Thrust Into His Arms

Monday, the start of a new week.

I have no idea why, but it always gets me anxious. I get nervous anxiety from the start of something new.

I’m sure that I’m not the only one it happens to. I shower and got ready for school a little high-spiritedly than I care to admit. Let’s go see what they think about me not coming to their little party. I hope this deters Wolfe from acting strangely around me. Classic wooing behavior like his friends called it.

It is there so much in his actions that I cannot pretend that I don’t see it. He hurries to sit besides me during lunch and whenever we take the same classes.

He behaves like a lost puppy around me. And with his lame jokes, "Do you know that if you clean a vacuum cleaner you become a vacuum cleaner?" Was that supposed to be funny? I pretended it was though.

If I was not so big on tolerance and good at pretending I might have smashed his head against the desk or on a wall.

He is a smart student. Academically ranks amongst the top in the entire school. And is currently participating in some sort of innovative state science project competition.

I quite admire him for that. But he would do well to be to able to read moods, and see that I do not like his presence most of the time.

But come to think of it, I might be pretty attractive and not actually plain like I have always been thinking I was. Wolfe is showing interest in me, so did Richard. And they are both good-looking.

Not that I like it but it kinda gives me good feelings. That tells me I’m not a catfish.

"Kiddo hurry up. I am getting late and so are you!" Dad yells from downstairs. "Be right down in a sec!" I yelled back, spending extra minutes brushing out the tangles in my hair as I have not properly brushed it for some time now. And a few more ransacking my vanity for a hair scrunchie that

I have not been seeing in a while. Like for a really long time now and I did not bother to find it because I adopted the habit of letting my hair down to play a part in concealing my face and also my fears and anxiety back at that school.

I felt like packing my hair up would make it all bare.

"Gweneth!!" I postpone the search when Dad shouts my name with urgency for the second time. Making a mental note to turn my room upside down for it later.

***************

The place is the same. Teenagers at every corner. Loud and lively all around me. A girl in a cheerleader’s uniform and a guy kissing by the lockers.

I see saliva. Yuck!

One person using a skateboard, and a bunch of others arguing. Shouting "You lost!"

"No you lost!" Like they’re in a gambling den. Those group of boys I notice that they have been doing that since I came here. This must be a regular thing for them.

"Gweneth! How are you!"

I felt her sharp, eery and somewhat commanding presence right besides me before her voice.

"Hi Sloane." I nervously reciprocated the greeting. "How is da toothache?"

"Good. I’m fine now. Thanks for asking." I had made sure to be clear on what excuse Dad gave them that day when they had come to the house so that I would not make a fool of myself and blow out the fact that it was a big lie.

"You okay now?"

"Yes. My Dad told me that you guys had come over to pick me up. I’m sorry for that—not being aware.

The dentist prescribed me some painkillers. I didn’t know they worked like sedatives. It had put me to sleep like magic. Then again that is how painkillers usually work for me." I end with an awkward laugh.

I totally rambled. That is a sign that I am lying. Hope she didn’t pick it?

She laughs, "I have been there. My mom’s a dentist, and she is super obsessed with her job. Especially when it comes to me. I’m her number one patient.

She is more of a dentist and less than a mom." She shudders. "The only thing I hate other than that is my Daddy being a detective. And it’s just slightly. Like this." She emphasizes that by putting her thumb and index finger together to show a very small spot on the back of her finger. "Your Dad’s a detective? Mine too." That was in my head. I just could not say it out to tell her. I’m still very much in a reclusive, observatory phase of them and this school.

I wonder where Annette is because her and Sloane are like the best of besties—In my opinion, which is still pretty fresh. But where one goes the other follows.

"As if that is not bad enough, my maternal grandparents happen to be therapists. Both of them.

And my mom totally inherited all the professional abilities like she studied it too."

"Wow. How is that like?" I feel like going on with the conversation. She clicks her tongue. "Pray that you never know. A phrase higher than terrible is the only right word to describe it.

I hate being unable to freely lie. You know. . ." She trails off. "I really like it. Don’t judge. Saying most things true to my morally upright parents would get me killed and buried in a ditch. It’s not just bitter like they say. Mine is wormwood.

Also as lethal as a bomb. Them being like that means I have to be trying like really really hard to be good at lying. Make them so thick that they cannot be seen through even if it’s daylight and there are a dozen suns." I laugh. Really laugh without forcing it. I only ever do so around her. I find her to be really great and funny.

She has this bright persona that effortlessly brightens the mood and makes it lively. On first impression, she is scary. But getting to know her I find that she is the warmest out of all of them that I have met. Annette’s and Wolfe’s cheerfulness combined does not come close to Sloane’s.

I do not know yet if she is faking it though but it’s nice. Really nice. She continues rambling out her complaints, but then she suddenly drifts from that. "Speaking of lies, someone was peering out her window last Friday." She says directly, eyeing me with a look that says, ’I know what you did.’ Popping her eyebrows.

It first hits like a joke. There is no way that my lie can be exposed.