JANUARY 17
Luan wrote that with a grimace.
When the first strike hit.
The evening before showed why giving away the tasks was never a choice in the first place. Give them a task; you receive only half the effort, and like that one gangster I kicked out of our group, no work at all.
That morning, it was a big slap to my face. A reminder that as a student, I have to follow whatever school has in store for me—including its curriculum, and its system.
But what good is a system if it causes mayhem instead of order, then?
I'd be first to tell you that the 'collaborative projects' system is more discriminating than it is uniting.
Did it come as a shocker when high school proved to be ruthless, as everyone told her it'd be? Luan rested a gloved fist under her cheek, eyes scanning the PowerPoint displayed on their classroom TV. Actually, no, her older sisters were being nice; sophomore year is downright insufferable, especially when your peers crown you as their redeeming savior.
"Hey, what're we gonna do?"
In her seat, Luan turned to the back; four group mates staring, waiting for closure. "I'll tell the teacher you guys did the presentation." She said indifferently. "Just go with whatever I say. I got it covered."
If the first semester was what her family thought of her on a normal day, then two weeks in the second must've been how they felt during April Fools.
What's the school's New Year's resolution? Double the projects, and escalate the group work. Then somehow, announcing one after another every day was alright. It's high school after all.
"Luan," She turned her head to find a confused Hannah. "Didn't they say all of us should report?"
She shrugged. "I didn't hear Miss say it; did you?"
The brunette blinked, eyes glazing through her in thought. "No… not really." She said. "But our other classmates were all talking about it."
"Don't worry about them! You don't need to follow the herd like a bunch of disastrous sheep. Where's the risk in that?" Luan waved her wrist dismissively. "We'll be fine."
This report, like many others, was rushed; maybe half-done. There were too many things in her hands, so little time. But that's okay. Ms. Dublin couldn't expect something crazy impressive, which was why she was ready. Ready to exceed that expectation, that is.
The classroom's natural light diminished as the third group's reporter wrapped up her speech. Thank goodness for her being a professional stand-up, huh?
"Who said you were the professional here, toots?" Mr. Coconuts crossed his arms sardonically.
She rolled her eyes. Classic Mr. C.
From the middle of the aisle, Ms. Dublin looked down at a clipboard, "Okay… Loud's group. Next."
Luan sat Mr. Coconuts on her chair as she stood up with her chin up, walking to the front; completely contrasting two of her group mates, Bella and Grace.
"Ready?" Luan handed Grace her pink USB, smiling, trying to exude confidence.
But like they say, a performer's worst enemy is under preparation.
A moment later, Bella connected it to the teacher's laptop, and not a second later their PowerPoint was open. Grace dragged Luan's chair from the front and sat in front of the laptop.
Luan looked to the class, her classmates' anticipating smiles urging her on, and she shot back. Let's get this show on the road.
Luan cleared her throat. Officially beginning the report.
It was about an example of a Community-Based Disaster Risk Management plan; CBDRM for short.
As long as you had the unwavering confidence she had, you could talk about watermelons being fruits and everyone would still have their eyes on you. Now that she was on a roll, eyes on her and all, the stomach knots slowly untangled itself. Luan smiled at their eagerness, pacing back and forth as she thoroughly broke apart every piece of her report. One that involved a table with brief methods to prevent disaster, left for her to thoroughly discuss.
She was explaining the obvious at this point, but like every time she was in front, they listened keenly. Willingly; more than they would in a normal lesson. That's how charming she was.
What went wrong, Luan had no memory. What'd she even say? Who knows? She darted to Ms. Dublin, who sat by the back, wiping a strand of her ginger hair up. She was a vying teacher assigned here for OJT lasting up to the end of the year. If the subject was meh, she was a knock out of the park.
And down to Lazytown. Nothing against her, she was just… flat. Lincoln could yap about his coin collection and still, it'd keep her awake longer.
With her head cocked, she scrutinized the report.
Is she onto us? Luan thought, quickly caught off guard. When she regained her control, she powered through the discussion.
Jealous, much?
A sense of apprehension filled her when Ms. Dublin finally interrupted the speech with a lift of her hand. "Does this have anything to do with the reference map I gave you?"
Luan choked, darting her eyes to the reference map pasted on the board left idle. Heart thumping louder. Wait, we had to use that? I thought—! "Uh… yeah, this entire chart's based off of it." She lied, brushing a strand of stray hair away from her face.
Was it though?
Get a hold of yourself, Luan!
"Then why is it not in use?" She shook her head in reproach, a faint slip of her Irish accent slipping in.
Because why not?
Luan stammered, inwardly cringing as her classmates started giggling. Dang it. She thought. When Lisa offered to help and do everything herself, she should've known to study whatever Lisa wrote down.
Miss Dublin flicked her wrist watch with a grimace. "You failed to follow instructions. Carry on. "
Ow, She held her tongue back. It only hurt because it was true.
Surrounded by silence, the attention no longer felt welcoming.
A deep plunging sensation ripped through her chest. Talk about a tough crowd.
But it's not the first time she's dealt the lower hand. Luan glanced back to the TV, then to her classmates. The show must go on. "Alright… moving on to where we last stopped—"
"Two minutes left. Ms. Dublin tapped her cheek. "Speed it up."
Two minutes!? They weren't even halfway through!
"Alright…" Luan inhaled, her breath blocked by a barrier in her lungs. Her explanation sped up as she leaned against the table, nerves tingling with the jitters of a powder keg ready to burst. Shoot. Their faces, the silence, Dublin's scrutinizing glower. Why's my neck growing warmer? She clenched and unclenched her fist in habit, as if Mr. C could save her now. You're embarrassing yourself.
With a tight grin, Luan rushed through the presentation. It was pointless—just call it the end and that's that.
A bead of sweat rolled down her temple; she wiped it quickly. Two minutes… how many seconds left? "So's" and "ums" came out. A lot of it. She read through it, took two seconds to explain it, then moved on. Pretzels twisted in her belly. Minutes are counting down into seconds, and they're not even halfway through. We can do this, Luan thought, her words spilling and her thoughts working overdrive. We always did this.
And there, her voice caught again. "Are you planning on carrying this entire report?"
Luan clenched her teeth, inhaling slowly. What now? "Y-yes, why?"
Miss Dublin scanned them, like her mind was picking up on something. Her chest hollowed. She wrung her stiff, yet damp gloves together. "What about your whole group?"
All of us should report. Luan gulped. Everyone's eyes were on her like a criminal surrounded by 21 guns. Okay, Luan, okay, don't panic. Don't panic. She pointed to the right side of the room, gesturing to the two guys and one girl. The world spun at that moment. "Over there."
Miss Dublin pinched the bridge of her nose. She felt her body like ice. Shoot. I did something. "I told you to have all members of your group in front during the report. Everybody has a role to play." Miss Dublin grumbled, motioning her finger to their seats. "Sit down."
Luan stayed put, her heart sinking. They weren't even done!
She tightened her jaw. This woman couldn't just throw away her entire night making the PowerPoint. Even if she said that, she had a reason to break that rule!
Her head felt light as the words slipped out her mouth. "But miss, didn't you say scripts weren't allowed?"
With a thin-lipped, impatient scowl, Ms. Dublin confirmed yes.
Luan glanced at her group mates, one of them chewing his nails. You better start explaining. She returned to Ms. Dublin. Better to spill the juice. "It'd be too hard for them to go without it. I... figured it'd be best if I let them do the presentation instead. They still get work done, and nobody gets hurt."
The room fell silent, and she met the rest of her group mates' wide eyes. It was true, that first part, though. They were the ones who said it themselves. Scratching their necks, pleading with her to make them a script because we can't report to save a life, boo-hoo.
What? Too ashamed to admit it?
"Loud, I'm not asking you again." Miss Dublin clicked her tongue. "To your seat. Now."
When they did as she asked, Miss Dublin took over the front. Luan inhaled through jittery nerves. inhaled, her stomach churning with it. Dog-showed.
"So, what did that report teach us all?"
Luan bit the inside of her cheek. At least it's over.
She scanned the room, holding her breath like what her classmates seemed to do. In situations like this, one single word you spew out could get you shot down. Dead humiliated.
Turning back around, she met Miss Dublin's glance. "It doesn't need to be said that I set you all up for groups to test your cooperation skills," she said. "And as you see, Loud's group failed to do just that."
Oh, so now we failed to cooperate? Luan's jaw clenched, the words bubbling up her throat, threatening to slip. We all set on an unspoken agreement that I do everything, and now we failed to cooperate?
The slip. The slip. Don't forget. She swallowed her lunging heart down, slipping her hand into Mr. Coconuts.
She could feel their stares, watchful eyes grazing her. They expected her to start up a ruse, a debate, maybe even joke about it.
No.
Anything you do or say… Luan exhaled. We can't risk it. We just can't.
Miss Dublin raised her brows at her in a cocky manner, almost as if to look down on her. "This is the leader, everyone. Number one rule-breaker." Luan kept a straight face, even as she made Mr. Coconuts scowl. She's assuming things. She always does that. Ignore it. Ignore it. She's just… Trying to pull at your strings.
Get it?
Mr C. turned to look at her. You wouldn't. He'd say. You're not a puppet, dummy.
"You're supposed to be the role model in your group, yet somehow, you keep looking for new rules to follow." Miss Dublin added.
Luan fought the urge to roll her eyes. Oooof course. Forgive me for just… I dunno, having common sense? It was either to perform excellently at the cost of disobeying the notion that everyone in the group had to report, or to humiliate her groupmates, and force them to report in front in turn for breaking the no-scripts rule. Had they been given a longer time, she could've just had them memorize a script, but no. They were so smart, they wouldn't need any of that, right?
Luan sighed the turmoil out, glaring down at the ground instead. Remember what Principal Rivers and Oliver said.
She sat Mr. Coconuts on her lap, glancing at her groupmates. Sure enough, they were upset. Heck, might be a little mad judging by the heat in their gaze… at her.
And she fought back the urge to scoff. Like you guys would've shaved off sleep to do what I did.
Miss Dublin shook her head, steering back to the class. "Next group."
Grace tapped her shoulder and handed her the USB back as all five members of the next group got up. A blonde girl confidently strode to the front, Whitney. A try-hard, that was all there was to her.
When Whitney began speaking, Luan pursed her lips. And look at that. She exhaled; watching her cover her face with a sheet of paper.
Ridiculous. She's reading an outline!
No eye contact, no engaging with the audience. She practically hid her face beneath the index card. And that voice—not to hate or anything, but what is that narration? If they had a competition for the most robotic voice, she'd beat Todd in a heartbeat!
She turned to Ms. Dublin, who sat calmly on her seat, in the middle of the aisle. Okay, going solo for the report made her flip instantly, but not this?
Luan fiddled with the sling of her USB. Yet somehow, it was justified now.
She leaned back, reading into them. Whitney's co-members looked like they were about to burst into laughter any second. Bashful and grinning sheepishly, shifting their weight from one to another leg. Yeah… not really the picture of exuberant confidence. She couldn't blame them though. Not everyone is fortunate with the caliber that she had.
"Round of applause, please!" Huh? What?
She snapped back to reality, right as the students bowed.
Oh.
How much'd I miss?
Miss Dublin took over the class, papers with their names in hand. Luan brushed a little dust off Mr. Coconuts shoulder, hands rigid. After that breakdown of a report, sure enough, their grade was already secured in the F- tier, but oh well, let's hear it coming straight from the source!
"I wanted to see how you students would deal with the strain in time," Miss Dublin smiled. "And suffice to say, I'm impressed with the chemistry and production I found in each group, so you all deserve a perfect mark of seventy."
The class broke into cheers, except for her.
Luan's eyebrows furrowed. Impressed? With what the other groups did? She wondered. Whitney's group was just one example. She was lost the moment the other groups said good afternoon. What're you? A clown?
"Except for Loud's group; who only get thirty out of seventy."
Luan jolted, barely registering the gasps slipping into her ears.
No. She was the whole circus.
"How come?" Luan blurted out. What're the bases? Where are the rubrics? If she's just gonna be throwing out perfect scores to the other groups who also broke the rules, why did their group have to go down by forty points?
Miss Dublin turned to her with a sorry look. "For one, you broke two instructions: You didn't use the reference map, and you hogged the stage and left out two—no four of your group mates behind."
She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it, chest hollowing. Well… yeah, in fairness, she had no idea what the heck she was gonna do with the map. But… her group mates… it's not like she could let them report!
"But it's not like I left them behind, right? They still did the PowerPoint. Part of them did the research." Luan fought to keep her mouth from twitching up. Just pretend that they did. "The other group read guides throughout their reports but you didn't call them out."
Miss Dublin shook her head and tucked her laptop under her arm, looking far from answering her. She could keep talking back and take a shot in the dark—aiming for a fair negotiation, but nah. With a young student-teacher as stubborn as Miss Dublin? She'd given up on trying to wheeze answers out of her forever ago.
The room was noisy enough to drown out the door shutting after Miss D walked out. Hm. Even Lola's more mature than that. Luan smirked. Coward.
Eh, it's only one failure. Mishaps happen. Uncompensated as it was, there's a next time. A second chance to make a better comeback.
When the bell rang, Luan shot up, pulled her phone out of her backpack, and opened her to-do list, full of work.
And she had a lot of second chances.
There was a test tomorrow in Science, a small pop sheet she had to do for her Home Economics elective, and some other stuff that took too long to read. She walked out the room, dismissing anyone in her regard.
After all, life's too short to uncross that bridge; there was a list she had to cross out. Call it the end and that's that.
I never got the chance to ask her since. She avoided me every time I tried approaching her.
Luan squeezed through a crowd of other students. At least it was all over.
For now.
What happened to individualism? To when she'd pass her projects earlier than the deadline because she didn't go through the inconvenience of waiting for her group mates to get the job done?
Maybe that's how Lori felt when she moved into the small garage at the back of their house; free to do as she pleased. No more worrying about pesky kids ready to ruin her fun. Or drag her down if she wanted to do something.
"Loud! Luan Loud!"
Turning around, a lanky man sped-walked towards her. She stopped on her feet. Mr. Fernandez. Nice guy. The type who didn't land as a drummer in a famous band so he fell back here. Unlike most teachers, he knew what he was teaching about music. He knew what he was doing.
But she didn't really care much for the subject, so he was meh.
Luan beamed. "Hey, Mr. Fern. What's up?"
"About the report," He took a breath, clearing his throat before standing back straight. "Please remind your group that it'll be tomorrow."
She blinked.
This morning, each group had been assigned to report on different days: he mentioned theirs to be the first one to present. But he didn't say it was tomorrow.
But of course, it'd be. Of course.
But after all this? I can't handle another load! "Uh, I-I-but… that fast? I mean, no offense, but…" Luan paused before taking a breath. "What about this Friday instead? Is that okay?"
Bargaining in high school never worked.
But it didn't hurt to jump into the same booby trap. Again.
Disapproval flickered behind his gold glasses. Dang it. "No can do, Loud. I'm still catching up with the curriculum after my one-week vacation. We have to have all the topics covered up by the end of this month."
And is this my problem? "Um… I…"
The two words, "I'll pass" hung by the tip of her tongue, but his stare was intense. He radiated an aura of authority.
This wasn't a request. It was a command.
She scratched her nape and laughed sheepishly. "You can count on me."
Her smile strained tightly. No, you can't.
He nodded with a growing smile. "You're one of my best students, Loud. I trust that you can work this out with your groupmates. Make sure nobody gets left behind."
Nobody gets left behind because of me. The prospect of trust had never sounded so mortifying. Just because of me.
Luan grinned tightly. Her cheeks kinda hurt. "It'll be no sweat! Geddit?
He chuckled. "Best of luck for you and your group."
She watched as Mr. Fernandez promptly strolled away onto a sharp corner hall. Luck, huh. Luan's shoulders sagged as she walked down the corridor, the dreary gray of the outside world glazing through glass doors. What a punchline, ha ha ha.
Exiting through the entrance, she searched for either purple or sea foam. Blonde and brunette.
Honk! Honk!
Luan turned her head, and saw Vanzilla by the sidewalk. Leni's silhouette waved at her from the driver's seat. Oh, there she is.
Luan walked to the van, sliding the door open as the warm air wafted over her like a wool blanket.
"Why do people call it a van?" Luan hopped in the backseat. "It makes people van-ish."
"I don't get it." Leni scrunched her face through the rearview mirror. "No rehearsals today?"
"Nope. It's M,W, F." Luan rolled her eyes. "Hey, we're one man short. Where's Luna?"
"She just texted," Leni flashed her the message. "Oh, it's a voicemail!"
Upon pressing the play button, the sounds of chanting students reverberated. They both exchanged confused glances before Luna's voice came into the mail; oh boy, was it living up to her last name. "On the way, dudettes! Just got a lil hold up with the crowd wave!" More screaming ensued. "They all throwing up the goats and rockinnnn!"
Crowd wave? Luan tapped her forehead against the window, eyeing the doors to the high school. The cheering continued a few more seconds before finally cutting off.
Leni frowned in confusion, pulling the screen to her face. "Like, I didn't realize that people could become water! Maybe her music has magic, who knows?"
The silence stretched for minutes until Luna came out along with The Moon Goats from the far distance, trailing an amassable crowd behind her. They were holding their phones up as Luna skipped backward, throwing a punch to the air as everyone did so too.
"Wow, look at that." Leni mused. "Another day, another gig!"
"Yep, that's Luna, alright." Luan hugged her bag tight, headspace cluttered. The heck was she gonna tell her group later? Another last-minute announcement? Third time this week? "Wonder what that's for."
When the crowd parted ways, and so did The Goats, Leni honked the horn as Luna pointed a finger gun at Sam before running in their direction. Not long, she slid the door open to the front seat, taking her cap off. "Yo, dudes!"
"Luna, that was awesome! What were you guys up to?" Leni squealed.
"Well…" Luna dusted her shoulders off with a bashful laugh.
Leni hit the gas pedal as Luna began explaining. Something about a small band routine with her mates in the middle of the cafeteria that blew up because everyone dug their songs. "Everyone was swinging," She bragged. "Some of 'em even tried to waltz to a rock and roll song."
"Talk about melting cold feet," She chimed along, just to keep them out her radar. "Get it?"
One gave a confused look, and the other, a groan.
And yeah, Luna talked over her, and said those students eventually followed them to the end of the entrance like they were ganging up for a rally or something.
Leaning her head on the window, Luan watched as the school building shrunk with every move forward down the road. It vibrated against her temple, the soft buzz massaging the tension out of her body. Lavender-scented air freshener beckoned her with each inhale. Fall asleep… Come on, it'll only be for like, ten minutes. Or however long it takes to get home.
Her eyes fluttered open. What about your project? What about all the reports? Your test? Your other projects? Shouldn't you be planning what you're supposed to do? Shouldn't you be doing them the moment we land back in our room?
She leaned back, heaving. If she couldn't sleep with all these thoughts in mind, at least she could bask in this seat. Props to Dad for finally getting Vanzilla some help instead of going cheap and relying on child labor—er, Lana.
Now ol' girl felt like an actual vehicle; a temporary retreat from the hellhole that school is, not some broken-down junk that tempted her to take the bus instead.
"All spent, lil' sis?" Luna glanced at her from the rearview mirror.
Meeting her eyes through the reflection, Luan raised her eyebrows, deadpan. Captain Obvious.
"Tell me 'bout it.", Luna laughed, brushing her fingers through her hair. "Our teach gave us a test about the things he yapped about just yesterday, then he gave us an ear-lashing for failing!"
Luna's feeling chatty today, and she gave the rocker half a smile. For someone who's supposedly frustrated, that's a pretty upbeat way to go about it.
"Let me guess, it's Mr. Jonas, is it?" Leni chimed in. "He's kinda on the meanie side but he is cute!"
"Uh… gross, dude."
The conversation left her behind as Leni and Luna joked around. Not her business. She rested her head on the window. Voices buzzed above the surface of the sea. The dull ache on her neck and back subsided. Was she underwater? Luan internally giggled. Picture a beach. We're on vacation, away from the winter. Away from homework. Yeah… her eyes grew heavier. That'd be awesome.
The seat jolted to a slight halt, and she was knocked back to the borderline of consciousness. She crossed her arms, closed her eyes as the world swirled into oblivion…almost there…can almost taste dreamlcrghr…
KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK
It sounded like a gunshot! Luan jumped as the door slid open with a whoosh, greeting her with a scowl from Lynn. Holy shamo— "Scooch over, funny face." Lincoln inserted himself in front of her and slipped in. "Ten of us gotta share this van, you know."
…Moly.
Blinking groggily, still processing everything, Luan slid over to the left door.
Wish Mom and Dad stopped after me sometimes.
In a family this big, sharing a car ride was like riding a school bus. On the plus side, it is better to bicker over who farted in the van again than to have some rando's drool smeared on your blouse.
Lincoln climbed in first. "Don't mind her." He looked over his shoulder. "She got benched during gym class."
Lynn shoved his head forward, causing him to grunt. "Will you shut your yap, Stinkin'?"
"Guys! No roughhousing in Vanzilla!" Leni scolded.
The van rolled. The pain of having siblings sometimes; their shenanigans made you wish you were the only kid. Kids like Clyde get special privileges, like sleeping in their SUV on the way home to school—unlike them. Just a short-stop to the elementary school and daycare, and there goes her already slim chance of sneaking a nap in Vanzilla.
She wrinkled her nose. Way to ruin the day. Yay.
Oh, that rhymed. Heheh.
When they picked up the remaining six girls, the van was tighter; louder than before. She watched with heavy eyes as they drove closer to the street sign of Franklin Avenue. Leni turned left. Almost there. Luan felt the canvas of her bag, counting down the front yards as the messy, untrimmed grass of their lawn appeared nearer in sight. Closer and closer to doing homework, to making those projects again. Home had never felt more dreadful. Yay.
At last, Leni parked Vanzilla in the driveway and turned the ignition off. Without another word, Luan slid the door open and walked out with the rest of her siblings.
When everyone followed, Leni and Luna came out of the van last, exchanging looks. "Luan's acting like, really strange."
A once normal ride home never felt whole without at least one quip from her. It's like producing punk rock without the explosive chorus. A frown formed on Luna's face. Not that she was worried. "She's probably just ready to hit the hay. You checked the rearview earlier when she came in? She was right about to pass out."
A pause ensued as Leni pondered. "But still… shouldn't she be, like, giddy? I heard she was on the honor roll?" A sense of suggestion oozed in her voice. "But she didn't say a single thing about it."
They walked to the front porch. Luna turned to Leni with nonchalance dancing in her eyes. She's heard the news too. "Sis, y'know how she is. Luan's probably just humbling herself again, waiting for someone to push it outta her before she fesses up; surprise, surprise!" Luna popped her palms open in mockery before dropping them to her sides. "Don't worry 'bout it!"
Leni nodded slowly, even if the back of her mind burned the contrary of Luna's words. "I'll try not to."