The Book--- Chapter 1

The Book

By Sarah M

Chapter 1: Where it Always begins- the Beginning    

Oh this can’t be good, I thought as I began to gnaw at my fingers.  My steps faltered as I slowed down and began to panic.   Just put one foot in front of the other.  Breathe, Meg, breathe.  In and out, I mentally chided myself, trying not to get worked up.  I  mean, it’s only the first time you’ve been called into the office.  I adjusted the shoulder straps of my heavy backpack and continued walking to my fate.  I lifted my head to the ceiling and prayed that they would’ve made it much more urgent if it was bad.  I decided to check my summons again.  I reached into the front pocket of my jeans and pulled out the crumpled note that led me towards The Office. It read:

To: Megan Simpson

Homeroom:7964 Grade: 11

From: Ms. Lusoo @ the Counseling Office

 Please come to the counseling office

on 11-15 (Wednesday) after school  at 3:45 to discuss

That’s what was just wonderful about that note.  Was that it ended. It was ripped.  In half.  I hated our school’s note delivery system.  The adults use it as another form of detention so sometimes people think it’s funny to rip the important part off of special letters and notes.  We called them the Detention Deliverers.  The jagged paper seemed to stare at me and laugh.

As I rounded the corner, I saw the open door of the office calling to me.  The light shined from the open door and I couldn’t tear my eyes away.  The weight of my backpack seemed to multiply and I adjusted the straps of it.  Before I knew it,  I had stumbled over my feet and fallen bottom first on to the floor.  My backpack went flying out from under me and landed about five feet away.  Everything from inside whooshed out and colored the halls with paper, notebooks, and stray pencils.

“Gah!” I stood up slowly and started to clean up.  Into the backpack went old homework, the current homework,  the late homework, and all of the other things necessary for high school.  It seemed to take forever, and just as I was picking up my pencil pouch, a light blue book grabbed the corner of my eye.  I was about to pick it up when I heard footsteps approaching.  I quickly grabbed all the items surrounding me and jammed  them in my backpack so hard they should have been crying.  I swung the bag over my shoulder and took a breathe in to try and compose myself before turning around to face the person who I’m sure had just witnessed the  entire fiasco. I pressed my sweaty palms into the cool metal of the buckles and turned.

“Are you okay? I saw that whole thing. I’m Matt, by the way,” a boy in my grade with picturesque hair and nice clothes approached. I knew who he was.  We all did.  Matt O’Connell, he was one of the very handsome, very smart, very preppy boys that everyone expected to go to Harvard or something.

“I’m fine,” I said defensively.  I started to face back to door of The Office when I realized that no one had talked to me outside of adults and forced pleasantries. “Thanks for asking. I’m Meg,” I looked at him one more time then at my watch. 3:37.  There was time.  I should stay.  

“I know who you are. You are the girl who won the fictional narrative contest.  Great story, how did you come up with that concept?” Matt asked.  My back stiffened.  Sweat started to pool on my neck.  No matter how hard I tried to forget about that story, it always came running back.  It all started when I left my notebook in my 10 grade language arts class and my teacher, Ms. Pacaps, published it.  What she didn’t know, what nobody knew, was that, that was my diary and that “fictional narrative” was a true story.

“Oh… I, uh. I guess I had a lot of creative juices flowing through that pen,” I giggled awkwardly and  took a couple steps backwards towards the door.  He laughed a little bit too hard, but it was satisfying to know that it was still possible for me to do that.  The old clock on the wall said 5:28, but if you were like me, you always knew all the formulas to get the correct time.  It’s a two hour and ten minute difference.  3:38.

He seemed to notice those few steps I took and peeked behind me.

“You going in there?”

“Yeah,” I reached up and scratched the back of my neck.

“Wait- you’re not in trouble, are you? I can’t hang hang out with trouble makers. It would tarnish my rep,” He said. I raised my brows.

“No. At least I don’t think so. The Detention Deliverers ripped my summons.”

“Oh. That’s a relief. You look kind of intimidating. I wouldn’t  want to be alone with you if you were a criminal in training. I wouldn’t feel safe,” Matt blubbered on. I rolled my eyes. Me? Intimidating? He must be joking. I wouldn’t hurt a fly. Unless that fly had just punched me in the face.

“I have to go. I have a meeting with Ms. Lusoo at three forty-five,” I said, zipping up the biggest pocket of my backpack. Matt stared at the door with the look in his eyes saying he wasn’t finished talking, but I had to go. I turned on the ball of my foot and walked through the door without a second glance.

“Meg! Hey! Wait up!” Matt called after me. I turned to see him holding the old blue book. My old book.  And he was about to leaf through the pages. Uh oh.

“Put that down!” I barked as I marched back over to him and tried snatched my book back, but he just held it over my head like the way you would hold a treat over a dog.  

“Heeeeey,” He grumbled. “Snatching isn’t nice, what’s so important about this old piece of trash, anyway?” He reprimanded.  I hit his arm. “Ow! What was that for?” Matt rubbed his arm with mock pain in his eyes.  “What’s special about this? Is this where you write your stories?  Can I read one? Please!” He begged.  I sent glaring fire at his puppy dog eyes and mentally punched myself for wanting to give in.  Picture a bull and a sweet doe.  That was us.

“No, give it back,” I tried to sound persuasive, but it came out sounding like I was trying to hold in tears.  I dropped my outreached hand and let my eyes fall to the floor. Be strong, Meg. Get that book back.  You have to. You can’t let him read that. He’ll end up just like- My thoughts were interrupted when I felt the familiar weight of the book in my hands.

“Here,” I looked back up into his eyes and thought just for one brief second that it would be okay to have a friend.  No. Don’t think that.  I smiled briefly and rubbed my fingertips over the old designs.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome, milady. From one writer to another, privacy is important, I won’t read it,”  he wiped his hands on the front of his jeans and chuckled.  Matt might have said he wouldn’t read my book, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he would do a lot to get what he wanted.  My watch said 3:42. Time to leave.

“Okay, now I actually have to go. I need to check in. I do not want to be late,” I stuck out my hand for him to shake, but he did something I didn't expect. He hugged me, crushing my fingers into his ribcage. Surely he must feel that but he continued this awkward embrace for about ten seconds. When he pulled away, I felt colder, and my hand hurt.   

“Sorry. I’m a hugger. Go. You don’t want to be late with Ms.  Lusoo.  Matt’s tip, number one: Don’t p**** off authority. They could find out where you live,”  Matt said with such a serious tone that I almost snorted laughing.  

“Bye, see you-” I was going to say tomorrow but Matt interrupted me.

“Next Tuesday afternoon at five thirty.  Yes, Ms. Meg. I just asked you out, and you just said yes,” confidence flowed off of him like a waterfall.  I must’ve looked like a fish with my mouth opening and closing, but I managed to spit out one word.

“Okay,” he rested his hands on my shoulders and spun me towards the Office. I stumbled one or two steps before walking through the door. The book in my hand felt about two pounds lighter and so did my heart. I was buzzing.