Freyja's Secret

    My legs burned from effort as I pushed myself down the hallway, dodging milling students. I can’t believe I’m about to be late to class… Again. The bell chimed overhead, signaling students to clear the hallways and get to class. I smiled, grateful, as I came to a screeching stop in front of my least favorite class of the day. Third hour geometry. Utilizing a technique I had developed over four years of being at Ridgeland, I made myself small, completely unnoticeable. “Miss Burnouf.” A sore voice barked at me, eliciting a sideways glance from me.              “Good morning, Mr. Dallas.” I forced my mouth to smile, pretending I wasn’t just trying to avoid his gaze as I pushed across the crowded classroom to the desk next to the large picture window. It’s been less than two months since school started and I’ve already become public enemy number one in his mind. Sighing internally, I rolled my eyes and slumped into my chair.             As I fished out my notebook and Geometry 2011 textbook, I let my gaze flit across the classroom. Twenty students already jammed into the tiny room, talking easily amongst themselves while evading eye contact with me. Forcing myself not to roll my eyes again, I flipped my notebook open and started doodling images of the bluebirds dancing outside.             “Okay, class.” Mr. Dallas called shrilly, getting no one’s attention. “Everyone, time to take your seats.” Just as they did every day, the other students ignored his grating voice. This can’t be what he went to school for. Forty thousand dollars in college tuition just to be snubbed by a bunch of teenagers? He has to want more out of life. “Sit! Down!” He punctuated the last word by dropping the teachers’ edition of my geometry book down on his cheap oak desk.             I shook my head sadly as I doodled, part of me almost feeling sorry for the poor guy. His balding head was too shiny under the fluorescent lights, his pudgy face red from exerting so much effort to get such little attention from his students. The students chatter slowly died down as they slid into their seats. Dallas began his lecture, his droning cadence too easy for me to tune out as I gave my full, undivided attention to the birds bouncing from branch to branch outside of the window. I knew it was wrong to be sketching them instead of paying attention to whatever boring thing Dallas was going on about today, but I had already completed this chapter a week ago. One of the many perks of not having any friends, and by extension no plans over the weekends.             “Miss Burnouf?” I made my eyes move from the window to the disgruntled teacher’s stormy gaze. His crinkled forehead accented brown eyes framed by crows’ feet, and I had to force myself not to sigh outwardly at the look of frustration he wore specially for me.             “I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?” I asked, still detailed the one particular robin sitting on the branch of the hawthorn tree. Her head c****d to the side as she watched a blue jay building a nest several branches overhead. It was a bit difficult to get the slope of her neck just right, and I kept having to erase, redraw, repeat.             He gave me a smug look, and in his stuck up, nasally voice asked, “The value of x, Freyja. Regarding this diagram.” He tapped one long finger against the board next to the problem drawn in his shaky chicken scratch.             I glanced at the board; a mental image of the practice test I made for myself flashing across my eyes. “Twenty-two.” I knew the boredom was leaking from my voice, but at this point, I had only one class left after geometry, and I was ready to be done with the day. My shoulders were cramping, and a dull headache was building between my ears. My easel was calling my name as I committed the blue jays intelligent and determined eyes to memory.             Dallas’ look of annoyance snaked around me as if it would choke me if it could, and I could feel his frustration racket up a notch as some kids in the back of the class snickered. Sighing internally once again, I brushed a stray strand of hair out of my face. He’s asking questions directly out of the unit text and I always read ahead. I hated when teachers called me out in the middle of class, expecting to humiliate me like I wasn’t their best student. “You are correct.” I could almost hear his teeth grinding together as he gritted the affirmation through clenched teeth. Good, maybe now he’ll leave me alone and I can get through the rest of this day without having to interact with anyone else.             My tense shoulders slumped a little as I realized it was Friday. Ridgeland High kids would be at party after party, posting their escapades all over ** and Twitter. Meanwhile, I would be in my room, daydreaming about what it would be like to actually have friends, just like every other weekend. Maybe I can finish that painting I started last weekend. The blue jay will have to wait.             “And what about you, Mr. Mason? Can you tell me what the value of y is in this equation?” Dallas pointed towards a long form equation scribbled out in even less decipherable text than the diagram he had me solve.             The kid’s eyes went wide as he stuttered. “Uh, I th-think it’s eighty-seven.”             Dall gave a long-suffering sigh and shook his head sadly. “Time and time again, I wonder if I have failed. Instead, I am constantly reminded it is the educational system that perpetuates your inability to grasp basic mathematical principles.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and continued, “No, that isn’t even close.” I gave in to the urge and rolled my eyes, turning my attention back to the birds outside the window. I wonder what it would be like to fly… To be completely free like a bird is. No worrying about pain in the ass teachers, midterms, having no friends at this stupid school, or the fact that no guy has even looked at me twice. That would be wonderful, to be so at peace with my surroundings…                                                                                             *   *   *             Thirty minutes later, the bell blissfully tang, pulling me out of my thoughts, and Dallas off of yet another power trip. I gazed longingly down at the nearly finished sketch of the robin I had been affectionately thinking of as Darla. I shoved everything carefully back into my bag and hopped up from my desk. I have five minutes to get to the other side of the building. The frustration from the administration offices lack of foresight burned inside of me as I pushed through the crowd of students reluctant to get to their next class. Breaking free of the throng of students, I mentally fortified myself for World History. Too bad we’re covering Norse mythology; I would prefer to hear more about Greek stuff. Maybe we could even watch 300. I smiled devilishly to myself. I mean, Gerard Butler’s abs? Yes, please.             The brief reprieve from cramped personal space was short-lived as students finally started piling out of their classrooms. I feel like a salmon swimming upstream… I shook my head bitterly and shoved on, desperately trying to get to my locker before I was too late to class. Mrs. Hallet slamming the door in my face on my third day flashed through my mind, making me shudder. Won’t be making that mistake again.             That’s when it hit me.             The pain radiated from my shoulders down into my spine and I gasped in shock, collapsing to the floor outside of an empty classroom. A small moan escaped from my lists as I tried to clear my pain fogged vision. Students quickly stepped around me, only taking a second to glance down at me like passing a car crash on the side of the highway. Vague interest with no desire to help. Of course, no one is going to make sure I’m okay. I’m blacklisted. A flash of pain seared across my shoulders, almost like something living was crawling under my skin, begging to break free and rip out of me. A scream started to form, and I quickly clamped my lips shut, turning the escaping howl into a muffled whimper.             I shot my hand out and tried to brace myself against the wall, but as my vision turned black, the distance between me and the floor quickly diminished. Just as I was about to eat linoleum, a powerful hand gripped my shoulders and pulled me up. “Can you walk?” A voice echoed around in my mind. When I didn’t respond, he asked again, “Hey, Freyja? Freyja, can you walk?” I heard my name, I heard the question, but bile was rising in my stomach, and my body was already crumpling to the ground again. The only response I could manage was a slight groan in pain.             Suddenly, I wasn’t on the ground at all. In my haze, I could feel an arm under my legs and another under my back. Someone’s carrying me. This is humiliating. The only thought my helpless mind could form before another wave of pain radiated down my spine. This time, I did scream.