Never Always Sometimes - Adi Alsaid Page 0,83

them she

knew they were desperate. She had fantasies of her mom whisking her

away from San Luis Obispo right after graduation, taking her on a trip

around Southeast Asia. They were cinematic clichés, these fantasies.

Her mom pulling up in a Thelma & Louise convertible right on the lawn of the ceremony, honking the horn, scarves blowing in the wind,

though Julia did not own a scarf. Sometimes, Julia felt like an only

child wishing for siblings, like a girl making up imaginary friends.

Thursday morning, she was convinced she had exactly this to look

forward to for the last month of school. Lonely moping, tearful nights,

music, music, music. She was sitting in her car, waiting for the first

period bell to ring when Principal Hill walked out into the parking lot

and she was forced to pretend to be on her way. She gathered her bag

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and walked in a hurry through the front doors with her earbuds in,

then walked straight past homeroom, not daring to look inside. She

checked her e-mail again and her hear leapt when she saw her mom’s

name come up. She almost smiled for the first time that week.

Then she opened the e-mail and saw that it was long, and tears

immediately formed in her eyes. Her mom was only wordy when she

was apologizing. Julia skimmed the e-mail, looking only for that “no”

she knew was in there. When she found it she wiped the tears from

her eyes and slipped her phone into her bag, listening harder to the

music. This was all she could handle right now. Just the world inside

her earphones.

Skipping class and just doing laps around the school would probably

get her caught. The school librarian was famously lax on almost every

rule except for only allowing you in the library if you had a pass. She

flirted with the idea of sitting in Dr. Hill’s office, since he was outside, but she wasn’t feeling particularly bold, so she decided to go hide

out in the tree house. She was looking forward to the few hours of

uninterrupted solitude on the floor among the pillows. But when she

walked inside, she jumped at the sight of Mr. Marroney sitting at the

counter, grading papers.

He was so hunched over the stack of papers that he almost looked

humpbacked. A blue ballpoint pen rested in his hand, streaks of blue

ink all along his forearm, like he’d been testing out the pen or had no

idea how to use it. He turned around, sensing her presence.

Julia stood at the entrance, frozen. She saw his mustache move. For

280 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES

a second she didn’t even understand that he’d spoken, she just thought

that was something his mustache did that she hadn’t ever noticed before.

“What?” Julia said, pulling an earphone out.

“I asked if you’re supposed to be in class.”

Julia shrugged. “Are you?”

Marroney chuckled and tried to cap his pen but ended up adding

a blue streak to his hand and then dropping the pen through a crack

between the floorboards. “This is my free period. I like coming up here

to do my grading. I’ve heard that I have you to thank for this place.”

“Not really,” Julia said. She looked over her shoulder, wondering if

anyone had seen her come out to the tree house. Then she set her bag

down on the floor and nestled down by the pillows, out of view. “I’m

just gonna hang out here for a while; please don’t get me in trouble.”

She got ready to put her other earphone back in, maybe take a nap.

“I was just thinking,” Marroney said, swiveling on his stool to face

her, “that you’ve been very distracted in class. Even more so than usual.”

“Oh, just the end of the year, you know,” she said with a shrug,

hoping that was enough to get him to go. A couple weeks ago she

would have done anything to keep him there and have more to tell

Dave about afterward. But now she couldn’t see the point in laughing

about it on her own. Music kept playing in one ear, a sad soundtrack

that she wanted to envelop her.

Instead, Marroney crossed his arms in front of his chest and

furrowed his brow at Julia, the way he did when anyone in class didn’t

seem to understand his ill-conceived math jokes.

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“I’ve been teaching long enough to know when a kid is distracted

and when it’s something else. Are you okay?”

Julia’s instinct was to laugh. And for a second she even smiled,

amused at the thought that the teacher she’d basically harassed was

concerned for her well-being. Then the smiled faded and she found

a knot rising in her throat because he cared enough to ask, though

she’d