The Fifth Circle (15 page)

My previous sense of euphoria, my hope that the anonymity of our setting would increase my chances of making it to first base with Alex, evaporated like a spilled soda in the hot sun.
Darren and Tyler helped my wallet make its escape from my back pocket, and I knelt ineffectively on the ground while my enemies pilfered my precious forty dollars.

“Thanks for the dough, bro,” Darren laughed. He tossed the wallet in my face, gestured at his buddies to follow him, and waltzed away toward the next ride
, or victim.

“Sorry, Alex,” I choked out.

“Why? They should be sorry and one day they will be. Let’s go.” She reached down and took my hand. I had a brief flashback of my rollercoaster-hand-holding fantasy, and though things hadn’t happened as I’d planned, I grasped her hand, only surrendering it when she tugged gently.

“Do you want to stay?” I asked. “We won’t be able to get
a drink or eat or…”

“I have ten bucks. We don’t need to eat here
. It’s a waste of money anyway.”

“The day is ruined.” I kicked at an empty cup on the ground and watched it skitter under a bench.

“No it isn’t. Come on. This is the first time I’ve been here in forever.” She reached out and tugged my hand. I followed her from one ride to the next, trying as hard as I could to enjoy the day, but I found myself constantly looking over my shoulder in dread of the next bully sighting.

When we caught sight of Darren and his comrades later, they were huddled around an ice-cream stand enjoying frozen treats compliments of my stolen birthday money. Two security guards stood close-by, so Darren’s behavior was confined to mild taunting, but the light had gone out of the day once again.

Then something happened that redeemed everything. Noticing my dark expression and my descending depression, Alex rose up on her tip-toes and kissed me on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Sean.”

Her shyness kicked in
after that and she could hardly look at me the rest of the afternoon and evening, but the day was complete.

Chapter 15- Alex

And afterward I will rejoin my band

Which goes lamenting its eternal doom

(Canto XV, lines 41 & 42)

My guidance counselor, Mrs. Pedrotti, shuffled through stacks of paperwork and each time she licked her finger to turn a page, I cringed. I hated the idea that her spit would mark each paper in my file. Did traces of her saliva infect the permanent records of every student in the school? She pushed her glasses higher on her nose and looked across the desk where I sat waiting to see why she’d summoned me.

I never got in trouble, so I wasn’t worried when I received the crisp pink slip
that told me to appear in the guidance counselor’s office, but since I wasn’t exactly a frequent flyer in the main offices, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat curious. Several scenarios shot through my mind during the three minutes I’d been sitting in the cramped space filled with overflowing files and half-dead plants.

The fear of being ‘reported’ was never far from the back of my mind. When I was younger, I often fantasize
d about the day someone would notice the physical symptoms of my father’s rage, but it was as much a nightmare as a dream. The shame kept me from truly wishing for deliverance. I racked my brains and tried to remember the last time I’d come to school with a visible bruise, but it had been a while. Besides, no one had ever cared before, and now that I was eighteen, anything that happened to me couldn’t be considered child abuse.

M
rs. Pedrotti’s smoker’s cough practically shook the foundations of the school building. She reeked of nicotine. With all the anti-smoking campaigns aimed toward teens, her presence seemed counterproductive. At last, her hacking subsided and she cleared her throat.

“
Alexandra, I’ve just received copies of your ACT scores. Why did you wait so long to take the test? Many of the application deadlines have passed for the good schools…” her speech trailed off to make way for more hacking and throat clearing. “Which colleges did you send your scores to?”

“Um, maybe UMSL
. Oh, and Saint Louis Community College, but I doubt I’ll go there.” I chewed on a ragged fingernail and watched while the placid expression on her face morphed to stunned disbelief.

“Community college?” Her eyes bu
lged from behind her thick, coke-bottle glasses. “Alex, you have an English score of thirty-four! In math, you pulled a thirty-one, and that’s one of your weakest subjects according to your report cards. With some extra-curricular activities under your belt, maybe some volunteer work…we could get started on a plan right away…I’d have to check on deadlines, and it might be too late…we’ve never had an Ivy League bound student…”              

She spoke of Composite scores and Application essays while tapping wildly on her keyboard. Her eyes lit up from the glow of fanaticism and the flickering computer screen. My head felt heavy and Mrs. Pedrotti’s voice seemed far away. I began to tune her out. In all likelihood, she’d mixed up my records with those of another student
. No way was I Harvard material. But, on the off chance she wasn’t mistaken and those test scores belonged to me, I couldn’t fathom actually following through on any of the suggestions she made.

“Alex,” she snapped, and I whipped my head up to look at her. “Sports? Do you play any sports?” I shook my head. “Do you volunteer anywhere?” Her mouth turned down when I shook my head again and the hope faded from her eyes.

I hated to be such a disappointment, so I struggled to remember if I’d done anything worthwhile over the past four years. “I’m in Honor Choir…there was a reward…oh, yeah, like, I had a solo and got first place at the Missouri Junior competition.”

“Maybe we can work with that. Alex, it’s not too late to join one of the clubs here. I’ll ask around. What I need you to do in the meantime is volunteer. Nursing homes, the Humane Society, Special Olympics…something.”
She sounded desperate. I was her one great hope to crank out an Ivy Leaguer before retirement, and she was determined to make it happen.

“I did the Polar Bear Plunge for Special Olympics. You know, we went into the freezing cold lake to raise money…”

“That’s excellent! You can use that for a college essay… how it made you feel, the motive behind doing it…” Her smile seemed just a little too bright, but I appreciated her misguided faith in me. “I want you back here next Wednesday during fourth period so we can fill out online applications together. You need to have your parents fill out the FAFSA for financial aid and I’ll start looking into scholarships. We have a lot to do, Alex. I hope it isn’t too late.”

On a
swift wind of mock-enthusiasm and false promises, I swept from the guidance office, my arms laden with paperwork and brochures. A quick glance at the clock above the secretary’s desk told me my lunch period had already begun, so I scurried to the cafeteria.

Sean sat at our usual table with an irritable scowl on his face.
When he saw me approach, he snapped something at Cole, and his friend quickly moved his feet from the chair next to Sean. A waterfall of black hair cascaded over Cole’s face, but I could see one shifty eye peeking out from behind a greasy lock. I glanced away before Sean caught me looking. I didn’t want him to think I was scamming on his creepy friend.

“What’s all that shit?” Sean asked, waving dismissively toward the mish-mash of paperw
ork I placed in front of me.

“Oh, you know. College information
. Mrs. Pedrotti gave me a bunch of stuff,” I said with a shrug. I worked to neaten the stack of papers and shoved them into my binder before Sean got too nosy.

“Is that why you were late?”

“Yeah, she likes to talk a lot.” I prayed he wouldn’t insist on looking through my papers. If he saw the Harvard sample essay questions, he’d freak out and accuse me of trying to escape to Boston without him. I’d prefer to have that conversation later…or, better yet, not at all.

“So…”
He trailed off when Cole interrupted. It was the first time I’d actually liked the weird Emo kid who usually gave me bad vibes.

“Dude, so like I was saying before, you must have been up all night! Our rank has never been so high. I mean, only the quads with Aussies or some shit get to that level. A quad full of people in
the same time zone is usually not successful. Bender actually wanted me to find a player on the other side of the world to fill the spot, but he’s glad we gave you a shot. So, when do you sleep?”

“I sleep. Just not lately,” Sean said.

“That’s not good. You really…” I stopped speaking when he threw me a nasty look.

“Don’t start with me.”

“Sorry, I…”

“Yeah, I haven’t really slept in about three days. I don’t need to. I’ve logged about
thirty hours on the game in the last three days, caught up on all my homework, cleaned my whole house, and moved all the furniture in my room. You have no idea how much shit you can get done when you don’t have to sleep like a normal person. I’ve even written a couple of songs. I’m thinking about learning to play the guitar and starting a band.”

W
hat did he mean when he said “sleep like a normal person?” I focused on him more closely and noticed what I’d chosen to overlook over the past few days: the dark circles under eyes that glowed with a manic light, the nervous twitching, and the excessive talking about his grandiose plans. I wondered if his mother had noticed the beginning signs of his reemerging illness, but then remembered—Sean was my responsibility now.

***

I tried not to dwell on the meeting with Mrs. Pedrotti, but it was impossible. Ignoring unpleasant or unwanted thoughts was my most valuable skill, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about my ACT scores and what it could mean for my future.

Fortunately, Sean was so caught up in
Tales of Andrometis, he had little time to worry about my petty concerns. No further mention of the college brochures were made. After school, he made love to me until I was sore, then ate half the contents of his mother’s refrigerator before logging on to the game. Sharp bursts of laughter punctuated my afternoon, and by the time he left for work, I’d become exhausted from listening to his incessant chatter.

Even my newest vampire romance novel could not distract me, so I finally called my sister. I rarely initiated contact with Claire, but she was the one person who could help me put
the meeting with my guidance counselor into perspective. Although I knew I would never take any advice Claire offered, I just wanted to hear someone say, “I knew you could do it. I knew you were smart.”

I regretted calling her almost instantly. She sounded rushed and hurried when she answered the phone. “Alex? What’s going on?”
Background noise nearly obscured her voice.

“Nothing. If you’re busy…”

“No. Hold on. Let me just go somewhere a little more quiet,” she shouted into the phone. The sound of an apparent party faded into the distance. I heard a door slam door before my sister spoke again. “Everything okay?”

I filled her in on my meeting with Mrs. Pedrotti. “So, that’s about it. I mean, I guess it’s pretty cool, but it’ll be impossible for me to get everything together so quickly. I’ll probably just go to S
aint Louis Community College for a year while I try to get everything organized for next year.”

“Alex, do you have a job?” she asked.

“No.” I couldn’t see where she was going with that question. Maybe she thought I had enough money to pay for school without doing all the financial aid stuff.

“Do you do a lot of volunteer work?”

“No.” I’d already made that clear when I filled her in on every detail of my conversation with Mrs. Pedrotti.

“Then what the hell else do
you have to do that takes up so much of your time? And don’t mention Sean,” she said. “If you’re waiting for me to tell you you’re smart, that’s fine. You are. I’ve told you that before. Now, if you think I’m going to agree that you don’t have enough time to get your shit together in order to apply to a good school, forget it! I’m not going to help you make excuses.”

“
But, there’s a lot…”

“No there’s not. So, maybe you won’t get into an Ivy League school, but still. There are tons of good schools you could apply to.” She lowered her voice. “Alex, I don’t think you should go somewhere local. You need to get out of S
aint Edmunds. Even if you don’t go to a great school, at least go somewhere that isn’t close to home.”

“But, then I’ll have to worry about housing and transportation…”

“So what? You’re not an idiot. Your test scores prove that. It’s just a matter of making phone calls. Not even that—most of what you need is online. You don’t even have to talk to anyone. You should come here. That way, I can help you get settled. I have another year before I graduate.”

The conversation wasn’t going the way I’d hoped. I wanted her to tell me how smart I was
, not browbeat me into doing a bunch of stuff I wasn’t ready for. Change was difficult for me. Did I hate Saint Edmunds? Yes. Did I want to move away? Maybe in my vague daydreams. Was I willing to actively make changes in my life? Not right now.