Craig chuckled at her, reaching for her hand and interlacing their fingers.
"Your hands are cold," he observed, giving her hand a quick squeeze.
"I'm terrified," she replied, her eyes never stationary for a second.
Her sweeping glance took in the walls, the windows, the doorways, locker numbers, the passing figures. She took it all in as if for the first time. The air smelled new, tasted new.
Not new.
Unfamiliar.
It didn't matter that she had attended the same school since grade seven; not now, none of it mattered. Paranoia began to set in. She was lacking in basic motor functions for a few seconds, her breath coming in short gasps. It passed as quickly as it had set in, the tension in her throat releasing.
The rapid clacking of heels on tile came up from behind them. A perfectly manicured hand snaked Ashley's arm from Craig, pulling her aside.
"Oh my gawd! Ashley!" Paige Michalchuk air-kissed her, holding Ashley's shoulders; there was nowhere to run. "Where have you been? How have you been? Oh, you've lost so much weight! You've got to tell me what you're doing!"
At Ashley's pained, frightened expression, Paige pursed her lips and frowned.
"No offense, sweetie, but you are looking a little worse for wear. Come over and a nice girl's night in will fix you all up!" She smiled, patting Ashley on the cheek.
Before Paige had finished her sentence, Hazel called from around the corner.
"Oh! Gotta run, ciao!" Another air-kiss, and she was off.
Ashley just stood still for a moment, her back against the cool lockers. Craig leaned beside her.
"What just happened?" Ashley asked, looking ahead.
"Hurricane Paige," Craig chuckled, grabbing her hand once more. "Come on, we're going to be late."
When they reached the office doors, the warning bell rang sharply above their hands. Murmuring "good luck," he kissed her forehead and ran toward his class. Sighing, Ashley quietly let herself in.
The secretary barely raised an eye at her, merely glancing over the rims of her cateye glasses, beaded chain dangling on her neck. Her brightly painted lips smacked chewing gum as the light tapping of a keyboard resonated in the silent room.
"Ahem," Ashley cleared her throat, trying to get her attention --no such luck. "Excuse me?"
"Yes?" The woman raised an eyebrow and studied Ashley closely. "Need something?"
"I-I need my...my schedule." The woman's stare made Ashley blush furiously.
"Name?" Her shrill voice crackled throughout the room.
"Kerwin. Ashley." Ashley's word were absorbed into the air almost immediately upon leaving her lips, the soft echo cushioning the silence.
"Here." The woman snatched a newly printed sheet from the ancient box printer in the corner. "Don't be too late, you already missed the first week!"
Ashley was too nervous to even reply, and she saw herself out of the office as quickly as possible. The shrew-woman had made her realize how little she wanted to deal with people.
She walked down the empty halls with an old messenger bag of Craig's held tightly to her chest. She kept her chin tucked down, avoiding the glances of faculty, stray students.
Slipping quietly into the back of Ms.Kwan's senior English class, Ashley noticed a few turned heads, one belonging to Hazel Aden. Hazel cocked an eyebrow as she surveyed Ashley's outfit - a small snort escaped her throat.
Ashley felt her face heat and turn red. Her neck burned with embarassment. She rested her head in her hands, not moving for the entire period.
The bell startled her awake all too soon. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, following the herd of classmates into the hall, melting into the crowd and obscurity.
Upon her exit, she headed directly towards the bathroom.
She looked herself up and down in the wall mirror. straightening her shirt, pulling at it. She sighed, mussing her hair with her hands, trying to get it go one direction.
Nothing looked right.
She fingered the crooks of her elbows, pressing the soft flesh with her fingers, feeling the vein pulsing, ready for a needle to pierce it and administer a sweet reprieve from it all.
She began to lightly scratch at the perfect place, the target mark for the needle if she had the fortune to have one. Oh, heroin! Morphine! No one injected K anymore, but it would go down smoother than snorting it -- falling backwards into the K-hole and stumbling from the surprise as opposed to slipping down into the warmth like dipping your toes into the swimming pool first.
The door thumped around the corner and the cold click of two sets of heels echoed off the tiles. Ashley snapped from her craving, grabbing the bag from the floor and slipping inside one of the far stalls. She lifted her feet up onto the seat; it wasn't that she necessarily felt like hiding, but that she wanted a few tender moments to reminisce on past binges. Her veins practically throbbed for the quick pinch of the needle and lava-like warmth that slowly lapped at her fingertips as the substance of choice spread throughout her body.
Meanwhile, the heels had stopped in front of the heavy sinks, purses open and their contents spilled upon the speckled plastic countertops. Hazel Aden carefully applied a fresh coat of golden lip gloss while Paige Michalchuk pulled at her perfectly curled locks.
"My hair looks so stringy today!" Paige pulled at the offending ringlet; it bounced back into position.
"You look fine," Hazel assured her. "And if you have any doubts, just thank God you're not Ashley Kerwin."
"Oh? I saw her today, right before class. She looks so thin," Paige sighed, her lower lip jutting out. "I'm so jealous."
"Don't be," Hazel snorted. "I heard she got pregnant or something and got a back-alley abortion. It's the abortion diet."
"Ohmigod! Who told you that?" Paige put her hands on her hips. "Hazel, it sounds like a load of shit to me, but my GAWD! Imagine: Craig has two girls abort his kids before he even graduates high school. Total downer."
Hazel laughed, reassembling her makeup and tossing it loosely into her designer-knock-off bag.
"We're gonna be late," she mentioned, sliding the strap over her shoulder. "You know how Simpson gets when people are tardy. Especially us."
The two girls giggled and left the bathroom as noisily as they had came. Ashley let out an extended sigh of relief as she heard the door click shut.
Simpson. Media Immersion. She mentally kicked herself. That was the next class on her schedule, too.
From the sounds coming outside of the bathroom, she still had two or three minutes until the halls would clear. She tried to leave the bathroom as quickly and quietly as possible, slipping behind a fairly large, laughing group of freshmen -- so young! She wondered if she had ever been that young and innocent.
Nevermind. She focused on the people surrounded the side doors. Ever since Rick had died, teachers were usually stationed around all the doors. Rumors circulated the halls of security cameras and guards.
Alas, the door was left unguarded, and with a slight push, she broke free into the outside world, the morning sun shining into the hallway as if it were the light of God.
Blinkingly, into the sun, she ran down the street, her worn shoes padding softly on the warm asphalt. She didn't look back until she was a safe block away, and even then, she resisted the urge to check her tracks -- maybe she wanted to be seen, to be caught.
She waited patiently for the next bus, her thin legs curled underneath her on the bench, her back to a metal poster advertising The Healthy Way To Christ.
She didn't bother to read it.
She already knew the way to her salvation.