Keep Holding On (5 page)

Something about talking to Julian and seeing his finished mural really inspired me. This exciting creative energy has been building up all day. I couldn’t wait to get home and work on my mobile. It’s cool how Julian’s artwork is inspiring my own. I wonder if I’ll ever have the courage to tell him about it.

I had a dream
that there was this new section of the SATs where you had to fall backward out of a plane. A bungee cord was supposed to pull you back up. Except sometimes the bungee cord didn’t work.

I wonder what it means.

Here’s a secret about me:

I’m a vampire.

Just kidding.

Here’s the real secret:

I still ride the bus.

Technically, it’s not a secret. If you’re like every other junior or
senior at my school driving your shiny new car that your mommy and daddy bought you for your seventeenth birthday and you get stuck behind the school bus, you might see me when you finally get impatient enough to pass the bus even though you’re not supposed to. You won’t find me in the back. That’s where the sophomores sit. And the freshmen who make fun of everyone else and throw things at us. No, I sit in the front. Usually next to Jasmine. Who is in sixth grade.

That’s right. I ride the bus with sixth graders. We’re dropped off at the high school first. Then the bus drives to the middle school, which is even farther away and starts later.

I am the oldest kid riding the bus.

If Sherae didn’t have a car, I’d be totally trapped. She would give me rides to school if she didn’t live in the opposite direction. But at least we can go wherever we want after school.

My bus stop is right down the street in front of the realty office. The office doesn’t open until nine. When the bus drops me off after school, I usually notice one or two people who’ve come to look at houses. There’s a whole new development way back in the woods. Apparently, some people actually want to live in Middle of Nowhere. I don’t get it. I mean, yeah, there’s lots of space and woods and it’s super quiet. So raising kids here might sound like a good idea. But as one of those kids, I could assure them that this town takes boring to a whole other level.

One of the middle school boys comes running down the street just as the bus is pulling up. He’s always late. I can’t ever be late. If I miss the bus, I have to take the train to school. Which means
I end up missing first period because I have to walk to the train station and wait for the next train and then walk to school from that station. Missing physics is a drag. If you miss one day, you’re totally lost.

Everyone piles on the bus. I take my usual seat next to Jasmine. Her bag is way nicer than mine.

Carly is waiting for me when I get off the bus.

I don’t know why she’s so obsessed with bullying me. We used to have the same bus stop. That was the worst. Every morning would be a new adventure in mortification. One time Carly grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled her fist back like she was going to punch me. I forget why. She was probably just extra bored that day. A car drove by the bus stop as we were posed like that, Carly threatening to punch me, me frozen like a deer in the headlights. I could see the woman who was driving look at us. She was your typical mom type. She totally saw us. But she drove right by.

“Good morning, Rotten Egg,” Carly trills when she sees me. It’s her typical greeting.

I brush past Carly, ignoring her. There’s no way I could intimidate her. If you put Carly next to a monster truck, the resemblance would be remarkable. She hangs out with the other kids no one wants to mess with. I’ve heard rumors that she beats up her little brothers. They say that if you ignore a bully, she’ll move on to harass someone else. I’ve been ignoring Carly for three years. She hasn’t moved on yet.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Carly yells after me. “I said
good morning
!”

I keep on walking.

“Rotten Egg should really learn some manners!” she yells.

People sneak looks at Carly. This one girl makes a nasty face at me. Her friends laugh.

I’m sure all this ignoring Carly will start to work any day now.

The way Carly torments me is bad. But it’s nothing compared to the way she torments Ali Walsh. Ali is sweet and quiet and will always let you borrow a pencil. But this is high school. Where it’s not about who you are. It’s how you look. Ali has really bad skin. And short, frizzy hair. Her wardrobe appears to be visiting from 1993, back when style was really bad. These are the things that define Ali to everyone else. These are the things that convinced Carly she’s entitled to pick on Ali anytime she wants.

I saw them in the student parking lot the other day. Sherae and I were going to her car and I noticed Carly way down by the end of the lot. Carly had Ali pinned against the hood of a car, as if Carly were security and Ali needed frisking. I wanted to run over, pull Carly off Ali, and demand that she leave her alone. But I knew if I did that, Carly would torment me even harder. And I can barely get through the day as it is.

So I didn’t do anything. I didn’t go over. I didn’t save Ali.

I hate that I’m so afraid.

When I meet up with Sherae at her locker, she’s staring at a note.

“Another one?” I ask.

“It was in my locker.”

“What did he say?”

“Same as before. He misses me. He’s sorry. Which is hilarious, considering he has no idea what he did.” Sherae’s eyes fill with tears. “Clueless meathead.”

I search my bag for a tissue.

“I’m okay,” she insists. “I just don’t get how someone could do something like that and not even know how wrong it is.”

I wish I had an answer for Sherae. But I’ve been wondering how people can be so clueless for years.

Ms. Scofield keeps saying how everything is connected. She even has a thing about how science is connected to all other subjects. That’s why we had to write optics haikus for homework last week. Before she hands them back, she holds one up.

“This one by Noelle really struck a chord with me,” she tells everyone. Then she reads my haiku.

After class, Simon Bruckner comes up to me. We don’t really talk or anything, but he’s always been nice to me. I secretly admire Simon. He’s kind of an outsider by choice. If he wore ultra-preppy sweaters, pretentious tees, and jeans that cost a fortune but are pretending they don’t, he could totally fit in. His parents
are supposed to be from one of the wealthiest families around. But Simon doesn’t want to be like everyone else. He just wants to be himself. I don’t know anyone else who wears trendy ties, fitted vests, and limited edition sneakers. I love his hipster chic style. Today he’s wearing a skinny violet knit tie, a polished black dress shirt, black suspenders with violet stripes, distressed dark jeans, and black Converse.

“Hey,” Simon says. “I like your haiku.”

“Thanks. I like your suspenders.”

“I knew you were the type to appreciate style.”

That’s just Simon being nice. My style is clearly nonexistent.

“Have you read the
Spectrum
?” Simon asks.

The
Spectrum
is the literary magazine. It comes out at the end of the year, right before yearbook. It’s a collection of poetry and short stories with some artwork thrown in. I flipped through Sherae’s copy last year. Imagine my surprise to discover that I don’t have much interest in the thoughts and feelings of privileged snobs.

“Not really,” I say.

“I think you should join.”

“Me?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“You’re talented. Teachers always put your writing up. And I need a coeditor. Our last one just quit and I’m already behind.”

“Can’t someone already on the
Spectrum
be coeditor?”

“In an ideal world, yeah. But none of them wants to work that hard.”

“Oh.” So Simon just wants me to join because he’s desperate?
And he knows I have free time because I have no life? I don’t want to say no to Simon right away, though. He’s one of the few people who treat me like a human being. “Can I think about it?”

“Oh, for sure. No pressure.”

Why do people say “no pressure”? It’s like as soon as they say it I feel all this pressure.

“If you could let me know by next week that would be great,” Simon adds. “I really need to find a replacement soon.”

“Thanks for the offer.”

“Thanks for thinking about it.” Simon smiles, all confident. Like he could go up to anyone and say anything to them. That must be an awesome feeling.

I’m going out
with Matt Brennan tonight.

No more sneaking off during study hall.

No more hooking up on the DL.

No more keeping our relationship a secret.

After tonight, everyone will know we’re together. The last thing anyone wants to do is piss off Matt. And of course Matt will want to protect me. So everyone will stop tormenting me. Including Carly. She rolls with his crowd. Which may be awkward when I start hanging out with his friends, but I’m sure I’ll find a way to avoid her.

I cannot wait for my life to get easier.