A to Z - 27. Chapter 27: Hard to Believe

August means running every morning. And I do mean every morning. My best friend runs, and he insists I run with him. Since getting back from swim camp, each day starts the same way. Get up early. Run to the park or the school to meet up with one or two running buddies. My best friend often gets there before me. He's been the one person to stick with me through this long, miserable summer.

Jog to work. Take the morning and early afternoon shift at the pool. Home, do chores. Shower. Fantasize – usually with my right hand - about the boyfriend who’s got to be out there somewhere.

Long ago, I realized it was just fantasy – I had no courage to come out to my friends or my parents. Without that, the chances of a boyfriend were about zero.

Then came the morning school started.

It was very early at the park, just getting light. Nobody was there yet. The sun filtered through the trees, as the park road circled around back by the river. There - a glimpse of someone, sitting on a tree branch hanging over the river. I stopped running and stared. A boy. He was breathtaking. The sun lit up his blond hair like gold on fire, his shirtless form tan and wiry. There was something incredibly thoughtful and peaceful about him. I stood in the road, holding my breath.

For a few instants, I tried to memorize his shape, his colors, his body. I wanted to know him, claim him as my friend. For this boy, I’d find the courage to change my life forever.

August 29

I can’t believe it. I went back to school. Really.

When lay down last night, I still thought I was heading out the next day.

I hadn't been able to sleep. Maybe it was the heat. It was a hot, hot night. The bugs were noisy, too – crickets and zippers all making a racket. Anyhow, at some wakeful moment in the darkness, I made my decision. I didn’t want to trudge anywhere in the heat. Or maybe I just felt tired of running. Anyway, something seemed to be telling me to go. It seemed that, by default, I was going to school.

To do that, I was up before dawn. Time to break out the soap and wash up as best I could in the pre-dawn twilight. I used up the last of my toothpaste. I got out the cleanest clothes I possessed. Looking around to be sure I wasn’t being watched, I stripped down and slid into the river next to a big tree with some low branches. I figured I could hang my towel out on that after I finished.

The water felt so good after the heat, I lingered a little after getting as clean as I could.

Despite the very early dawn, it still was warm enough that I chose to sit on the big overhanging branch to dry, instead of using my towel, which I draped over my lap – just in case. I daydreamed, wondering if this school would be any better than Carlsberg High.

I really wanted it to be, but I feared the worst. I figured the strategy would be to keep my head down, keep everyone at arms’ length, answer no questions, make no acquaintances. Use my patented invisibility skills. If nobody got near me, nobody could know enough to hurt me.

I got to thinking about how I would get signed up for classes. The thing to do would be to make sure I arrived when the secretary would have to hurry, and so wouldn’t pay much attention to my forms. If I was lucky, I’d be able to leave stuff blank and still get a schedule. And if anyone called me in on it, I could still run.

Nobody was going to call the cops because I filled in a form wrong.

I was sitting there, spacing out, when I heard the sudden squeal of tires and a horn honking on the park road nearby. Jolted to attention in the new dawn, I glimpsed a runner on the road waving his arms at something – he must have had a near miss with a car. I slithered down to the ground, dry now, before anyone could spot me. Time to get dressed and packed up.

First day of school – eat a good breakfast. For me, that was a mouthful of cereal, some raisins, and a promise to fill up the old water bottle at the first drinking fountain.

My walk back to the high school wasn’t long – maybe 40 minutes. My timing was perfect. Lots of kids getting off busses, streaming in the doors. The school is a long, low complex of tawny brick. It looked pretty new to my eyes.

I joined the masses going through the main entrance. I get a few, brief, curious looks, but I didn’t see anything hostile. That would probably come later. The main office was obvious – the door was to the left, and the traffic in and out seemed pretty heavy. Ideal.

Several harassed-looking staff helped students with paperwork. I waited in line, trying to look patient, but feeling incredibly nervous inside. My safety strategy repeated over and over in my mind: Head down. Keep to myself. Minimal information.

And be prepared to walk out. Walk, not run.

“Next, please.”

I got an older woman with a lined face and red hair. Here goes.

“Um, hi. I’m a new student, today. Just moved to town a couple of days ago.”

“Oh, dear,” she sighed. “You sure picked a day to show up.”

She turned swiftly and gathered a packet of papers from a box on the floor behind her. I guess she was prepared for this kind of thing.

“I’m sorry, hon, it’s just busy today,” she said to me apologetically, handing me a stack of papers. “Welcome to Blackburn High School.”

I held the sheaf of items in my hand – some white, some blue, some yellow – there was a pink one, too. “Thanks. Um, so what do I –"

“Your parents fill out this form,” she said quickly, holding up a white sheet. “They’re not here, are they? Well, fill this out as best you can.”

She went on, telling me to have my parents sign the yellow permission forms, to have my medical forms completed by next week, to fill out the pink school lunch program form (if necessary – make sure to read the back), the blue athletic forms, and – oh, God, my ‘parents’ had a lot of homework to do.

She handed me a clipboard.

“Just sit there, and do what you can, then take the rest home and bring it in tomorrow. We’ll get you started after.”

I sat and she turned to the person behind me in line. I spent a good long time filling out the white form. Much of this I could answer truthfully. Birthday (April 29^th), color of hair (dirty blond), weight (skinny), eyes (muddy), sex (never), and so on. I used my new name, Andrew E. Stevenson (E for Eustace, I decided – I owed the old man that, at least), but had to ponder what to do about the address.

Then I remembered the business card, which I’d put in my bag.

Extracting it, I copied all the address information – number and street, city, zip, parent email, home phone, etc., all right off that card. Beautiful. Single parent, no mother (the truth), no emergency contact (also the truth).

I brought back the papers to the desk.

The red haired lady glanced quickly at them and then looked up at me.

“All right now, Andrew, I’m going to send you on to the guidance office. You’ll get a schedule there.”

She pointed the way. I gathered my papers and moved to go.

"Oh, wait," she called, my hand almost at the door, "do I have your birth certificate?"

Shit. Was I caught? I could run now, or I could try to weasel out. She wasn't going to call the cops if she didn't find it. She'd call me down to the office in a couple of days, when the paperwork mountains started to diminish. I'd have to have something figured by then.

"Yes, ma'am, I think it's in that pile," I answered, trying to smile. I felt myself sweating.

She waved me on, and I sighed in relief.

In the guidance office, another line, another harassed middle-aged woman with reading glasses trying to get everyone into school on the first day. Perfect. She offered her hand to me as I was motioned into her tiny office.

“Hi, I’m Mrs. Westbrook, sit down, please…Andrew,” she said, trying to scan my papers.

I sat on a tiny plastic chair, hoping this would go quickly.

“So, Andrew, I don’t see what school you came from. Do you have a transcript from last year?”

Transcript? What’s a transcript? My confusion must have showed.

“Your report card from last year?” she prompted.

“No, I don’t have one. Sorry. We just moved here this weekend, and things are kind of jumbled up.”

She smiled at that.

“I’d believe it. Look, I can’t do much without the transcript or your grades. I can put you in classes provisionally, but to keep those classes, you’ll have to bring the transcript to me.”

I nodded, while my stomach tightened. Another document missing. Maybe just walking south was a smarter idea after all. On the other hand, it was like the birth certificate thing. I’d have to fake a report card or something sooner or later, but I could put them off for a while, I thought.

We talked about the courses I had taken, and what I was eligible to take, and so on – because she didn’t have my school records, I had to go in the general track. That was fine by me – the more I can blend in, the better. In about twenty minutes, I had a schedule, a locker number and a school map.

I had missed all of the first class and part of the second, so I walked into my English class late. I handed my note to the teacher, a tall, lean man with an aging face and piercing blue eyes. This, I learned, was Mr. Warfield, who welcomed me gravely, assigned me to an empty desk by the near wall, and continued talking about the purpose of American literature.

And here I thought the purpose of literature was enjoyment.

I kept my head pointed at my desk and resisted looking around the classroom. I absorbed a little of what was said and dutifully wrote down the assignment on the back of one of my many papers. At the end of class, Mr. Warfield informed me I would have to complete a summer book report on a book assigned to everyone last spring. I reminded myself to get a copy at the library. He handed me an American Literature text and wished me good day.

Two periods down. Where next? I consulted my schedule. U.S. History, Mrs. Landon. I made my way to the indicated room, trailing along the maze of hallways until I arrived, late again. Another back row seat. More listening to the rules and regulations and expectations. Another textbook. God. I’m going to have to get another backpack to carry them all.

Next up, Computer Intro. I’m on time for the first time today. Five minutes in, and I can tell this is going to be a pretty easy class. The teacher is one of the athletic coaches, I think. Mrs. Westbrook must have put me here because she didn't know what else to do with me. That’s great. It’s an excuse to get on a computer. We never had one at home. Handing in papers was always a pain, because I either had to stay late and get them on a computer, or just handwrite everything. The teacher seemed very enthusiastic. Said he was going to teach us all about graphic applications and design software and so on. That was fine by me.

After that came Physics. The teacher, Mr. Hopewell, was a tiny man with longish sandy hair, full beard, and bright green eyes that shone out from behind round lensed glasses. He seemed like a nice guy, and full of enthusiasm. Seeing as I like math and science, I thought this class would be OK. Two bad things, though.

First, I discovered that the Study Hall on my schedule would sometimes be taken up with a lab for this course. Second, I’d be assigned a lab partner, someone I’d have to work with for the quarter. Inevitably, my lab partner would be someone to make my existence miserable. I’d had this problem before. At Carlsberg High, I’d had to work with a football player whose sole purpose in life was to make sure I felt like shit. Ugh.

After that, lunch. God, was I ready for it.

I wasn’t at all prepared for school – I used to make lunch at home, when Dad allowed me to have one. He never gave me money to buy, so some days I had to go hungry. I couldn’t unpack my bag and get out my road rations. Fortunately, I seemed to have just enough change to buy lunch today. At home, if I was very lucky, I could find enough coins to keep in reserve to buy lunch when Dad got into one of his moods. Thinking about my cash stash, I wondered if I had enough to buy every day. I might.

The food was decent and, for my budget, reasonable. Of course, after my hurried breakfast, I was so hungry, I’d have eaten grilled cardboard. I chose a table as far away from everyone as I could find and devoured the slice of pizza, the mashed potato (who ever heard of pizza with mashed potato?) and salad that was on my tray. I emptied my water bottle down my throat.

I sat back, checked my watch. Plenty of time before the next class. If I had a book, I could read, and reading was something I’d missed in the past three months. If I hustled, I might find time to check out the library.

Gathering my things, I cleared up my tray and dumped my trash. I didn’t look where I was going, and when I turned, I bumped into someone. Another boy. I registered several things quickly. First, he was a little bit taller than me, maybe by an inch or two; second, he was absolutely beautiful. Dark hair, dark eyes, snub nose. In shape, without being bulky. A mouth that looked like it could smile infectiously. Third, he looked very vaguely familiar. Had I seen him before? Where?

I flinched instinctively, waiting for the inevitable shove or punch-- the hurt that would teach me my place. When it didn’t happen, I looked and saw the fourth thing – a look of complete astonishment on his face.

On the one hand, this guy made my pulse rate spike to about a million. On the other, experience told me to get away before the trouble started. And it would start, I knew. Beautiful people spell trouble. I mumbled something and got out of the cafeteria faster than the school track star.

Shit, now there was someone I had to make a point of avoiding. I was beginning to doubt the wisdom of being here at all. Maybe I should have walked right out the door, but it would have been a little too glaring, I thought.

I wandered the hall kind of aimlessly, while I tried to calm down. By the time I found the library, I didn’t have much time left. But I was glad to find the place, because I knew I’d be back.

My next class was Art. Another dose of good news and bad news. On the plus side, it looked like fun, and not too much work. On the minus side, I’d need to find some art supplies. My cash stash was looking smaller and smaller every minute.

Finally, math – last class of the day. Algebra 2. I’m good at math, so I was looking forward to it. The teacher, Mrs. Gersheimer, seemed pleasant enough, but she’s pretty sharp, I could tell. She spent most of class going through review examples and materials – very little of the expectations and rules crap I’d gotten all day. I remembered just about everything; so as long as the homework isn’t too bad, I’ll be OK.

The only class I didn’t go to was Phys Ed – that was the first period I missed this morning, and it meets only three times a week. I get a study hall the other two days. I won’t have to face P.E. until Wednesday. I’ll have to figure out a strategy for that later.

Funny how it doesn’t really matter that I’m in a new place, with a whole new class – school feels pretty much the same. Classes, bells, lunch. The same kids moving in groups from one point to another – similar looking boys and girls paired off – similar clubs, teams, and so on. With the exception of the boy I bumped into at lunch, I haven’t let myself take a good look at my classmates.

Maybe tomorrow I can do that – I should learn who’s dangerous and who isn’t. Item number one is to avoid Lunch Boy tomorrow.

My goal here is to blend in, go unnoticed, survive – until I can figure out where to go next, and how to get there invisibly. Right now, I’m in the Blackburn Public Library. My homework is done, but I’m going to have to actually go buy some school supplies, like locks for my school and gym lockers, and some paper and pencils to supplement what I’ve managed to pick up around the school after the first day. And sneakers for gym – where the hell am I going to find those? Maybe look in the lost and found early tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m going to have to find a place to bed down overnight – I might try Mrs. Marjorie’s garage/barn. Oh, and find a grocery store.

September 2

It has been a very busy week. A strange, strange week. I've gone to school every day, but I had several panicky moments when school let out, thinking that if I didn't get home quickly, Dad would be there to give me a beating.

I know it sounds crazy, but the time this vision happened – maybe lasting about a minute – I forgot that I wasn't at home anymore. I don’t know if it was the school routine that brought it on, or what, but it happened Wednesday, and it happened again today.

For the most part, my classmates are a better bunch than I ever had at Carlsberg High School. There are jocks and preps and emos and cheerleaders and so on, but all the groups seem pretty mellow with each other. There are a couple of serious jocks in P.E., but they’ve left me alone. One really cool thing is that the Gym showers have lockable stalls – one guy, one shower. It’s going to be much, much easier to hide before and after P.E. class. In general, nobody seems to have noticed me, and I’ve tried very hard to be invisible to everyone. I’ve managed to claim a far corner of the cafeteria for myself, and nobody has tried to move in on it yet.

The only kid I have to deal with much is my Physics Lab partner, a cheerful, bouncy girl named Terry. It’s short for Theresa, and she has a Polish last name I can’t pronounce that starts with P, I think. Because we’ve had to work on stuff together already, she’s been the only one to probe. She knows I’m ‘Andy,’ that I’m new in town, and that’s about it. Mostly, I’ve given her the shrug.

After school, I found one of those dollar stores and bought some school supplies and two locks. It’s the most money I’ve spent on school stuff in my life. I feel like I’m bleeding money.

I filled out the paperwork my 'parent' was supposed to complete. I even forged the medical form, checked off the boxes, put in a sloppy signature at the bottom, all that. I wonder if anyone will really look at it. All of my work is in, including the summer book report. I don’t see what all the fuss was about – I just plunked myself down in the public library for two nights and read until closing time. Without Dad to harass me, I seem to get my work done a lot quicker. Amazing, huh? Can’t say if my grades are any better, though.

Speaking of grades, I need to work on faking a birth certificate and getting a transcript or something, or someone will start asking questions. Put that on the to-do list. Also on the to-do list is to find the damn grocery store. I think I know where to go – I snuck a look at a computer map of Blackburn during Computer class – but so far, I’ve had to buy stuff at the gas-n-go.

So where have I been sleeping at night? On Monday night, I went back to the park by the river and tried a picnic shelter. That didn’t work, because the cops patrol it regularly. Even when I retreated to the woods, I didn’t feel very secure. At least I could wash up there.

Besides, Tuesday morning very early, I heard the sound of footsteps on the road nearby. A jogger again. Peeking out of the bushes, I saw him. Lunch Boy. He was jogging very slowly down the park road, looking around as he made his way. He looked even better than I remembered in the early morning light than he had the day before in the cafeteria.

Shit. I didn’t want to run into him again, so I let him jog slowly by.

I tried Mrs. Marjorie’s garage Tuesday night, but she had a padlock securing the doors when I tried to sneak in. I wound up underneath the railroad tracks, but that was a bust too. I woke up very startled two or three times when a freight train roared overhead.

On Wednesday, I tried something closer to the high school. I slept under the bleachers near the running track. Not so bad, except for the smokers who showed up around eleven o’clock and hung out until two or so.

By Thursday, all my clothes were pretty dirty, and it was all I could do brush down and get something to look presentable. But I couldn't brush away the smell. After school, I did some exploring. I found a laundromat and washed most of my clothes. I figured that the cost was worth being clean: a kid who smells is not invisible.

On Thursday night, I tried the park again, but it rained, so I dodged in and out of the picnic shelter until the cops found someplace else to patrol. And Lunch Boy was there jogging again the next morning. I kept out of sight, even though he was certainly a nice sight for my eyes.

Tonight, Friday night, I found the perfect spot completely by accident. I stayed in the school library after hours, at a table in the back, trying to work. I got so sleepy and tired, that I just pulled out a chair, and lay down on the floor under the table for a nap. I mean, I’m used to sleeping on the ground, anyway, what’s the big deal? I figured I’d get up and make my way out in a few minutes, but I was out like a light.

I never heard them closing up or noticed the lights going out. Hours later, I woke up completely disoriented for a few moments, until I figured out where I was. I realized I had been awakened by the sound of the cleaning crew out in the hall, working on the floors.

Shit. Would they come in here?

I spent a bad half hour expecting the worst, but they moved on. Maybe they cleaned in here in the early part of the day. I don’t know. Later on, I retreated into the back corner and used my flashlight to finish my work, read, eat, and generally stay up late writing. For the first time in a couple of weeks, I’m going to have a warm, dry place to sleep. I set my watch alarm because I have to sneak out in time to get to Mrs. Marjorie’s at nine o’clock in the morning. I can’t believe I’m actually going to show up for that.