Kate Evangelista - Reaping Me Softly

Arianne’s sigh finally broke free. “I know, right? It’s so seventh grade.” She stacked her loose notes and tapped them on the floor.

“I guess it never gets old.”

“Thanks, Wes.”

French-manicured nails clamped onto the boy’s ear and pulled hard until Wes was on his feet. He said “ow” repeatedly and grabbed at the hand attempting to separate the appendage from his head.

“What are you doing?” The question, hissed like steam pushing out of a kettle, made Wes stop squirming. What little complexion he had vanished.

Arianne straightened from her crouched position. “Darla, let Wes go. He was just trying to help me clean up the mess you made.”

Darla ignored Arianne, not letting go of the already red ear she pinched. “Do you have friends, Wes?”

The boy tried to nod, but the way Darla clamped onto him prevented that, so he whimpered an affirmative instead. A wet stain spread wider over the front of his pants.

“Darla! Stop this!” Arianne moved to help Wes, but Darla’s Keds connected with her shin, sending her slamming onto the lockers. The crowd paid no attention and kept moving. Even if Arianne asked for help, none of them would. She leaned heavily on the cold metal behind her, refusing to apply pressure to the source of the pulsating pain racing up her leg.

“Wes, how would you feel if your friends stopped being your friends?” Darla continued her interrogation, showing all her whitened teeth only inches from Wes’s cheek.

“Please, Darla,” Wes whispered, “let me go. I was just trying to help her.”

“That’s my point!” She raised her voice a fraction. Then she inhaled and blew out all her frustration on the poor boy’s face. “You don’t help Ari. No one does. Am I making myself clear?” She let his ear go and pushed him until he stumbled away. “As for you—” Darla smiled at Arianne like nothing happened “—better hurry up. First class is about to start.” She walked off, her pleated skirt swishing from side to side.

A scream, one that would make any Oscar winning actress proud, climbed up Arianne’s throat from depths of aggravation caused by the years of abuse Darla meted out. It took all the determination she had to swallow it down and breathe. She’d brought Darla’s wrath on herself. No one else was to blame for the mistakes she’d made years ago.

With shaking fingers, Arianne picked up her scattered books along with her dignity, cut the fishing wire, and shoved everything into the foot-deep upright coffin she called a locker. Her day had only begun, and she refused to let Darla’s immaturity ruin her mood.

Arianne rubbed her hands together as she neared the chemistry lab. She pushed away any stalker-y thoughts and let excitement and anticipation propel her forward. Nothing wrong with wanting to be in the same class as him, right?

At the door, she stopped and scanned the room, catching sight of her lab partner waiting at their table—a lanky girl who hadn’t quite lost the need to part her hair in the middle and braid it on each side of her head. Half the class had settled in already, examining the myriad of materials on their tabletops waiting to be used. No Niko. Arianne shoved the initial disappointment aside and waved at her lab partner, who showed off the braces on her upper teeth.

“New bands, Tammy?” Arianne asked when she reached their table. She unzipped her pack and fished out her lab coat.

“Do you like them?” Tammy smiled again, extra wide this time. “I wanted to go with red, but Mom says it makes my teeth look like I have spaghetti stuck between them.”

“I’d say pink’s your color.”

“It’s a good second choice.” Her mouth formed a pout. “I heard about the ‘pull and puke.’”

“Poor Wes.” Arianne shrugged. “He shouldn’t have helped me.”

Tammy slammed her hand on the table. “Why aren’t you fighting back? Darla’s been bullying you for so long, I’ve lost count of the things she’s done to you.”

“Let it go, Tam. There’s nothing you can do.”

“Oh yeah?”

Arianne stared at her friend until the other girl lost all her false courage. “I thought so.” She allowed a wan grin to cross the planes of her face. “I appreciate the support. Just one more year and I’ll be rid of Darla’s reign of terror.”

“So—” Tammy wiggled her eyebrows “—ready for some learnin’?”

Arianne’s nose crinkled, glad for the change of subject. “Easy for you to say. You’re already a chem goddess.”

“Oh, come on, Ari, it’s not that bad.”

“You weren’t the one who almost passed out from inhaling fumes last week.” She shrugged into her lab coat. Then she fished out a rubber band from the pocket of her jeans and secured her fire-hazard locks with it. “I hate to ask, but…what do we have to look forward to this morning? Anything that could potentially kill me this time around?”

Tammy pointed at the whiteboard. “Physical and chemical changes,” she said.

“Great.” Arianne groaned. “I might end up losing a finger.”

“That’s the spirit! Don’t worry—” Tammy patted her shoulder “—I’ll handle sections of the experiment that need matches and the Bunsen burner. Here’s your copy of the worksheet.”

Arianne pinched the stapled pieces of paper between her thumb and forefinger as if they’d been used to pick up puppy poop. “That makes me feel so much better.” She slumped sideways on her stool, letting her gaze wander.

Niko and his lab partner ambled in with their heads together, in the middle of a conversation. Carl—Niko’s curly haired, freckly faced partner—paled in comparison to the contrasting dark and light beauty of the specimen Nikolas Clark represented. Arianne always thought he was of a different species entirely. Maybe someone of a heavenly persuasion sent to Earth for mortals to worship. Niko pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, breathing in like he hadn’t used his lungs for a while. He paused, said something to a suddenly hovering Carl, and put on his lab coat. Oh, how she wanted to be that coat. She bit her lower lip while her brows conferred with each other.

In hushed tones, Arianne said, “What do you think is wrong with Niko? He has shadows under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept in, like, a week.”

Tammy discreetly peeked at the last table nearest the back door. “You think he’s coming down with something?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him tired before. He always looks so healthy.”

“Anyone can have a bad day, Ari.” Tammy perused their worksheet some more, flipping to the last page.

Arianne faced her partner. “Not Niko Clark. Not since he transferred here freshman year from Atlanta.”

“That long ago, huh? And you’re an expert on all things Niko Clark?”

“I—” Her tongue dried up. “I…uh.”

Tammy studied Arianne then snorted. “I smell a crush.”

“You smell watermelon shampoo!”

“All right everyone, settle down,” Mr. Todd said upon entering the lab. His hair had too much product, making him resemble a Ken doll, only without the perfect teeth. He paused until everyone faced him. “As you can see on the board, we’ll be differentiating between physical and chemical changes.”

About halfway through Mr. Todd’s pre-lab discussion, Mrs. Whistle—the school’s secretary—in her usual mumu and horn rimmed glasses, sashayed into the room like a supermodel, handed over a slip of paper, and promptly left without a word.

“Tammy Herald and Carl Thompson, you’re both to report to the principal’s office immediately,” he announced.