as the previous week. We were the only two students in detention again and I wondered if all the troublemakers had taken a three day weekend. The same dippy teacher's aide from Friday signed me in and was on his phone the moment I walked away. He waited around for a few minutes for any stragglers before heading outside to BS on his phone.
I sat in the back row, trying to ignore Maddon, but I couldn’t help studying the back of his head. I tried to draw my eyes away, but something about the way he was slouched over looking defeated made me question everything I had believed.