CHAPTER ONE

My footsteps clunk hard against the concrete floors. It’s the only sound that rings out of the empty school hallways.  I don’t even bother to stay quiet, no one’s here anyway. Everyone’s still in the gym, celebrating the last night of our senior year of high school, our homecoming.  I can’t believe I chose to wear high-heels to this stupid dance, it’s so unlike me. I guess I was trying to impress Stephen, but I now realise how stupid that sounds. Since when did I do anything for a guy? I’ve never cared about what guys let alone anyone thought about me, yet here I was, at the dance, just so I could be here with Stephen. But I’ve left him, to do something that I’ve been waiting to do since freshman year. That sounds more like me. 

I finally reach my destination, Mr Bowman’s office. Mr Bowman has been my English teacher all throughout high school, every year I was lucky enough to be in his class. And I loved him. I couldn’t stand the fact that I would have to say goodbye to him tomorrow, it would be the hardest thing I’d ever have to do. After all he’s helped me though so much, he had been my only friend when I started high school, and he helped me find Peyton, who turned out to be the best friend I’d ever had, I don’t know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t found her. She was the best thing to happen to me throughout high school, yet this was the last summer we’d spend together since she was accepted into Princeton and I’d be off to UCLA.

I try and push these horrible thoughts out of my head. I’d deal with those heart-breaks later. What was important was now. This was about me, not anyone else. I’d been waiting for almost 4 years for this, and I wouldn’t let the opportunity escape. This is exactly how I imagined it I thought. Everything will go as planned. I place a shaking hand on the doorknob of Mr Bowman’s classroom. I pray that it’s not locked, even though I know it’s not because I’d asked him earlier to open it. And by earlier I meant years earlier.

Without thinking, I push it open. I’m in. I’m finally in. I take haunting steps towards the desk, replaying over and over in my head the spot I’d asked Mr Bowman to put it all those years ago. I reach the drawer. Before I know it, I yank it open. But it won’t budge. I try several times, but it stays locked. I kick it with frustration. How could he do this to me?  But then a thought occurred to me. What if he had forgotten? What if, one time when a janitor was cleaning out his room, they’d accidently thrown it away, having no idea of its significance? What if after all this time it’s actually gone? I panic. My breathing quickens, and everything around me blurs. I stumble onto his desk chair and rest my back against the rest. I start to feel better.

As my vision returns, I swivel around and survey the classroom. I’d never sat in Mr Bowman’s desk before, although I’d always wondered what it would look like from the front. Right now, since no lights are on in either the classroom or the hallway, it’s difficult to see. But I’ve known this room for so long I’ve memorised where everything is.

 

The sentence structure posters line the upper back wall, frayed from old age, the stapled rusted and tearing into the paper. The works of his freshman decorate the rest of the pin board, striking out in blue paper against the old cork. The windows that align on the right wall are sealed shut, a change from wide open as Mr Bowman always liked it, stating air breeds good thoughts. I’d always lived by that motto in this classroom. And the left wall was blank. It was only yesterday it was covered in pictures, pictures of last year’s graduates, all individuals that were fortunate enough to be in his class had a picture of them. Throughout the whole year he’d leave them there, until the day before graduation, where he would take them down and take new photos with his graduates. I’d always wondered where he would put me on the wall. In the center? On the left hand corner, where it would be most noticed? I would want to be most remembered by him, since he’d be the thing I would remember most about my high school years.

Besides the walls, the classroom looks different now, as it always does the night of homecoming. The tables, which are usually in neat rows, are scattered around the classroom, supposedly in a circle, but it looks more like a deformed oval to me. But tomorrow they’d be back to normal, as he would organize them back to the way they were, the way I’d known them for so long. And new pictures would coat the walls, memories of all my classmates, some of which I’d never had a chance to talk to. But I knew them all, and strangely enough I would miss them.

I would miss so much about high school, I just now realize that. Although it wasn’t exactly the experience I wanted, it was still something. I remember the day I’d met Peyton. Before that day, to me she just used to be a sophomore in the popular crowd, oblivious to my existence. But now she’s so much more than that, she’s like my sister. And I’m pretty sure she knew we’d get along so well from the moment we met.

“Ava,” Mr Bowman called as the bell went on a Friday afternoon, the last bell before we were off for Christmas. I was excited that day, I remember. The most excited I’d been since I’d been in foster care.  My foster family usually never took me away for any of our holidays; they usually just left me at home with Clarisse, our maid, while they took their real children away to Bali, or Australia or the Middle East. Every time they left I would crave to go, yet I’d have to sit there silently as I helped my foster sister, Kerry, pack. I’d never found it unfair, just sad. But that year, Kerry had helped convince our parents to let me go, since they were just going to Alaska. But I’d never been anywhere outside of Baltimore, yet alone Maryland. Even though it was a small trip, I couldn’t control my excitement.

I skipped happily towards Mr Bowman’s desk. He frowned over a small book, his glasses resting on his sharp nose, his hair neater than usual. His top button was undone, and his tie hung loose around his neck. He looked nice, almost too nice. Far older than 28.

I could tell he was waiting for everyone to leave before he spoke to me. As the door slammed shut, he jerked his attention away from his book, shut it, and smiled at me. “Hello Ava,” he laughed. “Long time no talk.” I smiled. I knew what he meant, Usually, I’d come into his classroom every morning, just to talk about anything and everything. But this morning, I had arrived late to school, for the first time in my year and a half of high school. But I felt bad, I hadn’t warned him.

“I’m sorry!” I exclaim, the smile still planted on my face. “I didn’t have time this morning, I was packing for Alaska! Alaska, Mr Bowman, can you believe it? I’m leaving tomorrow! But I’m sorry I should’ve-“Mr Bowman shook his head and signaled me to stop.

“No need to explain. I understand. That’s certainly not why I called you here. I’m happy for you, and I don’t expect you to see me every morning. I’m sorry to keep you from returning home, but wanted to ask something else of you.” It is only then I realized we were not alone. I could feel a presence behind me. I swiveled around.

A tall brunette girl leaned against the door, her head bent over her phone. She wore a beautiful white cotton jumper and a checked skirt and blue leather shoes, ones I had seen at the farmer’s market. But... that’s impossible, this girl must be rich. I’m sure I know her; if she looked up I would recognize her. She was part of the popular crowd, and she was in my year. If she was wearing fake leather shoes, that must mean she wasn’t rich. I noticed that her jumper was frayed at the edges, and was probably second handed. The phone she holds is a smart phone and was with no doubt brand new. Maybe I didn’t know her after all.

She notices me staring and looks up. I almost nodded my head immediately. I definitely knew her. She was Peyton Goldman. A sophomore like me. She smiled. She locked her phone and placed in in her pocket. She focused her attention on Mr Bowman, although she knew I was looking at her. My heart fell. She didn’t even know who I was.

“Peyton,” Mr Bowman spoke, “I’d like you to meet Ava, the girl I was telling you about. Ava, this is Peyton.” My breath caught in my throat. Mr Bowman told Peyton about me? He had told one of the most popular girls in the school about me? I was nobody in this school, no one knew me yet I knew everyone. Did this mean Peyton was looking for a friend and Mr Bowman suggested me? Excitement ran through me, adding to the excitement of my trip. I couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Ava, I’ve decided to move Peyton into my class. She was doing very well in Mrs Jennings’ class and I think she would fit in in my English class. She will be sitting at the back, next to Greg. But from my understanding she knows Greg.” Peyton nodded and smiled again. My heart slowly began to fall. “Anyway, so she’s a bit behind on the curriculum, and since you seem to be the only one who listens in class do you mind helping her to catch up on some of our work?”

I spoke without thinking. “Of course! I’d be happy to help.” I planted a fake smile on my face. Who did Peyton think she was? She’d have no place here. Everyone in Mr Bowman’s class cared about school, and I knew she didn’t. She probably slacked off in every class and cheated on a test to please Mrs Jennings and excel into this class. I despised her instantly. I wanted to warm Mr Bowman of her intentions, but I decided I would do that later. For now, I’d do what pleased him. I would help Peyton.

It’s funny to think of it now. To think of what I thought of Peyton, and how well I know her now. I was so wrong; I almost get up to go back to the gym to apologise to her for what I thought. But I stay seated. She wasn’t a cheat or rich or spoilt. In fact she was more like me than anyone else. She got a scholarship into this school and was one of the top students. The only reason she fit into the popular crowd was because her mother knew Greg’s mother, and being absolutely gorgeous, she fit right in. But popularity wasn’t what she wanted, all she wanted was a real friend, and she found me.

I had tutored Peyton for a few weeks in the library at lunch time, and it went from being awkward to actually fun. After we got to know each other a little, we even spent one lunch time just talking about ourselves, and I felt like I really knew her. From that day every time I passed her in the hallways she’d smile, say hello or even strike a conversation with me. For the first time in my life I’d found a friend. And I knew she found a friend in me. She didn’t look down at me as some poor foster kid; in fact I think she looked up to me.

It was only one day that she invited me to her house on a Friday night that we bonded until we were so close. I accepted her offer, and I took her school bus to her house. I knew she didn’t live in a grand mansion, in fact she had told me where she lived and I looked it up on Google maps. It was a relatively nice house isolated from the city. But when we arrived at her house, she led me to the back of it. I asked her why. She told me that it wasn’t her house, but in fact a residential house. She only lived in a fifth of it, the rest inhabited by strangers. She was an only child and her house was tiny, I didn’t know how she survived. But from then on I knew. I knew who Peyton really was.

I close my eyes and lean back on the squeaky archaic swivel chair. I didn’t want this to be the last time I was ever going to step foot into this classroom. I knew tomorrow I would come say goodbye to Mr Bowman, but I couldn’t stand the fact of actually having to say goodbye. He was a genuinely kind and wonderful man, and he continued to surprise me throughout the years that I’d known him. He was like a father to me, the only real father I’d ever known, since I had no memories of my birth father. Sometimes I’d wished he could adopt me, but when I suggested the idea he would laugh and twist his wedding ring around and around, a common habit of his. He had gotten married when I was a freshman, in early January. I can almost recite my speech at his wedding almost 3 and half years later.

I sigh and stand up. I take one last look around, accepting the fact that he must have lost what I was looking for. It wasn’t a huge disappointment; the thought had crossed my mind. But now that I had to face the fact it was truly gone ached my heart a little, but not as much as having to walk back to the gym, join my friends, and say goodbye to my high school experience.

As I enter the gym, the disco lights forced my eyes closed. They decorated the hall in one underlining theme: disco. Last year it had been Ballroom, ballroom dancing being the style of dance. This year it’s disco dancing which I absolutely despise. As I absent-mindedly walk to the punch table, I bump into Stephen. He looks dapper in a white blouse and jeans, a change from the usual T shirt and shorts he wears on a daily basis. He stands out in the light of the disco, and his smile compliments his amazingly green eyes.

“Ava,” he smiles. “I’ve actually been looking everywhere for you. Where’ve you been?” I laugh. His heavy English accent is highlighted to the beat of the music.

“Oh I just had to check something. Just went to the bathroom.” I raise my voice to be heard in front of the overly loud music.

“Would you like to go someplace quiet? I can hardly hear a word you’re saying,” he says, holding out his hand.  I shake my head quickly.

“No, I…I have to look for Peyton, she was looking for me before,” I say, looking for an excuse to leave. I didn’t want to be around Stephen right now. I didn’t feel like having any sort of company besides Peyton. “If you’ll excuse me,” I push forward and scan the dance floor for a sign of her. It’s hard to see anything with the hundreds of dancing bodies. The only thing I see clearly is the DJ at the back of the hall, asking for song requests. I glance around the rest of the hall, which is heavily decorated with balloons and tables of food and punch. I can’t see her anywhere.

I walk towards the bleachers; maybe she’s passed out from having too much to drink. Someone catches me on the way over, pulling me close. It’s Kerry. She’s dressed in a green silk dress, flowing down to her knees. Her feet are perfectly placed in black stilettoes and her hair is left down to the side. She looks unusually tired. She speaks quickly. “Ava, I want to go home. Now, please. I can’t stand another moment in here, these shoes are killing me, and my head aches.”

“Wait wait slow down.  Did you drink?” She shakes her head. I sigh. “Fine, we can go. I’ll drive. I just have to find Peyton quickly OK?” I try and pull free from her grip, but she holds tighter.

“Please, Ava. Let’s go now. People are staring, probably because I’m talking to you and they don’t know we’re sisters. But come on, Peyton’s probably left.” She’s right; a lot of people are staring. I glare at them and they look away.

Kerry pulls me all the way to the entrance. I stumble over paper cups, popped balloons and loose floorboards as I quickly look around to catch Peyton with no luck. She suddenly stops abruptly as we’re turning the corner out into the hallway. “Oh I have to deliver a message,” she says reluctantly. I nod my head asking her to go on. “Mr Bowman wants to see you. Tomorrow morning, he says he has something special for you.”