Lunchtime
The school buzzer rang, snapping Anna out of her reverie. Funny she hadn’t thought about Dr. Henry in years. The last time she had actually seen the man was the day he had given her Dumuzi. Odd the things you remember.
“Thank god,” moaned Veronica at the door out of the classroom, “I thought Pembry was going to bore me to death,” she said with an exasperated eye roll.
Anna smiled, Mrs. Pembry was one of those monotone teachers who never altered the cadence of her delivery regardless the nature of the material, she just droned on and on which is why Anna had found it so easy to drift.
“You want to go out and grab a bite or just hit the cafeteria?” Veronica asked. “I got the car. My treat.”
Anna considered it a moment, “Nah, I’m not too hungry, probably just going to catch some fresh air out at the bleachers,” she said.
Veronica scrutinized her, “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her blonde mane.
Anna scowled, “I will be all right, for the zillionth time! You’re driving me crazy!”
Veronica laughed, leaving Anna to herself.
The bleachers overlooking the sport’s field ran up several rows and were a common place to take lunch when the weather was nice. Underneath the bleachers was also a common hangout for the kids that smoked.
Climbing up near the top of the white painted wooden bleacher, Anna sat down by herself. They were a couple of other groups of kids also located on the bleachers, but there was more than enough room for everyone to co-exist without intrusion.
Tipping her head back, she enjoyed the warmth of the near midday sun on her face.
The sounds of feet climbing toward her disturbed her solitude. Cracking an eyelid, she was surprised to see her step-sister approaching. A year younger than Anna, Rachel was a little taller and still awkwardly gangly.
“I heard Caleb was being a douche,” she said, absently twirling a strand of her auburn hair in her fingers and sitting on the bleachers next to Anna.
Anna shrugged, “He’s always been a douche,” she replied.
Rachel chuckled.
“Anna Smith, please report to the principal’s office, Anna Smith to the principal’s office,” repeated the disembodied voice over the public address system. Both girls looked up.
“I have to go,” Anna said, rising to her feet.
Rachel nodded, “I hope everything is okay,” she empathized.
When Anna arrived at principal Donaldson’s office, her mother was already there, seated in a chair across from the principal, a grim expression etching lines into her face.
“Anna,” welcomed principal Donaldson, rising from his desk.
“Honey, we’ve received word your father’s application for release has been successful,” advised Anna’s mother.
Anna frowned. “What does that mean?” she asked.
“Jerry and I think it important that we pull you out of school for the next few days or at least until some of this hype dies down,” she said.
Anna dropped into the other chair and rolled her eyes. “Mom, what difference does it make? Really? Whether I’m here or at home?” she protested.
Don Donaldson raised a hand, “I think your mother is right Anna, given the exposure your situation has received overshadows our ability to maintain a properly functioning learning environment. We believe it is in everybody’s best interest if you take some time off,” he said, voice low.
She frowned while her mother nodded.
“Of course, we can make arrangements to have your homework delivered so that you don’t fall too far behind in the curriculum,” he assured.
She shook her head, “This is crap,” she said.
“Oh Anna,” he mother said, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder.
Principal Donaldson adopted a stern expression on his face, “I appreciate you’re unhappy with the decision, however, maintain some degree of decorum,” he stated.
Anna snorted. She never much liked Don Donaldson, a bureaucrat through and through, always basing any decisions upon what he believed public reaction might be. She suddenly felt like vomiting, the sensation to empty her stomach very intense and for some inexplicable reason, all of her scars burned intensely.
“Are you okay dear?” asked her mother, expression concerned.
Anna put a hand to her mouth and nodded, trying to quell the queasy sensation.
“Well, that’s settled,” Don said with his politician’s smile, rising to his feet.
Anna glowered at him from behind her hand but said nothing as her mother rose to her feet.
“Come on Anna, let’s go,” she said, slipping a hand under Anna’s arm.
Reluctantly the girl stood up. Storming out of the office, she could hear her mother apologizing for Anna’s behavior before hastily trying to catch up.
Stepping out of the administrative offices, Anna turned to go up the hall toward her locker.
“Anna?” her mother said behind her.
Anna turned, “Can I at least get some things from my locker?” she asked, voice loud.
Darlene nodded and smiled, “Of course sweetheart, I’ll come with you,” she said. Gathering things she thought she might need, Anna stopped at her locker then walked out to the car with her mother, riding in silence for the ten minute drive to their house. News vans still parked on the street, there was a flurry of commotion as her mother pulled into the driveway.
Suddenly there were people swarming the car as she tried to push the door open.
“Anna! Anna! How do you feel now that your father’s is getting out?” yelled someone from the crowd as people with microphones and camera leaned in close.
Anna frowned, trying to use her arm to get between some of the throng milling around her.
“Anna, are you worried your dad is going to try and come after you?” asked another faceless voice.
“Please,” pleased her mother, trying to reason with the mob.
A man grabbed ahold of her arm, little tape recorder in his other hand jammed in her face, “If you could say one thing to your father, what would it be?” asked the man
“FUCK OFF!” she yelled, heart pounding, jerking her arm free of the man’s grasp. The force of her outburst causing several people near her to push back and a hush fell upon the gathering.
Moving through the crowd, Anna went straight to her room, fuming. She wasn’t happy, and for some reason the swirling mass of unsettled sensations in the pit of her stomach were still turbulent within her, though less like nausea, more like the world’s worst case of heart burn and her scars throbbed instead of feeling incredibly hot.
Flopping belly first onto her head, she buried her face in her pillow and screamed in frustration. Why can’t they just let me be?
She stayed in her room, skipping supper to demonstrate her unhappiness with the decision to remove her school. She could hear the sounds of fighting through her door, Her mother and Jerry, though she couldn’t make out what they were fighting about. Me probably, she thought.
The argument stopped, the front door slamming followed by the sound of their car leaving. Anna wandered out her room, Jerry was seated at the kitchen table, glass of red wine in front of him.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
He smiled. “Grown up stuff,” he said, “Just a difference of opinion.” He lifted the glass and drained it in a single long swallow before tipping the bottle and refilling the glass.
Anna frowned. Her skin crawled, the uncomfortable sensation in her scarred flesh worsening. “I’m going to have a shower,” she said.
He nodded and smiled. She didn’t like the way he grinned, almost a leer. “You do that,” he encouraged, emptying half the glass in another drink.
Leaving the kitchen, she had a shower, washing herself. She found her scars incredibly sensitive and very painful to not only the pressure of the spray hitting hurt but also the temperature of the water. Abbreviating the shower, she bundled herself up in a towel and returned to her room and drying off. Pulling on a pale pink t-shirt with white cotton underpants before wrapping her long burgundy colored robe around herself, she returned to the kitchen and drank a glass of water.
She frowned, finding it strange that the house was empty except for her and Jerry, at least as far as she could tell. Shrugging her shoulders, she went to the living room and curled her feet up under her to watch TV, something to take her mind off of the day.