The Substitute

Lily didn’t think much about her future, so when the assistant principal posed the fated  question: 

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” 

She wanted the floor to open up sinkhole style.  

She couldn’t even remember what she told him, something about writing, working  with kids. She could turn it on when needed. That version herself felt faraway. Vague. It had  worked, though, the interview version of Lily scored them the job, and now the lifeless shell of  Lily was the one doing it. Okay, that was dramatic. She wasn’t a total zombie. She was cheery in  the morning when she reported to the assistant principal's office to get her schedule for the day.  She even pulled off small talk with the administrative assistant, who was into chunky necklaces.  Lily thought that fit more the guidance counselor stereotype, but kept that to herself. She’d been  at the high school a week and a half, and the mid-January rain made the five minute walk through  the parking lot treacherous. She was so brave.  

She unlocked the door to room 205. She would be covering an art class all day. She’d  never been in this class when she attended Middleburg High, so she acquainted herself with the shelves of paint, and the projects left untouched from winter break. It felt strange that she’d never been in this room. Sophomore year she passed it everyday on her way to Global History 2, but she never would have expected the class to be this big. It was strange in a general sense too, being back at her alma mater, something she certainly wouldn’t have guessed this for herself a month ago. After all she never hadn’t given much thought to what the break room looked like, but now she knew all too well the beige wallpaper that hadn’t been replaced since the 70s and the  fridge that had an old untouched fruit punch juice box sitting in the back. Or that that faculty  bathroom really did have a seating area made up of an old pink armchair that slanted to the right  and a stack of magazines. But, as her mother had informed Lily on her first day back for the  holidays, “If you must take the semester off, I will not let you wilt away in your room all day.  Get a job.” So, a job she got! She hadn’t given the search much thought, like most of the  decisions she’d been making lately. She floated through the pros and cons list and ultimately just  sent in her resume. It turns out they let almost anyone with a little bit of an education be a  substitute teacher.  

Mrs. Plat’s 1st period Drawing 1 class milled through the door, taking their seats,  taking out their books, waiting for Lily’s instruction. This was the best part. She could be  anyone. She could have an accent. Well, she never tried that, but at the beginning of each class  she put on the performance of a lifetime. She sat up straight, commanded the room, she even  smiled. 

“Okay everyone! Mrs. Plat is out today, I’ll be your sub Ms. B. Now, let’s do  attendance.” 

And that was her day, 8-3. The students came in, talked to each other, or kept to themselves. She gave them work left on the desk that they either did or didn’t complete, it didn’t  matter. She was a glorified babysitter. Bonus, it was Friday. All that mattered was the fifty two minutes of dissociation. The only difference between her and a corpse that died holding a book was that occasionally Lily blinked. She’d been reading a book about a girl who had a drug problem, and was in rehab. Well written too, maybe based on a true story. After re-reading the passage for the 5th time she just started staring at it. She couldn’t focus. Maybe part of her brain  was missing. All of last semester this was her biggest issue her professors pointed out. “You’re very bright Lily, I know that. Focus.” 

Easier said than done. 

It hadn’t always been like this. Maybe part of her brain fell out every time she sneezed? It would stand to reason that at this point in her life she would have lost a good chunk  through sneezing alone. She thought about how people say you eat seven spiders a night in your  sleep. Maybe those spiders made up a surgical team, and had been dissecting parts of her mind to  learn about humans. All those legs. Probably very efficient. Spiders who were the top of their  class in med school. That was the only explanation. 

She was half way through 6th period, only two more to go after that, when her  daydream about a spider in an anesthesiologists uniform was interrupted by the buzzing of her  phone. She put down her pretend reading. Brendan. 

Wish you were here this weekend!  

Court is having a party tonight the music is gonna suck lol 

She watched the bubbles go up and down twice. Brendan and Lily met her freshman year in Introduction to Philosophy. She let him copy her homework, they’d get dinner, and go to  class. They’d even hang out like friends! Friends were something Lily no longer deserved, but she was sure someone had forgotten to give them the memo. Maybe it was her who was supposed to fax it out to them, but the days of unanswered texts seemed to prove otherwise. Probably a casualty of the spider surgery. 

She looked at the class. This was a quiet one, buried in their assignment. Two girls in  the back huddled together whispering urgently. Lily missed that feeling. She ached to be them for  a moment; a ninth grader, 14, giggling about a boy or how Mr. Spinner (the algebra teacher  who’d been there forty years) definitely wore a wig. Or making plans for tonight maybe a  sleepover that would turn into a whole weekend long party of Nicholas Sparks and pizza and  secrets. Some so big you end up carrying with you the rest of your life even though they were  only mentioned once under the hush of a sleeping bag.  

But then Lily remembered Chemistry and recoiled from the thought of ever being a  high schooler again. She picked up her book, and after a moment flipped a page because how the  fuck would they know any better. 

                                                      … 

Even as a student, Lily was always impressed by how quickly the halls could clear out  after the final bell, especially on Fridays. Some of the teachers would already be gone by 3:05.  She locked the door and headed to the AP office to return the key. She debated about texting  Brendan, Cassie and the others back. Not that she could even fathom crafting a text that  contained a reasonable explanation – 

“Do my eyes deceive me?” 

Frozen, she felt the hair on the back of her neck become electric. She knew before she even saw his dark curly hair that sat neatly on the top of his head. She turned around with a smile plastered on.  

“I thought I saw you the other day!”  

She was right.

“Hi,” she managed dumbly.

It was him.  

“Wow!” He had his worn out blue laptop bag on his shoulder. “Who’d have thought?  It's great to have you back at Middleburg, huh!” 

Mr. Walker. 

“Great to be back!” She recognized a coffee stain on the bottom left that had  materialized on the bag her senior year. Someone had knocked over their starbucks.  His voice was light. “So what are you? A junior now, right?” 

She’d been avoiding him so well. “Yeah!” 

“Well, hey, next week, swing by my office and we can chat!”  

Lily wanted to say something like, sure thing, or see you then, but the air was sucked out of her as he wrapped his arms around her, his deteriorating bag slapping into her back with a thud.  

“Great to see ya, kid!” He squeezed her a bit harder for a second. He pulled away, beaming at  her. He had the tiniest gap between his two front teeth. You had to be up close to even notice. “Have a great weekend!” 

He was already turning away when her jigsawed brain caught up to her mouth.  “You too!” She called from behind him.  

Fuck. 

… 

In the time it had taken Lily to get from 205 to the AP office she’d replayed what happened ten times. From the AP office to her car another five. By the time she’d gotten home she had reviewed the material another fifty. Sunday afternoon she had officially lost count. She was losing daylight on this, and to make matters worse sunset was at 4:30.  

She’d really done it to herself this time. She scolded herself for her lack of verbal  communication, and slow motor skills. So much could have been avoided, or ended differently.  She could have slapped him! Or hugged him! Or run away! Wait. The hug! The hug, the hug, the  hug! Of course how could she have forgotten the hug! The climax of their scene! Did she even  hug him back? She couldn’t recall. A crucial detail missing. Just gone. Stupid! What kind of  stupid idiot can’t remember if they hugged someone back or not? She’d given up on pacing an  hour ago and was now confined to her bed. She should be getting ready to go out with Cassie now. Meeting up with the rest of the group to pregame. She thought about Courtney, the party she was apparently throwing this weekend. What would happen if she just showed up. Her reemergence into polite society. Well, maybe not so polite, they don’t serve jell-o shots at debutante balls.

Her fingers found their way to the frayed ends of the  quilt her grandma had sowed for her when she was a baby. It was dropping off the side of the  bed, but she leaned on it with her thigh, keeping it in place.  

One of the last times she visited her grandma, she was a high school senior. She thought about  bringing the blanket with them; something to jog Gran’s memory. But she was worried about it getting lost in the nursing home, so she didn’t. Turns out hospice was not one of Lily’s  vocabulary words burned into her brain for the SAT. Had she known then it meant the end of the  road, she probably wouldn’t have been so shocked when it finally happened. Gran had been  losing her memory for some time. Aphasia. Another word she didn’t learn until her family was on  the way to the post-cemetery brunch. Even through the fog, Lily had always been her favorite,  she just knew it, so it only felt right she went with her mother to the weekly visit, and not her  older siblings. 

That visit only existed in two scenes.

Scene one: Disgruntled incoherent Grandma tries to get out of bed, but has no muscle  tone in her legs anymore to support her weight. Her gown is too big against her frame, slipping  off her right shoulder. Mom on the other side of the bed is trying to coral Grandma back into bed  with one arm but she can't get a good hold. Grandma is falling.  

Scene two: Our main character is now heroically running into the hallway yelling for help,  not even tearing up, about to save the day, and find a nurse who will give Grandma a magic IV that will cure her to live another twenty years.  

The last visit is even more brief. An epilogue perhaps? Grandma in a wheelchair. Just  the two, grandma and granddaughter share a look. A smile returned by confusion. “It’s Lily, your granddaughter,” says a nurse off screen. 

And there! Right there, even though her chin is tucked into her chest we see the  corners of her mouth twitch. Her eyes widen with recognition.  

At the funeral her mother got teary-eyed but never fully committed to crying, so Lily waited until they got home to bulldoze the dam she built in front of her eyes. The months leading up to then had been so hectic with college applications, and the declining health of her Grandma that Lily’s mother hadn’t noticed much when Lily skipped dinner. And she was oblivious to the bold face lie that Lily was making her own lunch everyday. Then the week after her Grandma died, Lily’s life imploded.  

Turned out running on yogurt in the morning and almonds for a snack was not  sustainable in the long run. In P.E. she thought she might faint during warmups. During jumping jacks the whole room vibrated around her. She held it together, and when she asked to go to the  bathroom she had to sit on the bench in the locker room for a full three minutes and splash water 

on her face before returning to class. She had lost some weight, not enough though. Not enough  for there to be any sort of striking difference. This kind of behavior can go easily unnoticed when  you’re not already a size eight or smaller. It might even have been applauded. But he noticed. 

Lily had her Advanced Video elective right before her free period, which usually meant  she had almost two hours of doing whatever she wanted. The class wasn’t too serious, and didn’t  require much attention. Freshman year had been more organized, learning about a new film  technique each week, fooling around with the equipment. But second semester senior classes  were a bit of a joke. Everyone was working on their semester projects, which meant everyone  was shooting the shit. She never got in trouble though, she was one of the favorites. Mr. Walker  asked her to chat after class. In his office she sat at his desk opposite of him. Before he sat down,  he shut the door. 

“Lily, how are you?” 

She looked at the poster above his head. It was an old Film Noir. French. She’d never seen it. He had lots of movie posters taped up around the office. Some tattered from getting  moved around over the years, but most were in good condition. 

“Uh fine. Why?” 

His mouth made a line as his brows met at an angle.  

“Well, since the beginning of second semester you’ve seemed a bit lost.” 

“Is this about my project proposal? I know it was a little half assed,” He made a face as she cursed, “Sorry, a little uh rough around the edges, but I’m gonna do something different I  think anyway so –”

He looked at her for a long moment. His brown eyes locked on her face. She tried to fill the silence. “Or I don’t know if you have like, uh, a suggestion or something?” 

“Lily, your project is fine. You haven’t been yourself, what’s bothering you?” 

This conversation, she wanted to say. Lily had never been more invested in her cuticle health until that moment. “Well, um, I mean my Grandma like...” she pushed down on the lump in her throat, “you know she died last week.” 

Mr. Walker pushed the tissue box towards her, even though she wasn’t crying. He sighed, “I know. But there is something else, right?” 

Somewhere in her chest, she felt a squeeze.  

“I guess I’m just like, having a hard time.” She debated for a moment, Mr. Walker refused to look away from her, his gaze heavy stern. 

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“Aren’t you like, don’t you have to tell someone if I tell you something crazy?”

He smirked, like the idea of her saying something crazy was out of the question. How silly she had been to even suggest it.

“If you would like it to stay between us, then it can.”

Lily thought about how winded she got during passing time. If she had fainted would she have been trampled? It happened to a kid during a fire drill at the middle school once in the 90s. Her math teacher held it over their heads when they didn’t line up single file.

  “Guess I’m not really eating.” She spit out the last part the way she’d done earlier with her lunch. A leak in the dam dribbled onto her cheek, and she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “So, yeah.” 

Mr. Walker moved from his seat to the empty one directly next to her. There was  something urgent behind his eyes. He took her hands, and nodded his head.  “You are so important, you know that.” 

“I’m scared.” 

“Why?” 

She stifled a sob. “About the future?” 

His mouth moved into that line again. 

“It’s going to be okay.” 

                                                       …

Lily sat on her bed thinking about that day for another two hours until her mother  called her downstairs for dinner. Her stomach grumbled. She thought about her therapist at school, Belinda.  

“Food is fuel.” 

It’s funny how therapists can say something so simple like that but it changes your whole life perspective. She missed Belinda and thought about emailing her about this predicament, but didn't even know what to say. She started seeing Belinda her sophomore year, and she was the one who suggested the semester off. At the time it felt like a punishment, but the burnout was getting to her. You couldn’t live forever on only a meal a day and going hard every weekend. And you can’t pass your courses if your body can only focus on taking you to and from class because it’s all you have the energy for. She pushed that thought away, hit it with a shovel and buried it. 

It was becoming apparent that slipping into old habits was something Lily was way too  good at. Her character flaw. Why couldn’t she be good at something else? She’d accept juggling  at this point. She was sliding into some mashed up version of herself. A sad scared highschool  senior, and a burnout junior in college. She thought about the girl in her book. A troubled teen addicted to painkillers, and now she was in rehab. She’d been better but then relapsed. That was the word. Relapse. 

She made her way to the kitchen for dinner, the smell of chicken, brussel sprouts and  mashed potatoes became gradually more intoxicating as she walked down the hallway to the  stairs. This time would be different. Screw old habits. She didn’t need them anymore! She could  do this, be an adult, a professional no less! She’d even join the clean plate club.

                                                         … 

Monday morning Lily decided just because he had offered, there was no true obligation  to go and have a chat with Mr. Walker. In fact, he might have just been saying it to be polite, secretly hoping she would never show up. So, she was really doing them both a favor. Besides, today she was covering for a freshman Biology class, which was on the opposite side of the  school. She had varying degrees of success with her book. She read a few chapters, occasionally  needing to reread a few pages. She was finally closing in on the halfway point when 3rd period  started. She did the usual introduction, and took attendance, and began to settle back into her  book. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a small object hurtling towards the front of the class  followed by a chorus of giggles from the back of the classroom. She considered ignoring it, but  when a few more crumbled pieces of looseleaf flew across the room, she eyed the culprit. In the  back of the class a group of four boys sat together.  

“Hey guys,” she put down her book and stood up, “please stop throwing paper.” One of the boys, probably the leader of the group, smiled, but apologized in an attempt to appease her. For a few minutes the class was silent again, working on their punnett squares to determine blood types. It was a strange covering for a teacher whose class she had once been in, Mrs. Vib. A kind middle aged woman with a thick accent. Lily wasn’t the best student but Mrs. Vib was a great teacher. She looked over the sheet at the beginning of the 1st period. She remembered so vividly sitting in this class filling out this same worksheet, almost seven years ago. If asked she wasn’t sure she could fill it out now.

The boys started up again. She wanted to read her book, so she ignored them for as  long as she could, but then a girl in the front row with braces got hit in the head with a piece of  paper. 

“Leo!” She turned around to face the posse. “It’s not funny!” 

“Yeah, come on guys,” said Lily, “Let’s try and focus on our work please.” 

One of the boys in the pack apologized to the girl, Greta. The rest of the boys snickered  to themselves, but Leo and Greta lingered on each other for another moment. He smiled at her,  but it wasn’t mean or mocking the way Lily thought it would be. It was kind. It lasted only two  seconds total, but now Lily was lost in the story of Leo and Greta. Maybe they had been friends  since kindergarten, but grown apart? Or still friends but only hung out outside of school? Maybe they were in love, or broken up but still had deep feelings for each other. That feeling of love at  fourteen is not something Lily thought she could handle now at twenty. The intensity of a crush  at that age felt overwhelming, feral even. Something to do with hormones she assumed. She  couldn’t imagine feeling that giddy again. The rush you get when they say your name or the way  your heart stops and you have to force yourself to breathe when they say something as  inconsequential as, “how’s it going?” 

Lily hadn’t dated in high school. Her friends did, but those relationships had mostly fizzled out after graduation. Now that she was older, the idea of having a boyfriend in high  school was just so beyond her. Going to a party with a date? Sneaking a boy into your room? Yeah right. But she didn’t need that! But, if she was being honest with herself she also  remembered the sting of embarrassment when she was the only one who didn’t have a date to junior prom. It wasn’t for lack of trying either, which made the situation feel a million times worse. 

There had been a blond boy in her English Honors class. Nathan. He was a bit of a bad boy but underneath the front Lily could tell he did actually care about things. They had been desk mates the whole year, and gotten pretty friendly. Sometimes they would doodle on each other’s papers, or text about homework and their plans for the weekend (not that they’d hang out together), so when March rolled around and everyone started asking each other she didn’t think it  was out of the realm of possibility that he would say yes. He didn’t see it that way. At least she  saved herself the public humiliation and did it over text. Rejection in the comfort of your own  home! 

“No offense, but I can’t think of anything I’d rather do less.” 

Ouch. She didn’t cry about it, she hadn’t been that invested in the idea of him being her date. Despite her crush she asked him to go as a friend, knowing realistically he probably wasn’t romantically interested in her. She assumed he didn’t want anyone to think they were together.  The next day at lunch she went to Mr. Walker’s office to talk about the details of a project, but  ended up explaining what happened with Nathan when he asked about her prom plans. “It just like, sucks,” she said, tearing into her peanut butter sandwich. 

Mr. Walker shook his head and took his pyrex out of the microwave. 

“You know, you don’t need a date to have fun!” He said. 

She rolled her eyes, “I know, but it still sucks like everyone else has a date. All my  friends! I just feel like. I don’t know, like I just feel stupid for even thinking he would want to go  with me.”

He sat across from her, stirring his leftover rice and beans together.  

“It’s not stupid. What’s stupid is that boy. Anyone would be lucky to have you as their  date. You’re worth so much more than some dumb boy.” 

She took a bite of her sandwich. “Thanks.” 

“Sometimes boys are really stupid. Take it from me, I was one.” 

Prom Night rolled around three weeks later. During the slow dance Lily watched her friends couple up with their boyfriends and girlfriends from the table. She didn’t remember  making the decision to get up and leave but then she was out in the hallway sitting on a bench.  Somehow this was more depressing than just sucking it up and watching.

“Excuse me, shouldn't you be in there dancing?”

She was pulled out of her self pity spiral to see Mr. Walker in a suit. He was a  chaperone. 

“You look beautiful, Lily.” 

She didn’t want to look at him. Even with the dress and her makeup she felt extremely naked. “Thanks.” 

He sat down next to her, putting his hand in between her shoulder blades. “It’s okay to be upset.” 

She turned to face him. She felt so embarrassed… but for what? She hadn’t done anything. She tried to smile but her face felt like plastic. 

He stood again and stretched out his hand. 

The bell rang. The last twenty minutes were gone, never to be seen again.. 

                                                                 … 

Thursday night she sat in bed, reading her book. She was fully in it now. Nearing the end. The main character was making breakthroughs in her treatment, she was starting to feel more like herself. Her friend showed up to visit, but our hero was not having it. She was yelling at him. He knew she needed help. Swept it under the rug.  

There was a pang in Lily’s chest. 

She laid into him. She told him ignoring the problem didn’t make it go away. He tried  to blame her, he wasn’t the one who got her addicted! But she came right back; he was an enabler, she shouted!. 

Lily found herself back in Mr. Walker’s office. Senior year. The day he found out about  her secret. She told him she was scared and he said he didn’t need to be. 

“I will always be here for you. Always. Understand?” 

She nodded, crying. 

He put his hands on her face and brought him in close. She couldn’t wipe the snot away with his hand there. “You know how I feel about you. I don’t have to say it.” She looked down, away from his gaze and instead to his left knee. “I know.” He cacconed her into a hug, and she caved into it, finally letting herself cry since he  couldn’t see her. He rubbed her back with his hand. 

“I’m so honored you told me this. You don’t know what it means to me.” 

She sniffled, realizing she was probably staining his shirt.  

“We can keep this between us, okay?” 

“Yeah,” Lily cleared her throat, “yeah okay.”

He pulled her by the shoulders so they were face to face once again. She could feel her  face was all splotchy and puffy and ugly. But Mr. Walker’s face told a different story. He looked  sad. Hesitant. 

“I love you, Lily.” And they hugged again.  

Lily tossed the book to the side, pulled a pillow from behind her and screamed into it. She punched it repeatedly and screamed into it again. She took the stress ball from her night stand and hurled it at the wall. Rage bubbled up inside her and was spilling out through her ears, nose and mouth, flooding her brain until she let out another screech. She could have gotten better sooner if he hadn’t kept her all to himself. This was some bullshit.  

So she made up her mind. Tomorrow at lunch she’d give Mr. Walker what he had  coming. 

                                                        … 

Mrs. Plat was out again Friday. The lunch bell rang, and the class cleared out so fast  you would have thought the building was on fire. Lily put her book on the desk. She just finished  it. The main character was restarting her life, hopeful. Lily locked the door and slipped the key into her back pocket. She walked down the hallway and up the stairs one flight. There was his office, the first door on the right. She wet her lips which had become chapped and beaten over the course of the morning as she’d been absent mindedly chewing on them, rehearsing what she was going to say to him. Now or never, she thought. She knocked on the door. It was showtime. 

“Come in!” Mr. Walker was sitting at his desk, eating something that could have been chicken out of a glass Pyrex. 

“Oh, hey!” There was a tiny brown dot staining the collar of his shirt. How’s it  going?” 

Lily ignored this, shutting the door behind her.  

“We need to talk.” 

He gestured for her to sit across from him, but she stayed standing.  

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” 

“What do you mean?”  

So he was going to play dumb.  

“Senior year. Second semester. You told me you were going to be there for me.” 

He put his fork down. “Lily, I--” 

“Why did you stop answering my emails?” At the beginning of sophomore year he’d stopped  all communication. For about a week she assumed he died.  

“You seemed to be doing better,” He sighed, “and you know how it is here, I got  busy.” 

Bullshit. It’s true what they say: bad habits die hard. The last Saturday on campus she  locked herself in the bathroom for two hours making herself sick. The mind plays tricks on you  when you are stressed. You revert to your vices. She failed her Communications final. Which even for her seemed a little on the nose. Who fails the easiest class under the sun? She was a  joke. She was going to have to make up the course. Ignoring Brendan and Cassie’s pleas for her  to just open the door she shoved her fingers into her mouth. Cassie picked the lock, and they  jumped into the bathroom, pulling Lily’s hand out of her mouth but they were too late, she’d already pulled the trigger and now she was vomiting on Brendan’s shoes. Their suspicions from  the last few weeks splattered on his sneakers in confirmation. 

“Is that what you’ve been telling yourself? To feel better?” She wasn’t going to cry this  time. 

Mr. Walker stood up and walked over to her, but she took a step back.  

“I have responsibilities.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Please, where was that when I was eating lunch with you  everyday? You think just cause you saw me eating pretzels you could what? Pat yourself on the  back? You could have gotten me real help.” 

“You asked me not to!” 

“I was seventeen! You were supposed to be the adult!” She felt tears pricking her eyes. He moved closer to her, taking her hand in his. 

“What is this really about?” He leaned in closer, and put his other hand on her head,  lightly brushing his fingers against her hair.  

She wanted to scream in his face, but she could only manage a whisper. 

“You can’t just tell someone you love them if you don’t mean it.” 

He paused, breathed in and then moved even closer to her. He didn’t want her to say that, she knew it, but she didn’t care anymore. He scanned her face, eyes, mouth, eyes. The air was thick, Lily tried to swallow but her mouth was dry and tight. She could feel him breathing,  they were practically chest to chest.

“I know why you did it,” she breathed, “And it was wrong.”

Mr. Walker tried to take in a breath, but it sounded more like a strangled gasp. Like a mini version of him was scaling the inside of his throat and threw a grappling hook into his tonsil. Before he could collect himself she kept going. 

“You’re in my dreams. You show up and all the pain I’ve ever felt overflows through me and I cry, and I kick, and I scream. And you just stand there like you’re doing now. Absolutely useless.”

“I never intended to upset you. I was doing what I thought was right.”

“Right for who? Because from where I’m standing it looks like maybe you just enjoyed the attention. The praise. Wow, a teacher who really cares! It’s bullshit! What happened here was not normal, and it pisses me off that after all this time you still act like it is. Because that’s convenient for you. For your wife and kids. You’re so selfish. You really fucked me up, and you don’t even care.”

His voice was hard, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“How about sorry.”

There was a knock at the door. Mr. Walker pushed himself away from Lily. She turned to see who it was. A blond girl peaked her head in the doorway.

Mr. Walker cleared his throat, adjusting his pants at the waist. “Hey Sarah!”  

“Hi.” She stepped into the office, completely ignoring Lily. “I was just wondering if you were free to talk, but I can come back.” 

“No, no we were just finishing up, this is Sarah. She’s in Video 2.” 

Lily looked at Sarah.  

Sarah breezed past Lily and sat in her old seat. Mr. Walker returned to his desk. “What’s up?”  

The emails didn’t stop because of school obligations. It wasn’t a guilty conscience.

He smiled at Sarah, and she started talking but Lily wasn’t listening. Just observing. She felt like she was at the museum, in front of the glass watching two animatronics act out a scene. Sarah’s long blond hair was pulled into a braid that rested on her right shoulder, and she was moving her hands a lot.  

Lily moved out to the hallway, down the stairs all the way to the first floor. She kept walking until the cold and wet winter air slapped her in the face. She walked down the street and passed the bank, and eventually the grocery store. She’d simply been replaced. Substituted. In her back pocket her phone buzzed. Brendan. 

We miss you! 

She started a message three times. She took in a deep shaky breath and called him.

Written Winter 2022

Art Credit: Helene Graham