Eight Years Earlier

I stood stiffly by my locker and looked at the grey wall of it closely, like I was examining a graph in math class that I was holding upside down. My locker was full of the usual fodder: three binders, purple, red, and green. Five notebooks all messily stacked at the bottom. They were all marked for advanced pre-calculus and advanced LA and advanced bio. All AP except my social studies class which I made sure was nothing but the lowest one I could take.

Across from the stray battered textbooks and the laptop case and the loose papers there was a mirror stuck to the wall and a tiny calendar with generic images of different landmarks.

Two photos were below that: one of my parents and I on the Golden Gate Bridge and another at a girl’s sleepover last year. It was my first sleepover and Sierra let me snap one right as we were about to paint our nails and break out the Ouija board to contact the dead for romance advice.

We drank soda and laughed and watched a movie. I said my usual lies throughout the night: Of I’ve gone on a date before. Of course I’ve had my first kiss, I’m 15 aren’t I? Of course this isn’t my first sleepover. Of course. Of course.

I’m not sure what I had done wrong. It must have been my tone or my nervous twitching or the fact I laughed too often. I didn’t get invited back.

High school was hard enough as it was without that fact buzzing behind my ear. I still saw them in the hallways. They still said hi. They still let me sit with them at lunch if I could find them. They just never asked if I was busy on the weekends.

I pulled my grey hoodie down over my hands as I stared at my locker. People milled around behind before the first bell rang. My mom had just dropped me off. She had spent the slow drive up pointing at boys on their skateboards or bikes.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” She’d said with a slow smirk. “Is he in your grade? Do you have any classes together?”

I rolled my eyes, “Pre-SATs are just around the corner. I don’t have time to date. I’m too busy.”

She huffed and had the usual pout on her face that said I was no fun. “So is prom,” she said dismissively, “you’re really doing this youth thing all wrong, honey. There must be someone you like.”

“Sure.” I said and stared out the window, “and none of them like me back.”

“There you go again,” she said and our usual fight was on. “Defeatism. That’s the kind of attitude that will make people not like you, Emily."

I fumed silently as she said that. I know, I thought to myself, don’t you think I know that? But knowing they didn't like me wasn't the same as getting them to.

I didn’t even say bye as I jumped out of the car and closed the door harder than necessary as I left.

I didn’t think it was our usual fight that did it though. Or the fact I had forgotten to eat breakfast or the fact I had broken out on my nose that morning. Or even the fact I had that same dream last night that I couldn’t remember.

I touched the wall of my locker, delicately, as if it might burn me on contact. I had been trying to forget about this. Had I put the thing up before this? Pasted it in my locker the night before? Had it always been there?

There was a map wedged into the place between my mirror and my school calendar. It was colored green and blue and barely bigger than my hand. A simple print with a few marks on it and a familiar flimsy feel. I slowly eased it out of my locked. I didn’t remember putting it up there.

There was a fat black dot in the middle of what I knew was Siberia. Had it gotten bigger since the last time I looked? I’d been trying not to look for awhile now.

I scowled for a long hollow second before taking the piece of paper in both hands and slowly ripped it down the middle. It made delicious slicing noise and I flinched as the dot was cut in two. I tore it again down the middle, and then again and again and again. I kept tearing.

Bring, brrring

I jumped just as other students started swarming the halls. I looked at my wrist-watch and realized it was 9:20. I had missed my first period somehow.

I glanced down at my feet and all around me were the tiniest pieces of paper I had ever seen. Like snow, fluffy and minute, I had torn the map up until it was all just bits of snow resting on my shoelaces. I kicked them off quickly and turned to run to class after that.

People stared at me as I dashed down the hall like my house was on fire, and for a second I couldn’t even bring myself to care. I just ran.