Chapter 9

By the time we left for Akron I was beginning to get a real handle on just how deep a rabbit hole I had fallen into. In both cases, it was some casual comments from Marcus that gave me insights into this strange new world. I was beginning to suspect that his comments were not casual at all, but rather his way of introducing me to a new reality at a rate I could handle.

Last night it was a number: 83. I had no idea there was any such thing as a high school with 83 students. I knew I was coming to a small school. I was prepared for 300-400 small; 200 would have stunned me; 83 scored a total K-O. Telling me it was a combined junior and senior high school was stepping over my lifeless body.

I think I carried on a fairly normal conversation and managed not to make a fool of myself, but that number kept running through my mind. I said my good nights and fled back to the comparative shelter of my own little abode. Strange how a house that felt so alien 48 hours ago was now my closest thing to home.

All the way home, I just kept asking myself the same question, “Why did you come here without taking time to find out anything about this place? Yes, I’m talking to you Elizabeth Anne Manigault, you who usually won’t buy a pair of pantyhose without comparison shopping the whole damn mall and reading Consumer Reports. This time you become principal of a school and never ever once think to ask how big the student body is. Are you nuts? What in the hell were you thinking?”

I came home to discover I had gotten my first mail. One was addressed to occupant, proving that some things are the same everywhere. The second was a cute “I Believe in You” card from my mother, proving that a mother’s love can follow you anywhere. Knowing my mother was one of those people who bought cards in bulk and carefully filed them by category awaiting an occasion to use them did take just a little away from the moment.

The third item was the one that stopped my heart. It had no return address. If that was an attempt to hide its origin, it was futile; as if I wouldn’t recognize the handwriting of my alter ego since the age of four. Until, until ... I hurried inside, so no one would see the hot angry tears. I threw the envelope down on my desk unopened.

God damn you, Jennifer, how could you do this to me? I can forget my fiancé; I had been pretty sure he wasn’t going to be around much longer anyway. But how in hell can I go back and get a friend to grow up with? Who can I learn to roller skate with? Whisper under the sheets all night with? Go to the bathroom, and trash dates with? I’ve never needed you more, and you had to go screw my fiancé. Damn you to hell; now I’ve have no friend.