The situation becomes ridiculous as people get too stoned. Phil pulls me close to him and says “thank you…it means a lot to me.” I go back to my chair, flush with this amazing feeling inside. Andrew Gilchrest is still watching me. A girl named Noella decides it’s become too strange in here and decides to leave. I feel the same way and I get my gear together. Even if that boy never speaks to me again, I feel great. Something inside me is alive for the first time. Something good…
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Andrew make his way to his desk at the front of the classroom. He never takes his eyes off of me. He motions to me to go up there. I put my stuff down and I’m feeling so good that I don’t really pay attention. “What you did for Phil, holding him like that when he was hurrrting…I like a woman like that,” he says, smiling. It’s a smile I’ve come to dislike. He smiles like that when he wants something. He opens a drawer and takes out a bunch of keys. “Here,” he says, in his thick Scottish accent, “let yerrrself into my van. Therrre’s a bed at the bock. I’m a rrreal animal when I’ve had waine.”
I feel the blood draining from my face and my heart starts to pound. Is he kidding? I push the keys back and say “I can’t.” His face is getting redder. It’s obvious he’s used to getting his way and he won’t take no for an answer. As I turn away, he says “Don’t be a ful. Let yerrself into my van. I prrromise it will be worrrth it. I’ll be ot in a few minutes.” Blood is pounding in my ears and I feel trapped. God help me…From the back, I hear someone say “She said NO Andrew.” It’s Phil, tipping his chair against the wall, back and forth, watching us. “This has nothing to do with yu,” barks Andrew. “Oh it does,” counters Phil, “she’s my friend and she said no, so leave her alone.”
I gather my things and leave while the argument escalates. I’m embarrassed, confused and I’m crying. Just before I reach my locker, I hear someone behind me and I’m too afraid to look. I try not to pay attention but I hear my name. It’s Phil. I feel so relived but I feel like I’ve done something bad. Without hesitation he hugs me and it’s now his turn to comfort me. “You did the right thing,” he says, “I’m glad you didn’t go with him out of fear or something.” And we sit on the floor in front of my locker and we talk. Eventually I will tell him about the boy who ruined my reputation and he will tell me not to listen to anyone. He will tell me that he’s my friend now and that I don’t have to be alone.
And for the rest of my time there, he stays my friend. He seeks me out when he wants good company; he can talk to me he says. Others have plenty to say to him about this situation and he puts them all in their place. I have a guardian angel. It feels really good. After everyone went home that night, Andrew Gilchrest passed out on the floor. He and his drugs were found by the janitor. He was arrested, tried and deported. I should have “done” him they said. I didn’t and everyone blamed me for the whole thing.
Next -> Food for Thought
Tags: blood, guardian angel, locker, stoned, wine