Fic: Bones: In the Trenches, Part 19/30
Chapter 19: S.N.A.F.U.
Author: amilyn
Rating: PG-13 (themes, abuse)
Chapter 18
Chapter 19: S.N.A.F.U.
***
Mondays after Bradenton parties were hard. After the second one, Temperance didn't try wake up early, aiming to run only the three miles to school. The previous night's party cleanup had gone till nearly one, and she planned to have a caffeinated soda with lunch. First she had to go to a scheduling appointment at the counselor's office, where she fidgeted in the vinyl-covered chair for a full two minutes before they called her.
"Temperance?"
Mr. Wilson's brown sweater was buttoned around his paunch, and there was a poster behind him of an eagle above a gorge with the caption, "Setting goals helps you soar toward them." She rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the wooden chair.
"I have my course choices ready," she said without prologue.
"Temperance, I know you're new to Burtonsville--"
She frowned at him. "You met with me in October. Don't you remember?" Perhaps his memory was poor.
"Yes. I remember. Ms. Kunaki programmed you, but you're part of my case load this year. I know your circumstances are...trying, and that your living situation changed in the middle of the year. I hoped you'd come and see me if you needed something."
She stared at him, but he remained silent. She tensed. "I would've come if I'd needed something. But I didn't."
"Are you sure, Temperance? Because there've been some concerns about you."
"Why?" She narrowed her eyes, feeling defensive, although there was nothing she'd done that should make any school authority unhappy.
"You keep to yourself. You haven't joined any activities. Instead of becoming part of the school community, your teachers say you're even more withdrawn than when you arrived. Mr. Granger said you won't even work with a lab partner."
"Why is any of that the school's concern? I'm often up late doing homework, and I get up early to run. That leaves little time for activities."
"That's true--"
"There are an odd number of students in AP Bio. Someone has to work alone. I need to do well in school. My work is exemplary, as are my grades."
"Temperance, we just want to make sure that you don't need any assistance integrating into Burtonsville High. And, with students in your situation, we want to check that you have resources and are safe."
Temperance snorted at that.
Mr. Wilson sighed. "Also, you're going to need more than excellent grades--"
"Wait. Isn't it your job to make sure your students are successful?"
"That is certainly part of--"
"And I am academically successful, right?"
"You are."
"Then I suggest you don't concern yourself with my social life." She clenched her jaw so hard the muscles in her face ached.
Mr. Wilson rubbed a hand over his bald spot, leaving the few hairs sticking up. "All right."
She blew out a breath. "Thank you."
"But, like I was saying, you might want to consider joining some activities that you can included on your applications next year. You're well on your way to being valedictorian of your class--or at least salutatorian--and I'm sure you'll be able to win numerous scholarships. If you can list activities on your applications, you'll be an even more favorable candidate."
Temperance still felt like she was doing battle, and she couldn't decide if Mr. Wilson was on her side or...something else. She looked around the room at the stacks of folders on every surface, including the floor. Her life's story, the way people formed opinions about her, had been reduced to papers in a file like this.
"What do you suggest?" She tried to sound confident, but the question came out in the small voice she'd learned to use with Claire.
"Well, you said you run. Cross country started last week. You could see if they're looking for team members. There are academic groups, too: chess club, astronomy club, history club..." He held out a piece of paper. "Here's the list of the extra-curricular activities and their sponsors.
Temperance forced herself to meet his eyes and smile. "I'll look into those. Thank you."
He nodded and pulled out a paper. With a smile he said, "Tell me about the schedule you've got in mind."
They were done in less than two minutes and she didn't even had to argue for her five AP classes.
As she tucked the course selection sheet in her backpack, he said, "If you'd be more comfortable with someone else, any of the counselors can help you. Please come to one of us if you need anything."
"I will." She stood and left.
It was honest. She'd come if she needed them...and believed they could help. Of course, they couldn't, and she wouldn't.
~April 1993~
Temperance crammed herself against the under side of the stairs. She was glad these weren't the kind of steps with gaps for risers, since that meant no one would be able to see her.
She counted her breaths like she had in the trunk of the Maxwells' car. In and out. In and out.
She counted the beige tiles between the blue lines that transected the hallway. Distractions were good.
She pressed her shoulder blades against the cinder block wall, wishing it would hurt. She felt like a train speeding out of control, like the rest of the world had slowed around her. Nine beige tiles. Two blue tiles. Nine more beige. Distractions were good.
Evelyn had sounded like a wounded animal, lying on the tennis court alternately keening and whimpering. The sound ran on a continuous loop in Temperance's head, along with the comments she'd heard before she backed away and run.
"Morticia hit her with her racquet."
"Oh my God, she killed Evelyn!"
"She must like dead things so much she's trying to make her own."
She'd gone back and watched from a distance as an ambulance arrived and EMTs loaded Evelyn. Then she'd grabbed her backpack and fled before the students saw her. Since P.E. was her last class of the day, the building emptied rapidly after the bell ten minutes later. The pounding of stampeding feet and the rushing noise of chatter and gossip died out, but the pounding of her heart continued.
She didn't think Evelyn would die, but it was clear she was badly injured. At least some of the students thought she'd hurt Evelyn deliberately. It was possible that she'd be disciplined. There was no one to stand up for her, and if it became her word against someone else's...she had only her academic record to speak for her. What if they expelled her?
She counted her breaths, trying to time each inhalation to ten beats of her pounding heart. She needed to focus on something else. She pulled out her calculus book. There were fifteen problems to do tonight. Maybe the structure and logic of math would calm her.
Maybe she could finish one last assignment before they took her away again.
She gripped her pencil tightly enough that her hand wouldn't shake and leaned close to copy the first problem. It took only two steps, both done in her head, to complete the problem. She wrote down the steps carefully, making sure her numbers and letters were neat. Math teachers insisted on work being shown, and, although she didn't need to write out her work most of the time, she understood the importance of ensuring academic honesty. The next problem required six steps, as did the following five. As she was copying number eight from the book, she heard footsteps nearing.
She froze. Her stomach knotted up again, and she began to tremble. Instinctively pressing her back tighter against the cinderblock wall, she dropped pencil. It clattered, and she bit her lip.
The footsteps came nearer. Nearer still.
Then work boots appeared.
Her muscles were locked in place. The idea of looking up, of seeing the disappointment on Mr. Buxley's face...it was too much. She squeezed her eyes closed.
"Temperance?"
She didn't think he sounded angry, but she could be wrong.
"Temperance? Come on. Everyone's worried about you. I told them I'd try looking."
She chanced glancing at him. Mr. Buxley didn't look angry.
"I didn't tell them where you were." His voice was soft. "Come on. It'll be all right." He gestured for her to come out. "Bring your things. Come on."
Her movements were jerky as she packed away her folders and books, tucked her pencil in the pencil pocket, and dragged her backpack out from under the stairs so she could stand. She settled her pack over her shoulders and clicked closed the front clasp in case she needed to run, then she followed Mr. Buxley. Panic rose higher in her chest and throat as she saw his path was leading them to the office.
He opened the door and said, "I found her. She's okay." He held the door for her, and she saw the principal, the assistant principal, Mr. Wilson, the Bradentons, Mrs. Dougherty, and her P.E. teacher waiting for her. Her breaths shortened to gasps, and she tried to back up, but Mr. Buxley had stepped behind her. "Go on, Temperance. It's okay," he said quietly, standing firm.
Her eyes were burning before she was through the door, and before she could stop herself she was saying, "I didn't mean to hurt her. We were playing doubles. I called the ball, I really did. Maybe she didn't hear me, or I wasn't loud enough, because she got in front of me after I'd started swinging. I didn't mean to hurt her. I didn't want to hurt her. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. Please. Please, I'm so sorry." She started to sob and sat abruptly, burying her face in her knees. She was never sure whether or not she said aloud the refrain echoing in her head. "Please don't hurt me."
***
Chapter 20
***
Posting Schedule: This story has 30 parts, which will post here and at ff.net on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.
Author's Notes
Thanks upon thanks to my wonderful betas and sounding boards: jennasq, b1uemorpho, and havocthecat. HUGE and effusive gratitude to my line-editor and prodder to make this story as good as I could at this time, as well as encouragement and sounding board services while I planned and wrote for two years to Ayiana2.
Feedback is most assuredly welcome.
***
Author: amilyn
Rating: PG-13 (themes, abuse)
Chapter 18
Chapter 19: S.N.A.F.U.
***
Mondays after Bradenton parties were hard. After the second one, Temperance didn't try wake up early, aiming to run only the three miles to school. The previous night's party cleanup had gone till nearly one, and she planned to have a caffeinated soda with lunch. First she had to go to a scheduling appointment at the counselor's office, where she fidgeted in the vinyl-covered chair for a full two minutes before they called her.
"Temperance?"
Mr. Wilson's brown sweater was buttoned around his paunch, and there was a poster behind him of an eagle above a gorge with the caption, "Setting goals helps you soar toward them." She rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the wooden chair.
"I have my course choices ready," she said without prologue.
"Temperance, I know you're new to Burtonsville--"
She frowned at him. "You met with me in October. Don't you remember?" Perhaps his memory was poor.
"Yes. I remember. Ms. Kunaki programmed you, but you're part of my case load this year. I know your circumstances are...trying, and that your living situation changed in the middle of the year. I hoped you'd come and see me if you needed something."
She stared at him, but he remained silent. She tensed. "I would've come if I'd needed something. But I didn't."
"Are you sure, Temperance? Because there've been some concerns about you."
"Why?" She narrowed her eyes, feeling defensive, although there was nothing she'd done that should make any school authority unhappy.
"You keep to yourself. You haven't joined any activities. Instead of becoming part of the school community, your teachers say you're even more withdrawn than when you arrived. Mr. Granger said you won't even work with a lab partner."
"Why is any of that the school's concern? I'm often up late doing homework, and I get up early to run. That leaves little time for activities."
"That's true--"
"There are an odd number of students in AP Bio. Someone has to work alone. I need to do well in school. My work is exemplary, as are my grades."
"Temperance, we just want to make sure that you don't need any assistance integrating into Burtonsville High. And, with students in your situation, we want to check that you have resources and are safe."
Temperance snorted at that.
Mr. Wilson sighed. "Also, you're going to need more than excellent grades--"
"Wait. Isn't it your job to make sure your students are successful?"
"That is certainly part of--"
"And I am academically successful, right?"
"You are."
"Then I suggest you don't concern yourself with my social life." She clenched her jaw so hard the muscles in her face ached.
Mr. Wilson rubbed a hand over his bald spot, leaving the few hairs sticking up. "All right."
She blew out a breath. "Thank you."
"But, like I was saying, you might want to consider joining some activities that you can included on your applications next year. You're well on your way to being valedictorian of your class--or at least salutatorian--and I'm sure you'll be able to win numerous scholarships. If you can list activities on your applications, you'll be an even more favorable candidate."
Temperance still felt like she was doing battle, and she couldn't decide if Mr. Wilson was on her side or...something else. She looked around the room at the stacks of folders on every surface, including the floor. Her life's story, the way people formed opinions about her, had been reduced to papers in a file like this.
"What do you suggest?" She tried to sound confident, but the question came out in the small voice she'd learned to use with Claire.
"Well, you said you run. Cross country started last week. You could see if they're looking for team members. There are academic groups, too: chess club, astronomy club, history club..." He held out a piece of paper. "Here's the list of the extra-curricular activities and their sponsors.
Temperance forced herself to meet his eyes and smile. "I'll look into those. Thank you."
He nodded and pulled out a paper. With a smile he said, "Tell me about the schedule you've got in mind."
They were done in less than two minutes and she didn't even had to argue for her five AP classes.
As she tucked the course selection sheet in her backpack, he said, "If you'd be more comfortable with someone else, any of the counselors can help you. Please come to one of us if you need anything."
"I will." She stood and left.
It was honest. She'd come if she needed them...and believed they could help. Of course, they couldn't, and she wouldn't.
~April 1993~
Temperance crammed herself against the under side of the stairs. She was glad these weren't the kind of steps with gaps for risers, since that meant no one would be able to see her.
She counted her breaths like she had in the trunk of the Maxwells' car. In and out. In and out.
She counted the beige tiles between the blue lines that transected the hallway. Distractions were good.
She pressed her shoulder blades against the cinder block wall, wishing it would hurt. She felt like a train speeding out of control, like the rest of the world had slowed around her. Nine beige tiles. Two blue tiles. Nine more beige. Distractions were good.
Evelyn had sounded like a wounded animal, lying on the tennis court alternately keening and whimpering. The sound ran on a continuous loop in Temperance's head, along with the comments she'd heard before she backed away and run.
"Morticia hit her with her racquet."
"Oh my God, she killed Evelyn!"
"She must like dead things so much she's trying to make her own."
She'd gone back and watched from a distance as an ambulance arrived and EMTs loaded Evelyn. Then she'd grabbed her backpack and fled before the students saw her. Since P.E. was her last class of the day, the building emptied rapidly after the bell ten minutes later. The pounding of stampeding feet and the rushing noise of chatter and gossip died out, but the pounding of her heart continued.
She didn't think Evelyn would die, but it was clear she was badly injured. At least some of the students thought she'd hurt Evelyn deliberately. It was possible that she'd be disciplined. There was no one to stand up for her, and if it became her word against someone else's...she had only her academic record to speak for her. What if they expelled her?
She counted her breaths, trying to time each inhalation to ten beats of her pounding heart. She needed to focus on something else. She pulled out her calculus book. There were fifteen problems to do tonight. Maybe the structure and logic of math would calm her.
Maybe she could finish one last assignment before they took her away again.
She gripped her pencil tightly enough that her hand wouldn't shake and leaned close to copy the first problem. It took only two steps, both done in her head, to complete the problem. She wrote down the steps carefully, making sure her numbers and letters were neat. Math teachers insisted on work being shown, and, although she didn't need to write out her work most of the time, she understood the importance of ensuring academic honesty. The next problem required six steps, as did the following five. As she was copying number eight from the book, she heard footsteps nearing.
She froze. Her stomach knotted up again, and she began to tremble. Instinctively pressing her back tighter against the cinderblock wall, she dropped pencil. It clattered, and she bit her lip.
The footsteps came nearer. Nearer still.
Then work boots appeared.
Her muscles were locked in place. The idea of looking up, of seeing the disappointment on Mr. Buxley's face...it was too much. She squeezed her eyes closed.
"Temperance?"
She didn't think he sounded angry, but she could be wrong.
"Temperance? Come on. Everyone's worried about you. I told them I'd try looking."
She chanced glancing at him. Mr. Buxley didn't look angry.
"I didn't tell them where you were." His voice was soft. "Come on. It'll be all right." He gestured for her to come out. "Bring your things. Come on."
Her movements were jerky as she packed away her folders and books, tucked her pencil in the pencil pocket, and dragged her backpack out from under the stairs so she could stand. She settled her pack over her shoulders and clicked closed the front clasp in case she needed to run, then she followed Mr. Buxley. Panic rose higher in her chest and throat as she saw his path was leading them to the office.
He opened the door and said, "I found her. She's okay." He held the door for her, and she saw the principal, the assistant principal, Mr. Wilson, the Bradentons, Mrs. Dougherty, and her P.E. teacher waiting for her. Her breaths shortened to gasps, and she tried to back up, but Mr. Buxley had stepped behind her. "Go on, Temperance. It's okay," he said quietly, standing firm.
Her eyes were burning before she was through the door, and before she could stop herself she was saying, "I didn't mean to hurt her. We were playing doubles. I called the ball, I really did. Maybe she didn't hear me, or I wasn't loud enough, because she got in front of me after I'd started swinging. I didn't mean to hurt her. I didn't want to hurt her. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. Please. Please, I'm so sorry." She started to sob and sat abruptly, burying her face in her knees. She was never sure whether or not she said aloud the refrain echoing in her head. "Please don't hurt me."
***
Chapter 20
***
Posting Schedule: This story has 30 parts, which will post here and at ff.net on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.
Author's Notes
Thanks upon thanks to my wonderful betas and sounding boards: jennasq, b1uemorpho, and havocthecat. HUGE and effusive gratitude to my line-editor and prodder to make this story as good as I could at this time, as well as encouragement and sounding board services while I planned and wrote for two years to Ayiana2.
Feedback is most assuredly welcome.
***