COCONUTS
THE DRAMA ROOM at school was often abandoned during Celeste’s free period, and there were many days when she snuck in here to be alone. While the library could be a good choice for her, since she liked nothing more than to be surrounded by books, there were always other students there. Being alone held more appeal.
Today she was in the small room that held all of the costumes used for school productions. Celeste sat on the floor next to a garment rack while a vent blew boa tendrils from an elaborate robe of some sort over her arm. She had never gone to any of the school’s shows, but she guessed that the costume was supposed to be for a king. Or a Vegas showgirl. In either case, she liked the tickle that danced on her forearm while she wrote down some thoughts in her American history notebook.
Her phone sounded with a text from Dallas.
Dallas: Did you read the book that I gave you? Hot romance, huh?
Celeste sighed. She truly loathed that the school collected and distributed cell phone numbers. Why was this Dallas girl paying attention to her anyway? It was most confusing. While it was seemingly kind, Celeste needed to put a stop to this, since it would inevitably lead to disaster, no matter how nice Dallas was. She tried to formulate a polite, but distant, text response and then decided that no response at all was the smarter method of shutting down a conversation. It had been nice to talk to Dallas the other week, but it simply didn’t make sense to hope that they might become some sort of power duo.
High school was not fun, Celeste had to admit. It was actually quite disappointing. She knew how to manage it, but that did not mean it was enjoyable. Next year, when she would be on a university campus with access to all sorts of educational avenues, would be much better. Course catalogs and campus maps that identified academic buildings were her saving grace this year. She closed her eyes and let herself daydream about the hours she would spend investigating old books at the library and researching coursework for classes with elaborate and specific titles….
She missed Julie right now. Although Julie would be sorely disappointed in her if she knew the truth about Celeste’s isolation. Her whole family would, but if Julie still lived near here, Celeste would not be able to trick her into believing everything was fine. Shielding them all from the truth was the only option, so she would continue smiling and bantering happily about her days when they asked.
Yes, she spoke to people at school, but that was virtually a requirement. She wasn’t mute. The opposite, in fact. She talked too much, and evidently not in the right ways or about the right things. Dallas had just been very nice to her, but one independent classmate who hadn’t been bored to tears by her philosophy analytics did not count. She deleted Dallas’ text, but did not feel any sense of satisfaction. If Celeste had pink hair and a hyper masculine boyfriend named Troy, she, too, might enjoy the social aspects of high school. As it was, she did not. And so she made sure that she interacted as little as possible with her peers.
High school, she had determined, would be a wash. Constructing an environment in which she would move virtually undetected had been easier than she would have imagined, and it wasn’t as though she had to fend off inquiries for social interaction at every turn. This Dallas bit was an exception.
It was a most strange experience, she thought, to move among crowds of students as she did, and yet not have any real friends.
But whether or not Celeste wanted friends was beside the point. It was best, she had learned, not to set herself up for failure.
Thank goodness that she had Matt. Matt, while not outwardly gallant and heroic, loved her with a ferocity and protectiveness that was quiet and subtle. Matt’s wiring didn’t make it easy for him to lavish affection with words or physical displays. And yet, what he gave her was more than enough. Having him still live nearby and often at the house eased the pain of his moving out. Which of course he had to do. Once he’d finished his undergraduate work, it made sense. She couldn’t expect him to live across the hall from her for his entire life. It’s not as though it was acceptable to have her brother move into the dorm room across from hers when she went to college next year. But she wouldn’t need him then because she would finally be out of high school and in a mature educational environment. Where, exactly, she would end up was still undecided. But there were options.
She turned on her iPad. Reading more about colleges would be comforting now. She couldn’t get enough of the course catalog, so she read about classes for a bit and then did a more general search to see what else she could learn about this legendary school. Celeste gasped when a webpage popped up.
“Oh no. No. No. No.” She glared down at the words on the page. Campus life.
Details about parties, and campus events, and lifelong bonds stared back at her. She hurriedly clicked on links to other schools. Greek systems, drinking games… something dreadful sounding called “Springfest” that featured a full day of on-campus bands and student festivities! This was not right.
Celeste read on.
“I had three roommates my first year, and we’re still the best of friends during our senior year” was one testimonial.
“Ugh, my freshman roomie sucked. Totally uptight and awful. Ruined my year. The school wouldn’t let me change rooms” was another.
Oh dear God, what a perfectly terrifying thought: she would have a roommate next year. A stranger. Or a number of roommate strangers. Probably with actual social talents as well as intellectual abilities. And Celeste would likely be the “uptight” and “awful” roommate that got written about on campus review sites.
Panic set in. The plan had been to shield herself during high school and then soar off to college, where life would be fulfilling. Suddenly it became clear to Celeste how utterly stupid a plan this was. College was going to be worse than high school. She would be trapped on campus in repeated and forced social situations. Ones in which she would be expected to function appropriately. This was a tremendous problem.
She sat rigidly on the concrete floor and tapped her head against the painted-brick wall. What was she going to do? Her personality certainly hadn’t won over crowds during high school, so there was no reason to think interpersonal relations would magically improve when at college. Why hadn’t she thought of this until now? For a smart girl, she had done something incredibly stupid.
It felt as though the costume room was closing in on her, and she would be lost forever under a mountain of pirate hats, poodle skirts, and goblin masks. Celeste stared at a hideous grass skirt. It might just do to run off to an as-yet-undiscovered island. She would wear coconuts and spear fish and never be required to deal with human beings again. She would have a new title: Celeste Watkins, intellectual deserted-island goddess. However, one must have internet access, and a deserted island might not provide that. Not to mention that she had no means with which to locate an as-yet-undiscovered island. Such an exploration would presumably require a boat and an expert degree of nautical mapping skills, neither of which she had.
Then she had a thought: Who says that she couldn’t just create a new identity? She still had time this year. There was no reason that she had to show up at college next fall with the same old stilted and stunted personality she currently had.
A personal reinvention would simply have to take place, and the clock was ticking.