The freshman left him.
Now that she was gone, her absence didn't bother him, but the way it had ended was irritating.
He should've known Clarisse wouldn't mind her own business. Snooping around with one of his exes, talking to his new girl behind his back, whispering rumors that planted doubts into her mind. The relationship lasted longer this time - four months - because this round he had picked her more intelligently.
Alicia, a student who walked to classes with hunched shoulders, who sat alone in the school courtyard during lunch, who wanted help with her work but was too shy to ask. She was pretty, a beautiful wallflower who seemed eager to please, and this was the extra push he had needed to walk right up, drop an offer for tutoring and pluck her off her feet.
Turns out, all she had needed to grow her own set of thorns was to be inducted into a pack of girlfriends. Led by Clarisse, of all people. He had done his due diligence to warn Alicia of her, so no doubt the former had reservations about his ex at first; she was crazy. Who the hell spent this much time socializing with the other girls he had dated?
If dumping him in middle of the hallway wasn't enough, both were culpable in the way his reputation had nosedived among the student population- he just knew, because one's image wasn't decided by the individual in question. It wasn't just among the girls too. While a couple of his male friends initially stuck around, they were learning one by one what staying by a social pariah did to their own standing in school.
The teachers couldn't care less because he was a pretty good student, but the ostracization got old. If he was to bear the rest of his high school career here, he needed a way for people to forget. Time, for the other students to become reabsorbed in their own lives.
How can I do that?
As he passed by a bulletin board, the brochures pinned on them fluttered. He stopped and studied them, and in his mind, a plan formed.
—
"Casper High?" His mother squinted at one of the crumpled papers she had picked up from the coffee table. Behind wire-frame glasses, her tired eyes flicked over the text. "Wherever in the world is that?"
On their couch next to her, he leaned into her and their shoulders touched. "Amity Park."
She repeated the name in a murmur. "Is that a city?"
"Yeah, Mom. In Illinois." At her hesitance, he pressed. "It'll look good on my portfolio. Colleges like it when we have experiences beyond where we came from."
"College?" Hope was written over her face when she turned to him. "You're intending to apply after all?"
I am now, he supposed. "Yeah. That's still a ways to go though, but no harm preparing early. So I wanted to run it by you." He gathered the papers, most of which were clipped together, and flipped through the paragraphs of information to arrive at the final page. One finger tapped at the bottom, where a dotted line lay.
A parent's signature.
It was the only thing he needed. His mother scanned the page, though she was reading it too quickly to have understood it completely. A phrase stood out from the print, and her face brightened. "You were nominated by the school?"
The truth was nobody else had applied for that position. Casper High wasn't a popular place, but it meant he had automatically received a nomination, but it wasn't a confirmation. That depended on today. He nodded.
"Even with hair like that?"
His hand ran through his freshly-bleached strands. He had gotten it done yesterday, in an impulse of desiring a fresh look. "Mom, that's- it's just a trend. It's normal nowadays." Her lips began to droop in disapproval, so he thought quickly, and added, "My teachers probably put in a good word for me. My semester's been going well so far."
It was enough to appease her. The pen was by her hand, laid on the table when he had first sat her down. She picked it up and poised the tip over the paper's surface. Satisfaction began to pool in Elliot's gut.
"If you get to college," she said, "your father would be so proud."
His first instinct was to snap, but he reigned it in. It wasn't what he needed right now. "I guess," he said.
"We just wanted you to do well in school." His mother smiled at him, one that showed teeth and deepened the wrinkles in the skin about her eyes. "Make friends, maybe find a girl you like."
"Mom." He forced a smile, trying to mirror her expression. If only you knew. "I'm doing great."
A laugh, and she scrawled her agreement on the form. Finally, he couldn't help but think, as she handed the paper to him, her signature in shiny, black ink.
"I know," she replied. In that moment, it was as if her fatigue had evaporated from her figure. "I'm so proud of you."
Just like that, Elliot submitted the form. A week later, the school got back to him with a confirmation letter, and the semester exchange to Amity, his one ticket out of the pits of his school, was his.