Skinny Narc

[Lorne Hazlewood]

Lorne woke up early on the first day of class. It wasn't unusual for him to do so. He was always excited about the first day of school, but this time his early bird status was for another reason. He quickly gathered up his stuff and headed to the main school building. He sat down outside of Miss Wilson's room and waited. It was only another five minutes or so before she showed up but it felt like forever.

"Lorne? What's up? Why are you waiting outside my office? Is something wrong?"

Lorne looked at his feet momentarily. "Yes, but not about me. Can I talk to you? It's about the new girl, Lark."

She nodded and unlocked her office ushering him inside.

[Lark Lowell]

Ms. Wilson was there just behind Lark in the lunch line on the first day of school. It was a brief but pleasant conversation about uniforms and how Lark was getting along – if she had made any new friends and what she thought of her teachers. Just a boring talk about normal things as Ms. Wilson watched the girl put a salad with Italian dressing and a diet coke onto her plate; shifting to arrange everything neatly onto her plate.

Lark didn’t pay it much mind when she ran into Ms. Wilson on the way back from lunch to class, either. Ms. Wilson’s office was in the same direction and no one she knew all that well walked down the hallway to get there. The conversation was polite enough and Ms. Wilson stood outside the bathroom for a few moments until she could hear someone coming out and smoothly entered the teacher’s lounge nearby. The water ran. No flush.

They crossed paths again the rest of the week; on Wednesday, on Friday, the following Tuesday. The same boring little conversations, the same walk to the bathroom before class.

It didn’t come as much of a surprise to Lark when Ms. Wilson was waiting for her outside of class. Not with seeing her so routinely during the week and catching the other woman making little notes in her book. It was only a matter of time given her parents and her situation, Lark imagined, before a counselor wanted to talk with her. Ms. Wilson’s eyes met Lark’s and there was a small smile from the older woman.

“I just wanted to check in on how you were doing. I thought we could have lunch together.” Lark debated whether she was relieved or annoyed but smiled back all the same.

“Sure. You know, I’d really like that.” Lark’s words echoed slightly as she spoke them, thinking about each one as she did. Keep focused and there aren’t any things to leak. Nothing to slip.

They didn’t head to the cafeteria. Ms. Wilson lead straight to the back where teachers could pick up their lunches and took a pre-arranged tray for herself and for Lark before heading back to the room. Sandwiches. Milk. Some jello and some carrot sticks. She set down one tray in front of Lark before taking a seat.

Lark opened the shrink-wrapped plastic silverware, starting to cut the crusts off her sandwich and then divide it into triangles and smaller triangles. She stacked them around the edge of her plate and then went to arrange the carrot sticks so that they made a radial ring about a centimeter away from the jello container. She wiped off the milk and opened it but used a straw.

Somehow it seemed appropriate; how her tray was arranged with the situation at hand. Lark smiled pleasantly enough, speaking absently about this subject or that subject and repeating her words in her mind so it would echo what was supposed to echo. It was rather impressive in a way. Carefully maintained.

Ms. Wilson was waiting to watch her eat. The smile fell from Lark’s face as the other woman’s thoughts crept into the room. This wasn’t about her parents. There was a twinge there of upset for just a moment but indignation replaced it quickly enough. This was about the rumors, about the stupid throwing up in the bathroom and the stupid eating disorder and the stupid everything… Lark looked up and for a moment considered petulant refusal before
taking a bite of one of the triangles. So fine, watch me eat.

Something about the tone seemed strange. Not quite a challenge or a demand. Something seemed strained in it. Asking. There was a willingness behind the stubbornness.

“That’s a very nice brooch you have.” Ms. Wilson gestured to the rather ornate thing that looked a bit out of place on someone Lark’s age. A bit too old fashioned. Lark’s hair had been perfectly combed and coiffed; her sweater was straight, shirt ironed and skirt pressed. She wore lipgloss and eyeshadow and eyeliner and had a French manicure. The brooch stood out with the rest of her clothing enough to catch her attention and as Lark’s mind wandered Ms. Wilson knew she’d found at least something of a foothold. Lsrk touched the pin; she remembered her mother’s face, the way her brown hair curled over her jaw.

“It was my mom’s.”

“It looks very nice on you.”

“I know.” More silence.

Lark ate her stupid sandwich. She took a sip of her stupid milk. She ate her dumb carrots. More milk. She ate her stupid jello and finished the stupid milk and was the first to break the quiet.

“You think I have an eating problem.” The practiced smile was gone in exchange for a set jaw and a cautious stare. Her thoughts were quieted behind a steady, soft radio static with only a few things breaking through. Defense. Maybe not the best one. Ms Wilson nodded after a bite of sandwich, wiping off her mouth after she'd finished chewing. She took a sip of milk and another bite of sandwich.

"Lark, can I be honest with you?"

Lark managed a permissive gesture.

"I don't think you have an eating disorder." Her words were gentle, supportive but Lark kept her serious stare. A few words made it out of the crackle. None of them were particularly kind. "I think that you've developed some... unhealthy habits, Lark, but I don't think you have an eating disorder. I don’t think you’re throwing up in the bathroom."

The smile didn't return. Ms. Wilson accepted that it was most likely gone for a long, long, and even if it was just a show it was a pleasant one. It was better things were honest in the end. Eventually Lark managed a stony nod. A few more words snuck past the sound of the static. This was some sort of trick. This was a test.

“I think you’re a very strong girl, Lark, and a very smart girl. And I think you wanted to talk with me earlier, but, you didn’t want to come by yourself and so you made a problem bigger than it really was so I would come to you.” Ms. Wilson opened her date booklet, looking across to Lark.

“Sure. Fine.”

It was peevish, perhaps, but it was given when silence could have just as soon been an answer.

“You were recommended to come in for a talk to see how you were adjusting, but, I want you to know that one of your classmates was worried about you and came to me to talk to me about this.” Lark chewed at the air silently, starting to think of names and watching for any sign of recognition or awareness as she did in Ms. Wilson’s face with little success. She picked at her nails and stared at the door.

“I don’t really have much choice, do I?” Lark’s mind wandered to the outside and the crackle faded back to planning – what to do depending on who saw her come in, what rumors started if any started. What rumors should start.

“You have plenty of choices, Lark.” There was more. Lark was reasonably sure there was more but her attention faded out and she focused on the door until Ms. Wilson realized that her attention was more or less lost and the battle to regain it wouldn’t be worth the resulting strife.