The Idyllic Chaos of My So-Called Life Read online

  It was easy to pretend that my real parents were off at some exotic location—I knew my foster parents would never show up at school to inquire about my progress. The lie worked well. However, with Audrey I wasn’t quite so sure if she would be showing up to school—wanting to meet the teachers, and ask about my grades.

  My face was covered with a thin veil of sweat contemplating the lie I would need to weave, or possibly the truth I would have to tell to explain my presence. I must have drifted off to sleep eventually, because I woke up the next morning without ever reaching a resolution to my predicament.

  I peeled myself up off the sheets and placed my feet on the cold oak floor at five a.m.—which was very unusual for me. First day jitters, I wondered, and then dismissed the irregularity fairly quickly.

  I sat up in bed and grabbed some music appropriate for my mood—“Eyes on Fire” seemed to fit my particular melancholy for the morning. I slipped into the bathroom and did what I could with my hair. It was long and marbled with different tones of chestnut and gold peeking out from underneath the swooping mahogany curls. The curls were tightly wound on the bottom, and slightly softer near the crown. I never knew how to wear it, so I took the less curly part and pulled it loosely back into a barrette. That would have to do, I supposed.

  I quickly pulled on my jeans and a green sweater. It was extremely hard to get used to the idea of wearing a sweater in March. I laced up my boots, and threw on my black wool pea coat. As I sized myself up in the mirror I thought, God, I looked like a merchant marine. I felt like I should toss a stick of Old Spice at someone.

  I walked slowly into the kitchen. The smell of fried vegan sausage and soy spread made my throat close and my stomach turn. I never ate breakfast in the morning. Audrey delivered a plate filled with varying sizes of life like-shaped soy products. Yum. I suppose I’d have to pick at the fake eggs, sausage, and toast laid out in front of me. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

  “I hope you like eggs whites and my vegan sausage,” she asked with hesitation in her voice.

  I looked up at her, my eyebrows shifting downward to meet my eyelids as they opened widely and said, “Yeah, that’s fine.” I smiled as I took a piece of sausage and carefully nibbled at it. I fake ate quickly, hoping Audrey wouldn’t notice that I’d only managed to eat a few bites, and had mostly just stirred everything together into a shapeless mish-mash of food.

  I stood up at the sink, cleaned off my plate, and set it in the wire rack to dry. I turned to Audrey and asked her, “Um, Audrey, um, yeah,” I mumbled. I hated it when I couldn’t get to the point.

  “Yes,” Audrey said sweetly.

  “Well, um, I was wondering how will I be getting to school—is there a bus or something I can catch?”

  The corners of Audrey’s mouth peeked upward, and she said, “I’m glad you brought that up. I actually have something for you.” She walked over to a drawer that she had referred to not as a junk drawer, but what she considered a time capsule, and pulled out a set of old tarnished silver keys that lay among countless receipts, a screwdriver, a couple of power cords, five packs of batteries, about fifty dried ink pens, and a passport. She cracked a slight smile as she slid the blackened keys into my hand.

  “What’s this?” I asked, thinking that I might already know the answer.

  Audrey took me by the shoulder and led me to the detached garage out the back door of the tiny house. She opened up the yellowed garage door, and there parked inside was...a car. I couldn’t believe it she had a car for me. It was an early model Volkswagen Jetta. It looked like a 1999 or 2000 model. I could tell because it looked more like a box, not like the rounded, sleeker, newer models.

  I knew right away that I loved it! It was smoky gray, and seemed to have a purplish glow as the sunlight hit the bumper. I opened the door to find a black interior with just a few worn spots on the ebony bucket seats. I allowed my hands to pass gently along the dash, tracing the lines along the top and down the sides. As I picked up my finger there was a small patch of dust that stuck to the tip of it. I probably need to give this car a thorough dusting, I thought happily. I looked at Audrey in amazement.

  “Oh...My...God!” My mouth slowly leaked the words out.

  “Well, there’s just one catch,” Audrey calmly stated.

  “What?” my voice edged.

  “I was able to pay the insurance for the next six months, and the first month’s payment, but after that you’ll be responsible for them. You’ll probably need to find a part time job after school.”

  I watched her lips move, my eyes concentrating on her mouth. A part time job wouldn’t be so bad...would it?

  “—Yes.” I interrupted her speech.

  “I know a few people, I could probably help you get something if you would like,” she offered.

  I should have taken her up on her offer, since I didn’t know anyone around here, coupled with the fact that I wanted to stay away from the many fast food establishments, but what I said instead was, “No thanks.” I wanted to get a job on my own. I didn’t want to be indebted to Audrey even more than I already was.

  “I think I’ll just look around town for something part time,” I said with an absoluteness that discontinued any more offers from her. As I spoke, I worked strenuously trying to dial my excitement back. I couldn’t let her know she had pleased me so immediately.

  “We’ll talk about it more later.” She quickly cut the conversation off, and changed the topic. “I hope you have a good day today.”

  “I will.” I attempted to sound upbeat about my impending doom. Even though I tried to dismiss any jitters, the fact was that first days unequivocally always...sucked.

  I went out to the Volkswagen and slid the key into the ignition; with one quick turn the motor started with ease. In the past, I’d noticed how loud Volkswagens were, and this car was no exception. The muffler roared like a train. I tried not to think about the fact that I was on my way through a town I knew nearly nothing about, to yet another school that was just as alien.

  I pulled out of the driveway and started down the street. I shifted my thoughts along with the stick shift as I searched for the rhythm that I needed to change the gears without thrusting myself, and the entire car, forward and then back again.

  As I drove down the water-soaked streets, I saw that the houses were lined up in neat tidy little rows. The water from the snowy roads misted over my windshield obscuring my view, and I could feel the cool air moving smoothly and effortlessly across my face from an open window in the back.

  I checked my directions, and thought how glad I was that Audrey hadn’t insisted on driving me on my first day. I liked that she was giving me my space. I maneuvered along the streets avoiding the deep potholes that were most likely created from the winter snowfall.

  The rows of houses changed from modest to downright dilapidated. This obviously was not the part of town intended for the tourists. I wondered if I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. I reached down beside me and grabbed the scrap paper with my scant directions scribbled on it. Yep, I made a right when I should have made a left...crap.

  As I doubled back, I noticed that many of the houses were lopsided with warped boards covering any and every opening. Many of them looked as though they had been set on fire at some point. These shells of previous homes looked sad, and I wondered how many boarded up dwellings like those had A— been inside...scoring! It was hard to suppress the self-destructive urge to go inside and see for myself what was happening behind the boards and ashes.

  As I passed one burnt-out building after another, I couldn’t believe that this was my life. I knew I was going to hate this place. Just as soon as the thought entered my head, I caught a glimpse of color in my periphery. I jerked my head to the side, and noticed between two nearly burned down buildings was an alley overflowing with flowers. Surely, this was a desperate person’s mirage. The same way someone who is dying of thirst in the desert imagines a refreshing waterhole with crystal clear water and lush
green palm trees. Was I in such desperate need to see something that wasn’t gray and decrepit that I was imagining flowers in an otherwise desolate alley? I did a quick double take. No, it was really there.

  In the midst of the rusted dumpsters and strewn garbage that covered the ground, there were snow-white delicate flowers with pale yellow eyes organized in simple fragile clusters. I wondered how they’d survived in such a dirty place.

  After a few left turns, I’d finally found my way back to what seemed to be the more picturesque part of town. The water continued to leap up from the road and splatter across the windshield. I was still having trouble seeing out of the rain-smeared window. I’d found very quickly that one of the idiosyncrasies of the VW was that the wiper blades didn’t work. At a stoplight I grabbed a napkin and leaned out of the window to wipe the water from the driver’s side. I knew I looked ridiculous.

  I shifted the gears much more easily now, but still had to concentrate on the timing and rhythm of my feet and hands. I wondered if this would ever become second nature.

  As I drove through the tree-lined streets, which were devoid of any actual foliage, I passed the Central Drug Store. It was an old fashioned pharmacy with a bright orange sign that read Rexall (I never knew if that was the name of the store or what). I continued down the main road. It was clear that this area was meant for tourists. The knick-knack shops that lined the streets were brightly colored in shades of azure, canary yellow and red. There was a tranquil snow-covered lawn that extended to a marina, yet to be filled with sailboats and speedboats hovering about the water with what I imagined to be unique names like Aquaholic and SUMM’R LUV’N.

  My attention shifted quickly to the street that I needed to take to get to school. As I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed that the building looked like a prison, not a metaphorical prison, but an actual jail with concrete block exterior walls and windowless windows that were covered by brown boards.

  As I pulled around the corner of the parking lot, I saw that part of the school looked to be older. The older part, hidden from my view initially, was adorned with graceful architectural details along the edge of the red-tiled roof. I liked the older part much better—it had much more character.

  The parking lot was crowded—filled with students assembling and discussing the past events of the weekend. I tried to keep my nervousness at bay. I usually accomplished this task by talking to myself out loud, which made me look more than a little nuts, I’m sure.

  I searched for a parking space—the roaring Jetta announced my presence. I was sure several kids took note that this was an unfamiliar car, and a new girl that they didn’t recognize. I was forever paranoid people were noticing me. I convinced myself that nobody cared, really, I wasn’t that noticeable.

  I pulled into a parking spot in the outermost section of the parking lot closest to the access road that led out of the school. I figured it was a good place for privacy so I could continue to talk to myself without looking too crazy and make a quick escape if the day didn’t go well.

  I quickly turned off my ignition and swung open the door. I scanned the parking lot and the school building, trying figure out where I needed to go. I knew that I needed to check in at the office for my schedule. I’d parked along the side of the school, by what looked to be the gym, and I remembered seeing a sign for the office as I passed the front of the school. I had a long walk in the rain—without an umbrella. A ton of profanities propelled through my mind, and passed across my lips quietly, as I realized that the office had to be at least a half of a mile away! “Damn,” I said a little bit louder, as the rain smacked me in the face.

  I arrived at the front door of the office. The room smelled like the pages of an old mildewed book. There was a long hallway with several different offices along the left side. I quickly made my way into the first opening. This was the attendance office.

  There was an older woman in her forties with a pinched face decorated with wiry bifocals. She looked up from under her blonde helmet-like hair that was cut into a severe bob, and asked, “May I help you?”

  “Hi, I’m Astrid Starling.” I paused.

  “Yes dear.” She looked at me, waiting for some type of explanation.

  “Today is my first day. I-I need a schedule.”

  Her eyes narrowed and her brow furrowed, and then with a sudden recognition she said, “Oh yes, I have your information right here.”

  She handed me a stack of papers to fill out with emergency names and numbers. That would be easy. Not a lot of names to write down there. One of the advantages of being alone.

  She then preceded to hand me my schedule as she explained the events of the day. “You have Homeroom in room 113, you’ll need to check in there first with Mr. Horan.” She paused and perused the schedule. “Oh you’ll be an office assistant in here third period. You’ll be in here with me.” She looked up at me as if she were trying to decide how to size me up. I don’t think she could decide. In a skeptical tone she seemed to ask more than state, “I look forward to seeing you third period?” I thanked her, quickly took my schedule and moved even faster into the hallway.

  For a moment I thought that I might be overwhelmed by the number of students in the halls. They were moving with such velocity and purpose that I was dumfounded for a second or two. I guessed that they were desperate to make it to their homerooms before the bell rang. I figured I’d better pick up the pace too.

  I immediately found my locker along an extended tunnel on the second floor. I wanted to explore the tunnel, but I didn’t want to be late—being late got you noticed. I figured it probably led to the gym, and I wondered if I could leave that way to get to my car in case I needed to make a quick getaway. I had to postpone my interest in how to escape—gotta get to homeroom. Another profanity slipped through my lips and leapt off my tongue. “Shit.”

  I folded up my schedule, trying to conceal it as I shoved the square piece of paper into my coat pocket, and then placed my tattered coat in my locker. I hated when I didn’t look like I knew what I was doing. I’d always prided myself on looking like I knew exactly what was happening. I thought—fake it till you make it.

  A slight-looking girl came up beside me. She fidgeted with the lock on her locker next to mine. She had an extremely thin build. She had a long straight nose and brown hair, with her ringlets piled casually on top of her head. Her long nose was accentuated with a pair of dark brown rectangular frames that made her look much older than her sixteen years. She peeked through the slits along the top of the open door of the locker. I could feel her eyes on me, and I looked sideways to let her know that I saw her.

  She closed her locker door as she gathered her books and what looked like a flute case and stuffed them into an oversized messenger bag, and she boisterously said, “Hi, I’m Evan—Evangeline, but I liked to be called Evan. I think its way cooler than Evangeline. You know like Evan Rachel Wood.”

  Wow...she could talk. I scanned her bony frame and decided to put on my best first day of school face. Even if I wasn’t interested in making any long-term friends, I knew I wasn’t interested in accumulating any enemies either. I coolly responded, “Hi I’m Astrid.”

  “Is today your first day?” she energetically asked.

  “Yeah—can you tell me where Mr. Horan’s room is?”

  Her eyes lit up. “We have homeroom together.”

  Her eyes and mannerisms had decidedly landed on the side that she thought I was all right. “Come on and follow me,” she urged as she placed the strap of her messenger bag across her thin frame. It looked as though it might snap her twig-like body in half.

  We walked quickly down the hall through what seemed to be an impenetrable maze of jocks, cheerleaders, band geeks, punks, Goths, and any and every sub group known to the modern American high school. I didn’t seem to fit into any of these groups. I guess I hadn’t come to the point yet where I’d defined myself as to where I belonged. Evan continued to talk like a wind-up doll, filling me in on the scho
ol gossip as we passed each sub group of teenagers.

  “What lunch period do you have?” she asked as she ripped open her brown leather bag and pulled out a Hershey bar.

  I tried to remember without fumbling for my schedule. “Fourth lunch,” I answered with uncertainty.

  “Oh goody, we have lunch together,” she exclaimed. “You can sit with me if you want to.”

  In my most relaxed manner, I said, “Sure,” trying to hide the fact that I was about to grin because one, she’d just used the word goody, and two, she’d alleviated my biggest worry—walking into a crowded lunchroom not knowing anybody.

  At every school I’d ever gone to, the cafeteria was the bane of my existence. I hated walking into enemy territory without any allies—everybody staring at me. I prided myself on the fact that I usually possessed a who cares attitude, but for some reason the cafeteria always made me nervous on the first day.

  I silently entered Mr. Horan’s room and looked around anxiously for a seat. There was one seat left in the front of the room. Evan gave me a quick smile and took her seat. Homeroom lasted ten minutes where the role was taken and students scarfed down the typical high school breakfast, which consisted of candy bars, Cheetos, Funyons, and a Coke or Diet Coke, depending on your nutritional goals for the day.

  Personally, I enjoyed a Snickers bar and a cup of coffee or a Coke during my hurried mornings. I couldn’t tolerate the taste of diet drinks. Luckily, to this point, my figure was not altered by my love of candy and Coca-Cola. I was built like a ruler, straight up and down with no hips to speak of. This could be considered a good or bad thing depending on your perspective. I never really gave it much consideration. My usual jeans and T-shirt ensemble gave no illusion of femininity.

  The bell rang at exactly eight o’clock. It was time to go to English class with Mrs. Kessinger. I once again made my way through the hallways, absorbing the sights and smells of my new school. It looked and smelled like every other school. The hallways were densely packed with students, and the scent of sweat and Designer Imposters perfume swelled over my sinuses. I was over being excited or nervous, apart from the lunchroom thing—I hated school. I couldn’t escape the overwhelming feeling that no matter what I did, I was never going to belong anywhere.