orientation, then stagger toward the lunch lines. If I can get some food and find Wallace, it will be okay.
A body steps in front of me. Tall. Deshawn Johnson. He’s holding something out. A folded paper. My hand reaches out to take it like this is some kind of dream and my body is responding without my permission. I unfold the paper.
It’s my drawing. The one Travis stole in October.
“. . . really sorry,” Deshawn says. “Travis was being an asshole . . . meant to give it back sooner, but never got the chance . . . it’s really cool that you draw Monstrous Sea . . . my brother got me into it—”
I might throw up on his shoes if I stand here any longer, so I stumble past him. Wallace has to be here somewhere. At our table. Obviously. By the windows. I look. He’s not there.
I get in line and stare at the purse of the girl in front of me. I don’t know what I put on my tray until I get to the end, and the lunch lady rings me up for two bowls of tomato soup, a vegetable tray, a handful of mustard packets, and a Drumstick. The Drumstick is for Wallace. Wallace loves Drumsticks.
I wander out of the lines and look at the table again. He’s still not there. I scan the cafeteria. He’s not in any of the lines. Not at the tables near the door, or by the wall. Is he in the courtyard? It’s too cold for that today.
Heads turn. Eyes watch me. So many eyes. I head toward our table. The world tips again. It’s like I’m a mustard packet and some baby’s hand is squeezing all the condiment out of me. Squeezing my heart, my lungs, squeezing my eyes so my vision narrows to a little point in front of me. Hair sticks to my face. One of the bowls of tomato soup falls off my tray and splatters the white tile floor.
Someone calls my name. I think.
They might have said LadyConstellation.
I walk through the soup. Where is he? He should be here.
Have I gotten this week’s Monstrous Sea pages done? I can’t remember. I must have. I’m so ahead.
Mom and Dad really shouldn’t have written that about me in the paper.
It is so hot in here. Why is it so hot?
I am going to die if my lungs don’t get out of this teacup.
Where is Wallace?
I am one hundred percent going to die.
He’s supposed to be here so I can give him this fucking Drumstick.
Jesus, I’m dying.
My tray knocks the edge of the table. Catches it, then catches my stomach. Crunches out of my hands. My legs buckle.
Darkness slams down.
Masterminds :: Submind :: Webcomics
LADYCONSTELLATION REVEALED
Posted at 11:03 a.m. on 05 - 06 - 2017 by BlessedJester
Ladies and gentlemen, on this day of days I bring you information long awaited by internet-goers. The true identity of LadyConstellation, the artist notorious for holding her anonymity, has been revealed by none other than a local news source. Click through to the picture, and be amazed.
ElizaMirk.jpg
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Monstrous Sea Private Message
1:15 p.m. (emmersmacks has joined the message)
emmersmacks: E???
emmersmacks: What happened?!?!
1:16 p.m. (Apocalypse_Cow has joined the message)
Apocalypse_Cow: she’s not around, is she?
emmersmacks: No
emmersmacks: Shes in school right now
emmersmacks: Do you think she knows??
Apocalypse_Cow: no clue.
Apocalypse_Cow: eliza, we’re doing damage control. as much as we can, anyway. but i think this one may be a lost cause . . . masterminds sunk their teeth into it
Apocalypse_Cow: and once masterminds gets it, they don’t let go.
CHAPTER 31
My parents put me in swimming lessons when I was younger. A pool of thirty little kids forced to float on their backs and tread water. I’d tripped over my feet in soccer and routinely gotten bowled over in basketball, so I guess they were hoping I’d have more luck as a swimmer.
Back then, I still wanted to please my parents. I wanted to be good at something; I just wasn’t. I didn’t particularly like swimming, but if I was good at it, I would do it.
I wasn’t good at it. When the instructor tried to teach us dead man’s float—a move everyone else picked up on instinct—I snorted water up my nose and flailed until they said I could stop. But I kept trying.
On the last day of class, one of the boys dared me to dive to the bottom of the deep end. I did it. Or I tried. My