Safe If We Stand Close Together: chapter two
The bus ride home is sort of terrible.
Syx doesn’t take the regular bus; he gets picked up by the prison bus, so Roxanne has to sit alone. That isn’t so very bad; she got used to it when she first befriended Syx. She knows now to sit at the front of the bus, where it’s safest-the back is where Wayne and the ‘cool’ kids congregate. They’ve never done anything to her, exactly, but they say things that she really doesn’t want to listen to all the way home.
What’s really awful is the note that Miss Simmons sent home for Roxanne to give to her parents.
A disciplinary note.
Roxanne hasn’t ever gotten a disciplinary note before. She’s got it stuffed in her backpack, wedged in the very middle of all her books and folders, but she can still sense it in spite of all the insulation, like it’s burning a hole through all of the layers of paper and cloth. The knowledge of the note twists at her insides, making her want to throw her whole backpack out the window, or curl up into a little protective ball, or both. Except she can’t just throw her backpack out the window because she has to get the note signed by her mother and bring it back to Miss Simmons tomorrow.
The note is in a sealed envelope, too, so she can’t even read it before she gives it to her mom.
Roxanne hates this stupid note.
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Roxanne lies sideways on her bed, ear pressed against the wall so that she can hear her mother in the kitchen, on the phone with her father.
They’re talking about her, about the note.
It sounds like a tense conversation, but that doesn’t really tell her anything; all of her parents’ conversations are tense these days.
“-very understanding in her note,” Roxanne’s mother says, and then pauses. “No. No, Steve, I haven’t talked to our daughter yet because I thought I’d better talk to you first.” She pauses again. “Because I knew that you’d find some way to criticize whatever I said! I am trying to be fair here and give you a chance to-oh, don’t you dare try to imply that I can’t handle my daughter!” A pause. “Is it so unreasonable to expect you to want to take a part in raising your child?” She is silent for a moment. “Good. Glad we’ve cleared that up, then. No, please don’t feel obligated to talk to your child. I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you.” A pause, and then she huffs out a sigh. “Fine. I said fine. That’s fine. Yes. I think so, too, yes. Good. I’m glad we agree on that, at least. Hold on.”
Roxanne hears her mother’s footsteps down the hall. She flops back against her pillows, trying to look natural and like she hasn’t been eavesdropping.
A knock on her bedroom door, and then the door opens and her mother steps inside.
“Roxanne, honey,” she says, and Roxanne sits up. “Your father is on the phone.”
Roxanne holds her hand out wordlessly for the phone and her mother hands it to her. She puts the headset to her ear.
“Hello,” she says.
“Hey, kiddo,” her dad’s voice comes through the phone.
“Hi,” she says.
Her mother lingers in the doorway for a moment, the skin around her mouth and eyes tight as she looks at Roxanne, and then she steps outside and closes the door behind herself.
“Your mom says your teacher sent a note home saying you were disrespectful to her today,” her father says, voice tinny through the speaker of the phone. “Is that true?”
“I told her she was wrong,” Roxanne says, picking at a loose thread on her bedspread. “She was wrong.”
Her father sighs.
“Oh, kiddo,” he says. “Roxy, listen-you’re a very truthful person-and that’s good! But sometimes, you’ve got to think about how you go about telling people the truth. Remember that Wayne kid you told me about, how mad he was when you told everybody that his rules for dodgeball were wrong?”
“They are wrong,” Roxanne says.
“Maybe so,” her dad agrees. “But you’re not going to make any friends announcing it like that, in front of everybody! And when you do that sort of thing to adults, to people who are in charge, it makes them feel like you’re saying that they’re stupid, that they shouldn’t be in charge. Hurts their feelings, you know? Is that what happened with Miss Simmons today?”
Roxanne twists the loose thread around one fingertip.
“I guess,” she says.
“Kiddo,” her dad says, “you gotta get some tact!”
Roxanne yanks at the thread.
Her dad is acting like her talking back to Miss Simmons was an accident. Which is sort of a relief. Her parents are less likely to be mad if it was been an accident, right? They aren’t unreasonable about accidents like Miss Simmons is.
But it’s also sort of frustrating. Miss Simmons had been wrong. And she isn’t-she isn’t a very good teacher.
She’s actually a really bad teacher.
The force of this realization knocks Roxanne sort of for a loop. She’s never thought that about an adult before, never thought this person should not be in charge. It is a bad feeling-a scary feeling, like the whole world is suddenly careening out of control.
“Daddy?” she says, voice wobbly, tears filling her eyes.
Her dad must hear how upset she is, because he immediately softens his voice.
“Hey, now, it’s okay!” he says, “It’s okay, kiddo! You’re a good kid; your mom and I know that! Tell you what, why don’t you write an apology to Miss Simmons; would that make you feel better?”
Roxanne finds herself shaking her head, in spite of the fact that she knows her father can’t see her.
“No,” she whispers.
“Come on, sure it would!” her dad says. “Don’t worry, Miss Simmons won’t hold a grudge! I’m sure she knows what a good kid you are, too.”
“I can’t-” Roxanne’s throat feels like it’s closing up. “I can’t write it.”
“Of course you can, kiddo!” her father says enthusiastically. “Remember that great essay you wrote to get into this school-‘education is the foundation for the skyscraper of life’-that was some good stuff! They gave you a scholarship for that essay, didn’t they? Sure they did! You’re great with words-you’ll write a great letter.”
“But-” Roxanne’s voice breaks.
“Now, I gotta tell you,” her dad says, “this school is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for us, kiddo. Tuition for private schools with gifted programs is-” he gives a low whistle, “-whew, it’s expensive! And that’s why this place is so great for you! They gave you a scholarship, these people-this school said ‘hey, your daughter is so smart, we’ll pay you to send her to school here!’ Isn’t that neat? So you gotta make sure to take advantage of this opportunity, kiddo! Can you do that for me?”
Roxanne wipes at the tears on her cheeks.
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Good girl!” her father says warmly. “I know you’re gonna make me and your mom proud.”
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Her mother comes in later, after Roxanne’s done crying.
Roxanne turns her face away when the door opens, but her mother must still see how blotchy her face is when she comes over for the phone. She hovers beside the bed for a long moment. Roxanne doesn’t look up, but she can feel her mother’s gaze on her.
“Sweetheart,” her mother says at last, “do you want to talk about what happened at school today?”
Roxanne never wants to talk again, about anything, ever.
“No,” she says. “I already talked to dad.”
She glances up at her mother then, just in time to see the way she flinches at that, and Roxanne hates it when her mother looks like that.
“I mean-” Roxanne turns over on her side, so that she’s facing her mother. “Can you sit with me for a little while?”
That does the trick; her mother’s expression softens around the edges.
“Of course,” she says, and sits down beside Roxanne.
She smooths down Roxanne’s hair. Roxanne closes her eyes, and they sit in silence.
“Mom,” Roxanne says after a few minutes, “do I really have to apologize to Miss Simmons? I really don’t want to.”
Her mother sighs.
“Oh, honey,” she says. “I know it’s hard. Doing the right thing is hard, sometimes. But you still have to do it.”
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Miss Simmons smiles her poison-sweet smile at Roxanne the next day when Roxanne brings the signed disciplinary note to her desk. When Roxanne hands her the apology letter she wrote last night, her smile goes even sweeter and Roxanne wants to rip up the sheet of paper that’s filled with lies and throw it in the woman’s face instead.
But she doesn’t; she grits her teeth goes to sit with Syx at their table.
“All right, boys and girls,” Miss Simmons says, folding Roxanne’s letter up and placing it on the front of her desk where Roxanne can’t avoid seeing it, “it’s time for math class! Isn’t that exciting?”
It’s not exciting. They’re still on times-tables. Times tables are boring, especially ever since Syx showed Roxanne algebra for the first time.
It’s dumb that they’re all still on times-tables. This is supposed to be a gifted school, but since oh-so-wonderful Wayne doesn’t understand the concept of multiplication yet, the whole class is stuck with him on three-times-three-is-nine.
Roxanne finishes her worksheet with time to spare and glances over at Syx. He’s already done, of course, and now he has one of the hands from the latest version of Minion’s robot suit on the table and is using a little screwdriver to fiddle with the circuitry.
It’s weird; Roxanne has never had a friend who was smarter than her before. At her old school, she was always the smartest kid in class. And even after she started going here, back before Syx transferred in, she was still the smartest.
It’s a little worrying, being friends with someone like Syx. Who is she supposed to be if she isn’t the smart one?
Syx glances up from the robotic hand and sees her looking at him. His expression goes uncertain.
“Are you-did I-do something wrong?” he asks in a whisper. Miss Simmons is patiently explaining that two-times-three is not the same as two-plus-three to Wayne for approximately the millionth time, so it’s probably safe to talk, as long as they do it quietly.
“What?” Roxanne asks. “No, why?”
“You look-” Syx gestures at her face with the screwdriver that he’s holding, “-sad. Mad. Worried? I don’t-I thought maybe, um. Did you-get into trouble for yesterday? With your-with your parents?”
Roxanne sighs.
“Not really,” she says. “They made me write her an apology, though.”
Syx looks suitably disgusted at this. Roxanne giggles a little at his expression.
“So,” he says, “you’re not mad at me?”
“No,” Roxanne tells him, and then, because he still looks worried, reaches out and pats him reassuringly on the shoulder.
He goes startle-still, the way he almost always does when Roxanne touches him, and then he puts down the screwdriver and very carefully and precisely reaches out and pats her on the shoulder in return. He pulls his hand away sharply and glances at her face, looking to make sure he’s done it right. As though shoulder pats are a very serious business and it’s terribly important that he perform them correctly.
Roxanne smiles at him and he gives a sigh of relief, picks up his screwdriver, and turns back to the robotic hand.
She doesn’t have to be the smart one Roxanne decides. She can be the one who understands things like hugging and shoulder pats and who reminds people about practical things like lunch time (seriously, Syx, you can finish the hovercraft blueprint later, also, raspberry cookies are for eating, not drawing with).
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“We’re not playing,” Roxanne blurts out, stepping close to Syx, so that their shoulders brush.
Wayne’s nose scrunches up.
“It’s gym class,” he says, “you have to play.”
Roxanne feels her stomach twist unpleasantly, like it’s filled with worms.
“No,” she says.
Syx glances at her; she sees it out of the corner of her vision. He looks just as surprised as Wayne. Clearly, it’s never occurred to either of them that you can just refuse to participate in gym class.
Honestly, it hadn’t ever occurred to Roxanne before, either, not until the moment that they were all moving towards the wall.
Wayne frowns, the arm that isn’t cradling the dodge ball going to his hip. The other kids draw away from Syx and Roxanne.
“I’m telling,” Wayne says.
The queasy feeling in Roxanne’s stomach gets worse.
“Fine,” she says, instead of throwing up like she wants to.
That doesn’t seem to be the answer Wayne wanted. His mouth turns down even further and his eyes go narrow.
“You’re ruining everything,” Wayne says. “You’re supposed to play. Why won’t you play like you’re supposed to?”
“Why won’t you follow the right rules for dodge ball?” Roxanne counters. “We don’t want to just stand there while you throw balls at us! I told you, that’s not how you play!”
“I could make you.”
Roxanne gasps and takes half a step back.
Wayne-Wayne is strong enough to lift Syx in the air one-handed and he’s fast enough to run across the whole schoolyard in less than a second and he can fly and he can shoot lasers out of his eyes and he’s standing there looking at her, head turned to the side, an expression of consideration on his face and he could, couldn’t he? He could make her, he could hurt her.
“You,” she says, voice low and uneven, “are a bully.”
Wayne’s mouth falls open. He flushes a dull red color.
“I am not!”
“Bully,” she says.
“I’m not! You’re just-everybody likes me!”
“They don’t like you,” Roxanne says, because if she doesn’t say it, she’s going to keep backing away from him and she won’t. “They’re scared of you. It’s not the same thing.”
Wayne’s face twists in rage and-is that a little bit of red light in his eyes?
Beside Roxanne, Syx takes a sharp breath.
“You’re-you’re stupid!” Wayne shouts.
“You’re stupid,” Syx says, voice high and tight, edging away from Roxanne. Wayne’s head snaps around and his eyes focus on Syx.
“You’re stupider!” Wayne says to Syx, who is still moving away, not from Wayne, but from Roxanne. What is he doing?
“You,” Syx says, “times infinity!”
Wayne’s mouth opens and closes a few times.
“You,” he says finally, “times infinity-plus one!”
“That’s not mathemat-ically posible,” Syx points out. “You’re just proven my point!” He smiles, over-bright and slightly manic.
Wayne’s eyes flash red again, and then-
“Little blue freak!” he shouts.
He throws the ball at Syx.
It hits him, hard, too hard, in the stomach, and sends him flying backwards. He falls, flat on his back, on the ground, with an audible smack. Roxanne gives a little cry and runs over to him, throws herself onto her knees beside him.
His eyes are wide, mouth open, and he’s making these horrible gasping noises and the others are laughing-they’re laughing.
Wayne is beside her shoulder, suddenly, hovering there.
“Hey, uh, are you-” he says, sounding a little worried. “I didn’t mean-”
“Go away,” Roxanne whispers, hands fluttering uselessly at Syx’s shoulders. “Go away go away go away right now-”
Wayne hesitates, hanging in the air.
Syx rolls away from her, over to his side, pushes himself up on a hand an an elbow, and retches onto the ground.
Everybody laughs even harder.
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Syx doesn’t have to stand in the Bad Corner, not once,all day long, but that’s mostly because he spends the rest of the day after gym class curled up in a ball behind the Art Board, out of the way. Miss Simmons doesn’t even offer to let him call home.
Wayne doesn’t have to stand in the Bad Corner, either, since he tells Miss Simmons that he’s sorry, that it was an accident. Miss Simmons tells him of course it was an accident and that’s it. That’s the end of it.
Roxanne bites down on the insides of her cheeks so hard she tastes blood, wanting to shout you said breaking the rules on accident was just as bad as breaking them on purpose you said you said YOU SAID. But she doesn’t shout it, so she doesn’t have to stand in the Bad Corner, either.
It should feel like a victory over herself (kiddo, you gotta get some tact) but it really doesn’t.
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Wayne must feel a little bad, though, because the next time Roxanne says that she and Syx aren’t playing during gym class, he rolls his eyes and turns away.
“Whatever,” he says.
Annie gets picked last instead of Syx. Roxanne, sitting beneath the jungle gym with Syx and Minion, sees the look of terror that comes over Annie’s face, right before the balls start to fly, and is a little dismayed at how pleased it makes her feel.
Annie had laughed, when Syx was on the ground, throwing up and struggling to breathe.
“Are you okay?” Syx asks, eyes on Roxanne’s face, a worried line between his eyebrows.
“Fine,” she says. Her voice sounds troubled, she notices. Minion must notice, too, because he rolls towards her so that his ball nudges against her arm, like he does when Syx is upset.
Roxanne puts her hand on Minions sphere, just like Syx always does.
Syx reaches out with hesitant fingers and pats her exactly twice on the shoulder. Roxanne takes a shaky breath.
“I’m fine,” she says. “Tell me about the electrons again.”