Shallow Read online

  “I saw you and Nicole running from the football field. Next time you plan on playing in the rain, wear a white top,” he replied.

  “No bra, right?” I asked.

  “You get me.” He tapped his shoulder against mine and when I leaned in to him, he hugged me closer to his side.

  Danny was one of the good guys. Unlike the twins, Jacob and Joseph, who spent most of their time taunting those they felt were below them. If it weren’t for Danny playing different sports so well, he probably wouldn’t be part of our group. Sometimes, I wondered why he even bothered with us. He was so much better than the rest of us.

  “Ready for math?” he asked.

  I nodded. My brain was loaded with the varying tricks and lessons we’d been taught the past few months of school. Equations and formulas. Variables and graphs. So many problems without a solution for the real troubles of our young lives.

  These teachers, whose goal I assumed was to enlighten us, to sharpen our minds, didn’t realize how suffocating these tests were. They judged us based on the progress behind a paper with scratches from our pencil, as if that was all we amounted to. As if their insignificant lectures, would have any bearing in the grand scheme of things.

  “Of course she is,” Mariah replied, her tone dry. Her eyes swept over me from top to bottom, and I had to fight the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. “She’s kinda perfect.”

  It was said as a joke, but I knew better. Mariah was one of my friends who hated me. The feeling was mutual.

  “She is perfect.” Danny pressed a kiss to my temple.

  Warmth pooled in my chest, and I hugged him closer to me. This was the kind of friendship I wanted when I was younger. The kind of friendship I turned away from in order to have these fake friends. And the status they held that would hide away all my truths.

  “You’re kind of my favorite person in the whole world,” I whispered so only he could hear me.

  His lips spread in a huge smile. “Whoa, I’m your favorite person in this great, big world?” he teased, his voice just as low as mine. “That’s intense. I don’t know if I’m ready for that type of commitment.”

  I smacked his shoulder and when I glared at him, he threw his head back in laughter. Yeah, he was definitely my favorite person in a world that seemed to hate me.

  I stepped in to the cold office. When the receptionist, Mrs. Jeffries, saw me, she held out a finger while she finished on the phone. I listened to the chatter of the other staff while I tapped my pencil on the side of Mrs. Jeffries’s desk. When she hung up, she turned to me with a slight tilt of her head.

  “I uhh…” I ran my hand through my hair, hating this day. It always came too quickly, although days seemed to trek by endlessly. “I need my lunch card.” I stared at her, daring her to make me feel bad about myself. The scholarship kid, who couldn’t eat lunch if it wasn’t given to him for free.

  Mrs. Jeffries stood from her chair, arching her back as if she’d been seated in the same position for hours. She held her white cardigan to her chest as she left the front office. A few minutes went by, and I continued to tap my pencil on her desk while I waited.

  “Roderick,” she called.

  Rather than handing me my lunch card, she stood behind her desk with her hands digging through her purse. She handed me a few loose bills.

  “What’s this?” It came out gritty and rough.

  She shook her head. “There seems to be a problem. Your aunt…” she ran a hand over the back of her neck, “your aunt must’ve forgotten to renew your card. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you a new card for free lunch if she doesn’t renew it.”

  I blew out a long string of air. She didn’t forget; she just didn’t do it. With me no longer living under her roof, I guessed she no longer felt any responsibility for me. A week, I’d been gone a week from her house. That was all it took for her to let me go completely.

  “Just forget it.” I forced down the bile that rose with my anger.

  She waved the bills at me again. “Here, take it,” she said. “I’ll call your aunt and remind her to fill out the paperwork online. Meanwhile, just take the money. Please. You can pay me back later.” She smiled and although the lines on either side of her lips deepened, her features also softened.

  Heat spread to my cheeks while I studied the money she held out to me. “She’s at work, has meetings all day. I’ll talk to her when I get home,” I said. She waved the bills again, and this time I pocketed the money. “Thanks,” I muttered and turned to leave.

  I wasn’t sure how much Mrs. Jeffries had given me, but whatever the amount was, I had to make it last. Just as I had to keep anyone at school from calling my aunt. I couldn’t be outed. I had to graduate so I could have some sort of future away from this shithole beach town. Until then, I had to scrape by with what was given to me because I could only sneak into my aunt’s house when she wasn’t around to steal food and do small loads of laundry so many times before she figured out what I was doing. Besides, I didn’t want to do that anymore anyway. Didn’t want to rely on someone who didn’t want me in her life.

  I made it to my English class before anyone else and took a seat in the back. Always in the back. Even when teachers gave us assigned seats, I dragged my chair to the back, away from everyone. For the most part, teachers and students alike left me alone. I liked it that way. There was strength in going unnoticed. In not being seen. There was peace in being invisible.

  It was why after a week of sleeping in the woods, I was so happy Saturday afternoon when I found the cave while hiking. It’s secluded, far enough from the beaten path, I couldn’t imagine many people knew about it. It was the perfect home until I graduated high school. With the money I earned from my part time job at the ice cream store, I hoped I could save enough to get a bus ticket out of this town and to San Diego where I had a full scholarship at the art university. Getting in, getting a full ride, to the school that was on the top of my list meant everything to me. It meant freedom, and the ability to immerse myself in writing.

  When the bell rang, my classmates scrambled in to the room and slid behind their desks. Seth, a kid I knew from several other classes, took a seat beside me. I didn’t acknowledge him, and he didn’t acknowledge me, but since our freshmen year when I stopped a group of baseball players from using his head as a ball, he’s sat next to me when we were in the same class. It made pairing up with someone for group assignments easier. Unfortunately, we were paired up a lot in English class. It was like our teacher didn’t know how to assign work without making us work together.

  “Move,” a light voice from beside me said. “I said move.” Her voice rose and just like the other kids in my class, I turned to see Brinley kick Seth’s seat.

  The school’s prestigious princess. The almighty who everyone bowed down to. She sat on her self-proclaimed throne with her pom-poms, where no one could touch her. But I saw her. Saw through her charade. She was as vulnerable as anyone else. She just knew how to hide it better than others.

  It took years to figure out how much she hated being called out on her nasty attitude, but once I saw how she reacted to it, I did it often. It brought me pleasure to see her cheeks redden and her eyes widen. To watch her fall from her throne onto her ass.

  Seth pushed his chair back, but I put my hand on the back of the seat, not letting it move further. I didn’t know why she was turning her venom on Seth, and although Seth and I weren’t friends, I wasn’t about to let her give him crap just because she thought she could.

  I was the only one who stopped her. The only one whose anger matched her selfishness.

  “He doesn’t have to move,” I said. “Go to the front, princess. Where you always sit.”

  Brinley glared at me, but then her lips twisted in a sneer as she lifted her chin up. “Do you smell something?” she asked loudly, her nose scrunching up. “Smells like”—she took a couple inhales—“like someone hasn’t showered in days.” She glowered at me.

  From across the ro
om, her friends laughed while everyone else seemed to hold their breath. My temper was known throughout the school, and this girl was playing a game she wasn’t meant to win.

  “Brin,” one of her friends, Danny, called from a few rows down, “what are you doin’ over there?” He patted the empty chair next to him.

  From what I’d seen of him, he wasn’t a bad guy. Just hung out with the shittiest of the shittiest.

  She lifted a single shoulder in a half shrug and pouted, her thin lips pulling down in what I assumed she thought was a cute gesture. It was cute. I hated how cute it was. “I wanted to sit with Roderick today.”

  I tensed at the sound of my name coming from her lips. It’d been years since she called me by my name rather than freak. Such a stupid, cliché name. Not that I would expect more from her or her friends.

  “My mom always goes on about charity,” she smiled, and it wasn’t one of her practiced smiles that she gave her friends, but one that looked a lot like hurt. One that looked like she was trying to hide one of her greatest truths.

  “Brinley,” Danny said. It came out as a warning. One she ignored.

  “Maybe I’ll sit with you tomorrow,” she said as if her presence was some sort of grace I should be thankful for. As she leaned over my desk, her face inches away from mine, she whispered in my ear, “The community center has showers, you know?” and softly chuckled at her own joke.

  Her warm breath fell on my skin and it sent an electric shock down my spine. I gripped the side of my chair and when she didn’t pull away, I felt my insides begin to quake as if an earthquake and cyclone were about to rip me apart limb from limb.

  “This is cute, princess,” I whispered back, keeping my voice steady when I turned to look at her, but with how close she held herself to me, our noses almost touched. “You think you can embarrass me? You use everyone around you to make yourself feel better, but it never works, does it? When it’s all over and the laughter dies, you’re still you. A fake. And everyone in this room knows it.”

  Through gritted teeth, she sucked in a breath. Her eyes widened, and for the briefest of moments I could’ve sworn hurt flashed behind them before anger replaced everything. She leaned back and patted my cheek as I worked my jaw back and forth.

  “I’d love to go to the Fall Ball with you.” She looked around the room, her eyes wide with innocence. “I’m sure someone here can let you borrow an old suit or something.”

  Around me students laughed. I opened my mouth but clamped it shut when our teacher, Mr. Scott, finally came in the classroom a few minutes late.

  “Find your seat, Brinley,” Mr. Scott called out.

  With a satisfied grin on her perfect little face, she turned on her heels, but I clasped a hand around her wrist. She jolted as if my contact stung and when she pulled from my hold, I let her go.

  “Yeah.” I huffed out a laugh as I leaned back on my chair with my palms resting on the back of my head. “I get it, poor people make you uncomfortable. Like I said, fake.” I smiled.

  Her breaths came quickly, red spilled across her chest to her cheeks. When she shot up her middle finger, I barked out a laugh. A few students turned to look at us, but when Mr. Scott coughed to get our attention, Brinley scurried away with her chin dipped down.

  “Brinley,” he said and she snapped her attention to him. “Since you and Roderick seem to be getting along so well, I’ll be pairing you together for our next group project.”

  Brinley stayed frozen in place, her light green eyes darting from our teacher back to me. I almost laughed at her despair but beside me Seth slinked further into his chair. No one would want to pair with him, and he’d be forced in a group that didn’t want him.

  Fury gripped me like a vice as I watched her walk across the room. In a hushed tone, she spoke to Danny, who looked over at Seth and nodded at whatever she said while Mr. Scott handed out a small packet of papers to us.

  “I’m giving each of you a piece of paper,” he said. “It’s a copy from an excerpt of a book I have at home. If you had Honors English with me last year and did all of your assignments, you’ll recognize the words. Or maybe you’ve already forgotten.” A few students laughed. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. When you pair into your groups, I want you to skim through the page, not read the passage, but look for a word that stands out to you – just one word. On one of the copies, I want you to circle that word. Both you and your partner have to agree this is the word that means the most to both of you. Understanding so far?” he asked and paused to see if anyone had any questions. When no one replied, he continued, “Once you’ve circled that one word, I want you to go back and read the passage and circle any words that amplify or give meaning to the first word you picked. It can be expressive or evocative. Next step is to list all your words on a separate piece of paper in the same order they appeared in your reading. With these words, you’re going to write a poem. If a word you circled doesn’t fit, you don’t have to use it. You can eliminate parts of a word, like an ending if it helps clarify your poem. If you get stuck, go back to your passage and read it again. The point isn’t to make the words work to form a perfect poem, but to give meaning to your words. When you have your poem complete, go back to the paper you were given, erase the circles around any words you didn’t use and make sure only the words you are using are circled. You can work on that paper or the extra one that was given to your partner for the finished product. When you’re done, you’re going to go back and add a drawing that connects your image to your poem. And guys,” he chuckled, “I don’t want some Google image on here. You’re drawing it – together or you can pick who’s the better artist. But this is your work, and I want to see your creativity.”

  Eager to start, even if it was with Brinley, I tapped my foot on the floor. Restless. Always in need of creating.

  “While you get into groups, I’m gonna pass out some examples from previous years to give you ideas,” Mr. Scott continued. “This, my young students, is called Blackout Poetry. You’re the poet, make me something beautiful.”

  I shook my head at how lame that sounded, but I couldn’t deny it. Mr. Scott, with all his dumb jokes, was my favorite teacher. English had always been my favorite subject but some teachers could make their lessons worse than torture. Not Mr. Scott. He enjoyed teaching, but more than that, he loved to see his students learn and grow. Become engaged and creative.

  “Take your time,” Mr. Scott continued. “This isn’t due until next Friday, so there’s no rush. I want to see your best work. Points will be taken off for lack of creativity and neatness, and if I find out you are not working together as a team, but doing the project alone. If you finish early, you can come sit with me and critique the novel I’m working on.”

  That earned a groan from everyone but me. Me, I was curious what Mr. Scott had to say. How he’d word his story, the prose he used, the rhythm of his sentences.

  When the girl who normally sat in front of me left, Brinley took her spot with Danny taking the seat next to her. Brinley turned her table around so it faced me.

  “Hey man.” Danny knocked on Seth’s desk and turned his own desk around to face Seth’s. “Since these two got themselves paired together, looks like you’re stuck with me.”

  Seth sat upright in his chair and nodded. Danny could’ve partnered up with anyone. In fact, there were at least four girls who frowned in our direction when he sat in front of Seth.

  I scoffed. Ignoring me, Brinley stared at her paper, her big eyes jumping across the page. I studied her – the way she twisted her blonde, almost white colored hair around a slender finger. The way she sucked on her bottom lip. The way she sat – her head bowed, back straight, always the picture of perfection.

  On the outside, she was pretty. The prettiest girl in our school… probably in our whole town. It was the only reason I could think of that people would flock to her, to seek her approval. It was what was on the inside that made her so detestable.

  She hadn’t always been like
that. The weirdest part about the change in her behavior was, she never had to be mean to be noticed. Not like Nicole or Mariah. I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to the little girl who picked wild flowers for every boy and girl in her elementary class on Valentine’s Day. What happened to the twelve-year-old girl who held my hand when I went back to school after my parents died? The girl who promised me I wasn’t alone. The girl who told me she’d hang on for me, even when I wanted her to let go.

  One of the examples Mr. Scott gave us made me smile. If I were partnered with Danny, as I usually was in this class, I would’ve giggled. But because of who sat in front of me, I kept my thoughts to myself. Guarded, always guarded.

  Broad black lines covered the entire page aside from the scattered words that formed the sentence, “it’s easy to scribble Out words the clever Part is figuring out which ones you should Leave”.

  It’s easy to scribble out words. The clever part is figuring out which ones you should leave.

  I shuffled the paper to the side and grabbed our assignment. I scanned the page for one word; the word that resonated the most with me. My stomach fluttered happily in my belly because this was what I thrived on. Words. Finding hidden meanings.

  “Here we go,” Roderick said, pointing to my paper.

  With his pencil he circled the word shall, and a few spaces over he circled the ow in the word below.

  Shallow.

  “Cute.” I smirked to cover the pang in my chest. Another mark on my already bruised heart. This one I deserved. Actually, I deserved most of them. Heck, I’d worked hard at becoming the person I despised. I flipped my pencil around to erase the circle he drew around the two words. “But we’re supposed to only circle one word.”

  “You got me there, princess.” He yawned. When he stretched his arms above his head, it reminded me of this morning. Of the boy sleeping in my cave, who took my favorite part of the day from me.

  “Doesn’t your aunt own a washing machine?” I turned my nose at him, but kept my eyes trained on the dirt on his shirt. “Your clothes are disgusting, like you’ve slept on dirt or something.”