Outside, it rained. Inside, the halls were dark and crowded. Claire carried her books through a doorway and sat down beside Logan, in front of the teacher's desk. The wind increased and rain drops beat against the windows.
"Sounds like seagulls," Claire said, as the bell rang and Mr. Cannon walked around his desk and sat down.
"Seagulls?" Logan asked.
She nodded. "When it doesn't rain for a long time, they stamp their feet so that the worms will think it's raining and they'll come to the surface."
"Where did you learn that?" Mr. Cannon asked.
"I watch a lot of nature programs with my mum."
"So instead of thinking seagulls sound like rain, rain reminds you of seagulls," said Logan.
"Well, she's not a worm," said Mr. Cannon, and Claire smiled.
February 21, 1997
Dear Diary,
My marks came today. I got a D in phys. ed. (because Miss Ainsley hates me and I hate her too), Bs in everything else, and an A in biology. I think less than my I.Q. or how hard I work, the important thing is the rapport I have with my teacher. Some you just get and some are so weird. Mr. Cannon and I get each other, which is why I always do so well in his class.
Claire stood in the kitchen and screwed open a jar of peanut butter. She held it to her face and breathed in its aroma. She stuck a knife into it and spread it onto three slices of bread. She smashed the slices together and carried her plate into the living room.
"Keep those crumbs off the carpet," her mum said, as Claire sat on the floor in front of the coffee table. On the telly, a giant huntsman spider ran across a cave floor.
"Did you know it's actually incorrect to call snakes and spiders 'poisonous'?" Claire asked.
"What do you call them, then?"
"'Venomous.' Mr. Cannon said that's the right word."
"'Mr. Cannon, Mr. Cannon,'" her mum said, laughing.
March 1, 1997
Dear Diary,
I know this is ridiculous but I keep having this fantasy that Mr. Cannon and my mum get married so that he becomes my father. I guess it's normal for someone who never knew her father to have thoughts like that, though.
"I'm sorry, Claire, I thought you might have missed one."
Mr. Cannon smiled as Claire laid her paper on the stack on his desk. Her eyes lowered and she bashfully grinned. Weaving between Lizzie Webster and Delia Jackson, she made her way back to her seat.
The bell rang, and she gathered her books. She and Logan walked out into the hall and to the nearest staircase.
"Some rough test, eh?" Logan asked.
"Was it?" she said.
"Well, not for you, of course," he said, grasping the stair rail. "Do you always get hundreds?"
"In biology, yeah."
"See you later."
She waved goodbye and walked into her next class and sat down. The bell rang, and Mr. Mason passed out the day's assignment. Claire found her pen and screwed off the cap. On the line at the top of her paper: Claire C
Oh, what had she done? She wrote an L over the C, digging hard to cover the letter. Claire Littleton. Oops.
March 14, 1997
Dear Diary,
I found out about this thing called "Bible dipping." But you don't have to use a Bible, it can be any book. You ask a question, then open the book to a random page and interpret what you read as the answer. I was at the library today, so I picked up a copy of I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings and asked, "What's the most important thing that will ever happen in my life?" I opened the book and read this sentence: "I was falling in the sky." I still don't know what that means.
Claire sat in her desk in biology. The bell hadn't rung, and everyone was talking and moving about.
"In theater, Mrs. Kendall's giving us our roles," Logan told her.
"Are you up for Hamlet?"
"I tried out for him. If I don't get him, I'll...I don't know what."
"God, you're such a Leo," she laughed.
"You don't really believe that rubbish, do you?" asked Mr. Cannon from his desk.
"Of course," Claire said. "I'm a Scorpio, and Scorpios are always deep and intense and passionate, and that's what I'm like."
"But you're also a million other things."
"Well, you're...are you a Virgo?"
He laughed. "I am, actually."
"I knew it! Neat, organized, practical, caring..."
March 23, 1997
Dear Diary,
Well, I've totally embarrassed myself. In biology Mr. Cannon mentioned that he's going to be a grandfather soon. His daughter, Erin, is pregnant. He said that she and her husband live in South Africa. For some reason, I was really upset when he talked about it. Lately I've been fantasizing that he actually lives in my house, that he's actually my father, and in my mind I've been calling him Dad. I really don't like the idea of him having a wife who's not Mum and a daughter who's not me. Which I know is crazy. So today I asked him something and I accidentally said, "Da..." I didn't quite say the whole word. Logan laughed at me and Mr. Cannon kind of smiled. I can only hope that he found it endearing.
"Littleton!"
Her head spun around to face Miss Ainsley.
"Tuck that shirt in!"
She stuck the hem of her T-shirt into the waistband of her shorts and the ball came flying over the net. It landed at her feet and bounced away. Miss Ainsley marched to her side. "You're supposed to pass the ball, miss! Not let it bounce off your foot!"
"I was..."
Miss Ainsley's whistle blew and Claire held one hand to her ear. "Rotate!"
Everyone moved to a different position. Miss Ainsley picked up the ball and bounced it to Delia. She served and the ball flew over Claire's head. She heard it collide with someone's hand and turned her head and the ball rocketed into her face.
"Oh!" she gasped.
"Littleton!" shouted Miss Ainsley.
Claire held her hand to her face. Everyone was silent as they watched her run across the gym floor and through the doorway.
In the hall, she ran a few feet to the drinking fountain. The water was cold and she splashed some onto her cheek. Her hair hung into her eyes and she gasped for breath.
Footsteps came around the corner and someone stood beside her. "What happened?"
"The volleyball," she said. "I got hit right in the face."
Mr. Cannon pushed her hair behind her shoulder. "It's red," he said. He held her face in his hand and rubbed his thumb over the bruise.
"I'm going to have a big purple mark on my face tomorrow."
"You need to put ice on it... Let's go to the teachers' room."
She followed him down the hall and he held open a door. Claire walked inside and saw a small kitchen and a couch and two chairs.
Mr. Cannon walked to the mini-fridge and filled a hand towel with ice cubes. He held the towel to her cheek and Claire laid her hand on top of his.
April 8, 1997
Dear Diary,
I miss my father so much. Lately I've been going to talk to Mr. Cannon every day for a while after school. Just to discuss things and help him organize his room and things like that.
She walked through the doorway and stopped. A woman sat at Mr. Cannon's desk. Claire sat down beside Logan. Something looked weird. The calendar was off the wall and there was nothing on the teacher's desk. "Where's Mr. Cannon?" she asked.
"I'm Miss Shea," the woman said. "What's your name?"
"Where's Mr. Cannon?"
"He's gone to teach in South Africa."
She gasped.
"Yes," Miss Shea said. "He wanted to be closer to his family."
Claire looked at Logan. She tried clearing her throat. She grabbed her purse and jumped out of her seat.
She ran down the hall and around a corner. The hall ended at a window. She looked down at the parking lot. Pressing her cheek against the cold glass, she saw a seagull fly away.
