11th Grade, High School
Age: 16-17
January 2009
…
Vince digs through his bag, which he had purposefully left on the bench beside his locker. Frustration boils through him as he starts to take all of his books and folders out, setting them on the bench beside the bag. His teammates sense his fevered behavior and barely wave goodbye as they pass him. After he has taken everything out of his bag, he blows a breath out through his nose and groans.
His phone is missing.
Spinelli knows what his backpack looks like. He didn't think he would need to spell it out for her – put his phone in his bag when she left. But it isn't in any of the pockets or thrown haphazardly nearby. He stuffs everything back in his bag and tosses it over his shoulders. Thinking that maybe she put it in TJ's locker, he checks but there's nothing inside. Then, before he leaves, he takes a hard turn toward the stalled bathroom.
Sitting on the bench outside of the stall are the sweats he left out for her. He crosses his arms and frowns. Did she even come in? Maybe she's still outside. So, he quickly jogs out of the locker room to where he last saw her, but she isn't there either. She is long gone.
Great.
He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket and kicks at the gravel. For the briefest of moments, he debates just waiting until tomorrow at school. Spinelli would surely bring it with her to school tomorrow, apologizing for accidentally stealing it. But what if he's late tomorrow and needs to text Gretchen to let her know? Or what if when his friends inevitably try to call him back, they worry when no one picks up the phone? Or what if Spinelli loses it?
No, he's going to have to go get it. He glances up at the clock tower. She must be home by now, even if she walked by herself. Which he highly doubts. In the two hours of his practice, someone probably called his phone. Maybe not Gretchen, because if she really is in her bedroom lab with her phone off, she will be busy until dinner at the earliest if not through most of the night. But Gus and Mikey are both too considerate to leave a missed call unanswered for two hours.
He crosses his arms as he walks, unable to contain his outward frustration. Of course Spinelli took his phone. This has to be some kind of karma for him. Maybe she even did it on purpose. He should have just helped her in the first place. Been late to practice and yelled at by the coach, but at least now he wouldn't have to go find her and grovel at her feet to get his phone back.
As he passes Kelso's, he glances inside the window. Most of the booths are empty. Just a couple of groups of Third Streeters, by the looks of them fifth or sixth graders. Sitting at the counter on one of the barstools is Ashley T, the only person in the store that he recognizes besides Gus, who stands behind the counter working a shift. After he cashes out one of the kids, who skips away with what looks like a root beer float, he turns around and leans against the counter and says something to Ashley T, who giggles.
Vince swallows. So Gus is working. No wonder he didn't pick up his phone. Gus wouldn't answer his phone at work. It's probably in his bag under the counter somewhere. He probably doesn't have any idea Vince even called.
He wrinkles his nose as he continues his walk. With Gretchen busy in her lab and Gus working, the only one who would have answered Spinelli is Mikey. Which is a good thing, Vince thinks, because Mikey has access to a car. If Mikey returned the call and Spinelli answered, he would have driven her home. Best case scenario. So even if Mikey had just picked her up as Vince was leaving practice, she has now been home for a while. She'd even have time to change out of her paint-covered clothes and shower if she hadn't already at school.
He grunts. It would have been nice if Mikey had reminded her to leave Vince's phone behind.
Vince picks up speed as he nears Third Street. He just wants to get his phone back before he combusts. His shoulders are tense, something a warm shower might help relieve. Some of the teachers are beginning to walk out through the front door and he sees Ms. Grotke walk to the bike rack. She pulls out an old-fashioned blue bike and starts attaching her school bag to the back. Next to her bike is a bright pink one with a basket on the front. Vince could recognize it anywhere. He remembers when Mikey got it. He and TJ had told him he would get made fun of for it and Mikey had just shrugged and told the boys it didn't matter what other people thought. He liked it.
And now that he sees Mikey's bike at Third Street, he remembers that Mikey had told them over break that the school district cut funding for the elementary school chorus instructor. Mikey had seen Principal Prickly at Townsedge Mall while he was Christmas shopping and the principal had mentioned it in passing. Mikey, of course, had been outraged and volunteered to do it after school for the good of the children and the preservation of the arts, or some mumbo jumbo like that.
Vince swallows thickly. Now he knows why no one answered his calls earlier. They were all busy just like him.
Instead of continuing to his own street, he turns down TJ and Spinelli's, glancing at TJ's house as he passes. TJ's mother's car, as always, sits in the driveway. He debates stopping, wondering if maybe Spinelli would have gone there instead. But if TJ is still sick, there's no way Mrs. Detweiler would have let her up. Besides, she needs to shower. At this point, he is fairly confident that Spinelli walked home covered in paint. She wouldn't go knocking on the Detweiler's door in that state.
Mr. Spinelli answers the door when he knocks. He's dressed in comfortable clothes, as if today is an off day for him, and wears a warm smile that he didn't pass down to either of his children.
"Hi, Vince. It's good to see you."
Vince tries to keep his face from revealing his confusion. Maybe Spinelli did shower. He can't imagine her father looking so jovial if his daughter walked in the way he imagined she did.
"Hey, is, uh, Ashley around?" he asks. "She said she had something for me."
It's not really a lie.
Mr. Spinelli shakes his head. "I'd check the Detweilers'," he says with a chuckle. Then he jokes, "She pretty much moved in over there during break. We barely saw her."
Something catches in the back of his throat that he quickly shakes off. Her father is probably right. She must be at TJ's and he must be feeling better. He tells Mr. Spinelli he'll go over there to find her and starts back the way he came. He cuts through the Wilson's grass to save some time and feels his stomach flip as he approaches TJ's porch.
What if TJ's mad at him? If Spinelli showed up and told TJ about what had happened, he could see how TJ would be unhappy. Vince could have taken a little more time. He concedes that. But it isn't fair that he should be expected to put everything aside to help her. But it doesn't stop his stomach from flipping and just before he knocks on the door, he pulls his hand back.
If TJ is mad at him, he doesn't want to be rejected through Mrs. Detweiler. Vince spins around and hops back down the steps, jogging around back to TJ's window. He looks around the grass for a small pebble and when he can't find one, he digs around in his backpack for an eraser. That should be soft enough to throw without breaking the window.
He aims and throws, hitting the window smack in the center. All those years of pitching coming in handy.
TJ doesn't come immediately, so he tries again, grabbing the eraser from the ground where it fell and throwing it again. This time, he sees TJ on the other side of the glass and he lifts it up, along with the screen, to lean his head out.
"Hey, man," TJ says. He doesn't look thrilled to see him, but he doesn't look angry either.
"How you feeling?" Vince shouts up.
TJ shakes his head. "Terrible. But Gordy was only out for a couple of days, so hopefully it's quick."
Oh, yes, Gordy. Gordy also works at Floppy Burger and he vaguely remembers hearing Gordy's mother mention the bug going around at church the other day. He had heard the whole story while he was waiting for his mother, who would not stop talking to Gordy's mother so they could leave.
"What are you doing here?" TJ asks.
Vince scrapes his teeth across his lower lip. TJ seems just as naive as Mr. Spinelli. Not to say that Spinelli isn't up there – she very well could be – but if she is, there's no way TJ knows what happened. He isn't angry enough. TJ has had smoke come out of his ears for even the whisper of a rumor about Spinelli. If he knew what had just happened…
He shrugs. "Just seeing how you were doing," he says. "You getting Spinelli sick up there?"
He hopes it sounds vague enough to not sound suspicious.
TJ shakes his head. "Nah, I told her to stay away in case she hasn't already caught it."
Vince doesn't like the way his stomach bottoms out. Spinelli was definitely not still at school. She isn't with Gus, Mikey, or TJ. He is almost positive she isn't with Gretchen. And she isn't at home. If she isn't anywhere, where could she be?
His throat is tight and he tries to shake it out of his voice, but he sounds tense when he speaks again.
"Well, just wanted to see how you were. Hopefully, you can sneak another couple days off before you're okay to come back."
"I wish," TJ moans. "But I think I'll probably be back sooner than later."
Vince just waves goodbye and walks out of the yard, back to the street. He tugs on the straps of his backpack and clicks his tongue while he walks toward the head of the street.
He blows out a breath and thinks when he gets to the corner. Where would she go? If it were him, he would have gone home. Maybe would have ranted about it to Gretchen or TJ. But clearly Spinelli doesn't think the same way he does. He starts walking, trying to think of where she might hide. Because that's what she's doing. She's hiding. He told Gretchen once a few months ago that Spinelli doesn't tell people when she's having problems and that's what got her into this mess in the first place.
As he walks, he thinks about what Randall said. The Megans have been harassing her for a while, or something like that. Harass is a pretty strong word and, while Randall had been prone to exaggeration in elementary school, he had been telling Vince this for a reason. Because he thought Vince would be able to help.
For a while. How are any of them supposed to be able to help her if she won't tell them? He groans and starts to feel frustrated again. Of course. Spinelli would rather bottle up anything that could make her look bad than tell anyone she needs help. She makes herself into a victim. It's infuriating. He isn't a mind reader.
So how in the world is he going to find her?
…
The answer is, he doesn't.
After searching high and low, running around to their typical spots, he can't find her anywhere. It gets dark and the street lights turn on as he makes it back home. He debates going back to Spinelli's – she must be home by now – but what if she isn't? What if she hasn't shown up yet and her parents are starting to get worried and he shows up looking for her? That won't help anyone.
He tosses and turns all night, feeling his heart race as he flips from side to side. After a few hours, he sits up in bed and tries to focus on his breathing. His hope is that it will make him tired and help him relax. But instead, as he deep breathes, he remembers when Spinelli had her panic attack and Gus instructed her to breathe, so similarly to what he is doing currently. He crosses his arms and grinds his teeth. Why is it always him that's around when she has a meltdown? First the one at homecoming sophomore year, then the paint.
And he never seems to make the right decision.
He should have just helped her. Then he wouldn't be up all night worried because she's missing. He knows that she's fine, probably home in her bed, sleeping peacefully while karma gets him. In fact, he knows she is home. If she wasn't, her parents would have started calling all of their parents, trying to find out if anyone had seen her. His mother did not get any such call, so he knows she's safe.
So why can't he sleep?
Dawn arrives. He dresses in the dark, tying his shoes and grabbing his basketball. Light seeps under the bathroom door as he passes, his mother the first awake and getting ready for her shift at the hospital. He continues down the steps and out the door, into the darkness of early January. The street lights on 3rd Street are the only lights on at Third Street's playground and it's hard for him to see the hoop, so instead he does dribbling exercises. Running back and forth along the asphalt, the adrenaline from his gut powering him through his exhaustion.
The adrenaline powers him through his morning routine, but once he sits down for breakfast, he feels the fatigue set in. Although not a coffee drinker, he snags the pot his father has brewing on the counter and pours some into a travel cup he can sip on as he heads to school. He takes a swig and winces at the bitterness, but this is the only caffeine he can get his hands on at the moment. His mother refuses to keep energy drinks in the house, so this will have to do.
As always, he meets Gretchen at the top of the street and he quickly tries to steer the conversation in a direction that will have her rambling. He asks about her latest experiment and continues to interject with just enough questions to keep her from asking about his slower gait.
But he also has every class with her during the day and by the end of second period, the caffeine in his system has worn out. She keeps nudging him through their next class every time his eyes start to shut and sends him worried glances that he shakes off.
"Are you feeling okay?" she asks immediately after the bell rings, before the two have even stood from their chairs.
He waves her off again. "Yeah, I'm just tired."
She nods, but has a calculating look in her eyes. They gather their things and as they walk through the doors to head to the cafeteria, she turns back to him.
"When was the last time you hung around with TJ?"
He raises an eyebrow in confusion. "I dunno, a couple of days ago. I stopped by yesterday, but I stayed outside. Why?"
"Just wondering if maybe you're getting sick too."
He crosses his arms and shakes his head. He isn't getting sick, but admitting to Gretchen what happened yesterday isn't something he wants to do at the moment.
"I don't get sick," he says instead.
She rolls her eyes. "Everyone gets sick."
He makes a grunting noise in the back of his throat.
They walk into the cafeteria and grab their food before heading to their typical table. It looks empty with just Mikey and Gus seated, four empty chairs beside them. Vince starts to feel his heart pound in his chest.
"Where's Spinelli?" he asks.
Gus finishes chewing a bite of his sandwich and shrugs. "She's absent today. Probably caught what TJ has." Then he chuckles. "They do share spit after all."
"It does seem to be going around," Gretchen says pointedly as she sits down, as if trying to prove her point from earlier.
He ignores it and sets his head on his hand. He eats just enough of his lunch to be able to function during his final classes and practice. It isn't his best showing, but he doesn't have the energy to care. He stays late to do his free throws, but when he keeps missing, he starts to get angry. After thirteen misses in a row, he throws the ball at the gym wall and lets out a frustrated groan. It's the first time in a long time that he hasn't completed all one hundred and he is angry at himself for quitting, but he knows it isn't productive to continue. It's just making him more and more upset.
As he approaches his house, he can see someone sitting on his porch. For the briefest of moments, he wonders if it's Gretchen. Maybe she texted him and when he didn't respond, she came by to wait for him to get out of practice, but after a few steps, he can tell it isn't her. Even with a thick winter jacket and hood up, he can tell the person on his porch is much shorter than Gretchen and he instantly knows who it is.
His gut bubbles unpleasantly as he comes to a stop in front of his own porch. He watches for a moment as Spinelli taps her knees with her fingers, as if she hasn't realized he's there, and he is just about to say her name when she looks up at him. Her face is clean of makeup, which makes the dark circles under her eyes more prevalent. The way she sits on the stoop is compact, making her appear smaller than usual. He typically towers over her, he has since they were little kids, but now it almost feels overwhelming.
She stops tapping her knee and reaches into the pocket of her coat, withdrawing his phone.
"Sorry," she mumbles, not meeting his eyes. "I didn't mean to take it. I wasn't really thinking straight."
He takes the phone in his hand and takes in the black screen.
"It's dead," she says unnecessarily. "I didn't have a charger."
"Whatever." He grinds his teeth at the stilted nature of their conversation. "It's fine."
But it doesn't feel fine. His heart pounds in his chest and his throat tightens. He wants to yell, tell her about the agony that she put him through, worrying about her since yesterday. He couldn't sleep and at lunch he could barely eat, wondering if she was still missing. He had no way of contacting anyone and it was torturous.
The words die on his tongue as his eyes sweep over her. The anger and annoyance fueled by her actions still simmers in his gut, but the corners of his lips downturn. Spinelli has always been a small girl that takes up a lot of space. Her personality, her fire, her drive all overcompensated for her tiny physical being. She was a powerful force to be reckoned with on the playground. Looking at her now, he can't reconcile that this is the same girl he would have once called his second best friend, the person he was closest to after TJ.
And, he realizes, she isn't.
"You, uh, want to walk to school tomorrow with me and Gretchen?" he asks, unsure of what else to say. "If, you know, TJ isn't coming?"
She shrugs her shoulders. "I might not go."
"You've already missed so much school though," he says.
He hadn't meant to offend her, but she glares at him nonetheless.
"You think I don't know that?" she hisses.
He was just stating the fact. She has missed a ton of school and there has to be a point where they start considering her absences as too much to continue on to senior year with the rest of them. She can't just keep skipping school just because it's hard.
"Woah, look," he says defensively, "I was just saying it because I would hate for you to not be able to graduate with us."
She crosses her arms and stands, still glaring. "That is the last thing on my mind right now," she tells him, her voice thick. "I don't want to go back to school at all, okay? Honestly, right now, I barely even want to wake up in the morning."
His whole body clenches. "You've told someone that, right?"
"Why do you think I take meds?" she says sarcastically. "Why do you think my parents drive me to Little Rock every week? Because they like the scenery?"
He bites the inside of his cheek and looks down at his sneakers. No one had told him that Spinelli had been put on medication. He supposes he should have figured it out, but none of his friends had flat out told him. Maybe that's why he felt so guilty and nervous last night, because his subconscious had known how bad everything was without him really acknowledging it.
"Randall mentioned that, um, the Megans have been harassing you?" She won't meet his eye, instead staring at a tree in his neighbor's yard, her face stoned, but her eyes beginning to water. "And it's been a while?"
She gives a slight nod.
"Do the others know?"
"TJ does. So does Gretchen. Well, they know most of it now," she mumbles. "I didn't exactly want to broadcast it to the world."
He sighs and runs a hand over his face. She is so predictable. She would rather be miserable than let them help her and potentially ruin her reputation, even though it's all but ruined now.
"We could have helped you if we'd known," he says. He regrets the condescension in his voice the moment he finishes his sentence.
She turns back to him and shakes her head. "Yeah, well, hindsight's 20/20, I guess."
They stare at each other for a few moments, neither sure what to say, and then Spinelli walks down the steps.
"Sorry again about taking your phone," she says in a huff as she passes him.
He leans his head back and takes a deep breath, turning around and calling back after her.
"Spinelli, wait!" he shouts.
She stops and doesn't turn around. He blows out a breath and rubs the back of his neck.
"I'm sorry that I didn't help you more yesterday," he says. "I…I didn't realize how bad it was."
She doesn't say anything at first, just stands in the same spot, her arms crossed around her. Then he hears her take a breath.
"It's fine," she says shortly. "You had practice. I figured it out."
"Yeah, but you shouldn't have had to do it alone," he says. "I'm sorry."
She nods her head, but doesn't turn back. "Thanks," she says, just loud enough for him to hear, and then she starts walking home without a goodbye.
…
Notes
This chapter started to get way too long, so we'll get one more January 2009 chapter.
I don't think I have any references to episodes in this one.
Hope you're enjoying!
