Summary: Lila finds that things aren’t what they used to be
I walked up a familiar stretch of sidewalk. First there was a huge crack in the shape of South Carolina, some blue paint, then “I love D.J.,” which was scribbled into the concrete while it was still wet. Then we came to the doors of my home school, Bridgman High. Bridgman was my home until Cheryl pulled open the freshly painted red doors.
It was the same but different. There was the same gum stuck on the vinyl floor and signatures of couples on lockers in permanent marker. All the doors and the lockers were in that familiar dusty red color, but yet—it looked different. There seemed to be more gum spots on the floor. I couldn’t see my hazy reflection in it like at Omni. The front door was the only thing that was freshly painted. Inside the paint seemed older, and it was peeling more than it used to. Bridgman wasn’t quite like I had remembered it.
Another thing that bothered me was how quiet the halls were. Even at Omni there were noises in the hallways coming from the teachers inside the classrooms or a few girls going to the bathroom. I took a glance at my watch. 12:30. Everyone was still at lunch.
We walked by the doors of the lunchroom. I could hear the sounds of the school’s cafeteria. My eyes lingered at the doors. It looked just as busy inside as I had remembered it, but strangely, my eyes didn’t pick up the faces of anyone I knew.
We walked until we came to a very familiar door. The door with the “History Matters” poster with Martin Luther King Jr. in the glass. The door I cried outside of when I had my George Washington project failure. Cheryl opened that door.
Inside was Mrs. Andrews, the history teacher. The history teacher who always said that she enjoyed my projects. The history teacher who always gave me bad grades for not following directions. She was standing in front of me now.
I felt her eyes quickly scan across us. She looked at me for a second, but she didn’t show any sign that she recognized me.
Instead she said, “Thank you so much for coming to grade my papers. I would never have time to do it all.”
“It’s no problem,” said Linzie casually.
“Where are the papers?” It’s just like Cheryl to ask all the logical questions.
“They’re on my desk,” said Mrs. Andrews as she picked up her lunch container. “The answer keys are next to them. I’m going out to the teacher’s lounge. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”
She went out the door. I could hear the faint tip-taps of her high heels as she hurried down the hall.
I wanted to run out there and yell, “Remember? It’s me, Lila! I’m the girl that did Ben Franklin on George Washington day and rapped all the dates of the battles of the American Revolution a few months ago! I’m the girl that never followed directions!”
Did Mrs. Andrews remember me? If she did, she definitely didn’t show it. I haven’t been out of her class that long, but it was too late to tell her anything now. She had gone out to lunch.
I joined the others at the paper grading party. We passed around the answer keys as we checked homework and tests. One test was on the movements during the sixties. It was funny thinking of how when I was here we were only studying Abraham Lincoln, log cabins, and slavery. Now everyone’s studying Kennedy, skyscrapers, and the Civil Rights Movement. I’ve missed so much since I’ve left. So much around me has changed in such a short period of time. After only ten minutes of grading papers, for some reason I began to feel thirsty. I decided to set down my red pen and go out to get a drink.
I was nervous when I stepped out the door and into the hallway. I didn’t want anyone to see me. I just wanted to go to the water fountain, get enough water to kill my thirst, and return to the classroom so I could finish grading papers. I walked past the cafeteria doors. I did not try to look through the square windows in the door. I kept my mind set on where I was going.
Finally I made it to the water fountain. I pushed the handle and bent down so I could suck the nice cool water into my mouth. I felt a nice coolness go down my throat. That water was really good.
After two more sips, I stood up and began my journey back to the classroom. I was getting close to the lunchroom doors again.
When I began to think about how happy I was that I hadn’t run into anyone, I heard the familiar squeak and click of the cafeteria doors.
I stopped. I heard sneakers coming. I looked around for a place to hide, but I had nowhere to go. I decided to continue walking, but at a faster pace.
Someone came up around the corner from the lunchroom and was walking towards me. As we came closer, I couldn’t believe who it was. It was Jamie. Her short black hair bounced as she walked. She wore a pair of overalls and carried a purse over her shoulder.
She came closer to me. I walked closer to her. I felt a cold sweat come on my face as we passed each other. She walked past me without saying a word. After the intersection, I slowly began to feel the tenseness go away, but then I heard her voice.
“Lila?”
My heart stopped cold and my feet stumbled over each other, but I kept on walking. I know I should have turned around and said to her that she would always be my best friend, no matter where I am. I could have added that I was sorry about the things I said and how lonely I’ve been without having her to talk to.
I didn’t do any of those things. Instead something hard formed inside of me, something in my chest. I wasn’t going to say that I missed her, that I was sorry, or anything else. At the sound of her voice I felt anger. I didn’t want to talk to her. I didn’t want to turn around and show that I even heard her. I kept walking.
I came back into the classroom and helped the others finish grading papers. The refreshment I had gotten from the water fountain was long gone by the time I came back. I started checking a stack of papers.
As I sat there, the hardness in my chest began to melt and my senses began to come back. I didn’t believe that I could do such a thing to her. How could I ignore Jamie like that? I should have walked up to her and said that I was sorry.
I began to realize something else. I was scared of her. I am afraid of the girl I had been best friends with for over six years. I’m afraid to look at her. I wouldn’t even dare speak to her. No one could make me do it even if they paid me a billion dollars. I’m terrified of my own friend.
Lydia took about half of my papers and began grading them at seeing how I was falling behind everyone else. My day was officially ruined. I felt awful.
We went around to other teachers and helped them out. We did this until Bridgman High let out. Students streamed down the hallways: all 3,050 of them. We all decided to take a back door out to avoid the crowd.
We came back to the sidewalk that we were on before and began walking in the direction towards Omni High. Bridgett and Linzie were talking, hemming me in the middle behind Cheryl, who is about two inches taller than I am. She was blocking my view, so I couldn’t see where we were going. All I could see was the back of her big head. I was glad when she moved over a little so I could get a sense of where we were going, but then I saw something that made me wish that she would move back.
Coming up ahead of us, walking towards us was Jamie. This time she wasn’t alone. Terrell was with her. Only two steps to the right—only two—and Cheryl could have hid my face. I hoped I could hide behind Bridgett and Linzie, but by the time I ducked, it was too late.
When we passed them, they looked dumbfounded. I tried not to look at them. We were barely a few feet away when I heard Jamie’s voice again.
“Lila! Lila Collins!”
“Lila, it sounds like someone is calling you,” said Linzie, turning towards me.
At that moment, that hard feeling came back inside of me. “It’s no one,” I said, shrugging it off.
“Lilaaa!”
Then I heard Terrell shush her loudly. He said, “Jamie, give up. Can’t you see she’s changed?”
His words were like a shot in the head. He wasn’t only saying that to Jamie. He said those words so loud, it was as if he meant for me to hear them too, and I did. That hard feeling began to crumble and give way to shame.
How could I ever do that to my friends? What has happened to me? I’ve never acted this way before.
Everyone took the bus with me to my house. When we got there I was sure that they were going to make a comment about how small my house is, but they didn’t say a word about it. Actually, the first words that came out of Linzie’s mouth when we walked inside were, “Nice house.” That made me feel a little more confident. I’m sure these girls live in much better homes than mine.
Once we came, my mom had spaghetti sitting on the table. Everyone, including me, was thrilled. We all dug into the bowls of spaghetti like animals. It was great.
Even though my mom has a Dominican heritage, she cooks like an Italian. She says that she uses a secret recipe to make her spaghetti. I’ve tried to get it from her, but she says that I can’t have it until the day I move out. That won’t be too much longer.
We all passed around the Parmesan cheese and twirled the noodles on our forks. My dad was at work, but my friends still enjoyed talking with Mom. Everything around me was great. I wish I felt like my surroundings.
I felt absolutely dead inside.
My brain kept playing Terrell’s words over and over again.
“She’s changed.”
“She’s changed.”
“She’s changed.”
I haven’t really changed that much. I’m still the girl that I was when I left Bridgman High, but if I am the same girl that I was when I left, why am I afraid to talk to the people that were my friends when I went there?
Soon we were done eating, and we talked a little. I showed them my room. My clothes were all put away, and my bed was made up. My mom had tidied it up some before they came.
My room doesn’t have a particular color scheme. It just holds my stuff. Linzie liked my poster of the U.S. women’s soccer team on the wall, and Lydia loved the drawings I had posted up.
It was about seven o’clock when everyone left. My mom and I stood at the door and waved them good-bye. After they were out of sight, my mom closed the door and locked the top lock. She wrapped her arm around me.
“Lila, I’m so proud that you were able to find good friends at this school,” she said with a smile. “They are very nice girls.”
“Thanks,” I said wearily.
My mom removed her arm and I went upstairs to my room. I collapsed in my bed and looked at the full-length mirror across from me. In the mirror I saw a girl with reddish-brown hair all pulled back into a ponytail with a sky blue scrunchie. She wore a sky blue and white uniform. Resting on the ring finger of her right hand was a beautiful ring with a blue pearl like stone. Her face looked confused and lost. Her eyes were big like the ones of a frightened little child.
The girl that was staring back was me. I have changed. I’m just like them. I am just like the masses of other girls at Omni High.
What happened to my blue striped socks? Did I lose my suspenders in one of my drawers? Did the wind steal the sky blue beret I had bought from the mall?
What happened? I used to be so different, but now I’m the same. I remember when I first came to this school I wanted to fit in, but then I began to like myself for who I was, and I really didn’t want to fit in. I felt so confused. The only reason I became this way is because of that threat that Cheryl gave me in front of our homeroom door. Either I act like them, or I’m out.
I didn’t want to be kicked out. That would almost be scandalous. No one has ever been dropped from The Five in the whole two centuries they’ve been around. I couldn’t let that happen, but at the same time I am losing my friends and my freedom.
Is it really worth it?
I went to bed early that night, but I didn’t sleep very well. By morning I was a complete monster and was worse off than I was before.
I was quiet and sullen when I met up with the others by my locker. I couldn’t bring myself to smile. While we walked around campus, my old reliable backpack seemed to press more weight on me. My laptop felt heavier than usual as I carried it in my arms.
“Lila, are you okay?” asked Lydia.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled.
I was still in a bad mood when I entered drama class. Angie, Julie, and Marcie were busy coming up with ideas for a new skit. I sat at my desk resting my head on an open algebra book. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be home in bed. There I wouldn’t have to face my problems. Wishing wasn’t doing me any good. I was already at school.
I closed my eyes and began to drift asleep. Then I felt a tap on my shoulder. I slowly lifted my head up out of my math book and looked at Ms. Remarque, who was standing right above me.
She had a serious look of concern on her face. It was an expression I haven’t seen her use too often. She stooped down in front of my desk so our eyes could be on the same level.
“Lila, you don’t seem to be yourself lately. You haven’t been talking with your group or helping with the projects—I’m very concerned. If you are having any problems at school or at home, I would appreciate it if you would tell me.”
We stared at each other. Her green eyes were aching to know what was wrong. I swallowed and looked down at my book.
“Ms. Remarque, thank you for thinking about me, but there isn’t anything you can do to help.”
“Lila, I understand that we all have problems, but we can’t always take them out on other people. You have to help out your group.”
“No, I can’t,” I said, feeling my eyes grow warm. “What would the others think?”
“The others?”
I was surprised that Ms. Remarque didn’t know who I was talking about. “You do know that I’m with The Five, right?”
She lost all facial expression at the mention of them. Her green eyes met with mine again. They had a cool glow. For once I could not read them. Instead she said, breaking her soft, even tone, “Oh, so that’s what this is all about.”
She slowly got up off her knees and brushed off her skirt.
“Lila,” she said. “It doesn’t matter what other people think. I thought you already knew that.”
She walked away, and with those words, I sensed a warmth inside.
I couldn’t do this anymore. I can’t go on ignoring people and acting as if I didn’t care. Even if I did get kicked out, at least I wouldn’t have to work against myself. It might be embarrassing, but it doesn’t matter what other people think. I have had enough.
I closed my algebra book and walked over to Julie, Marcie, and Angie. They were all sitting down, busy planning for our next project. I sat down next to them.
“So you finally decided to sit with us?” said Julie bitterly. “I thought you didn’t even want to be seen with us.”
Ouch.
“I’m sorry, guys. I really am. I was just being stupid. I’ll understand if you don’t want me to help with the skit.”
“Are you kidding?” shouted Marcie. “You are our main source of ideas. It isn’t the same without you!”
I smiled and let out a relieved laugh. “Well, I have a great idea for this project…”
After drama class, I was completely revitalized. Lila Collins is back, and her first job is to give those four snobs a piece of her mind.
I found them at the entrance of the library.
“Nice to see you Lila,” chimed Linzie happily.
“I wish I could say the same,” I replied sharply.
“Lila, what’s wrong?”
I put my hand up to my ponytail and violently pulled out the sky blue scrunchie, thrusting it into all of their faces.
“This is what’s wrong!” I yelled, shaking the ponytail holder in my hand.
“These are what’s wrong!” I pointed to my knee high white socks. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending I’m someone I’m not.”
Cheryl walked up in my face.
“Lila, if you want to be one of us you have to act like us,” she forced between clenched teeth.
“Then I guess I’m not going to be part of The Five anymore.”
Cheryl glared at me. I raised my head higher.
“Fine then!” she shouted. “Give me back the ring!”
I slowly pulled the ring off. She had her hand stretched out, ready to receive it. I was about to drop it in her palm, but then I pulled back.
“Before I give this ring to you, I want you to know this. When I was sworn in to be one of The Five, I promised to use my creativity to help others. How can I do that if I’m not allowed to use it?”
The ring glittered as it fell into the palm of her hand. I turned around sharply and began to walk away. I should have had a million thoughts going through my mind, but instead it was completely blank.
I heard Cheryl screaming behind me. “We don’t care if you leave! We can always find someone else!”
Students turned and looked back at them. I kept walking with my head high. Then I heard Lydia’s voice.
“Lila, stop.”
I stopped cold and turned around. She waved for me to come back. I absent-mindedly walked back to them. If so much wasn’t happening, I wouldn’t have gone back. I wasn’t happy.
Bridgett, Lydia, and Linzie stood in front of me. Cheryl had moved further behind them, closer to the library doors. Lydia took my hand and dropped the ring back into it.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
“Put it back on. You deserve it more than anyone else,” she replied. The blue stone sparkled as I placed the ring back on my finger. I looked at them.
“I don’t understand.”
“Lila, you’re right,” said Bridgett, resting her hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah,” said Linzie, “you’re supposed to be the creative one out of the five of us. How can you be that if you’re not allowed to do the things that make you who you are?”
Then Cheryl walked up from the background. “Much to my chagrin, I have to agree with them. Lila, you’re back in.”
I didn’t know what she meant by chagrin, (Sometimes they use words that I’m not even sure is English.) but I did understand the part when she said I was in. I was glad I didn’t have to leave, but I felt even better when I found out that it is possible to be part of The Five and be who I am at the same time.
I was allowed to talk to everyone and sing on the bus again. I even brought back my guitar, but the thing that made me the happiest was being able to dump those plain white socks and wear my striped ones.
I think my attitude even began to rub off on some of the other four because even they didn’t act as stiff as they used to, Cheryl included. Sometimes they would even talk to other people.
All of our qualities compliment each other, especially when we go out to do community service. The other day we had to work at the local homeless shelter, serving food. Cheryl made sure that all the hairnets, dishes, and food were in order. Bridgett gave an estimate on how many cans of soup were needed, and Linzie, the Olympic athlete, was able to carry about ten large cans of baked beans. That’s five under each arm.
It was my idea to buy the chocolate chip cookies and paint smiley faces on each one with frosting. The way these people live, they could use something to smile about.
Lydia didn’t really serve food. She was more like a counselor. Homeless people would come up to her and pour out their problems. If they wanted to laugh, they came to me.
Actually, I didn’t think I was that funny, but they seemed to think so. I would talk to them while putting spoonfuls of food on their plates. A few times Cheryl had to remind me that it was my job to serve people, not talk them to death. I think they enjoyed talking to me. It’s a shame that even in one of the richest countries in the world, there is still poverty.
My favorite community service project was the mural we did on the wall surrounding the park. We didn’t paint the whole wall—just the section in the front. Lydia and I came up with the picture. It had waterfalls flowing into a city street and trees growing among high-rise buildings. There were tropical birds and airplanes, zebras, and cars. It was a picture of city meeting jungle.
Bridgett figured out the proper proportions of the mural and marked spots where certain things should be. We gave all the painting supplies to Linzie. She was able to bring it all in one trip. Cheryl laid the plastic sheeting on the sidewalk and labeled all the paint cans while Lydia and I would sketch parts of the picture on the wall. After we drew a little piece, all of us would go back and paint it in. It took longer to paint than to sketch because of all the different colors.
None of us wore our uniforms because we didn’t want to get paint on them. It was strange seeing them in jeans and t-shirts though. It was almost as if they were normal everyday girls. I guess in a way, they are.
Linzie was painting next to me. She stopped painting for a few seconds to stretch. When she stretched her arms, she hit me with her brush, making a dark red mark on my white t-shirt.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Uh-huh. Sure,” I replied with a hint of mischievousness. Linzie returned to her spot on the wall and continued to paint.
I snuck over to the paint cans. I pried one of them open and stuck my hand into it. The purple paint oozed off my hand as I tipped back over to her. I tapped her on the shoulder with my one clean hand. Once she turned around, I wiped my purple hand on her face, making a big blotchy handprint that went from her chin up to her forehead.
“Ahhhh! Lila!”
I began to laugh uncontrollably. She looked so funny with a huge purple handprint on her face. My cheeks started to ache and tears ran from my eyes.
“Lila, you’re not going to get away with this!”
Linzie tried wiping her face with her hands, but that only made things worse. I turned and continued painting one of the waterfalls.
I heard footsteps coming up behind me. I knew it was Linzie, but I didn’t think she was up to anything, until I felt something dripping down my back. She had poured paint down the back of my shirt. She slapped my back, making me cringe. Now she was the one laughing. I tried turning my head so I could see how much paint was on me.
“Now you know how it feels,” she shot back at me as she picked up her brush that was resting on a paint can.
Without a second thought, I ran over to her with a brush full of paint and made a nice clean stroke on her neck as she got her paintbrush in her hands. She made a swipe at me with it, but I dodged it. We ran around the painting area chasing each other with brushes.
I found sanctuary behind Bridgett. Linzie was standing in front of her, now with a large bucket in one hand and a paintbrush in the other.
“Lila, hiding behind Bridgett isn’t going to protect you from me!”
We darted and ran around Bridgett.
“What are you two doing?”
“She’s trying to paint me!” I shrieked.
“Do you guys realize how immature you look?” Cheryl spoke out, resting one hand on her hip.
Linzie and I stopped and looked at each other.
“She’s right,” said Linzie. “This is childish. We’re wasting time that we could be using to help with the mural.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I said, checking out my paint covered t-shirt. Linzie took the bucket and the paintbrush over to her spot. I walked over to Cheryl to see how she was doing. She was painting in a pink tropical flower.
“It looks good Cheryl,” I complimented.
“Thanks.”
“But you missed a spot.”
She stopped painting and stood back to look at the flower. “Where? I don’t see a spot.”
“Don’t worry,” I said innocently. “I’ll get it for you.”
I dipped my brush in the pink paint. I went up close to the flower and looked for the spot. Cheryl looked on, standing back behind me. She wouldn’t be able to see what I was looking for standing that far back.
“Come closer so you can see the spot,” I called to her. She slowly walked up next to me.
“You see,” I said, tracing the flower on the wall with my finger, “the spot you missed is right—here!”
I spun around quickly and marked her shirt with my brush.
“Lila!”
I began to laugh again. Then the unexpected happened. Cheryl picked up her brush and ran after me.
“Get her! Get her!” screamed Linzie, jumping up and down with a roller in her hand.
Bridgett cupped her hands and scooped up some paint out of a bucket. “Cheryl, don’t let her get away!” yelled Linzie.
“Shut-up!” Bridgett yelled back to Linzie, throwing the handful of paint on her. Linzie took her roller and began to go after Bridgett. It was chaos. Paint was flying everywhere. Everyone chased each other.
There were no teams. Every girl was for herself. This lasted about fifteen minutes.
After a while, we got ourselves back under control. Cheryl began to rearrange the paint buckets again and Linzie tried to clean up some of the paint that had splattered on the pavement. Bridgett tried to get as much paint as she could off of her glasses. I tried combing some of the paint out of my hair. Lydia sat there in her jeans, laughing at all of us. She was the only one who didn’t have paint all over her arms and face.
My mom was very upset when I came home that night with paint in my hair. No matter how much scrubbing I did when I took a bath, I couldn’t remove all the paint from my body.
It was funny how the next day at school all of us had on crisp clean uniforms, but there was paint on someone’s elbow. There were still paint spots on the lenses of Bridgett’s glasses, and purple painted strands of hair in Cheryl’s dark brown ponytail. I’m still not sure if I’ve gotten all the paint off my back.
Being part of The Five wasn’t that bad, but then unexpectedly, the image I had of what it meant to be one of them began to change.