Annalise Springster’s a High School Dropout — Chapter 1
By: Aysia C.
Tags: Books, Fiction, Novel

Annalise Springster’s a High School Dropout — Chapter 1

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Cassie’s POV

August 10th, 2202

Annalise Springster bursts through my bedroom door.

“Morning Sunshine! — And you’re still in bed.” Without hesitation, she pulls back the blankets from on top of me and daintily tosses them onto my bean bag chair. “Your mom said you were getting dressed.” She glances over my PJs.

“If I was, wouldn’t you think it’d be a bit inappropriate to barge in without knocking. Even the FBI gives crack dealers a chance to get themselves together before they start knocking hinges off doors.” She stares at me unimpressed. “What if I was naked?”

“Oh please, Cass.” She saunters over to my mirror grabbing one of my scrunches on the way. “We practically developed together.” Focusing on her reflection, she ties her long brown hair into a knot on the top of her head revealing her pointy ears and small square curve of her jaw.

Groaning, I get out of bed and walk out into the hallway with my eyes set on the bathroom. The tiny twerps would have no doubt heard Annalise’s antics and taken the opportunity to beat me to the bathroom. Shaking off the drowsiness, I pick up speed. I reach the door, grip the handle, and turn. The cool metal knob gives easily, and I quickly bound into the room and shut the door behind me.

Hahaha, sweet victory.

The light flickers on automatically? and I find my crusty, sleep-deprived self looking back at me.

Oi.

I rip off my bonnet, and ten braids spring forth around my head. I reach for my cleanser and try to wash away last night’s bad decisions. A few of my friends had graduated this past spring, and their sendoff party was epic to say the least. My ears are still ringing.

“Crust begone,” I mumble.

Knock Knock

“Go away, Sammy.” Toothpaste flies from my mouth.

“It’s Annie, Cass.”

“Oh, yeah. Come in.”

Annalise Springster and I first met at Greenboro Elementary. Our teacher assigned us as partners for the quarterly popsicle house contest. We had never spoken a word to each other before then, had not even looked each other’s way.

Mrs. Brown pointed out who I was to her, and she toddled over and plopped down next to me. She was wearing a blue and white polka dot dress with a rainbow-striped shirt underneath (she had later boasted to me about how she made that lovely fashion choice herself), and her hair was tied loosely in two pigtails. That day, I was wearing spotless white overalls with a black sequined shirt underneath, and I had gold star clips pinned in my afro. She leaned her round face close to mine and instinctively I moved back.

She smelled like graham crackers. I hate graham crackers.

Her ears and nose stood at attention like the flyaway strands from her ponytails. Putting one palm to her cheek and polking the finger of her other hand to my chest, she darted her eyes from my face to my hair and exclaimed, “You look like an angel!” To my surprise I blurted back, “And you look like a fairy.”

We stared at each other for a minute then burst into a fit of giggles so strong that Mrs. Brown sent us to the naughty corner. We both had snorted like pigs.

Facing the wall with a near toothless grin, the fairy child looked at me from the corner of her upturned eyes and whispered, “I’m Annalise.”

I crinkled my nose and concentrate on the smiley face post in front of me. “A-A-a-N-ayise.” My brow furrowed. “A-a-n-i-iiissse?” The letters tumbled out of my mouth like a pack of spilled hair beads. I folded my sausage link fingers and look at her hopefully. She shook her head. More flyaways.

“My family calls me Annie. Call me Annie.” Another near toothless grin.

I return a slightly less toothless grin. “Ok, Annie. I’m Cassie.”

Annie proved to be an amazing partner. I damn near threw a fit for not being partnered with my best friend at the time, Ruth Lofferd, who would later prove how unloyal she was by sticking gum in my hair when I refused to play on the seesaw with her. Ruth and I had had a record for the number of popsicle house contests we had won. That year Annie and I blew that record through the roof.

We didn’t just build houses. We built towers.

Towers.

School was no match for us. We were each other’s best complement and greatest challenge. We were the dream team from primary school to high school. We would be the dream team in college. We were inseparable.

“You really should cut your brothers some slack,” she says propping herself on the sink counter and closing the door behind her.

“I’ll cut them some slack when they cut me a check for every personal item of mine they’ve broken,” I retort adding extra emphasis to the word ‘check.’ Annie smirks and watches me in silence for a while, her childlike gaze never leaving my face. Somewhere in that span of time, her mind left for mars. I undo my braids and comb out my hair, watching my afro bounce to life in the mirror.

“Does it ever make you nervous?”

“What?”

“Sendoff Day.” She leans her head back against the mirror, forcing her gaze to shift downward at me. “That’ll be us next year. Stuffed onto that bus like sardines.” Her gaze glides upward while her face scrunches into a snarl. “I don’t want to be a sardine.”

“What are you talking about?”

She closes her eyes. “Nothing. I just — I mean — ugh! Don’t you feel that?”

“Annie, feel what?”

“The pressure,” she blurts, “all this pressure, to be something. Something that I don’t even want.” I bite my lip. She bites hers. “Why can’t I choose what I want to be? I mean seriously. Does the school get to decide everything? Damn that.” Silence.

We sit looking at each other, neither one of us daring to take the conversation a step forward. That step would be equivalent to walking off a cliff. In the end, Annie breaks the silence.

“I get that the world needs more doctors and all that jazz, but what’s one less doctor. I mean I’m not even doctor material.” She throws her arms out in front of her, defeated.

I stare at her, baffled. Annalise Springster had the whole world laid out for her. Unlike most other pupils at Greensboro High, Annie has had the blessing of having a private tutor whole life. Her mom is a neurosurgeon and her dad an engineer. She comes from wealth, generational wealth.

“ — I mean what if I don’t even get into medical school, then what — “

If that wasn’t enough, she attends one of the best high schools in the country and is a shoo-in for attending one of the three best universities in the country.

“ — I’ll be stuck with some major I don’t even care about — “

And she’s complaining. She always complains.

“Cassie, you get me right?”

“I get you,” I sigh. “But I really don’t want to have this conversation again — “ Her eyes sadden, and I feel a sharp ping in my chest. “Just not today, Annie.” She averts her gaze. The pain swells. “Today is Josh’s day,” I say hugging her around her shoulders. In response, she rests her forehead in the crook of my neck, and her ever-present flyaways tickle my skin.

…………

Outside of the only coffee shop in town that serves breakfast in the afternoon sit Annie and I hip to hip, stuffing ourselves with bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches. Josh stands in front of us, as tall as ever and still wearing his barista apron, rocking back and forth on the heels of his shoes.

“Keep at it and you’ll tip over,” I chuckle through my chews.

“Yeah, that or you’ll wear the heels out of your shoes,” Annalise retorts snorting.

“Never that.” I swallow. “He broke out the dad shoes today. They’re indestructible.” Annie chokes on her sandwich.

Josh glares at us then stares at the ground.

“Sorry,” Annie says, holding back her giggles. “Nice one” she mouths to me. I wink at her.

Josh resorts to pacing.

“Hey, cheer up. Relax a little,” I say offering him the last half of my sandwich. He eyes me questioningly then takes it. He picks the bacon off it and eats the rest. “What’s got you so fidgety?”

He shrugs, scratching his arm so hard it seemed like he is hell-bent on breaking his skin. “Just nerves, I guess.”

“Still getting those migraines?”

“Yeah. I thought they’d go away y’know with me finally being able to rest for the summer, but — “ He shrugs again then chuckles. “I don’t know.” Silence. Annie lets her hair loose from her bun and examines her split ends. “I’m going to be honest with you, I’m a nervous wreck.”

“I know,” I say grabbing his hand and holding it. I rub the rough skin between his knuckles gently with my thumb while adding a little bit of reassuring pressure. “Time will fly. Before you know it, we’ll be right back here sharing another sandwich.” The skin of his olive cheeks flush red as the corners of his lips upturn into a boyish smile, that boyish smile that I —

Honk Honk

“Rides here,” Annie says launching upward and walking to the 2180 model silver Subaru Forester that had pulled up to the corner. She opens the front passenger side door. Dangling a cigarette between his teeth, her dad leans over the armrest.

“Hey-o lovebirds yall had better get a move on before we miss this speech” — he leans back casually and places one hand back on the steering wheel — “And more importantly that bus.”

I loosen my grip on Josh’s hand only to have him hold it tighter. We both stride towards the truck with me walking a bit faster to hide the new shade of red my face has undeniably become and with Josh trailing behind.

“Move it, son. Put those running shoes to work.”

…….

“I’d like to thank everyone who came out today to join us in sending off our future physicians, lawyers, politicians and so much more — .” Mayor Muller stands atop the stage in our school auditorium spitting his Sendoff Speech into the microphone.

He stands with his shoulders squared back and his chin high. His piercing blue eyes contrast sharply from his warm fair skin. Those oceanic orbs scan the audience while he smiles as if trying to be polite to someone who told him a bad joke. Every word he speaks sounds inspired. They flow from his mouth like water. With each word he pulls you further into his depths, catching you with wave after wave, line after line until you find yourself lost in his sea. But unlike those actual unfortunate souls, you don’t pray for an escape.

“ — it has been more than a pleasure growing close with you young minds — “

On either side of him stands the last gift his last wife ever gave him — his twin daughters. Each with a fistful of his pinstripe pants, they gape at the crowded auditorium with eyes not unlike their fathers’.

“The twins are getting big, eh?” I whisper elbowing Annie.

“Mhm,” is the reply.

“ — I think I can speak on behalf of all parents here when I say, we don’t want you to come back.” Laughter from the audience. “We prepared you to build your careers out in the world. The world needs you, not Greensboro. I’ll leave you all with this: Don’t ever forget where you came from. Though Greensboro is but a small community, just a tiny speck on the United States map, our education system has proved to produce more success stories in the medical and political field than any other school district. We are beating out the competition.” There’s a long dramatic pause. “You, young people, will beat out the competition!”

Applause erupts from the audience. Josh and I, along with many others, leap from our chairs to show appreciation for our mayor. “Thank you — thank you — this is really — I mean, let’s really give some applause to our graduates.” Flashing his pearly whites more than ever, he tucks the microphone under his arm and claps his hands. Hoots and hollers arise from the crowd. I nudge Josh lightly. As a response, he genially drapes his arm about my waist.