Charlie handed the unused pencil back to Mallory, not daring to look her in the eye, afraid she would see him for who he was. Then he crumpled the test up and tossed it in the garbage on the way out the door, shutting out the laughs and jeers, ignoring the eyes on him, not caring what they saw anymore. The gravy stains were nothing compared to what was underneath.
Charlie headed back down the hall and up the stairs to the third floor. He paused a moment at the top of the stairs and gazed at the door. The door itself was unremarkable. It looked just like any other worn, old door in the building, except for a hasp, staple, and padlock. What made the door really interesting was what lay behind it—the stairs to the cupola.
Charlie resisted the urge to touch the padlock as he turned and headed down the hallway. His gaze avoided Whitney’s old locker as he passed it.
He could see a figure in dark clothes step up to the locker and slide a few folded sheets of paper into the vents. He desperately wished he could go back in time and tell that little fool he was playing with dynamite, and that he could rip those damn pages to shreds. But it was much too late now.
The pages were warm and still smelled of ozone.
“Signs of pregnancy.” Copied from his mom’s medical manuals.
Kelsey, his cousin, had been pregnant with her second child.
It had been a difficult pregnancy. She’d called his mom several times, asking for her advice and perspective both as a home health nurse and from her own experiences with Benny.
His mom had given him anxious glances on those early phone calls. But she finally let him stay, but only after he had a long talk with his dad, reviewing a man’s role in creating life. He and his dad had had the talk much earlier, but it had been rushed, confusing, and painfully awkward for both of them. But now, hearing about an actual baby made everything feel so much more real, and his dad, bright red for most of the discussion, had reviewed the process with him again and made Charlie promise to wait until marriage. Charlie readily agreed, wondering if he could even bring himself to do such a gross act after his wedding— assuming he’d even have a chance to get married.
After Charlie had undressed for bed, he had sat on the edge of the mattress, staring at his groin for a long time, terrified of what they were capable of— of what he— was capable of. He finally had stretched out and stared at his stars for a long time before rolling over for a long session before finally drifting off to sleep.
How the sperm got to the egg sickened him. But the idea of a new life forming inside a woman was fascinating.
After he had the talk with his dad, he and his mom spent many late nights talking about what had happened with Benny. It was the first time she’d talked to him about it. The excitement of the new life. The joy of learning that Charlie and Amy would have a brother. The terror of the stillness one morning. The physical agony of the delivery. The mental and spiritual agony of seeing the perfect, lifeless body.
Charlie had studied his mom’s manuals for hours, trying to understand the wonder of it all.
The frequent trips to the bathroom, the strange eating habits at lunch, the rumors of vomiting during class, the increased irritability, the fatigue under her proud exterior that became clearer as the day wore on, and the tightening of those beautiful dresses made it obvious why Marisol started wearing them at the start of the last school year.
Charlie hung his head as he walked to the journalism room. If it weren’t for what was coming next, he probably would have just walked down the stairs and out the door. He couldn’t take any more. But at least he had one thing to look forward to.
He glanced up to see the black paper over the classroom window. There was a secret inside there too, but a good one. The yearbooks, the fruits of their labors, were there. Guiltily, he closed the door on his past and opened the door to the room where the “official” history of the school was recorded. But there hadn’t been any articles written last year on the horrid boy in dark clothes or the girl that wretched fool had destroyed.
Charlie almost ran into Cade the second time as he opened the door. He quickly brushed past him, as Cade frowned, looking at his jacket.
Apparently, Charlie had no use for his shirt. He’d have to go back and get it before PE, then. It hurt a little, even though Cade really didn’t know how he would use it. And Charlie would have known whose it was. He could at least give it back.
And to think he’d given up his lunch hour for this kid.
Hurt, Cade sat at a desk far from Charlie.
Charlie glared over at Cade. It was all Cade’s fault. If he hadn’t bumped into him. If Cade hadn’t laughed. Charlie wouldn’t have been cornered by the chess club guys and reminded of how terrible a person he was. Charlie could have gone through his day, not wearing the stains on his clothes or the stains of the past. He was having a hard enough time with the past.
Cade noticed the glaze. What the hell? Was Charlie mad at him for leaving his shirt for him now, too? His cheeks started to burn as he looked back down at his desk. Why bother. He couldn’t do anything right.
Charlie noticed Cade slump, satisfied that Cade had felt the burn of his gaze. A quiet part tried to remind Charlie that Cade had nothing to do with his past mistakes, but Charlie shoved it aside. He was tired of punishing himself. It was someone else’s turn.
The warning bell rang. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t had to race the bell this time. He looked at the boxes stacked in the corner, wondering what the yearbooks would look like. Hoping he didn’t have too many typos in his copy.
The tardy bell rang, and Mr. Hall stood and smiled at the journalism staff.