28 | 𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑

"Do, re, mi, fa, so, la, tee, do--" we sang, extending the last note before descending to the lower spectrum of octaves. I awkwardly sat back down on the creaky, gray metal chair and glanced to the other half of the auditorium stage as the tenor and bass practiced their measures of "The Awakening."

"Psst!" she hissed sharply towards me. I didn't turn my head. I focused on Ms. Leovan with her gentle piano playing and continual bass toned singing to coincide with the section. Again, behind my head, I heard, "psst--"

"What?" I whispered sharply in return, quiet to not catch Ms. Leovan's attention. I twisted around in the chair to see Kayla's wide eyes as she pressed forward towards me.

"I'm sorry about the things I said--"

"Well, I'm not," I rebuked. "Because of you, I kissed Sullivan," I triumptly remarked, spinning back around in my chair to look at Ms. Leovan as she leapt off the piano bench. She threw up her arm happily.

"That's what I'm talking about, people!" she congratulated, her voice reverberated through the interior of the auditorium. She clapped excitedly, dropping her arms on either side of her aqua blue dress. "You guys make me proud."

She walked towards the stairs at the opposing end of the stage, swiping a clipboard off a rectangular table as she approached. "Our song--an fun, little thing that will be the easiest thing we've done all, well, ever... The Lion Sleeps Tonight, which excitedly, has a solo that we will be auditioning for... Who wants it?" she asked everyone expectly.

Her eyes scanned over the individual seats. "Well, luckily for you when I did those surveys at the beginning of the year, asking if anyone would be interested in a solo, I got all your names." She crouched down and picked up a glass mason jar off the floor, holding it out to everyone who shared a continuous groan of disapproval.

"That's what that was?!" someone shouted from within the semi-circle of chairs.

"Untrustworthy," another one scolded.

Ms. Leovan laughed quietly to herself. "If anyone doesn't raise their hand, I will pick the ten competitors at random," she reminded us with an edge to her tone. "Anyone?"

Three hands shot up and she nodded with a grin. "That wasn't so hard! Wait-- Wolf-pack?" she asked the student whose nickname developed over time. The senior in my grade sprung from his chair, demonstrating his mustard color shirt as he pounded his chest with his fist.

"You know it, Ms. Love," he teased. "Imma about to make history with this one!"

A wave of chuckles fluttered through the auditorium as Mrs. Leovan nodded, evidently intrigued as she scribbled his name on the clipboard. "Diana?" she smiled. "I'm glad. And... Penny!"

Penelope smiled from the alto section. Penelope nodded, her red hair tucked neatly in her high pony. Suddenly, Jay popped up from the stands and waved his hand. "I will happily participate too!"

Ms. Leovan beamed. "This is great. We're still needing six more. Anybody else?" she egged on, though no one dared to say a thing. "Be a dear, Wilson," she murmured. "Hold this." She passed him the clipboard and unscrewed the cap to the mason jar.

She plucked out a strip of paper and nodded at it. "Patricia--Oh, sorry," she corrected, "Rowan." Giving him a smile from across the chorus seats. Ms. Leovan gestured for Wilson to write the name beneath Jay's. She repeated the action, popping out another strip of paper and saying, "Olivia Marshall."

My heart started to race and I had no idea why, for some odd and strange reason, I knew that my name was in and I had a gut feeling she was going to pick me, but I didn't want to audition for the solo. With a few more passing by minutes of anxiety, she retreated Erin's and Lockett's name.

Only two names left.

"Who wants to pick the last two?" Ms. Leovan raised the mason jar to the sky, seeing Wolf-pack and his best friend, Sam, skyrocket their hands up to the ceiling of the auditorium. "Perfect, you each pick one."

Wolf-pack obnoxiously stuffed his hand into the pit of the jar, even his wrist was below the lip of the top. He roamed his hand through, making Ms. Leovan struggle to hold it in place for him. He grabbed a few papers, pinching his two fingers and chefs' style, sprinlinking them at the bottom till getting one.

"You see... I don't know how I feel about this one. They could be serious competition for me," he warned, looking the teacher dead in the eyes.

"Any day now, Wolfie," she exasperated, raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm... I'm not feeling good about this one." He snatched his hand out of the jar, having trouble getting his wrist out of the tight space. Ms. Leovan went to grab the paper, but he held it over her head and tsked. She groaned in compliance, popping out her knee and impatiently waiting.

Wolf-pack read over the slip silently and surveyed the auditorium. "I don't know who this is."

"Give that to me!" Ms. Leovan kidnapped the sheet of paper and rolled her eyes. "You gotta be kidding me... They're in your grade, Wolf-pack?"

He cocked his head and disagreed. "I find that impossible."

"Azariah Kellman!" she exclaimed, motioning to my awkward position on the creaky metal chair as I shifted uncomfortably in the heat of everyone's stares.

Wolf-pack rolled his eyes. "She never talks, how do you expect me to make an effort, Ms. Love? I can't be doing all the work here?"

She groaned again, tossing the paper to the ground of the auditorium and nodding towards Wilson to write the name. My heart was racing uncontrollably as I felt my hands grow increasingly sweatier. I never sang in front of everyone like that, and a solo was hardly something I'd like to consider.

Ms. Leovan ambled through the rows of chairs and held out the jar to Sam who quickly punched his hand into the hole of the jar. With a quicker time, he ripped out a piece of paper, and before the teacher could take it, he stomped on the bottom of the chair and stood above all our heads.

"Samuel! The chairs are not stable!" she ordered.

"Hush, hush, I got this!" he rebuked, ignoring the disagreement on her face. "I announce the next and final competitor of this competition. The battle of the solo! Mikayla Ashby." An assortment of claps resounded as I mentally facepalmed myself. He coughed loudly and under his breath said, "and the hottest--"

"Mr. Freckerson, sit down!" she ordered. "That is not the correct way to address someone." She paced towards the front of the auditorium as many of the guys burst into bombarding laughter.

She situated the jar down and declared, "we will have our solo tomorrow, so please study the song and rehearse at home! I will see you all regular time--" Her voice got cut off by the shrill bell that rang through all sides of the stage. Like a Jack-in-the-Box, I jumped off the chair and threw my backpack sleeve over my shoulder, starting to join the stampede of high school students when Kayla cut in front of me.

"Please, we'll practice at my house and you can tell me all about Sully like you used to," she offered.

"No," I deadpanned, attempting to circle around her, but she only stopped me with the palms of her hands held out towards me.

"Just give me a chance to explain--"

"Kayla, just..." I contracted my breath sharply. "Just go--"

"Great job today, girls," Ms. Leovan expressed from behind us, looking between our faces. "You all okay?"

"Perfect, but I can't audition for the solo," I pronounced.

Ms. Leovan frowned. "Oh, okay. Is everything alright?"

I nodded. "Yep. Got to get to health." I hurried forward and through the music hallway, surpassing many of the orchestra and band students as they put away their instruments. It felt like I was lugging my backpack which continuously grew heavier by the second. My calves were burning as I marched up the stairs behind a cluster of slow walkers who conversed on about AP bio class. Something pestered inside of me. A combination of boredom, thoughts about my date with Sullivan, and for some strange reason, the feeling of his lips on mine vanished, but what wound up staying was the expression on Victor's. That was molded into the cup of my eyes like a suction cup and I couldn't pop it off.

I shrugged past students, bounded up the stairs and paced down another hallway. I noticed one of my acquaintance-friends passed by me going the direction I came from. We quickly waved to each other, but then the sight of my over-the-top Spanish teacher came jogging through the hallway, hopeful to not elbow a student in the head as papers flapped in his clutch.

"¡Hola, Señora Azariah!" he exclaimed with a wide grin, he was feet away from me when he added at the opposite end, "Espero que estés teniendo un gran día!"

I awkwardly smiled and called out, "Ustedes también!" I bolted into the nearest opening in the hallway and smiled towards my health teacher who sat at his desk, scrolling mindlessly through his computer, appearing to be playing a space game. He rapidly tapped the mouse controller, anxious to get the spaceship away from the flying fire bolting towards him.

I collapsed at my desk, heaving a sigh of relief, thankful I was at the place I needed to be just as the bell rang throughout the building. For a split second, I thought about where Victor was, but changed my thoughts to Sullivan.... Sullivan... Fuck, he was sitting right next to me.

"Liv?" I asked, my heart swelling at calling him that. "What are you doing? You're usually seated by your friends in the back."

He shrugged lightheartedly. "Turns out, I struggle to see the board," he joked softly, flashing me a quick grin that made my heart want to burst.

Mr. Monroe slammed the curl of his fist to the desk as it creaked. "Your mother's uncle!" he snapped when the screen flashed 'Try Again.' He eventually stood from the desk and surveyed the room, shrugging to add, "everyone looks to be here."

We all impatiently squirmed in our seats as he suddenly turned on the whiteboard behind him, looking over his shoulder to a diagram of a vagina. "Wrong thing."

Oh no. Wrong time to be on the reproductive unit. Please, change the topic!

Mr. Monroe flickered through the presentation, flashes of diagrams of penises and intercouarse-based words. He reached the title and in big letters, it wrote 'Protective Sex.'

Why is my life like this?

Before he could even spit out the next sentence, my cheeks flared the darkest of shades, burning along the sides of my face to the tips of my ears feverishly. The prickling didn't stop and worsened, when the gym teacher, who gave off the vibe that he was assigned to be the health teacher last minute, declared, "protective sex... If only I had some of that and I wouldn't be standing up here with four boys."

He sighed as the class exchanged a quick look, my stare with Sullivan holding longer.

Mr. Monroe flipped through the powerpoint until it landed on the penis illustration, using a ruler as he pointed to different things. "Prostate gland, cowper's gland, scrotum, testes, and epididymis." He gestured to the class. "As a fun lil' game, we're going to make the girls label this off of what I just showed on the board." He pressed the next button and all the words vanished.

"Come on, ladies!" he beamed, swooping his hand towards the diagram.

I sheepishly stood with everyone else, my cheeks on fire now. I quickly grabbed one of the words and slowly dragged it down the board, marking the urethra and no way in hell was I going to touch the 'penis' or 'testicle' cartoon images. Luckily some girl already did that.

I quickly labeled the prostate then hurried back to my desk when it was completed. My cheeks were inflamed and I tried hiding the sides of my face with the loose caramel brunette strays of hair, but Sullivan was looking at me.

"Our presentation is due next Friday," he told me which was something I already knew. Our powerpoint was almost completed. We just needed to fix a few things. I made many of the changes, and though I adored him dearly, I wanted to make him do more work so it was equal effort, but I ignored it. I didn't want him to think I was burdensome.

Mr. Monroe walked to the board, proclaiming, "wonderful job! You ladies know our parts, but do men know yours?"

A wave of incoherent phrases rumbled through the classroom, even Sullivan drove his head to his hands in exhaustion and preparation to label the vagina. Mr. Monroe leapt out of the way after reviewing the female reproductive illustration before the words turned to the background color and a cluster of high school males gathered around the unlabeled picture. They were all cracking jokes, even Sullivan who joined in with a chorus of laughter. They were mislabeling the vagina left and right, only one or two correct.

When they finished, they stepped away to admire their creation before sitting at a desk. Mr. Monroe rolled his eyes, pointing out many mistakes before he announced. "I made the same mistake, fellows."

He motioned to the top of the illustration. "You guys switched the hymen and the clitoris, but I'm assuring you won't be tested on that. These diagrams don't really matter."

I'm pretty sure they do.

Sullivan leaned towards the back of the classroom and announced, "my mistake!" All his football friends released in sync demonic laughter, slapping their hands to their desks and making rather sexual jokes that Mr. Monroe never touched upon. After a few more reproductive discussions that made a flutter of anxiety spiral up my throat, the class eventually ended and I was exiting the room when I bumped into Rowan from Vulpine Union.

"Hey, where are you going?" he wondered with a smile, brushing some copper hair out of his eyes.

I sighed tiredly. "Sadly now all my core classes are at the end of the day, so now, math."

"Ew," he muttered, "that's... miserable, I hate math." He shrugged his shoulders towards the general direction of where he was going. "I'm heading to gym."

"Urgh, good luck," I optimistically replied. "We should walk together more often--"

"Yeah, we should. Also, when I was in French, Clem wanted me to tell you about our next meeting spot. It's when we meet back in the new year--" he said, referring to the upcoming January.

"Oh, God," I mumbled. "That sounds so weird..."

As we walked through the hallways mindlessly, Rowan's laughter sharpened. "Just wait till the last day before Christmas break, everybody we'll be saying 'see ya next year.'"

I nodded exaggeratingly. "I hate when people do that, yet I do it to piss people off."

Rowan chuckled. "I think everybody does," he said, waiting outside of the staircase that he needed to turn down to get to the gymnasium. "I'll see you soon, I guess--Wait!" he spat out with a few laughs. "The next meeting spot is a museum like forty minutes away, we'll be taking a bus."

"Sounds great," I agreed, giving one last wave before distancing myself. I couldn't help but let myself ponder with the turn of events as I walked down the hallway, beginning to lesson, as I saw Victor and some junior run off to the exit doors, her giggling roaming the halls at their disappearance.

I felt something lodge in my throat.

Why am I feeling like this? It might be because I know I need more lessons when it comes to Sullivan--

"Azariah," a stern woman's voice sounded beside me. I looked over and while holding open the door to see my standing figure, staring at the ghosts of Victor and some girl, she added, "you're late."

"The bell didn't ring yet," I protested, and on cue, she cocked her head and the shrill sound amplified through the hallways. "I'm going, I'm going," I excused, trudging into her classroom without another word.

♡♡♡

"Yeah, school was good," I mumbled, picking my fork into the serving of food. "I'm hanging with Liv tomorrow to work on our project..." I then grumbled something with a mouthful under my breath.

"Don't talk with food in your mouth," my mom accused. "What did you say?"

I repeated myself, but a tad lower, extra letters and peaks of high and low octaves till it was one fragmented sentence. "I'mgoingtoSanFrancisco, y'knowsafley," I mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I'm going away," I curtly announced.

She raised a brow. "I don't think that's what you said." She became impatient, looking at me with a questioning look in her eyes before lowering her utensil. "Riyah--"

"I'm going away with Victor for Christmas to see his extended family who he sees often," I replied. Everything was a lie except 'going away with Victor' but she didn't need to know that. I would've lied completely, but I felt that my mom needed to know I wouldn't be in the state.

She swallowed thickly. "Where are you two going?"

"Well, no," I intercepted. "Keiona, Jay, and Penny are going." Another lie.

"So a friend's trip?" she summarized, seeing me nod excitedly. "To where?"

"San Francisco--"

"No." She stood up from the bar stool, empting the disregarded food into the trash bin. "Absolutely not."

"We're staying at his family's house--"

"I don't know these people, absolutely not, Azariah. That is the end of it. Besides," she began softly. "Moose and I would like to spend Christmas with you."

I glanced at Moose by his mini food bowls. His eyes were in two different directions while he calmly licked the edge of the bowl, scooping up the smallest amount of food on his tongue.

"Mom," I begged, "Please, I'll keep you updated. The plane is only three hours--"

"A plane?" she repeated.

"Yeah, but Keiona and Jay will be there and you trust them," I assured, my voice coming out in a pleading whine.

"A plane?" she rebuked. "No, Azariah. That is the end of it. I don't trust Victor." She shook her head sternly, swiping my plate off the counter.

"I promise, mom," I begged, "I'll keep you updated. Mom, I'm seventeen and I deserve to have a good winter break. My grades are... exceptional. And I'm a good child. "

"Exactly, Azariah, you said it yourself," she deadpanned.

"I'm a good child?" I repeated back with a hopefulness in my tone.

"No, you're seventeen and you're stupid. You're not mature and neither is Victor. Does his family even know that you are coming with all those people?" she reprimanded, her voice curt.

"Yes," I said, another lie. "And I am smart, you know that. My guidance counselor thinks I am very intelligent for my age. You know this," I recalled. "Please, mom. I don't ask for much."

"Yeah, you typically just do without asking," she corrected, positioning a hand on her hip and popping out her knee. "Azariah..." Her glare grew on me, her eyes roaming the kitchen for any sign of something to say.

"Please?" I asked again. "I will keep you updated, you can trust me. I'll be going off to college soon and I need to experience the most I can during my senior year," I told her. "Please, mom."

She stared me down, executing a pent up sigh, finalizing, "Fine, Riyah, you may go."

x