you seen?”
No response.
“Interesting,” I muse.
“What’s interesting?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head, a playful smile dancing on my lips. “Now, where’s my bloody fortune cookie?”
8:35 a.m.
“So, are you going to tell me why you’re acting like a suicidal maniac?” Owen asks as he crumples up his fortune and tosses it into my backseat.
Once again, his said the same thing, while mine changed to:
You make your own happiness.
Not helpful.
I tried to make my own happiness. I’ve tried for more than four days now and nada. So needless to say, mine got crumpled up and tossed into the backseat as well.
“Do you want the long version or the short version?” I ask, replying to Owen’s question.
He glances out the window. “Well, seeing that we’re about twenty seconds from the school and first period started five minutes ago, the short version.”
“This is the fifth time I’ve lived this exact same day.”
Owen’s face scrunches up. “Okay, maybe I need the long version.”
I turn in to the parking lot and find a spot in the back. When I park the car, Owen makes no move to get out. He crosses his arms expectantly over his chest. “I’m waiting.”
“You’re already late.”
“Precisely. I’m already late. So spill.”
I let out a sigh and push back the hood of my sweatshirt.
Owen’s eyes widen when he sees what I’ve done to my hair. “Holy crap! Ells, what did you do?”
I don’t answer the question. It will all become clear soon enough. “Maybe this time I should start with the proof. It might speed things along.”
“What proof?”
“Did you by chance have a dream about skinny-dipping with Principal Yates last night?”
8:55 a.m.
By the time I get to my first-period class twenty minutes later, I’m soaking wet and the class has already returned from school pictures.
“Do you have a pass?” Mr. Briggs asks as I waltz through the door and drop into my chair.
“Nope.”
“Then I hope you have a very good excuse.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Don’t have one of those either.”
He flashes me an aggravated look. “Well, then I have no choice but to write you up.”
I nod. “I would expect nothing less.”
“Ellie?” he asks, like he doesn’t even recognize me.
I reach into my bag and pop a piece of gum into my mouth. Chewing gum isn’t allowed in class. “Yeah?”
“What’s gotten into you?”
I shrug. “What’s gotten into you?”
Mr. Briggs’s face turns a faint shade of purple. “You better watch it. Any more lip from you and I’ll send you to see Principal Yates, and that will go on your permanent record.”
I pop my gum. “I wouldn’t bet on that.”
The entire class snickers. Mr. Briggs stomps back to his desk, pulling a thick pad of pink slips from the top drawer and scribbling furiously. He rips off the top sheet. “Ellison Sparks. Out of my class. Now.”
I release a heavy sigh, scoop up my bag, and walk to the front of the room to accept my fate.
“Well, it’s been fun, boys and girls,” I say to everyone. “Stay in school. Don’t do drugs.”
Then, with a salute, I disappear out the door.
There’s a Bad Moon on the Rise
I make the long walk down to the principal’s office. Normally, I would be freaking out right about now. In my sixteen years of life, I’ve never actually been sent to the principal’s office. My only real exchanges with Principal Yates have been when she hands me another award for making the dean’s list or having perfect attendance. (Well, if you don’t count the run-ins I had with her this week, which I obviously don’t.)
Past Ellie would be mortified right now. For her, this would be the equivalent of a walk of shame. But not me. Not anymore. That old Ellie is gone. She’s been gobbled up by the universe and spit out like undigested food.
Now I couldn’t care less what the principal thinks of me.
When I open the door to the main office, I’m surprised to see a familiar face waiting in one of the chairs outside of Principal Yates’s door. His body is hunched over, his hands clasped between his knees.
“Owen?” I say in disbelief.
He picks up his head, a faint smile fighting its way to his lips. “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I thought about what you said. About how there are no consequences. How nothing we do or say matters. And I figured, why not? So I gave the teacher a little taste of O-Town Filly.”
O-Town Filly is the rapper name Owen gave himself in middle school when we were bored one night and stumbled