Have an Exit
In the second week of the semester, Mr. Blue arrived several minutes late, opening the door for his English classroom. A few students waited outside, where Trevor chose carefully where to line up on the wall; when he got up this morning - his mother making breakfast quickly and moving through the house feverishly - he made his bed, chose his clothes carefully, and went downstairs without drinking a cold glass of water, clearing the fogginess from his head. Already on edge about starting today, getting on the bus before seven. And while standing in line waiting for Mr. Blue, he smiled lazily when a boy standing near on the wall, somewhat tall and of average physique, Alex glanced accidentally at him. Trevor then pulled out and looked at his phone, stepping back against the wall as Mr. Blue said hello to the students half-joylessly and unlocked the door, having first, tried to find the right keys.
Seeing Alex daily, Trevor thought, his kind eyes and fresh stance made him look over 21. Aware that many were seventeen to nineteen, and, walking into the classroom, reminded Trevor where to sit based on where Alex sat, opposite from the entrance, as the exit was just on the other side of the wall. I may have known these halls when my brother came to this school, and now I, Trevor thought curiously. He analyzed, walking through the rows of desks, nervous about what he had concluded about what he might do today to change the pace of things; Alex, perhaps, was nervous, as well. Thus he was relieved to slide off his backpack, motivate himself to take out his notebook, excusing the textbook for this class; he observed half of the girls glancing over at Alex, resuming their usual routine every morning. I’m sure he knows they watch him, probably doesn't like it, Trevor thought to himself. He leaned down to take out the heavy textbook when he saw Alex move down to take out his.
Seeing a full room of students - the first time since the beginning of this semester - Trevor suddenly felt encouraged he didn’t skip Mr. Blue’s class today, wanting to keep this neutral focus as long as he could. Looking over at the teacher, there came another observation to anticipate: that today could be the day going beyond getting a good grade, failing, and falling at the seams is best for his character. I wouldn’t need this textbook after all, Trevor thought dreamily. Knowing Alex, as he sat looking around anxiously, had dealt with low-grade levels, but mainly was rewarded with participation and was built by trial and error.
Finally, observing tenderly, it wasn’t long before Mr. Blue logged onto his desktop computer, before getting up and walking towards the front, mostly students taking liberties to talk before he spoke. Mr. Blue stared around as though every time he recognized how many students he had this semester, he paused, remembered their names, and called on them to start attendance.
Trevor and the students became anxious to miss their names while a few, like Alex, fixed their posture to hear, waited for their name to be called, getting on the slow beginning of class. Especially this second week of the semester, the air, everything else in fact; everyone humorously on instagram from other schools already wondered if summer was close, maybe next week if possible; Trevor would tap the like button on the posts out of participation, and wondered frightenly if anybody else did without hesitation. Suddenly, at least I don’t have to worry about grades anymore, he thought proudly.
He laid his head on his palm, closed his eyes, and listened for his name to be called. And by terror, hearing “Trevor Nelson, are you here?” by Mr. Blue - Trevor raised his hand, thinking he succeeded smoothly, and closed his eyes, to picture the gun in his backpack - tightly zipped in the second pocket… armed and ready.
Alex then glanced at him and both smiled awkwardly. “At least I’m here,” Trevor whispered to himself. “At least I’m still here.”
Half an hour in class, Mr. Blue accepted Alex's request for early dismissal from completing today’s textbook assignment; and he remained sitting on the benches in the hall until the bell rang. Trevor watched Alex when he exited minutes later, as he strolled around the corner to his next class. Alex was met by a group of boys, all waiting as they had last week. Walking with him as usual. I bet Alex finds this just as boring as using Cornell format; rarely does anything have to be organized, he thought harshly - doing a good job sticking with everybody.
When the bell rang, Trevor was stable enough to get to his next class, third period. After the second period, there was very little activity to appease the teacher, nor the five students who arrived. Entering the class, however, brought much what it could since History PA is his least favorite; and it’s mostly notetaking. He didn’t bother taking out his notebook; instead, he listened as the teacher, Mrs. Smith, continued the lecture like the previous week. Assuming the rest of the students knew what class they wanted to work during hers. “Trevor?” Mrs. Smith said.
Trevor knew many eyes curiously looked at him.
He positioned himself, like Alex, to hear and look up. “Yes, Mrs. Smith?”
She leaned over to see if her eyes misread: looking at a phone, and said, “Are you going to take notes?”
“I already took them online; I’m just listening though,” Trevor explained softly.
“Okay then, but make sure, as to everyone, you must prepare the first text next week, alright? Just to remind everybody.”
A student then raised his hand. As Mrs. Smith pointed to him Trevor held his head in his palm and closed his eyes. They're gonna look back and wonder how much I was able to talk so softly, he thought. Then giggled, when Mrs. Smith said, “That’s good, you said that. Did anybody hear what he just said?”
It was by the lunch bell, the peers around him, reaching under their desks and grabbing their backpacks, took their time strolling with the crowd building in the hall; meanwhile, Trevor waited. The teacher dismissed him properly, making him feel present. He exited, looked at the faces with unusual amusement, unsure, feeling the way everyone moved graciously, he wondered if he felt this way about them without knowing it, and adjusted his backpack due to the extra weight.
He squeezed through different friend groups, boys and girls separating sometimes. And, with a strong hold on his strap with every step, he stayed hidden among them, walked carefully, just observing.
The midday always made Trevor feel neutral about the way everyone functioned, or felt less hesitant to follow everybody, without fear of where he would be once they were gone, and moved on.
He made it to the lunch room and lined up on the wall: two lines on opposite sides of the room. He observed the others up and down, perhaps many were doing the same thing. Probably realizing how much and fast it got to be a bore in this second week. Lunch will always be as if everything will be alright, Trevor thought. He took a few steps up, looked over at the menu on the left of the wall. Then, looking back and reaching into his pocket to look at his phone, Alex had walked through the crowd, lined up on the wall, and was fake-talking to someone on the phone. Trevor knew this because he saw Alex drop his phone one day at the park, and the glass shattered. He probably imagines his parents or something, Trevor thought.
The line moved forward after a few minutes. Entering a small room that had the line move around and exit at the end, Trevor grabbed a small box of chocolate and an empty tray. He glanced back to see the previous kid behind him grab milk. He strolled forward to let the lunch ladies lay pizza slices, small plastic cups in the trays, as Trevor looked again and saw Alex get chocolate too.
Once he paid his five dollars to the register by the end of the line, looking back, one more time, Alex hadn’t grabbed a tray; he asked the lady to hand him a plastic cup with rice and peas and paid nothing when exiting the line.
Trevor planned to sit in the main hall, but watching Alex, he instead followed him near the exits where a patch of grass faced the parking lot and student pick-ups.
Pushing open the doors, Trevor holding his tray in his right arm, Alex went around and sat in the patch of grass under a tree. No one was around him, however.
Alex laid his pizza on his lap and took his time opening his box of chocolate milk as Trevor, coming around and acting confused on where he could go, Alex spotted him and smiled lazily.
“S’up,” Alex said.
“Hey! Didn’t know you wanted to sit here.” Trevor walked over and sat next to him, making sure not to overdo it, and criss-crossed his legs. “It feels weird, doesn’t it?” Trevor said enthusiastically.
“Yeah. Everything feels so big than usual,” Alex said, moving his arm to take a bite of his pizza. He looked at it and laid it back down on his lap.
“Are you ready though? I have mine in my backpack.”
“Of course,” Alex said, then added weakly, “I didn’t feel like eating a whole tray, so I just thought I got pizza before…”
“Yeah, I know. But, at least it's a nice day, isn’t it?” Trevor said, smiling.
“Yeah, at least,” Alex said, and unzipped his backpack to reveal another gun, hiding underneath notebooks and pencils. “Ready?” he said.
“I guess so,” Trevor said. They both got up and took one more sip and bite of their food, and walked back inside through the doors.
