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attracted to
Cal, but I found myself wanting to impress him. I needed to impress
him. That was the whole point. If he found me unattractive or
uninteresting, I’d have no chance. My entire plan would spoil like
old fruit.
    “It’s Brooklyn, right?” he asked, breezing
right by me.
    “Uh huh,” I replied, and watched as he
disappeared down the hall flanked by his loser friends.
    What the hell was that? And then I realized
exactly what it was. He wasn’t going to make this easy for me. He
was going to make me work for it, work to earn my place in the
group of popular seniors. Work to earn the place right beside
him.
    Fuckhead.
    That’s fine. I’d do whatever was necessary
to achieve my goal. I’d swallow my pride if it meant seeing justice
done. I took a deep breath and meandered down the hall, searching
the classroom doors for 1A. Eventually I found it, and was pleased
with myself that I beat the tardy bell. I walked in to find most
seats already occupied and became instantly irritated.
    I liked sitting on the outskirts of the
classroom. No, that’s not quite right. I needed to sit on
the outskirts of the classroom. But the only available seats were
directly in the center of the room. I reluctantly settled in a row
four seats from the front and tried hard to push down the instant
anxiety.
    I struggled with intense claustrophobia for
as long as I could remember. I never took elevators, had to be
completely sedated on airplanes, and always drove in the slow lane.
I had access to the shoulder that way. I had an out. Now I sat with
students surrounding me, and for a brief moment, I closed my eyes,
imagining I was out in the middle of a great big field, empty space
stretching as far as I could see in all directions. I succeeded in
slowing my racing heart.
    I learned this trick in therapy, discovering
its effectiveness in certain situations. But it didn’t work in
elevators. I learned that the hard way after trying to accelerate
my progress, feeling rather cocky after having successfully flown
on a plane across five states without a sedative. I thought I could
totally handle an elevator, but soon found myself huddled on the
floor screaming and breathing into a paper bag.
    I looked to my right because I saw something
beautiful in my peripheral vision. There he was, Funeral Guy,
sitting on the edge of the room against the far window, staring
ahead at nothing in particular. I started to shake and closed my
eyes again, imagining the field. The problem was that he was in it,
walking towards me, and before I could react, he gathered me in his
arms and kissed me roughly. My God, he was hurting me, and I wanted
him to! I kissed him back just as feverishly, and then felt his
hands go to the button of my jeans. He didn’t ask for permission
but started undressing me, like I didn’t have a choice.
    My eyes flew open, and I shifted in my seat.
This was incredibly inconvenient. Yes, a small part of me suspected
that he went to this school. Why else would he be at Beth’s
funeral? But I wasn’t prepared to see him in any of my classes. And
I knew I couldn’t get involved with him. For one, I had no idea if
he was even attracted to me. Two, I couldn’t very well pursue him
when I was trying to get Cal’s attention. Three, I had sworn off
boys, Cal notwithstanding.
    Stupid Cal. He was already ruining my life,
and my plan hadn’t even started coming to fruition. I glanced at
Funeral Guy again. He was staring straight at me, and my elbow
jerked involuntarily, knocking my notebook off my desk. I reached
down to retrieve it and slammed my forehead on the side of the
desk.
    “Motherfucker!” I hissed, and heard a tiny
gasp next to me.
    “You okay?” a girl asked.
    I rubbed my sore head and sat up. “Does it
look bad?” I moved my hand so the girl could get a good look.
    “It’s just a little red,” she said,
smiling.
    I rolled my eyes at the chuckling that
ensued behind me.
    “I just love being the source of the joke,”
I