packed. Then the bell rang, and beyond the glass doors, she could see the hallways filling up. It was now mayhem inside and out.
Caitlin saw her chance. As the door opened again, she ducked past another kid and slipped out into the hall.
She looked quickly over her shoulder, but didn’t see anyone notice. She quickly cut across the thick crowd of kids, making it to the other side, then around the corner. She checked again: still no one coming.
She was safe. Even if the guards noticed her absence—which she doubted, since she was never even processed—she was already too far away to catch. She hurried even faster down the hall, putting more distance between them, and headed towards the cafeteria. She had to find Jonah. She had to know if he was all right.
The cafeteria was packed, and she quickly walked up and down the aisles, looking for him. Nothing. She walked a second time, slowly scanning every table, and still couldn’t find him.
She regretted not going back to him, not checking on his wounds, not calling an ambulance. She wondered if he had been really hurt. Maybe he was in the hospital. Maybe he wouldn’t even come back to school.
Depressed, she grabbed a tray of food and found a table with a clear view of the door. She sat there, hardly eating, and watched every kid who came in, hoping for a sign of him each time the door swung open.
But he never came.
The bell rang, and the cafeteria emptied out. Still, she sat there waiting.
Nothing.
*
The final bell of the school day rang, and Caitlin stood before her assigned locker. She looked down at the combination printed in the piece of paper in her hand, turned the knob and pulled. It didn’t work. She looked down and tried the combination again. This time, it opened.
She stared at the empty, metal locker. The inside door was lined with graffiti. Otherwise, it was completely bare. Depressing. She thought of all her other schools, of how she would rush to find her locker, to open it, to memorize the combination, and to line the door with pictures of boys from magazines. It was her way of gaining a little bit of control, of making herself at home, of finding her one spot in the school, of making something familiar.
But somewhere along the line, a few schools ago, she became less enthusiastic. She began to wonder what the point was in even bothering, since it was only a matter of time until she had to move again. She became slower and slower to decorate her locker.
This time, she wouldn’t even bother. She closed the door with a bang.
“Caitlin?”
She jumped.
Standing there, a foot away, stood Jonah.
He wore large sunglasses. She could see that the skin beneath them was swollen.
She was shocked to see him standing there. And thrilled. In fact, she was surprised at how thrilled she was. A warm, nervous feeling centered in her stomach. She felt her throat go dry.
There was so much she wanted to ask him: if he got home OK, if he saw those bullies again, if he saw her there…. But somehow, the words couldn’t get themselves from her brain to her mouth.
“Hey,” was all she managed to say.
He stood there, staring. He looked unsure how to begin.
“I missed you in class today,” she said, and immediately regretted her choice of words.
Stupid. You should have said, “I didn’t see you in class.” “Miss” sounds desperate.
“I came in late,” he said.
“Me, too,” she said.
He shifted, looking uncomfortable. She noticed his viola was not at his side. So it was real. It wasn’t all just a bad dream.
“Are you OK?” she asked.
She gestured at his glasses.
He reached up and slowly took them off.
His face was purple and swollen. There were cuts and bandages on his forehead and beside his eye.
“I’ve been better,” he said. He seemed embarrassed.
“Oh my god,” she said, feeling terrible at the sight. She knew she should at least feel good about having helped him, about sparing him more damage. But instead she felt bad for not being there sooner, for not coming back for him. But after…it had happened, it had all been a blur. She couldn’t really remember how she’d even gotten home. “I’m so sorry.”
“Did you hear how it happened?” he asked.
He looked at her intently, with his bright green eyes, and she felt he was testing her. As if he was trying to get her to admit that she was there.
Had he seen her? He couldn’t have. He was out cold. Or was he? Did he maybe see what happened afterwards? Should she admit that she had been there?
On the one hand, she was dying to tell him how she had helped him, to win his approval, and his gratitude. On the other, there was no way she could explain what she did without seeming like either a liar or some kind of freak.
No, she concluded internally. You can’t tell him. You can’t.
“No,” she lied. “I don’t really know anyone here, remember?”
He paused.
“I got jumped,” he said. “Walking home from school.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said again. She sounded like an idiot, repeating the same stupid phrase, but she didn’t want to say anything that would give too much away.
“Yeah, my Dad’s pretty pissed,” he continued. “They got my viola.”
“That sucks,” she said. “Will he get you a new one?”
Jonah shook his head slowly. “He said no. He can’t afford it. And that I should have been more careful with it.”
Concern crossed Caitlin’s face. “But I thought you said that was your ticket out?”
He shrugged.
“What will you do?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe the cops will find it,” she said. She remembered, of course, that it was broken, but she thought that by saying this, it would help prove to him that she didn’t know.
He looked her over carefully, as if trying to judge if she were lying.
Finally, he said, “They smashed it.” He paused. “Some people just feel the need to destroy other peoples’ stuff, I guess.”
“Oh my god,” she said, trying her best not to reveal anything, “that’s horrible.”
“My
