Chapter 22 - Kenzie So Done

Despite my fears and feeling, I indulged in a calm and careful smile. We did wind up with a tongue lashing not much later because we’d done no work on the second assignment, but I took the blame by saying, “I was a distraction….”

Ben chimed in quickly over my words, “But not too bad. We can deal with it.” Rebecca added her own “Yeah” as Bledsoe scrutinized the two of them.

He folded his arms and noted, “I still need my TAs. It’s been a mess over there. So, next time, we’re going to have to figure out how to split time, so you guys are over here just for a bit. But I’m glad there haven’t been problems.”

I tried to keep a happy face, but I felt deflated. A happy day with people I’d gotten to know better. A lull. And it would ultimately be taken away from me. Of course it would. But I still enjoyed it.

We managed to finish up the bulk of what we had to do before the bell, but I was not looking forward to next period. Ben and Rebecca both gave me a quick hug before they left. Rebecca told me to, “Hang in there” and Ben offered a kind, “See ya around”.

I appreciated it. I would need it. There was no place in my mind where I could imagine next period would go well. No rooms to put me in. The class was just one big, open space. Even if I was off to the side, I’d have even less privacy. And I didn’t have much faith in my English teacher.

Bledsoe came in soon after the bell rang to ask me how things went. I told him, “It was really good. There weren’t problems. I dunno what’s happening but…today was good.”

He noted starkly, “Today was temporary. I’m glad it worked but we’ll have to try other things in the long-term. Get to your next class. Have a good day.”

I didn’t meet his eyes as I slipped out. I didn’t try to meet anyone’s eyes as the stragglers of the class lingered and left. I didn’t see anyone watching me. I didn’t want to see anyone watching me. At least they didn’t call out for me.

I took another long route, scouting the ramp to English class a few times. The others arrived slowly. Unfortunately, my circuitous path took me right by the wrong class.

“Hey! You! Kerry…or something. Kenzie!”

I turned around, seeking out the sharp, tense words that raked my ear. Standing by a particular classroom with her fists on her hips was Natalie, Wes’s girlfriend.

The straight cut of her pressed lips and the angled slice of her pale eyebrows told me all I needed to know in an instant. Running seemed like a good option at that point but my legs trembled so much I couldn’t get them to move.

Trying to hide my nerves, I asked her simply, “Yeah?”

Natalie clenched her mouth into a frown and took a step closer. She was near enough I knew she could get a good swing at me for a punch or a slap. I’d seen plenty of girl fights and I never wanted to be a part of one. In my head, I thought about how I might be able to shield my face, especially my glasses (those things were a lot of money, even with my dad’s family vision plan. I didn't care if anything happened to these dressy clothes though).

Maybe I could swing my backpack around to the front and block her blows? It was hard and heavy because of all the textbooks and everything but, at the same time, it was difficult to wield on a whim. I also tried to think if there were any security people or teachers around I could retreat towards if she rushed me.

I made all these plans in my head. She clenched her fists. I waited. Slowly, her eyes began to tear up. She swallowed roughly and asked, “....Why did you do that to him?”

Her words were clear but not yelled. And, after she’d asked her question, she just stood there with that stern, bitter look and let her words hang in the air. Others around us slowed for a moment, probably trying to figure out if a fight was about to happen before heading on their way to wherever they were going.

It would’ve been nice to be them, if only for a little while. But I had to be me. I swallowed too and tried to think through my words before I said them, “I’m so sorry. I have no idea what happened.”

She curled up her lips, slight and fair, a measure more and gave a soft sniffle. Shaking her head, she answered, “Then why are you here? What if it happens again?”

I didn’t have time to answer her like I’d answered Bledsoe and I had no idea if she’d listen to my reasons. I hung my head and said, “I have to get to class…”

This time, she took a step towards me. She looked like she could slap me right then but she didn’t. She told me, “I know you talked to him the other day. And he told me that he forgave you…”

Her words lingered for a moment as she took a breath and continued, “But I won’t. What happened to him…he’s in such pain, such suffering…”

I wanted to chirp up that I knew. He’d told me. I’d seen it when I’d talked to him. But I held my spot and just listened as she continued, “I love him. No matter what. And I…don’t want to see you around him ever again. And, if this can happen again, to another innocent guy, you get out of here… and never come back. My parents know plenty of lawyers.”

She didn’t raise her voice. In fact, it wobbled with her speech. They weren’t intimidating words, but I still knew she meant them.

I turned and told her simply, “I gotta go.” I didn’t look back and, gratefully, she didn’t pursue me.

Her words hurt more than what that frizzy-haired bitch in Gym had said because I knew I’d probably feel the same way if the roles were reversed. And my words would be meaningless.

I made my way to English. The door was already open, and the teacher stood against it with bare railing on the other side. It wobbled flimsily.

There was a lull in people going in, so I approached him carefully. He adopted a slow, careful frown and told me, “I need you to sit at the TA table today over by my desk. I’ll…uhh…tell you more when class starts, okay?”

At least he didn’t ask me why I was here. That was a small comfort. I clutched the straps of my backpack and headed in quickly. I kept my head down. I passed posters on grammar rules and diagramming sentences (stuff we barely even got to most days). I didn’t focus on the other crap covering the walls with cut-out words like “READING” over and over.

Instead, I paid attention to parts of people that might dart in front of my path and trip me. A few legs slipped out but not far enough to get me. I heard the murmurs though. My name amidst the white noise of words. I didn’t raise my head until I got to the TA desk on the far side of the room. I noticed that it had been moved and was more isolated from the teacher’s desk than usual.

I curled up in the rough, rigid cage of the desk with its table made of some phony material that didn’t even pretend to look like wood. Crouching was difficult with the straight, uncomfortable back, but I pressed my legs on the edge of the metal basket underneath like a slight, safe perch digging into the soles of my shoes. Only once I’d set my backpack on the table, like a wall between me and everything else, did I peek out at the faces around the room.

I caught a few watching me or sneaking glances. But I could hear almost phantom giggles that burst out where I wasn’t looking and then stopped when I started glancing around. I clenched my lips and dug out my English textbook.

Flipping through the noisy pages covered in flashy boxes and crap to madden and excite all levels of ADHD, I found my temporary little island.

Heather made her way in about a minute later, just shortly before the last bell. We exchanged looks but that was all, before she found her usual seat. The first one to speak up was a barely not-late guy named Treyvin who came swaggering in. Typically, he only made a brief appearance once a week in class before sauntering off with a weekend work slip.

“Oh shiiiit…man. That’s that witch girl!”

His voice caused a ripple of talk and attention on me. Chilton started his “Hey hey....hey” routine with a flurry of “shh”. But that didn’t stop Treyvin from continuing, “Dude…she’s gonna swallow up my cock and not in the way I like…”

Chilton clamped down, in his typically pathetic way, on the snippet of profanity from Treyvin to say, “We don’t use that language in class.”

“Hey, I gots to keep the ladies happy. What I gonna do if she make me one of them?”

My jaw clenched. I took a slow breath through my nose and answered his question, “It might be an improvement.”

Treyvin cocked his head and said a sharp, “Hell no. Homey don’t play that way…”

I got my first words in, so it felt like nothing was stopping my next, “You’d probably be home all day…playing.”

He edged his head back and pursed his pouty lips. “Girl? Shit fo real?”

I leveled my head at him and the others. “I am for real. And you better watch out for me because...I don’t know what I’ll do next.” I shifted in my seat and the rest of the class rippled in response.

Chilton made his pitiful attempt at order as he lingered by the doorway, “That’s enough of that. Everyone in your seats. Everyone settle down. I’m counting back from five…”

I wanted to bolt from there before he got to one, but I settled back in my seat.

Thinking over my words, it felt weird. It felt like someone else was saying them. At the same time, it felt good. I often used such small words, such soft words. Such words of apology. I was tired of them. I was tired of being pushed and tired of being blamed. I could understand the fear and the hurt, but I hurt too and I was fucking afraid.

I clenched the edge of the small table with my fingers and sighed a warm frost on the top. Every time I caught the faintest sign of laughter, my eyes bolted up. I didn’t catch anyone looking over at me. Most people were absorbed in their own little things. Treyvin was at the far side and the back of the class, not doing anything resembling work and already earning a lecture from Chilton as the rest of the class sorta started on the grammar assignment on the front board.

Not that it even mattered. The work was ridiculous. There was no accountability. You could do it then or you could do it when people were called up and copy that and it didn’t matter if you turned it in or not.

I was tired, so tired. So beaten down by it all. Even the brief respite of Ben and Rebecca wasn’t enough to pull me through a day like this because, for all the quiet moments of joy I could harvest, there were stark, barren expanses greater than the dry scrub that stretched as far as you could see across Brookville Valley.

Art by Alexis Rillera/Anirhapsodist