text: It’s the same thing every day. I find myself in this same line waiting for the same boring lunch with the same boring friend while we chat about the same boring things. All of the sameness could really make a person go insane. That’s why I have to get out of here. I still have approximately 1,095 days left before I’m free to live my own life on my terms. Everything that I do within these next 1,000 or so days will make or break whether I truly make it out for good. Maybe I can figure out a way to graduate early and I can cut a few hundred days out of the way. By the way, that reminds me that I need to visit the counselor to discuss- “June? Hello, are you even listening to me?” “What? Yeah, I’m listening. You obviously just need to drop your Honors Spanish course if it conflicts with Algebra I.” “Are you kidding me? How will I ever get into AP Spanish in two years if I don’t take Honors Spanish right now?” I sigh. I really can’t deal with my own existential issues while also helping Meg work through her scheduling issues. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out somehow. Now, listen, do you want to sign up for that volunteer roadside trash pickup day this weekend? I’m trying to pad my resume.” “Ah, this weekend? No, sorry, I have a PSAT practice run.” Not surprising. It’s not that Meg and I were real friends that hung out with each other every weekend. Maybe we were actually frenemies? Or it could possibly be that we’re only friends out of pure scarcity. No one can match my overachieving intensity quite like Meg. “I took my PSAT practice run last month. It really wasn’t that bad...” I miserably attempt to encourage her. “Oh sure, coming from someone that aces every test effortlessly. You know I have test anxiety...which reminds me I need to put bananas on my list of things to bring with me.” We arrive at the end of the line and I pack a sandwich into my bag. I quickly grab two bananas and hand them to Meg. “Here you go - get a headstart on all that banana-induced focus now.” Meg grabs the bananas. “Haha, very funny.” she says dryly. We find ourselves perched below a shady tree overlooking the student courtyard. It’s the best vantage spot to observe the animal kingdom that is high school. There are obviously jocks, cheerleaders and nerds in their respective places. But most noticeably, there’s Bailey fluttering around the courtyard in such a way that is both effortless and calculated. She’s always paired with at least two other people, but never the same people. She speaks with her hands and never leaves a conversation without the other person giggling at her. I never know what she's saying, but it has to be hilarious every single time. I notice her throat muscles contract when she throws her head back in laughter. I sometimes imagine how I would laugh if she ever cracked a joke with me. Would it be a loud animated laugh or would I go with a demure subtle chuckle? Bailey never does make her way to our perch by the shady trees. It’s not like she’s avoiding us or anything. I think she just doesn’t see us. We must be sitting too far away. “Alright, please stop ogling her again.” “What? I’m not ogling.” “Yes, you’re ogling. And honestly? It’s getting pathetic. We have sat here all year long and you have not once mustered up the courage to talk to her. She’s practically a stranger.” Meg sighs. “I mean, we do have US Government class together.” “June, that makes it even worse that you literally share a class and you still have never talked to her.” “Look, I don’t even want to know her. I don’t understand why we keep having this conversation.” I physically turn my body towards Meg to disconnect my brain from observing the kingdom. I just want to know how anyone is enjoying being here. I feel like I’m being tortured everyday and my thoughts are constantly infiltrated with different strategies about how to get out of here and never come back. I watch Bailey leave the courtyard over Meg’s shoulder. She leaves in the same fashion as she arrived, full of light and floating effortlessly through the crowds like she fits perfectly. My personal favorite part of the day is that time period about 15 minutes after the final bell rings. At first, there’s a giant influx of students and all of their excited energy spews into the halls and out of the doors. The excitement roils through the air as some students drive off in their cars and others pile onto the school buses. And then things just get quiet all of a sudden. Any leftover energy vibrates against the walls. But not a soul is in sight. The day is over and everyone has somewhere to be, whether that’s sports or a job or a home. On Fridays, it’s the pick-up circle for me. My dad never picks me up on time so I’ve become accustomed to waiting at the pick-up circle for one hour, maybe two hours, until he can pick me up. Something about needing to help a special client at only this special time and how important it is that he meets with them weekly. It’s a great time for me to research scholarship requirements that I can start working towards now. I have a bench and it’s become known as my bench at this point. Because I’m literally the only one that sits there. Except for today. Today, a practical stranger is sitting there instead. “Did I steal your bench or something?” My mouth opens and my brain says the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you in the process of stealing it? Because it looks like you’re just sitting on it.” Bailey raises her eyebrows. “Touche.” A beat. “Would you like to sit here? I’m just waiting on my Mom to come pick me up.” I hesitate. She scoots over and laughs. My hands find each other in my lap and I notice that her laugh gives me a metallic taste in my mouth. Like there’s a little bit of gold in her laugh or something. “So, are you also waiting on someone to pick you up?” She asks. “Yep, I’m waiting on my Dad. I have to wait a little longer on Fridays because he has work.” “You can’t take the bus?” “I live too far.” “Is there someone you could carpool with?” “Nope.” “Where do you live?” “Just outside of city limits. Far from here, like I said.” Bailey forms an ‘o’ with her mouth and closes it with a snap. She nods her head like she’s uncomfortable and I feel like maybe I said something wrong. I keep my eyes fixed on the road in front of us because maybe my Dad will be here a little early today. He was later than usual last week, so I’m sure he’ll want to make up for that this week. “I’m Bailey, by the way. I mean, I’m sure you know that since we have 5th period together. But I don’t think I’ve ever formally introduced myself.” I nod my head. “And you’re June,” she continues. I glance over at her and find that her brown hair speckles under the sun overhead. “Yep, I’m June. Sorry, I’m really bad at this whole thing.” “Bad at what whole thing?” “You know, like...talking? To people I don’t know?” I struggle to find words. “Oh!” Bailey laughs and that metallic taste comes back. I decided that I like it. “I mean, we don’t not know each other.” I shoot her a look. I don’t see how we are anything but complete strangers seeing as this is the first conversation I’ve had with Bailey. “We’re all going through the same thing -- high school, I mean -- so it’s not like we don’t know each other, even if you don’t talk to everyone. We’re all learning the same things and hearing the same things and saying the same things. We’re like a monolith. No one here is a stranger if you think about it that way.” She’s looking at me like she’s stumped me and I can’t help the little chuckle that rises from my throat. “Wow, I was not expecting that from you. It’s also false because how can you say that everyone is the same when your experience is completely different from mine?” I tell her honestly. “How so? If we’re strangers, how do you even know what to expect from me and what I’m experiencing?” A car pulls up and it must be her mom because she’s up and walking away from me before I can even register what’s happening. “Bye June! See you tomorrow,” she yells from the passenger side window. She rolls away and I’m left with my chuckle and the metallic taste in my mouth. It’s a new week and Meg and I sit under the same shady tree while I watch Bailey flutter around the courtyard. Except this time her eyes find me under the tree and she waves. “...did you see that? Is she waving at us?” Meg slaps my knee and my turkey sandwich almost falls out of my lap. “Uh, yeah,” my arm limply waves back at Bailey across the courtyard, “We finally talked yesterday.” “Get out! In 5th period?” “No, actually after school at the pick-up circle. She was waiting for her mom to pick her up.” Meg’s eyes are saucers and I can’t tell if I’m more disturbed by her reaction or my outward nonchalance. Inside, I’m screaming that she waved at me and maybe I have a new friend on the horizon. “What did you talk about,” Meg hustles me for information. “Tell me everything and leave out nothing.” “It was pretty short,” I dust off the sandwich bits from my pants and we head to the library. “Nothing to write home about.” And let’s just leave it at that. It’s now 5th period with Bailey and so naturally, my thoughts carry me back to all kinds of places that I’d rather not go. I thought all weekend about what Bailey said to me - about us all being a monolith. If that’s the case, why do we all feel the need to break off into groups that define us? Are we actually the ones defining ourselves and creating boundaries? Or is it being done for us? Is it just my fate that I am an overachieving maniac because I have an absentee father and an overall shitty home experience? Do I really have much choice in the matter? I’m pondering this as I feel a tap on my shoulder. A note lands on my desk. Hey! I’m just writing this to say hi...since we’re no longer strangers ;) -Bailey I have never received a note like this. I glance behind me and Bailey gives me a small, excited wave. I wave back and pull out a piece of paper. Hi there - I guess we’re not strangers anymore, huh? That’s pretty cool. Thanks for your note. -June Is that lame? How do I know if that’s lame if Meg isn’t here to proofread it? Maybe I should change it and add more substance. There isn’t really anything here to respond to- “June, who has the power to nominate Supreme Court justices to the bench?” My teacher’s voice snaps me back to reality. I try to hide the note on my desk as she approaches with her stuffy blouse and her glasses sitting precariously on her nose. “And what is this? A note?” She pries the paper from my hands. “Ah. I see. Looks like you and Miss Bailey can continue this conversation in detention.” Bailey speaks up abruptly. “I don’t think detention is necessary, do you? If anything, it was my note so you should just give me detention. June is an innocent party here.” Even her outburst gets a few laughs from the class. It’s so easy for Bailey. “My decision is final. 2:45pm today in the cafeteria.” My face turns red. Great. My first detention. See, this is why I don’t make friends. They throw you off the path to success. Detention is supposed to be this sad hellscape. You go to the cafeteria and you have to sit at the tables and watch the custodians mop and it smells like leftover cafeteria food. The whole experience is supposed to be awful. And it was. Except that the detention supervisor is just some coach that isn’t sports-ing around outside and doesn’t care what we do in detention. So that’s how I found myself sitting across from Bailey. I’ve never sat directly in front of Bailey, but I notice all of sorts of things about her now. She has freckles on her nose and her smile is actually kind of crooked. But I’m still mad that I’m here and missing out on the highly-coveted SAT Math practice class. “I’m so sorry again for getting you a detention,” says Bailey. “I really didn’t think we’d get caught.” “I mean, passing notes in class? Pretty amateur way to get a detention,” I fail miserably to hide my annoyance. “Are you really upset? I got in the way of a hot date, didn’t I?” Bailey asks and my face feels hot. “Actually, I was going to that SAT math prep class. I had to get up at 5am on a Saturday morning to reserve my spot. So yeah, I was busy.” “I did you a favor then! I hate it when my mom forces me to go to those things.” “No one is forcing me. I wanted to go. That’s the problem.” There’s an awkward silence and I know I should probably just ease up. “I applaud your dedication to your studies,” Bailey doesn’t sound convincing. “But don’t you think it’s worth seeking out other experiences that don’t have to do with equations and essays too?” “I just know that I need to get out of here. And the only way to do that is make sure I get into college and then get a great job so I don’t ever have to come back here.” I brace myself for what’s to come. People around here don’t like it when you talk about how crappy it is to live here. Everyone has some sort of halo around this town and I think it’s because it’s all they know and it’s all their parents know. I’m sure Bailey is planning on staying here and getting a job in physical therapy or something. She’ll probably hang out with the same people for the rest of her life. “I get that. But I don’t think you should just assume that you’re the only one that wants to get out of here.” I laugh but she doesn’t seem amused. “What, you want to leave this place too? But you’re, like, perfect here.” She shakes her head. “See, that’s exactly what I said before. You just assume my experience - you assume just about everyone’s experience here. No one really gets a say in who they are.” At this point, I’m watching redness peek its way over Bailey’s cheeks and I can’t believe I just got a rise out of her. “I mean, look at you,” she goes on, “Everyone sees you as a stuck-up overachiever that thinks she’s better than everyone. And you’re probably not even like that - it’s just how people define you and so you lean into it. We all do it. We don’t have a say. And that’s how we’re all really the same. We’re all doing the same thing, having the same experience as we define all of the people around us.” I let that sink in for a minute. And then I say, “So where would you go if you didn’t live here?” She shrugs and I guess that’s the end of that conversation. “Now, should we discuss how to discreetly write notes in class?” asks Bailey, “Because as much fun as detention is with you, I think I’d much rather hang out with you outside of this building.” She laughs and that metallic taste is back in my mouth which causes my tongue to get caught up. As I go to open my mouth again, detention ends and just like that our time together is over. Bailey is different than I thought she would be, which is not a bad thing. I think when you watch someone from afar for so long, you do build up ideas about them that can be unravelled after a few real conversations with them. And isn’t that what we do with any stranger? We can have an idea of who someone is or isn’t, but maybe it’s really just a projection of ourselves - who we want to be or who we’re afraid we already are. I see Bailey in the courtyard the next day and this time she actually walks over to me and Meg. “Hello ladies! Would there possibly be room for one more sandwich here?” she asks while pulling her lunch out of her bag. I scoot over so she can situate herself next to me. And that’s when I decide that maybe it’s time to re-evaluate my own definition. Maybe I can have friends, study hard and leave this town all at the same time. And maybe Bailey can too because we’re all just going through the same thing at the same time trying to get to the same place at the end of the day.