I awoke that morning with a start. My body jolted in response to the alarm clock going off again. I focused my eyes on the glowing numbers.

 Shit! I’m going to miss my bus. Damn it! I must have kept hitting the snooze on my alarm.

I scrambled. “Shit, shit, shit!”

I hurriedly dressed in my favorite black tee and some denim shorts. I then grabbed a pair of socks, and my hair brush from off my dresser and threw them into my book bag before shoving my feet into a pair of canvas tennis shoes. I snatched up my deodorant from my dresser and was too aggressive uncapping it. The tiny nub of deodorant fell onto the dresser top and crumbled into small bits. I growled in response to the rotten luck and gathered up the chunks with my fingertips before smearing them best as possible into my arm pits. I then ran frantically down the hall swiping some fruit from the kitchen as I headed out the door.

I cut across the front lawn instead of sticking to the sidewalk, needing every ounce of time I could scrape up. I felt the early morning dew cling to the canvas of my shoes, making them feel damp and uncomfortable without socks as a buffer. I kept running. I had about a half mile to my bus stop and my bus could come any minute. The last thing I wanted was to miss it and have to wake up Mom to ask for a ride. I would much rather skip school for the day. My sides started to hurt. I hated running. It was the most unpleasant form of exercise to me, because strangely enough, I valued the feeling of being able to breathe. Still, I ran on. Once I had the bus stop in sight I considered slowing down to walk and catch my breath, but the roar of the bus engine coming down the road eliminated that option. I continued sprinting toward the stop, and made it to the steps of the bus a good five seconds after the last person had boarded. 

Ms. Holly, the bus driver, gave me a pat on the back as I stumbled past her, exhausted and sweaty. “Cutting it close today?” I didn't have enough breath to answer her. I just sort of grunted and nodded, before I shuffled to the back where ‘my seat’ was. 

My two favorite freshmen were seated in front of me looking pleased. “We were wondering where you were.” Jamie said, then added, “Glad you made it.” 

Ashlynn tilted her head to the side, taking in my appearance with a blank expression on her face “You look like hell.” 

I squished up my face at her. “Gee, Thanks.” 

I half-listened as Ashlynn started up a chat about the latest issues on feminism. Slowly my breathing returned to normal, and I went about the business of finishing getting ready for school. I put on my socks, brushed out my hair, and ate a banana.  Afterwards I pulled out my emergency toothbrush kit, which on more than one occasion proved to be a valuable item always kept in my backpack.  Having no other option, I had to spit the paste out of the bus window into traffic. 

As conversation between the girls petered off, Jamie stared out the window at passing scenery, and Ashlynn pulled out a mystery novel to entertain herself. 

So, I pulled out my journal, a typical composition notebook I had decorated with a collage of various clippings. For the rest of the ride to school, I wrote about the vague images I could still remember from my dreams the previous night. In the margins, I sketched a pretty good likeness of the mysterious dream guy I had conjured up. My chest felt heavy with loneliness.

Our bus arrived at school, and I parted ways with the girls wagging my finger in their direction jokingly. “Now you both behave yourselves today, alright?”

They both smiled. Ashlynn turned to Jamie and muttered, “Shouldn't someone tell her that?” 

 

I wandered through the crowds in no big hurry, but mindfully kept my eyes ahead with the intention of emanating a purposeful sort of hostility.  It was an act of dominance.  Somehow, it kept people from bumping into me in the halls, which often happened if I stared at my feet. Likewise, if someone didn’t get out of my way, sometimes I would intentionally let our paths intersect, hard.  I didn’t do it to be an asshole, as much as I did it to avoid being a victim. Unfortunately, I’d learned acting weak could make me a target. My best defense was a good offense.

Out of some coincidence with this train of thought, I spotted some freshman kid sitting in a quiet end of the hallway by himself. His head was in his hands. There were few people in the area. I slowed down, wondering what was wrong with him. Then I noticed a group of large guys nearby laughing. It was that nasty kind of laugh where you could tell someone was the butt of their joke. 

I didn’t recognize these guys, and couldn’t tell for certain what year they were, though they were mostly tall and muscular, dressed like wanna-be thugs. I paused out of curiosity. The kid on the floor wore jeans torn beyond what was considered trendy, and an old scruffy t-shirt didn’t quite qualify as so-lame-it-was-cool. 

I heard a ping and noticed a nickel spinning around on the floor. Then a penny bounced off the boy’s head and hit the floor with another plink. 

Those assholes were getting some kicks by throwing change at the kid.

 I felt a wave of rage take over. It was hard to see straight. All the sound that I could hear turned into white noise. I threw down my bag and stomped over into the center of the group.

 I swatted at one guy’s hand full of coins. They all flew and hit the floor sounding like metal rain. I then shoved him and shouted, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! You can’t just fucking treat people like that, you ass-hat!!” 

I then realized that I was craning my neck upwards at these guys. Suddenly, I felt like a Chihuahua barking into the face of a Great Dane.

Someone behind me said, “Can you believe this bitch?” Their eyes were wide, some of them with amusement, and one or two with serious irritation. No one had said anything else, but the guy whose money I had knocked on the floor took a step toward me. I stood my ground and narrowed my eyes at him. I then widened my stance ready to do whatever was necessary.

All of the sudden, I was upside down looking over someone’s backside and the floor was moving beneath me. I heard a mirthful, “Excuse me. She'll be coming with me now.”

 I gave a halfhearted pound of my fist into his back. “Dammit Adam, I didn’t ask for your intervention!”

“So, I should just watch as you get the snot slapped out of you?” He said calmly as he carried me away down the hallway.

“I could have taken him!” I was still shouting.

I glanced over at the kid who was so dejected a moment ago. He had a new look of awe on his face. Adam barked a laugh as he swooped down, snatched my book bag, and continued his march with me still dangling over his shoulder.

“You can let go of me now!” I snapped.

“Nope.”

I growled, exasperated. I could probably make him, but I didn't want to hurt him, or myself in the process.

We were in the next hallway before a teacher saw us and roared, “Hey! Put her down!”

And with that, Adam plopped me on my feet and handed me my bag. He then smiled down at me condescendingly, and patted the top of the head. I waited till the teacher had turned around and walked off. I then swung my leg up in the air sideways to plant a restrained kick to Adam’s butt. Alas, it didn't work. He snatched a hold of my foot and I was stuck balancing on one leg. I stuck my tongue out at him.

“A little bit early for you to be looking for trouble,” he taunted, before releasing me.

I was still shaking a little bit from my anger. 

“Yeah well, I have to get a head start if I want to break my record for shittiest day ever.”

 “That bad?” he asked, lacking any actual concern in his voice. 

“Not yet, at least.”

“Then quit your bitchin.” He somehow smiled with a hint of condescension.

I laughed a little, and then sighed, allowing myself to calm down.

We continued our walk toward our usual morning hangout spot. Out the doors we went, and down the front steps. Our friends were gathered in a group, standing next to a statue of West Pensacola High’s school Mascot, Salty the pirate. 

I spotted our friends. Ben was showing off with his skateboarding to a couple kids I didn't know well. Charlie was trying to match his skills by doing tricks with his wheelchair. Marie, Jack, Patrick, Felicia and Levon stood nearby watching them, and chatted amongst themselves. 

Diana was off a little ways away talking to Jeremy, who must have brought her to school. It looked like they were arguing.

“Uh oh, trouble in paradise so soon?” I commented as we joined the others. “What’s that about?”

Everyone just kind of shrugged at me. 

“Not sure yet,” Marie muttered.

It wasn't long before the cheerless couple exchanged a somber kiss, and Jeremy headed off toward his car. His pace illustrated to me how upset he still was.

Diana slowly approached the group. She locked eyes with me hesitantly before looking away after Jeremy.

When she reached the group she kind of stared at her feet for a minute.

I grilled her. “Okay, what’s up? What’s going on?”

“Yeah, why so blue short-stuff?” Jack added.

“I’m not exactly sad,” Diana answered, and then shuffled her feet a moment. She looked back up but didn’t look at anyone in particular. It felt like she was trying to avoid eye contact with me. She bit her lower lip. “I got my acceptance letter to Columbia yesterday.”

There was a clamor of congratulations projected at her, and Diana smiled with only the faintest glimmer of guilt still in her eyes. 

I remained silent for a moment until the general praise tapered out. I then walked over to my best friend calmly and wrapped my arms around her shoulders in a bear hug that I could tell took her a little off guard. I spoke low into her ear, “Congratulations. You have worked very hard, and you deserve it.” I released her slowly and backed away.

Diana thanked me gravely. She knew my heart had just broken, confronted with the reality that she was leaving, that everything we knew would be ending in a handful of short weeks.

I could feel myself begin to shut down. It was like being washed over by a wave of lethargy. As a result, everything around me became almost blurry and hard to take in.

Someone asked about Columbia being in New York. She responded about that being the appeal, and how she looked forward to living in the big city. It was her dream school.

Somebody else asked what that meant for her and Jeremy's relationship.

I zoned out further, but someone eventually nudged me on the arm and asked “You all right?” I faked a smile and nodded.

Eventually the bell rang and we all shuffled off to our classes.

I didn't feel like talking much. I hardly paid attention to my lectures for the day. When I got to algebra I realized I had not remembered to do my homework the night before. I grew even more depressed, as I made a last-ditch effort to finish some of the questions and hoped it would be enough for at least partial credit. 

Maybe if I had done more of my homework I could have gotten into a good school too. Maybe I would have bothered to apply anywhere if there was any hope.  

 I put my head down on my desk and sulked.

I’m not even sure why I try anymore. It’s too late to turn things around. 

The best I can hope for my future is attending community college, burdened by a mountain of student loans, struggling to work, and taking classes full time. 

The weight of it all made my chest feel heavy and tight, while my heart beat too rapidly. It was difficult to keep my breathing at an even pace. 

I was having an all-out anxiety attack. 

Well great, just what I needed today.

“Hey, Celeste.”

I woke from my dejected stupor. I was in lit class. We had a last-minute substitute teacher. She didn’t have a curriculum to teach, so she was little more than a glorified babysitter. We were allowed to use the class as a free period. 

Was someone talking to me? 

I looked up. 

Holy shit, it’s Liam! Why is Liam talking to me?!

He stood there with a friendly smile on his face, and his hands in his pockets. He just wandered over to say hello because he was that type of person: friendly. I stared at him completely wide eyed, dumbfounded. I’m sure I even looked a little hostile, even. I was taken completely off guard, and couldn’t muster anything, ANYTHING, to say at all. After that agonizingly long moment of silence, and me being a complete idiot, his expression became bewildered. With wide eyes, he nodded his head, as though acknowledging his mistake in speaking to me, and backed away. 

I averted my eyes to my desktop as I painfully restrained the impulse to slam my forehead down on it repeatedly. 

STUPID STUPID STUPID STUPID . . . What the hell is wrong with me?!

 I kept my eyes on an open book in front of me for the rest of the period. I didn't care what it was. I wasn’t reading. I was reliving that painfully awkward moment over and over in my mind.

I drifted through the rest of the day still on autopilot. We ran a mile in gym class, which was awful. My stomach ached until lunch from hunger, barely satiated from the fruit I ate. And in art, I accidentally spilled my ink tray all over the project I had been working on for two weeks. 

A rain cloud of self-loathing followed me everywhere, making it hard to see the people and events happening around me. Before I knew it, I was getting off the school bus and walking home in blistering heat. The sun was high, and my black shirt was soaking up its heat. The electric sounds of cicada calls echoed eerily from the treetops. I walked slowly through shady patches of road on my way home and quickened my pace between them. It was a relief to make it in the front door to the AC. All I wanted was for the day to be over. I fought the urge to go straight to my room, and just go to sleep. 

Mom was in the kitchen, pulling out something to defrost for dinner. I felt obligated to stop and say hello. I was glad at least to see her up and about. 

 “Hi, honey. How was your day?” she asked.

“Hi, Momma. It was… it was survived. Where is Bran-Bran?”

“He's in his room, I think.” She walked out of the kitchen without asking why my day needed to be survived. 

I followed her into the home office where she shuffled through some papers on the desk. “Diana got into Columbia.”

“Oh? That's nice. Please congratulate her for me,” she said with little interest. She wandered out of the room again, this time to the living room.

I sighed and decided I shouldn’t bother trying to engage her in conversation anymore. Then I remembered I needed to ask her for some more deodorant since I broke the last of mine that morning. I followed her once more. “Momma? Are you going to the store anytime soon? I am out of antiperspirant and need some more.”

Her demeanor went from zero to sixty in half a second. “Jesus, Celeste, I just bought you some! What the hell are you doing with it?!”

Unfortunately, the built-up pressure from my bad day fired back. I knew I was crossing the line as my words shot out. “I don’t know Mom! Maybe I rub it on my freaking armpits! And you haven't bought me any in months!”

Before I could finish spitting out that last syllable, she used her whole body to plant an open-handed smack across my cheek. 

 I stared at her with a look of contempt while I held my stinging face. I could feel a tight knot building up in my throat, a threat of tears soon to follow, which I suppressed.

 Rage burned behind her eyes as she glared back at me. She slapped me again and then a third time, her palm meeting my ear made it ring at the contact.  

“Wipe that look off your face!” Then she shoved me, hard enough to make me stumble backwards falling into the armchair.  Despite how my veins pumped with outrage, I dared not look at her.  I stared at the floor as she loomed over me for a moment.  Eventually she muttered something under her breath and walked off.

I stood up slowly, keeping my gaze to the floor, and walked away to my room. I quietly closed the door behind me, then lied on my bed and stared at the ceiling. A feeling of numbness took over my insides. It radiated out from a part of me inside that I was pretty sure had died at some point.

I was still there after about 45 minutes, when mom opened the door to my room. She tossed in a stick of deodorant on my bed, and stared at me evenly. “I forgot to give this to you when I bought it. She gave me a quick smile, as though she had just solved all our problems.

“Thank you.” I said, absent of feeling.

My mother turned and left, closing the door behind her.

She made pork chops for dinner. Dad came home. 

Both Brandon and I skulked out of our rooms when we were called to come eat. His eyes briefly lingered on my reddened cheek. He said nothing. I said nothing. We ate our meal in silence.

We cleaned the kitchen.

We took our showers.

Everyone retired to their rooms for bed.

I did my homework, or at least some of it.

Afterwards I pulled out my journal. I meant to just sketch to pass the time, But before I knew it, I had aggressively scribbled black balls of nothing on a whole page. I sighed and closed the notebook.

I crawled into bed, nestled under my blankets, and turned out the light. I unintentionally left on my novelty light, but lacked the motivation to get up and turn it off.  It was a frosted globe with continuously shifting colors that swirled and projected beautiful patterns on the walls and ceiling. Watching it soothed me.

As tired as I felt from a long day of stress, I figured sleep would come easy. Instead, my mind wandered, eventually coming to images of the Mr. Perfect whom I had imagined the prior evening. I realized, thinking of him was perhaps the happiest I felt all day. That thought brought along its own pang of loneliness. 

I wished he was real. I wondered how he would comfort me. Perhaps he would just hold me for a while. Maybe he would nuzzle his nose up against mine, forehead to forehead in a moment of divine intimacy.

I pictured him kissing me, in the most comforting ways, sensually letting his mouth linger upon mine. He then ran those smooth lips down my jawline and kissed my throat gently. 

My ears popped. Immersed as deeply as I was into my imagination, I ignored the compulsion to tug at my earlobe.

I let the fantasy take a more sultry turn, as the beautiful man began to probe my mouth more aggressively with his tongue. His hands wandered to explore more interesting regions on my body. I felt fevered with readiness. I laid there with my eyes closed wishing so hard with all of my heart that he was real. I could smell his sweet musky aroma in my room and sense his firm body against mine.

 It was strange, I could actually feel his weight as he lay on top of me. My imagination had gotten so sharp, it was astounding. In an intense moment of yearning, I reached up with both hands to run my fingers through his hair. I felt the silky strands slide over my fingers?

 What?

I paused a moment, then grabbed a hold to feel the locks tighten in my grip and scalp resist against the tug.

“Hmm, I didn’t take you for a hair puller,” a voice like satin murmured from the darkness.

 My eyes flew open.

 There in my bedroom, right there on top of me, was my dream guy, staring down.