Twelve Steps to Normal(34)

Really? The dog is getting sympathy? I suppress the urge to roll my eyes as I run back to my room. I find a clean skirt and a pale-blue top in my closet and cinch it with one of my brown belts. I adjust my lotus necklace in the mirror before heading back downstairs and out the door.

My mildly pissed off attitude spikes to high levels of annoyance as the day wears on. At lunch, Breck mentions having a party at his place this weekend since his parents will be visiting his older sister in Boulder. Then Jay says he can get these college girls to bring the beer because—and I quote—they are “obsessed” with him. This earns a well-deserved shove from Whitney, but he doesn’t apologize.

“What?” He feigns innocence. “Do you not want beer at a party?”

Whitney glares at him. “That’s not the issue.”

Jay shrugs it off, even though his tiny, overconfident smile reveals his awareness of the issue.

It’s weird. Even though he wears the same basketball tee and familiar pair of worn jeans, it’s like he’s grown into this new level of smugness that radiates some serious douche canoe vibes. I think back to when I’d caught him staring at Jana’s cleavage last week in history. I wonder if he’s still the type of guy who types out sweet late night texts or spends time building the classic model car kits he used to love.

I wonder if I even know him at all.

It doesn’t get better after lunch.

“Miss Seneca,” Mrs. Donaldson says as soon as I step foot into Algebra II. “Will you please join me at my desk?”

My heart sinks to my toes. I know this is about Friday. As much as I’d love to bolt again, I don’t. I adjust the strap of my book bag and walk over to her.

Mrs. Donaldson ignores the students filing in the classroom. She pushes a blue slip of paper in front of me. No no no NO. This can’t be happening. My dad will kill me if I have detention.

“You are not allowed to rush out of here before the bell or before I dismiss the class,” Mrs. Donaldson says. “Furthermore, you are not to be wandering the halls without a pass while classes are in session.”

I don’t bring up the fact that there were only two minutes left of class on Friday when I bailed. Instead I mumble a faint, “Yes ma’am.”

“I expect to see you in detention at three thirty on the dot.” She leans back in her desk chair. “No exceptions.”

I swipe the slip from her desk and walk toward my assigned seat. Crap. Not only is my dad going to kill me, but I’m going to miss Earth Club with Lin.

My heart hammers with nerves as I sink into my desk. That’s when my eyes catch a blue slip sitting on top of the desk beside me. I look over to see Alex pulling his textbook out of his backpack. He glances over when he sees me staring, his eyes wandering to my own blue slip.

“Mrs. Donaldson didn’t go easy on you, either?”

I shake my head. It’s silly, but I feel like I might cry. I’ve never had detention before, and this is definitely not the way I want to start off the school year.

I can still feel Alex looking at me, so I preoccupy myself with pulling out my notebook. I can feel the tears well up behind my eyes.

“Hey,” he says gently. “It’s okay.”

I don’t say anything. I’m afraid my voice might break if I try.

Mrs. Donaldson walks in front of the board and begins to talk about linear equations. I can feel Alex’s gaze lingering on me for another moment before he turns to his spiral and begins scribbling down notes.

I try and absorb the information in front of me, but I’m too upset over receiving detention. The numbers and steps are a scrambled mess of incoherence. I write down notes anyway, hoping I’ll be able to make sense of them when I do homework tonight.

In my peripheral vision, I see Alex’s hand moving as he copies Mrs. Donaldson’s steps. He doesn’t look as tired as he did last week. No red eyes or dark circles are apparent. His dark curls are still effortlessly tousled on top of his head, but they look a little tamer today. Did he get a trim over the weekend? I’m not sure.

I’m also not sure why he decided to go all Rebel Without a Cause on Friday. I overheard a few students talking about it in the halls this morning but other than that it seems like it’s old news, which is completely fine by me.

My blue detention slip stares at me from the corner of my desk. I hope it doesn’t affect my spot on the Wavettes. What if Coach Velasquez finds out and decides I’m a troublemaker? I can’t get kicked off the team. This is going to help bring me closer to Whitney and Raegan.

I suffer through my last three classes and when the final bell rings, I book it toward A hall before anyone can see me sneaking into the detention classroom.

Room 112 is a craphole. This is where all the unloved, broken teaching materials are collected and left behind. There’s a large crack in the whiteboard that hangs on the wall. Nearly all the desktops have been vandalized with some kind of sharp object, declaring things like Mr. Harris sucks old man balls. Even the clock is permanently stuck at 2:14. Probably as some kind of mental torture to make our time here feel even longer.

The classroom is empty except for Alex. Mrs. Donaldson motions me to come to her desk and when I do, she hands me a thick packet. The front page reads: Algebra II Practice Problems.

“I expect you to complete as much of this as you can,” she tells me.