Chapter X: School Daze

Monday eventually rolls around, the familiar dread of a new week coming with it. Only this time, it's amplified a thousand times over with the thought that the puppets will have to be left alone. Only a few days alive and already, I have to take a leap of faith and hope I won't come home to a priest cleansing the house of all evil or Mom having had a heart attack.

My heart's already pounding from the mere thought of it. That's about nine hours with no supervision. They'll all just be left to their own devices without anyone to tell them when to hit the deck if someone comes in, or that they're being too loud, or who's who. It's all just one big fucking game of Russian roulette. It's all I could think about last night, the hours dwindling way too fast. I hardly slept, my anxiety and the thought of everything that could go wrong just repeatedly running through my thoughts, refusing to give me a moment of peace.

I try to tell myself that the puppets have given me no reason to think that they'll disobey me, that they'll be fine. But still. It's like babysitting Josie and a bunch of her friends and leaving them alone with the cookie jar- trouble's bound to erupt.

"Okay, you all know the drill," I go over last minute details with Blade and all of them as I rush to get all my things together. I took a shower to try and ease my nerves. It didn't help.

"You are to never leave the room. Under NO circumstances, period- Torch, that includes you too," I reprimand, seeing him off staring into space like he's trying to ignore me; cheeky bastard, "Don't make any noise that might draw any unexpected attention, don't move if anyone's in the room at the time, and don't try and play it cute and rearrange yourselves for a scare. Understood?"

They all look at me, and I take that as a sign they get it. Albeit probably really reluctantly, but no matter.

If I'm totally honest with myself, I know it's me who has more of the problem than them; my heart feels like it's about to burst out of my chest (or at least give me palpitations), I keep fidgeting and pacing the room, and I have constant thoughts of just backing out and faking being sick just so I don't have to leave them behind. I have to keep talking myself out of about it, lest Mom walk in on me talking to myself and roaming around, obviously not sick. Or worse, her jumping to the worst conclusions and already dialing 911 before she even opens the door. I scrub my hands over my face, realizing I'm trying to waste time on purpose.

Blowing out a breath, I gather up my bag and walk to the door. My hand freezes, and I turn around, frowning in uncertainty. They're all still gathered on my bed, looking at me like a bunch of small puppies awaiting my next move. My heart is twisted in regret; I don't want to leave them. I don't want to go to school. I don't want to go anywhere.

I look up at the other dolls. They stare back at me, their shiny hollow expressions forever the same.

I swallow hard.

"I'll be back," I say to the puppets.

Whether or not it's convince them or myself, I'm not sure.

Scratch that, it's totally me.

Of course, the day has to go excruciatingly slow.

Not to mention full of stuff to deal with that I'd rather not deal with.

Mr. Petinsky slams a paper down on my desk. I don't move from my slouched over position, only lifting my head to look at him, his face unreadable, then back to down to my paper, revealed to be my report on The Chocolate War. On top of all the little paragraphs of comments he's left as commentary, there's a large D- circled a the top next to my name.

"I have to say, I expected much better of you, Mr. Killough," he comments dryly, "With such talent you've produced the previous year in analyzing the social commentaries in what we read and weighing them with societal values, to see such a shortcoming in what is not even very advanced material is disappointing in the least."

Join the club.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, looking downward, my hands in my lap. I hear Mr. Petinsky huff as he walks away, looking up at out of my peripheral to see him walk forward to the next student. I hear muffled sniggers and turn around, seeing some of the students looking at me, sneering and chuckling at my berating. Assholes. Like they did so much better. And it's not like I didn't understand the assignment- I actually quite enjoyed the book- but when you can't so much as go a single day without thinking about whether or not you should kill yourself, it's a bit hard to get the answers on paper.

Second period is Gym. Honestly, whoever thought Gym as a morning class was a good idea? You get all sweaty and worn out in only the second hour of the day, you have to go outside and freeze your ass off until you get all sweaty and worn out, and then they expect you to be able to shower, dry off, and be presentable for the next class in only ten minutes. Give me a break.

It doesn't help that they make us wear the stupid uniform that just shows off how weirdly thin and gangly my legs are, or that I have arms with absolutely no muscle whatsoever. Yeah, no thanks.

Coach MacNeil has us all line up, and out of all things, of course, he decides the best thing to do today is flag football. Great. Nothing to brighten your day like loosing all feeling in your toes and cheeks while having to run around on wet turf- that might not sound bad, but when it's cold and wet out, sliding on the turf feels like you're getting burned- and trying not to slip while getting kicked by random feet.

"Come on, you guys, hustle!" He yells as we all scramble, trying to get even a foot close to the guy with the ball. It's a goal about as easy as climbing Mount Everest while holding your breath, considering most of the football team is in the class and wear their cleats whenever we use the field, not to mention most of them get put on the same team.

I take a moment to catch my breath, observing the moment as Jamari Reynolds manages to jump and block Micah Czajkowski's catch of the ball, turning an impossible angle and dashing off with everyone else following him to the first down. Micah's a huge guy with a frame the length of French doors and arms that expand the width of two children, so seeing a little guy like Jamari managing to outdo him is pretty funny.

I chuckle. The scene reminds me of Pinhead and Jester a little: the big brawny dude being outsmarted by the tiny rascal.

Thinking about the puppets causes a small little pang in my chest. I hope they're all right.

"Look out, Palelin!"

I'm snapped out of my distraction a bit too late by the sound of shouting to my left, looking to my right and catching only a hint of black hair before something large slams into me and sends me to the ground.

The combination of an elbow in my gut and the slam of landing straight on my back knocks the wind out of me. In my daze, I barely register the feel of hands pressing into my chest or the feel of black box braids running over my face, trying to inch my way out from under the person, but only end up making them fall back onto me. There's the sudden sound of running feet, and I see everyone, including the coach, running over. I see dark skinned hands place themselves on either side of me, and look up to see the dark eyes of Zuri Delgado- one of the prettiest and most popular girls in school- staring at me.

I suddenly realize what the scene must look like, and feel my face go red.

"I-"

"Why don't you pay more attention, dumbass!" Zuri's boyfriend Javon shouts as he grabs Zuri's arm and helps her up.

"I-I-I I'm sorry," I stumble, feeling small over everyone staring down at me like some sort of mob. As the crowd disperses, I can still feel their stares. Most are looking at me with doubt- like they're weirded out by me- while some look like they're about to laugh, though others it's just annoyance.

"You okay, sport?" Coach asks as he helps me up.

"Y-yeah."

I don't think he really cares, though, by the way he just says, "You need to have your head in the game more, son. You're lucky neither of you got a concussion by the force of that collision."

I hang my head, "I know."

"Dude, how did he not see her?"

"He was just standing there with his thumb up his ass. I swear he's got some sort of learning disability or something."

"What could you expect from someone like him?"

They're all whispering, but it's loud enough that I can hear every word clearly.

I watch Coach and all them walk away, feeling dampness from the dew on my back.

I try to get involved, I try to stay out of the way, and either way, it's never enough.

I want to go home. I want to see my puppets.

They wouldn't judge me.

They could understand, at least.

"Gotta say, Gaelin, I hear that stunt you did was quite a scene."

"Yeah, if only I had my phone, it was so Instagram worthy!"

Kailani and Sadie. Great.

I don't respond, trying to focus on the text in front of me. I'm about three chapters behind for class and try to get the rest of the homework done. But of course, when I have the Evil Queen and her sidekick a foot away, it makes it a little more challenging.

"So, you'd ever get to the end of that weird journal?" Kailani asks, "You have to tell me all the juicy stuff you found in there! Maybe I could use it with Holden from time to time."

I have actually still continued with the journal, but it doesn't really explain much. All it says is that Toulon ended up fleeing to Switzerland when his wife died, and then to America. The last entry cuts off in 1939, with Toulon talking about how he realizes that the SS is onto him, and that he was going to do whatever possible to keep their hands off the formula (seeing what it causes, I can understand), and that he was planning on hiding the puppets away in this crawl space in this hotel room, and then it just ends. Presumably, seeing how they ended up with me, someone found them and traded them off.

Of course, I have no reason nor any desire to relate this to Kailani.

But of course, spineless little Gaelin doesn't get to decide what he wants.

"It wasn't very interesting," I mumble, "Just...I don't know...a bunch of details about where he was gonna hide his things and all that."

"Oh, don't be shy," Kailani says, putting her head on my shoulder in mock comfort, "You don't have to hide your kinks from me, Gaelin. I'm always willing to give new things a try."

I grip my pencil. Can't she ever just leave me be?

Luckily, it doesn't go further than that since Mr. Ramirez walks right in. I try to focus, though I can feel the group's eyes on me, probably thinking of how else to make the day a living hell for me once class is over.

"Okay, class, so today I'm going to assign you your partners for the end of the year project."

There's a collective groan from everyone in response to his statement, me included.

The end of the year project is this big dumb thing where we have to choose from some big event in history and talk about what happened, the aftermath, and how it impacted modern society today. The whole thing is worth sixty percent of the final grade, so it's definitely not something that you can just give the bare minimum for. It sounds bad enough on its own, but we don't even get the luxury of choosing our own partners.

"Now, now, we all knew this was coming," he replies sternly, looking down at his list, "So when I call your pair's name, if you're not already, please move and sit with, or at least near your partner. But WAIT until I call everyone's names so you all can hear. "

My stomach fills with dread at the thought that I might get Kailani or Holden or any one of their friends as their partner. Please, God, don't be more of a dick to me today. Please not now.

"Trudy and Siohban. Sue and Darcy. Brandon and Austin. Sadie and Zach-"

There's a squeal. Sadie's been having the hots for him since third grade.

"Tracy and Megumi. Holden and Luke. Tony and Sheldon ("you gotta be kidding me!") Zora and Steffan. Gabriel and Britney-"

Please don't say my name and Kailani, please don't say my name and Kailani.

"Kailani and Oswin."

Oh,dear sweet lord, thank you!

"Gaelin and Audrey."

I freeze.

Judging by the sudden snorts and snickers from the back- undoubtedly from Kailani and Holden- I can tell they're thinking the exact same thing I am.

Audrey Losnedahl moved here sophomore year from Norway because of her dad's job as a software developer. She instantly managed to make a name for herself as one of the school's alternative kids from her almost-all-black wardrobe, multiple ear and facial piercings, brightly dyed hair, and her taste in music being the loud, instrumental, and macabre lyrical kind- though I have heard there's been several debates among the metal kids as to whether she's more goth, emo or punk. She speaks four languages, plays the flute, and writes for the school paper. She loves Darkthrone and Lordi, though she also holds a big soft spot for Cradle of Filth. Her favorite movie is Trollhunter and she has hopes for becoming an author one day. She gained her greatest infamy, though, when she totally exposed Mr. Wilkerson canoodling with one of the lunch ladies during study hall while his wife was in labor, though she managed to get under the radar and write the material in a way that prevented them from suspending her. All in all she's quite an interesting persona.

I've also had the biggest crush on her since then.

Which makes it all the more horrific now that I have the knowledge that my dumbass is going to be working with her the rest of the semester.

"And finally, Eliza, Marty, and Lakeisha will have to be our trio, since we're a few students short this semester. Now, then if you all will, please take your seats with your partners if you're not already."

Okay, calm down, Gaelin. No need to get so worked up. Don't try and embarrass yourself the first day. I slowly get up from my seat as everyone moves twice as fast as me. My eyes search for Audrey, catching her gaze as she sits at her desk, arms crossed as she raises her eyebrows, obviously wanting me to the be the one to move. I pick all my stuff up, nerves an absolute mess as I shuffle over to her.

Holden knocks my shoulder on purpose as he brushes by me. I look over my shoulder, seeing him smirk in that way that lets me know he has something in store for me later. I end up running into a desk, earning glares from both Sue and Darcy, before I plop down (because that's not drawing attention to myself) next to Audrey.

She looks up from her book at me, and gives me a small smile. Her hair's dyed this orange to yellow ombre that brushed to one side that really brings out the gold of her eyes. Her nose and lip ring stand out against her pale skin, and she's wearing this maroon lipstick that really compliments it and oh god, I'm staring.

"Now, if you all remember, I gave you a list on all the topics you can do for the project," Mr. Ramirez interrupts my train of thought, "Now, I'm not saying these are the only options, but they're here to help you get an idea of what exactly I'm looking for. If you want to do something unlisted, please come to me first to make sure that it's relevant to the class..."

I try to focus on the subjects, but all my thoughts keep coming back to the fact that Audrey is right next to me. I don't want to look at her out of fear that she'll catch me staring like some sort of creep. But god, she's so beautiful- dammit, stop that.

I think about the puppets. I just want to run home and make sure they're doing fine. I look at the clock. There's still thirty minutes left of class. And it's only third period.

Dammit.

"Are you all right?" Audrey asks me, the hint of an accent sprinkling her words.

I feel my face go red, "Um..yeah. Just want this class to be done with."

"I know what you mean," she sighs, "I don't even know what I was thinking signing up for this."

I chuckle, and she gives me a smile in return. I can feel my heart leaping.

Disaster avoided. Score one for me.

Sadly, that's as good as it gets. Fourth period, I get stuck with Jamie Duncan for chemistry lab and have to do all the work while he texts the entire hour, only for him to berate me when it turns out a good portion of the answers I came up with were wrong. Lunch time, I realize I've left my wallet at home and get stuck with the cardboard cafeteria food, along with a giant stain on my shirt when Tony 'accidentally' trips and dumps his cherry soda all over me. Fifth period we get slammed with a pop quiz which I completely bomb, and sixth period Mrs. Dwight chews me out for not staying after class after she handed my test back and lets me know she's going to be calling my mom about my grades.

By the time the bell finally rings, I feel like a zombie, like nothing around me is registering.

The only thing that keeps me going is the thought that I can finally find out how the puppets are doing. Hopefully they haven't burnt the house down by now.

I rush out as fast as I can, first speed walking, trying to remain calm and maintain a good image while making the distance between me and the house. But then I break into a jog, and before long I'm full out sprinting by the last block. I rip the door open, slamming it behind me as I rush upstairs.

Please, don't let me find them smashed to pieces.

Or anything broken.

Or Mom dead on the floor from an aneurysm.

"I'm here!" I yell as I fling open the door.

The puppets are all on my bed, gathered in a circle...

...coloring?

They all whip their heads at me, and I think I've startled them. That's when I realize I'm standing in the doorway with my chest heaving, eyes probably the size of dinner plates. Yeah, I'd freak too if someone like that just barged into my personal space. They're all staring at me now.

"Um...yeah...I'm here," I stutter, suddenly embarrassed. I shut the door and toss my bag, walking over the bed.

"Sorry about that, just had a stressful day," I apologize, plopping down near the headboard, "I couldn't stop thinking about you guys and if anything went wrong. I take it you all did as you were told?"

Tunneler and Six Shooter nod at me. I nod back just because I feel awkward and don't know what else to say.

"Good. I know it's hard and it's boring, but it's just too risky. Nobody else knows about you guys. You understand, right?"

Nods from multiple heads.

I smile. I swear, this is some really fucked up reality if this is the highlight of my day.

"I promise that it won't always be like this. Some day, when the time's right, I promise I'll take you out. Everyone deserves a little fresh air, right-"

"Gaelin?"

It's Mom.

To my surprise, the puppets instantly drop dead, like something out of Toy Story. For a moment I just sit there, stunned at the immediate response. I snap out of it and trot over to the door.

"Yeah?"

Mom looks over my shoulder, "Who are you talking to?"

Crap.

"Uh, um, nobody! I-I-I mean I was on the p-phone! Y-yeah, I was just talking to my friend."

"Your friend?" she asks, disbelief in her blue eyes.

She can't believe I still have friends. It's harsh and hurtful, but I can't blame her. The phone records would show that other than her or Paul or work, nobody's called me in months.

I shuffle my feet, "Y-yeah, she's uh, a girl in my class. We're starting the end of the year project, and we were going over what to do. You know, start early and all."

Mom nods slowly.

"Okaaaayyy. Well, dinner will be ready soon, sweetie."

"Okay."

I watch her walk away. I notice her pause, looking over her shoulder at me.

Dread grows in a pit in my gut and I quickly dart back into my room. I know that look. She's wanting to talk to me about the elephant in the room; but like always, neither of us have the words or know where to start. I frankly, definitely am not ready for that bridge, so I don't linger in case she changes her mind and comes back.

I love my mom. And I know she wants to help. But I can't. She doesn't need the added stress. She doesn't need to live with that.

As soon as I close the door, I hear rustling, and turn around to see the puppets already up and moving again.

I give a half smile.

Maybe I could get used to this after all.