Picking the Wallflower

The next few lessons swept by, with me hearing comments on my latest blog post. There was endless speculation as to who the mysterious blogger was. Nobody asked my opinion. They didn’t want to. I didn’t mind. Listening in to the people around me gave me great material for my daily blog post. The rest of the day slipped by as I contemplated what I would write that night. In the final lesson, in my case History, I had come up with a few things I could comment on.

As the final bell rang, I gathered up all of my things and headed for the door. In the parking lot, the rain had begun to fall. I hurried to my car, and stopped short. Crap! Leaning on the driver’s door of my car was MJ. He smiled at me, I assume trying to charm me, but I ignored it. Granted, I didn’t see it because I was too busy looking everywhere else. I stopped in front of him. He waited for me to speak, but I was used to not speaking. So I waited right back. Finally, he dropped the smile. “I’ve decided to leave you alone for a bit.”

I shrugged. “So? That why you’re scratching my paintjob?”

He frowned. “I’m not scratching your car, Cassandra.” He sneered my name at me, and I cringed a little. I stepped back.

“Please just let me go home.”

MJ shrugged. “Whatever, but just be clear; I’m only leaving you alone as long as it takes to finish this Gatsby project. When that’s done, you’re fair game.”

I suppressed a shudder as he left, strolling away like there was no threat hanging in the air between us. I quickly climbed into my car, and headed towards home. Mom and dad were supposed to be coming home for a week, and so I was nervous about that. Not about seeing them, but about how they would plan their excuse. For them, coming home held about as much interest as having spinal surgery. So they looked for every excuse to cut it short.

Work related, or just a hurried explanation, it didn’t matter. There was always some last-minute issue that came up. And then they would send me gifts in the hopes I would forgive them.

The tears welled up as I drove, and I forced them back down. So what if my parents didn’t want to see me? So what if the people I was at school with hated me? I could still be a good student. I was a good student. It wasn’t fair! I took a deep breath, not wanting to risk a panic attack while I was driving.

Somehow, I made it home without collapsing, and made my way inside. It was cold in the house, and I turned the heating up as I went through the living room. The house was silent, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Another thing that made me happy was the fact it was Friday. That meant I had a whole weekend to myself, especially if my parents held true to form.

With that thought, the house phone rang. We had one so I could keep contact with my parents at a cheaper rate. Neither of us used it unless they were calling to cancel. I didn’t even use it to order pizza. They had an app for that.

I picked the phone up. “Hello.”

“Cassandra,” it was my mother. “How are you, sweetie?”

I faked enthusiasm for this conversation, knowing what she really wanted to say. “I’m good thanks. And you and dad?”

“We’re both good. Our case has gone through and we can look to prosecute at a state wide level now.”

Mom and dad were both attorneys. One was a defence attorney; the other was a prosecuting attorney. I had memories of both of them arguing over a case they had accidentally ended up on opposite sides of. The prosecution won, but only because of irrefutable evidence that the man was guilty. “Oh, that’s nice. So I guess you’re not coming home.”

My mom sighed. “I’m sorry, honey. But you know my boss,” I didn’t, but said nothing, “he won’t let us leave until the case had been fully investigated.”

I nodded. So it was just me for the weekend. I was relieved. “That’s okay. There’s always next time.”

I could see my mom’s bright smile in my mind as she cheerily signed off, promising to send my love to dad.

I replaced the phone in the cradle, and made sure all of the doors were locked. There was enough food in the house. Mom and dad had arranged for a service to send food to the house every few days, because I didn’t always get the chance to go and get my own.

I appreciated the sentiment. It was the most care I had gotten since I had turned sixteen, and my parents effectively moved out. I headed upstairs, ready to unwind from my stressful day. And what better way to unwind than to add a new post to my blog? I pulled out my laptop, and opened it.