Chapter Three September 30
Chapter Three
I wanted so badly to go on this overnight trip with the rest of my grade.
And part of me is glad I did. Andie and I got to spend uninterrupted time together.
Well, mostly. There were of course the mandatory get-to-know-you activities, which only served as a reminder of how terribly I fit into large group settings.
Even though Andie stayed by my side (when we weren’t forced apart), it was obvious that people, mostly boys, were intrigued by her.
One boy in particular, Dean, seemed to be cutting through the noise of the others.
“Bad news,” Andie says, sidling up next to me outside the school bus waiting to take us home. “Hopper is set on adhering to the seating plan like it’s the Bible or some shit, so I have to ride back in Bus A.”
“Why is he such a prick?” I ask, peering over her shoulder at the vice-principal.
“He said if the bus crashes, they’ll need to refer to the seating plan to identify the bodies.
” She chews her pink wad of gum and blows a big bubble.
I pop it with my finger. “At least you have your headphones. I have nothing. Not even my phone,” she says, sighing so dramatically that her brown hair rises with it before falling off her shoulders.
I tug on one of her braids. “I told you to charge it last night.”
“The charger was on the other side of the cabin, and I was tired,” she whines while pouting. Only Andie could be both annoying and endearing at the same time.
“Are you still coming home with me?” I ask. We called our parents last night to see if Andie could sleep over when we got back since it’s Friday. Having her sleep over was also strategic on my part. My hope is that Andie’s presence will act as a buffer before the tension swallows me whole again.
“Of course! I can’t wait to meet this family you’ve spoken so fondly of.
” She laughs and her head falls back, drawing the attention of three boys standing nearby.
I’d be jealous but it’s not as if I met any guys on the retreat that even vaguely interested me.
They were all so juvenile. Especially together.
Every moment I spend with a neurotypical peer makes me more steadfast in my belief that autistic people are superior in many ways. I just can’t admit that. It would make me seem too autistic, and people don’t like it when you’re too much of anything.
“Remember not to judge me based on the impression my family leaves on you. We’re going through…things,” I say, reminding her and myself. The tension is already rising up my legs. It won’t be long now.
“Chill, Lennon. Your parents will love me.”
A horn sounds and Mr. Hopper claps, reminding everyone to get in the right bus line.
Andie takes off to her bus and Dean waves her over to his spot.
I guess she won’t need her phone to entertain her after all.
I wait as the line ahead of me inches forward.
Just as I’m about to step inside, a tall guy with shaggy brown hair cuts in front of me.
“Do you mind?” he asks, without giving me a second look.
“Go ahead,” I reply dryly, but he doesn’t hear me. He’s already halfway up the aisle. I take my assigned seat in the middle of the bus and, thankfully, no one is seated next to me.
Two hours until we’re back in civilization. Or Varley Village, a medium-sized suburb an hour north of Toronto. I can picture my parents now, chomping at the bit to get me back under their roof, where I’m safe and more easily monitored.
But I kept my promise to my father and was good—an easy promise to keep. I’m not like Georgie, or the kids who snuck out of their cabins in the middle of the night to do god knows what. If only.
There is literally a couple kissing in the seats across the aisle from me and no adult has said a thing about it.
So much for adhering to the seating plan.
I study the teachers at the front of the bus, chatting away like they’re just grateful not to be stuck inside a classroom or on the same bus as Mr. Hopper.
Are they really this clueless or do they just choose to look the other way?
I figure it’s because they probably don’t give two shits about morals and purity.
Just as I’m about to put my headphones on, a fellow ninth grade boy makes an obscene gesture at the kissing couple.
The bus erupts into laughter, causing one of the teachers to clap his hands loudly as he makes his way up the aisle.
His behind blocks my view as he reprimands both the kissing couple and the obnoxious boy.
As things settle down, I put my headphones on and sink back into my seat.
It’s so easy to be invisible as a girl. You just close your eyes and stay silent, waiting for the boys to take up space.
Which they will. If you don’t challenge the status quo, if you slither off into quiet corners, you can almost, possibly, make it through four years of high school completely undetected.
As much as I’d like to believe I want that, a part of me so badly wants to be seen.
But then I’d also have to be perceived, and the idea of that kind of makes me sick to my stomach.
A few songs into my “never show anyone this playlist” playlist, my eyes blink open to find the guy who cut me off in line staring down at me with a crooked smirk.
His only saving grace is that he’s wearing a Smashing Pumpkins T-shirt.
I place my headphones around my neck and pause the song on my phone.
“What is it?”
He slides in next to me. “Do you realize you were singing loud enough for the entire bus to hear?” His body is angled toward mine. His left arm hangs over the green vinyl bus seat in front of us, and I feel caged in. But it doesn’t bother me as much as it should.
“I was not.”
“Hey.” He pokes the head of the girl sitting in front of us. She turns around. “Did you hear her singing a minute ago?”
The girl looks at me, her face pinched. When her eyes connect with his, she noticeably softens. A smile grows on her face as she nods. Just as quickly, it disappears when her gaze flits to mine before turning back in her seat. Guess I’m not as invisible as I thought.
“See?” he says.
I fold my arms over my chest. I couldn’t have been singing that loudly. Between the mix of conversations and most of the windows being open, letting in the crisp fall air, it would be hard to hear much of anything.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, actually.” He leans against the seat, looking defeated. “I got into a little fight with a friend and I need somewhere to sit.”
“So, you come to me in desperation.” I glance to the back of the bus, not bothering to be discreet, and find a group of girls comforting a beautiful blonde. “What did you do?”
He faces me, eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t do anything. I just said her stories about her horse were kind of boring. Then she told me to sit somewhere else.”
“Lucky me. So did you…? Never mind,” I say, shaking my head before staring out the window.
“Did I what?” he asks, and he’s sitting so close I can feel his warm breath on my neck.
I turn slowly so as not to bump noses with him before pressing my back against the window, trying to put space between us. “Did you and horse girl meet on this retreat?”
He buries his laugh. People are always doing that around me. “Her name is Avery. We actually met over the summer. At a party.”
Ah. Parties. Heard about those. I’ve never been.
He leans back again, pulling at the stuffing coming out of a hole in the vinyl seat.
“Why are you even here?” I ask.
“I just told you.”
“No. Not why are you sitting next to me. The retreat was for ninth-graders,” I try to explain. “And you’re clearly not in ninth grade.”
A corner of his lips turns up and he raises his brows. “So, you know who I am?”
I roll my eyes before looking straight ahead. “Yeah. You’re the person annoying me on the bus.”
He laughs, and what’s even more annoying is that I don’t hate the sound of it. “My homeroom is ninth-grade Geography. Kind of goofed off last year. Anyway, I was given a trip form and filled it out. No one stopped me from coming, so here I am. Got out of school for two days.”
“And you had no problem being at a get-to-know-you niner retreat?”
“Well, I was kind of seeing Avery. Was? Am? I don’t actually know right this second.”
An exasperated sigh escapes as I fight the very strong urge to roll my eyes, again. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to put my headphones back on.” I try to raise my headphones, but he stops me.
“I do mind, actually.” He smiles, and instinctively I slap his hand away.
“Don’t touch my headphones.” My words come out louder than I was expecting. Within seconds, Ms. Weaver is barreling down the narrow aisle, her hips grazing the sides of the seats.
“Lennon, is everything okay?” Her eyes dart between me and my seatmate.
“Yes.” I swallow, trying to ignore the fact that almost everyone on the bus is watching. “Just a misunderstanding.”
“Those always seem to happen around you, Mr. Brody, don’t they?
” Ms. Weaver narrows her eyes at the guy, and he shrugs slightly.
A smile stretches tightly over her teeth in response.
I can’t believe she’s falling for it. “Try to keep it down. We’ll be back at school soon.
” She returns to her seat at the front of the bus, seemingly more bothered that we interrupted her conversation with the other teachers.
“Your name is Lennon?” my uninvited guest asks, head tilted.
“Yeah. So?”
“As in John Lennon?”
“Yes.” I shift in my seat to face him, preparing myself for the typical questions.
He smirks, again, and this time I can’t help but notice his blue eyes. His brown hair that can’t seem to stay tucked behind his kind of big ears. And his broad shoulders that he hasn’t quite grown into yet.
“I’ve never heard of a girl named Lennon. I’ve never heard of anyone named Lennon.”
“Didn’t you know it was big with the hipster sect of millennials?” I say. “That and Bowie.”