37
Outclimbing Escape Strategy:
When a smaller prey plays the angles.
I sit in my classes and look out the window at the various views of the parking lot. Someone went to a lot of trouble to give us views of the parking lot. Maybe it was to help our young minds feel refreshed with sunshine. That’s what I’d like to think. But most of the people I see sitting around me are seniors, and they don’t look too refreshed. They look like they’re on the downhill slide to nothing.
This is all the school they’re planning, and in a few weeks we’ll be officially free of learning anything at all, except a trade that’s supposed to keep us from starving to death. School’s out forever, followed by a drum solo.
During lunch I go to the library. At least I can read about being somewhere else.
Much to my surprise, Erik strolls in a few minutes later and plunks down next to me, like we’re still big buddies. I keep my face in my book.
“I heard you dropped out.”
I look up but don’t say anything.
“I would have won anyway, you know.”
“If you thought that, you wouldn’t be here,” I whisper, then I put my head back in my book.
“You know you really never wanted to go. You couldn’t leave this town if your life depended on it. You were doing it to get back together with me.”
I put my book down. I look Erik in the face. “Really? Please try to get over yourself. I know what you did with the complaint. You’re such a weasel, you couldn’t just deal with me beating you, so you tried to cheat. Like you cheat on everything. That’s what you do when you can’t win, Erik. You cheat.”
He whispers, “Gee, Myra, I love this new side of you.”
“I don’t care if you love it or not.” I’m not whispering.
“I don’t know why you have to act like this.”
“Like what?” I feel kids looking at me.
Erik tips his head forward and speaks with a distinct hiss. “I sent that complaint because you have an inappropriate relationship with Pete. I know he’s been helping you. It’s nauseating.” His nose pinches together when he says this. He couldn’t look any more self-righteous if he had a pulpit in front of him.
I pick up my book and stuff it in my backpack. “Strap your barf bag on then, Saint Erik. Things are going to get a little bumpy.”