Aubrey nods. “Yeah, I get it.”
He clearly doesn’t get it or he would leave.
In elementary school, we could eat only in the multipurpose room, or at the tables right outside it, but in junior high, I guess they trust us a little more and you can eat wherever you want as long as you stay on campus. I wish Aubrey wanted to eat somewhere else, because the behind-the-container spot is mine.
But at least he doesn’t ask me any more questions, and we eat our lunches in silence. Aubrey keeps looking like he wants to say something, but then he just takes another bite of sandwich.
When lunch is over, there’s no way to avoid walking with him back toward the classrooms. The grass crunches under our feet, and I want to run and feel the sunshiny air press against my cheeks and make my ponytail fly out behind me, but I don’t want to look like a freak.
I wonder if Red Hair, I mean Aubrey, toured the campus before the first day too, because he seems to know exactly where he’s going, and where he’s going seems to be where I’m going.
Figures we’d have another class together. Gee tells me how God likes to make your life more interesting by throwing the unexpected at you. Thanks, God.
I start concentrating hard as soon as we walk into English, without even thinking about what I’m doing. I focus so hard, I’m not sure if I blasted Cleo McNamara or Aubrey, but Cleo takes the desk next to mine before Aubrey can, looking a little confused at herself. I hide my smile, glad that since there’s no empty seats next to me now, Aubrey has to take a seat farther back. I can’t keep blasting thoughts like an out-of-control geyser, but I really couldn’t have Aubrey next to me in another class.
He’s too bright and loud. Basically, the opposite of me.
I’m so relieved not to be sitting next to him that I miss most of what our teacher, Mr. Humphries, says, but I do catch one scary word.
“All right, let’s go!” Mr. Humphries claps his hands. “Introductory speeches.”
A speech? As in, stand in front of the class and talk right out loud? Nope. That is not happening.
9
One Interesting Fact
My stress sweat goes into overdrive. There’s something wrong with my lungs, because I can’t breathe. And it’s affecting my heart because it’s beating way too fast. I don’t do speeches. I have done alternate projects; I have shown up unprepared as if I forgot; I have simply refused. I’ve never faked being sick like other kids might have, because Mama has always said if I tried that she would “tan my hide,” and although I’m not sure if she really would give me a walloping, I’ve never wanted to find out.
“Try to share at least one interesting fact about yourself. Maybe something no one knows or would guess about you. Like maybe you have breakfast for dinner every night, or sleep with a night-light, or write fantastic adventure stories.” Mr. Humphries smiles like he’s presenting us with a nice gift. He picks up a foam ball off his desk. “I’ll toss this ball to someone and they’ll start. Then they get to toss the ball to someone else.”
I think I’m going to throw up. Actually, that’s probably a great idea. If I puke all over my desk, I will not have to stand in front of the class and talk about myself. Mr. Humphries’s lips are still moving, but with all the pressure building up in my ears, I can’t hear a word. My head is a balloon that someone keeps blowing into even though it’s already too big and about to burst.
Mr. Humphries tosses the ball to Cleo, which is way too close to tossing it to me. “You’re up!” he shouts, and laughs. “You have two minutes and then toss the ball to someone else. And don’t mumble. I want you to project.” He steps to the side and checks his watch.
Cleo heads to the front of the room and starts talking. She doesn’t look nervous at all. She pulls her curly blond hair over her shoulder and tells us about her sick cat, Chester, and how he probably won’t live too much longer but that he’s already lived longer than her and how if she’s not at school one day soon we should know that she is probably at the vet with him, because it’s his time to go.
The only reason her voice gets through the pounding in my ears is because she is projecting like nobody’s business. Chester is her best friend, but she is sure he will be okay with her getting a new kitten once he is gone. I decide I don’t like Cleo very much.
She throws the ball to another girl, and one by one everyone takes a turn telling us fun facts about themselves, and I start to calm down because I remember an important fact: I am invisible. No one is going to throw the ball to me because they won’t notice me at all.
My breathing goes back to normal, and my heart thumpity-thumps in a nice even rhythm. I’m actually enjoying hearing about growing super-huge pumpkins and piano recitals and volleyball teams and eating the biggest brownie in the universe . . . and then Stuart Lee throws the ball to Aubrey. The one person who is sure to see me.
And suddenly I have to pee super bad. Like pee-your-pants bad, and I wave my hand like a helicopter blade, and almost before Mr. Humphries can call on me, I’m out the door and charging down the hall.
I make it. Barely.
After I finish, I wash my hands humming “Row, Row, Your Boat,” like you’re supposed to—or maybe that’s for brushing your teeth. And then I smooth my hair and wipe my fingers along my eyebrows to make sure the hairs keep going in the same direction. Then I wash my hands again.
Then I slowly, and I mean slowly, walk back to class.
Aubrey is still talking. This can’t be possible. Mr. Humphries clearly said two minutes. It must’ve been over ten minutes. First off, how could anyone have that much to say about themselves, and second, why hasn’t Mr. Humphries stopped him and gone on to the next thing on the agenda?
The way everyone looks at me as I walk to my desk tells me three things:
1)I am not invisible.
2)Aubrey was going to talk until I got back.
3)Mr. Humphries thought that was a perfectly okay thing.
Aubrey is saying something about bald people, and maybe it is supposed to be funny because he laughs, but no one else in the class does.
As soon as my butt hits my chair, Aubrey says, “And that’s enough about Aubrey Banks.” He throws the ball at me, and I’ve played catch way too many times with Malcolm for my hands not to flash up and catch it.
The ball is soft enough for me to sink my nails into, and I’m glad it is foam, because maybe it will soak up all the sweat pouring down my arms. I get up on shaky legs and glare at Aubrey as he passes by me to take his seat.
When I face the class, all I can see is the shining bright redness of Aubrey’s hair. But everything else is black. I am trying to think if there is anything I can say other than my name. Can I even say my name? I open my mouth and force sounds out. Ugly sounds. Gaspy, shaky sounds. Maybe a word or two. I’m not sure. I keep blinking to try and clear the dark haze covering everything, but it’s no use. I close my mouth in a hard, firm line and turn my head toward where I believe Mr. Humphries is standing.
“Thank you, Jenae,” he says. His voice is soft but somehow pierces through the thick sludge surrounding me.
My vision clears, and I splash through the puddle of sweat on the floor and head back to my seat. I don’t look at anyone. I most definitely do not look at the red bush nodding up and down. If Aubrey thinks he was being my friend by throwing the ball my way, he was dead wrong, and I am not interested in talking to him ever again.