Consensus

The bus pulled up to the school and most of the students stood up, shouldering their backpacks, and began to push their way into the narrow aisle. Lilyan and a few others stayed seated, waiting for the crowd to disperse. One boy near the back snored loudly with his cheek pressed against the window.

Zayd stayed in his seat as well, looking down at Lilyan. Feeling his eyes boring into her, she turned to look at him. He gave her a lopsided grin and she raised an eyebrow in return.

“What?” she asked.

“I forgot to tell you how pretty you look today,” he shrugged. She felt her cheeks warm. Turning away from him, she looked towards the front of the bus. Someone had shaken the snoring kid awake and he was wiping drool from his chin on his sleeve. Most of the bus riders were gone, the few that had remained seated were gathering their things and filing out of the bus. Lilyan sighed, slid her legs down to the floor, and grabbed her bag. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Zayd following suit, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder as he stood up.

He offered her his hand. Less suspicious of him than she had been the day before, she placed her hand in his, letting him help her out of the seat. The odd sensation of emptiness when he released his grasp returned as they stepped into the aisle. She wasn't sure why she felt that way. Ignoring the puzzling feeling, she followed Zayd off of the bus and headed into the school. He walked by her side, falling into pace with her.

She noticed a few kids nearby whispering and pointing towards her. Her peers always looked right through her or avoided her altogether. She felt uneasy. No. Upon closer inspection, she realized they were looking at Zayd, not her. Relief washed over her. He seemed oblivious to the attention he was receiving and continued following the crowd into the school. She wondered how he hadn't noticed.

Zayd stopped at the office when they filed into the hallways. He pointed his head towards the door and shrugged his shoulder.

“Gotta go turn in some paperwork,” he informed her, “But I'll see you around. Hurry up before you're late to class again.” He teased her and grinned. She hadn't told him anything about yesterday. How did he know she had been late? She shook her head and decided to take his advice, turning away from him and heading straight to homeroom.

She slipped into the back of Mr. Johnson's classroom and took her usual seat. Only a handful of students were there. It was still fairly early and most of them were probably in the halls socializing. Her teacher gave her an approving nod and then went back to the paperwork he had on his desk. Lilyan took out her binder and retrieved the worksheet that was due, laying it face down on her desk. The classroom filled up and the tardy bell rang. Mr. Johnson had everyone pass their assignments forward, gathered them, and placed them on his desk. The rest of the class passed without incident.

The bell rang again about an hour later, signaling it was time to switch classes. She stood, grabbed her bag, and then heard her name being called from the front of the room. She exhaled in a huff. So much for no incidents. Lilyan turned and walked in the opposite direction, heading for Mr. Johnson's desk while the rest of her peers exited the room. A few of them looked her way as she passed by them. She even heard a couple of mumbled words being exchanged. Being called out two days in a row was bringing unwanted attention.

She stopped a few feet in front of his desk and waited, hoping that he would hurry with whatever he needed to say. Mr, Johnson stood and rounded his desk, leaning back on it and folding his arms lightly in front of him.

“I'm glad to see you make it to class on time today,” he smiled at her. She nodded in acknowledgment and glanced up at the clock that hung behind his desk. “This won't take long,” he assured her.

“Okay,” she said.

“I spoke to the principal and a few of your other teachers after we had our conversation yesterday,” he explained, “and the consensus was that you aren't being challenged enough academically.” She tried to hide her exasperated sigh but failed. He raised an eyebrow but continued.

“So, I called your uncle to share our beliefs and to see what he thought. The conversation was.... brief,” he said, choosing his words carefully. Lilyan could only imagine what that call had entailed. Usually, her uncle was civil and even charming to others, everyone but her, that was. No one suspected he treated her poorly. No one knew his true colors.

“What did he say?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. Her teacher sighed deeply, a concerned looked on his face.

“I believe his exact words were, 'Whatever you do with her is fine by me. Don't contact me again unless there's an emergency. I'm very busy.'” he relayed, “and then he hung up. I didn't get the chance to explain that I would be sending home forms with you for him to sign.” He reached behind him and produced a small packet of papers that had been stapled together in the upper left corner.

“Please give these to him and return them to me tomorrow. We can discuss class changes after that.” He held out the papers to her, but she did not take them. Lilyan glanced down at them, then looked back up at him. She shook her head.

“No thank you,” she said. He furrowed his brows.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“He won't sign those,” she said, “and I'm not going to ask him to.” Mr. Johnson laid the papers on his desk beside him and crossed his arms again.

“Lilyan, what is going on at home?” he asked sternly. Just then, the tardy bell rang. She looked up at the clock and sighed. She was late again. Mr. Johnson pulled out a stack of post-it notes and scribbled a few lines on it before handing it to her. “It's a pass. Your tardiness will be excused.” She took it and saw his signature and a sentence asking to excuse her scrawled across the neon yellow square.

“Thank you,” she said, “May I go now?” He shook his head.

“I would prefer it if you answered my question first,” he insisted. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she plastered a smile on her face.

“My uncle is a very busy man,” she confirmed, “and bothering him isn't something I like to do. He works a lot and we don't cross paths that often. I'm fine staying in 10th grade.” Mr. Johnson's expression was flat and unreadable.

“I can understand that,” he said, “but I really think you should advance, Lilyan. You need to be able to have stimulating material to work on and peers that are closer to your level to socialize with. I really must insist.”

“I'll think about it,” she conceded, holding her hand out for the papers. He gave them to her and offered a grateful smile.

“Please do,” he said, “If you need help talking to your uncle, you can swing by to talk to the school counselor.”

“That won't be necessary,” she assured him. He gave a nod and gestured towards the door. She forced herself to walk as she hurried from the room. When she reached her next class, she went to the front and placed the note on Ms. Warden's desk, then retreated to her seat in the back of the class without a word.

The rest of the school day passed as usual. No one talked to her and no one looked at her. She went back to being invisible, just the way she preferred it. The weight of those few pages she had slipped into her bag felt like they grew heavier with each passing hour. She felt obligated to bring them back signed, but she could not come up with a scenario where she could present them to her uncle and remain unscathed. He might not physically harm her over it, but he would not be happy.

By the time she loaded onto the bus, her backpack felt like it weighed a ton. Her chest felt tight and heavy. She was dreading going home more than she usually did. She sat down, placed her bag beside her, and pulled her legs to her chest. She buried her face in her arms, resting them on her knees. After a few moments of taking slow, deep breaths, she heard her bag fall to the floor.

She looked up to see that Zayd had replaced it with himself. He gave her his signature smirk and then let his bag sink to the floor as well. She quickly turned the corners of her lips up, then let them fall. The attempt to smile was too much effort. She tried to busy herself with staring out the window. Of course, Zayd did not allow that.

“What's the matter?” he asked, pulling her attention back to him. She sighed heavily, feeling defeated. There was no point in keeping it from him. She slid her legs back down to the floor and turned to face him.

“Remember the phone call?” she started. He gave a nod and she continued, “Well, it was my homeroom teacher that called. He and the rest of the teachers have decided that I need to skip a grade in order to 'socialize' and to be 'stimulated'.” She emphasized the words in a mocking tone and rolled her eyes.

“That's not such a bad thing,” he smiled at her. His eyes were gentle. He was clueless.

“It wouldn't be if I didn't have to get my uncle to sign these stupid papers,” she grumbled.

“May I see?” he asked. She reached for her bag, being careful to not touch him, and unzipped it, pulling out the offending documents. She handed them to Zayd with a huff. His eyes scanned over them, flipping through them quickly. “It only needs one signature,” he said, “What's the problem?”

“My uncle will get mad,” she told him.

“What if I signed them?” he offered. She raised an eyebrow at him, suppressing a laugh.

“That's called forgery,” she answered sardonically. Surely he was joking. He pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket and scrawled across the bottom of the last page, then handed the papers back to her.

'Unbelievable,' she thought to herself, taking the pages and looking at the signature. She blinked, gaping at the paper. On the line, marked with an X, was a perfect copy of her uncle's signature. She looked up and stared at Zayd.

“The hell?” she muttered. His eyebrows raised and he smirked at her.

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. Where to begin? How did he know her uncle's name? When did he ever see his signature and how? How was it possible that he could imitate it so well?

“The hell?” she repeated louder, gesturing to the page. He chuckled.

“You're welcome,” he smiled, pleased with himself. She let out an exasperated sigh and slipped the papers back into her bag. She felt like a giant weight had lifted from her chest.

“I still never agreed to change classes,” she grumbled, crossing her arms. Her low-cut shirt caught her attention. Her arms pressed against her chest, causing her to show more cleavage than she was comfortable with. She let her arms fall back to her lap, hoping he hadn't noticed.

“I don't think they're giving you much of a choice,” he said sympathetically. He was right. She wasn't happy about it, but he was right. At least she wouldn't have to risk bothering her uncle now.

“Thanks,” she muttered, still feeling grumpy. He draped his arm around her shoulders and gently squeezed her upper arm.

“Anything for you, princess,” he laughed. Her entire body stiffened at his touch. Her cheeks flushed. Suddenly the passing scenery was very captivating. She stared out the window, waiting for him to let her go. His arm slipped away and she felt herself release a breath she hadn't known she had been holding. Something about Zayd made her feel simultaneously safe and uncomfortable.

The bus finally pulled up to the stop sign at the end of her street and they both stood to get off. He held his hand out to her when he reached the pavement. She took it, letting him help her down the steps. He kept her hand in his for a moment longer than he usually did and stared deeply into her eyes, concentrating. It was like he was searching for something. Whatever it was, he seemed disappointed to not find it and released her hand.

They walked side-by-side down the street. Lilyan had grown used to him chattering to fill the silence, but today he was quiet. She didn't know what to say to start a conversation, so she kept her thoughts to herself. When they reached her driveway, she turned away and headed to her house. He grabbed her hand. This time she kept her balance. She peered up at him curiously.

“I have something for you,” he explained. He let her hand go and slid it into the front pocket of his blue jeans. He pulled out a small black device and handed it to her. It was a flip phone. She smiled down at the archaic technology and looked back up at him.

“What's this?” she laughed. There was no way the tiny thing worked. He reached over and plucked it from her hand, flipped it open, and pressed down a button until the screen lit up. He held it up for her to see.

“It's a phone,” he answered.

“It's a dinosaur,” she corrected him. He smirked at her and placed it back in her hand.

“My number's already programmed in it,” he said, ignoring her comment, “You can text or call me any time, for anything.” She flipped it shut and slipped it into her pocket. An unfamiliar warmth spread through her and she smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. She had never had a cell phone. She was touched that he would even think to get her one. He grinned, seeming pleased.

“We can upgrade it later,” he promised, “but for now, you at least have a way to contact me.” She nodded, then turned to go inside. Her uncle's car was missing, letting her know he was still at work. She dug her key out of her pocket and unlocked the door, glancing back over her shoulder. Zayd waved at her. She waved back and then stepped inside.

Lilyan headed straight to her room, closing and locking the basement door behind her. She made her way to her dresser and set the little phone on top of it before opening a drawer and pulling out her journal. She tossed her bag onto her bed and plopped down on the mattress, pulling a pen from one of the side pockets of her backpack. Flipping to the next empty page, she began gliding the pen across the paper.

It had been a long time since she had written in her journal. Her days had become repetitive and she had not had anything worth documenting. The first several pages had been filled with grief and mourning of her grandmother, then explanations of her time in foster care. After that, the stories of her uncle were poured over each page, describing his abuse. The entries became shorter and less often. Each day was the same. There was nothing she could do about her circumstances and writing them all out just exhausted her. So eventually, she had stopped writing altogether. 

Today was different. She had a friend now. Things were different. Not by much, sure, but new events were occurring. Writing in the journal had always been a comfort to her. It had given her a way to process what all she was feeling and helped her to cope. She wrote about the past two days, telling her journal about her new friend, weird quirks and all. She found herself smiling and rolling her eyes as she recalled the recent events.

A soft buzzing sound came from her dresser, causing her to look up from her journal. She placed the book beside her and stood to grab the phone. Flipping it open, she saw a message from Zayd.

'Have you customized your phone yet?' the message read. It took her a few tries to figure out how to type out her response. Hitting the number buttons multiple times to choose each individual letter was a bit frustrating.

'No. How do I do that?' She pressed send and waited, staring at the little screen at the top of the phone.

'Go to settings and choose what ringtones you want.' She backed out of the messages and found the settings menu. She played around with the options for a while, but in the end, decided it would be best to leave the device on vibrate only. She wasn't sure what her uncle would think of her having a phone. She didn't want him to confiscate it.

'It's fine the way it is.' she typed, then sent the message. A reply came almost immediately.

'At least pick a wallpaper you like.' She browsed through the landscapes and abstract designs, finally choosing one that looked like the night sky, filled with blues, purples, pinks, and shining white stars.

'I did.' She sent the update to Zayd and waited on his reply. After a minute, the phone buzzed and she opened the message.

'Good. I'll see you at 6:30 am tomorrow. I can't wait to see what you decide to wear this time. Hopefully, it's a bit more weather appropriate, though. Don't want you to catch a cold.' 

Lilyan blushed. She could almost see the smirk on his face. The first time they had met, she had been wearing old, baggy clothes. Today she had dressed in clothes that fit her better. She had tried to look nice, so she had opted to not wear her overly large jacket.

Worrying about her appearance wasn't something she usually did, especially not at school. At school, her goal had always been to not draw attention to herself. Today had been different. She put her journal back in the dresser, dropped the phone into her backpack, then headed to the bathroom to get a shower. She hoped she had a few more cute outfits she could scrounge up.