Wrapping my black ACDC towel around my neck—taking a quick whiff of its fabric scent—I scampered off to the bathroom. My friend, Addie, had bought it for my fifteenth birthday. The card was completely blank on the front and on read, “What gets wetter as it dries,” on the inside. I didn’t get the riddle, so I quickly ripped the paper off the fluffy black towel. I brought it to my face then, as I did on the way to the bathroom. It didn’t have the same smell as it did then due to the constant washing.
I turned on the shower faucet and turned back to the mirror. I looked at my body from head to toe. Flashes of images came to mind then. Images of tall, skinny, tan girls walking down the runway, posing for photographs that would be on the cover of fashion magazines the very next day. I shook my head as if that would rid me of the self-doubt attitude. I had enough of that at school.
I opened the door to the shower and quickly stepped out of the cold and into the warmth of the steaming water. I let the water pour over my shoulders for a few moments. That’s when the other, scarier images hit me.
The images of the car being pulled out of the lake, seaweed hanging out the window and water pouring out of every crack. Mothers and fathers of the deceased crowded around the scene, holding each other, crying uncontrollably. Men with the words ‘Coroner’ pasted on their backs carrying away big black leather bags. The bags that held the very few people that loved me.
I counted them. One. This one was slightly larger than the others were. That was Tommy. He was a basketball player, destined to go to the MBA. Two. Addie, sweet innocent, Addie. My best friend. Three. The brains of every operation, Joseph. He was the last one to be dragged into the ambulance.
They were all pronounced dead on the scene.
I could hear the reporter’s voice in my head. “Tragedy hit the town of Falmouth, Massachusetts today. Three teenagers were on their way home from an afternoon at the mall, when they swerved off the road and into the bay. A friend of theirs, who was driving behind them and saw the event happen, called their parents to the scene. We have no word on who that was yet. Todd, back to you. ”
I shuddered and fell against the wall of the shower.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” an officer asked me.
I remember staring at Addie’s mother. I had been over at her house dozens of times but never appreciated her mother. She was short with curly brown hair. She had a jean jacket and tan slacks; something I bet Addie didn’t want her wearing. Her mother was hunched over, crying into her hands.
I just stood there, observing.
****
At school, I wiped away any thought about last summer. I went through my day like it was normal, like I was normal. I was ignored in my algebra class, history class, Spanish class, and my chemistry class. My English teacher only acknowledged my existence once, only because I hadn’t done the homework from the night before. I trudged my way to health class at the end of the day.
As I sat in my seat, I scanned the room. As usual, the two transfer students were in their seats completely oblivious to the American world. I stared at the door, awaiting the rest of the class. The class couple came in, holding hands. They pecked each other once on the lips before taking their seats. She started giggling about something, and he touched her chin with his finger.
I rolled my eyes and turned back to the door. The bell rang, signaling the start of class, and the teacher walked in. The dreaded Mr. Teacher.
He clapped his hands once and took his seat. He nodded at something he read on his laptop screen and faced the class. The two volleyball players walked in then, talking amongst themselves obnoxious as ever. They didn’t stop to give a pass to Mr. Teacher; oh no, they just walked right on by him and took their seats next to each other.
“Uhh, ladies?” Mr. Teacher said, rolling around his desk towards the students’ desks. He sat in front of one of the volleyball players. She had big blond hair that looked perfect everyday. She was tall, thin…oddly thin. The other was normal size, although she stresses constantly of her knack for working out too much. Her hair was blond as well, except she had her bad hair days like the rest of us mere mortals.
“Sorry,” Ms. Perfect said, her voice calm and confident. “I had to use the bathroom”
Ms. Athlete straightened up in her chair, proud for some strange reason. “Yeah, me too.”
Ms. Athlete was too dense to think for herself. She followed her calorie intake; she made it an exact science. She had to have 1,400 calories a day. She worked out every day after volleyball practice for a half-hour. Ms. Perfect, on the other hand, ate anything she could find and never gained a pound. She was one of the lucky ones.
“Yeah, sure sure.” Mr. Teacher stood up and walked to the door and shut it. “I am way too lenient with you girls. I have to crack down on you.”
“But Mr.—”
Mr. Teacher raised his hand. “Just start writing.”
The couple sitting next to me sighed. They turned to their untouched notebooks, opened them, and wrote the heading. The volleyball twins did the same.
“Ya know, I like doing this journaling thing,” Ms. Perfect said. “It really helps.”
Mr. Teacher nodded. “I’m glad.”
I opened my notebook to an empty page, skipping over the previous day’s rant.
Dearest Mr. Teacher,
I’m not sure why it bothers me so much, but this classroom is such a pain to go to each day. Being able to see the fact that I'm alone, it’s not fun at all. You of all people should be able to understand the feeling of loneliness.
That deep pit in your stomach that just grows and grows with each day. The heartache from being abandoned by everyone that ever loved you. Seeing your life as the pathetic forsaken waste of time that it really is.
Being deserted, as you can imagine, isn't very fun.
They left me alone to endure this asperous life. I don’t think that is very fair.
Do you?
Well, since you only gave us a certain lot of time, and it’s almost up, I think I should bring this entry to a close.
Until tomorrow.
