See Me Now | Self Para
Thick grey clouds blanketed the sky and Dallas’ eye’s focused on a tree in the distance, watching the rust red leaves shake in the gentle breeze and eventually flake off and fall to the pavement below. Meanwhile, in the background, he could hear the other students drone on about the correct usage of formal nouns, though the teen boy could not be less interested. Spanish was always a subject he found himself slacking in even at his old high school. Not because it was necessarily hard for him, but because of how mind numbingly boring he found it to be. The sound of the door whooshing open pulled him back into reality and he watched as the scrawny office T.A. timidly handed the teacher a rectangular hot pink slip and then quickly left, clearly uncomfortable being the center of attention. The class fell into an interested silence -probably the most quiet they’d been all class- as the teacher skimmed the note. Senorita Carillo’s look fell on Dallas and she told him in Spanish he was wanted in Simpson’s office ASAP. The rest of the class made their nearly obligatory oohs and ahs and a few shouted “You’re in trouuuuuble!” while Dallas stood and rolled his eyes, grabbing the pink slip on his way out. Normally he’d be joining in on the teasing but with him being the one in apparent hot water it wasn’t so funny.
Dallas made the short walk to Simpson’s office, replaying the last week or so in his mind, trying to figure out what he could possibly be in trouble for. He’d actually been staying on the down low recently and couldn’t think of a single thing that would warrant being pulled out of class and getting yelled at. The small waiting room was deserted since it was still early morning and Dallas scanned the area wondering if he should take a seat. “Dallas, Principal Simpson is expecting you. Go on in,” the office secretary said, the sudden noise from her voice almost causing him to jump from his shot nerves, her fingers never stopping their frantic movements and her gaze barely even meeting his. Her tone was flat, lacking any hints about what he was there for. Sighing deeply and saying a half serious prayer for his well-being, he entered the small principal’s office.
The sight before him did nothing to quell his nerves; it only added to his confusion. Simpson and the Ice Hound coach sat behind the dark wood desk and Dallas’ mind kicked into overdrive trying to think of what the hell must’ve happened for this little meeting to take place. “Look…” He said, nodding at both of them, slinging his back pack to the stained multicolored carpet floor and taking a seat in the chair opposite the two men. “If this is about that table and several chairs in the caf, the Ice Hounds had nothing to do w-“ Simpson held up one hand telling Dallas to stop and began to rub his temple with the other. “You’re not in trouble,” He shook his head when Dallas tried to interject once more and kept going, “I’m not sure I even want to know what you guys did to the caf. No, no, it’s probably better I don’t know. I called you here because we’ve gotten wind of some news that we think you should know about.”
Dallas’ eyebrows furrowed and he looked back and forth at both men waiting for one to keep going. News? What the hell did that mean? Before he could spend any more time thinking about it, coach cleared his throat, redirecting Dallas’ attention back to him. “Dallas, you’re a damn decent hockey player and your leadership skills are impressive for such a young age. And the way you handle the press is nothing short of amazing. There’s been a lot of talk about the draft lately, and I’ve heard back from a couple of teams. They’re definitely interested in seeing more of you.” Pins and needles pricked the back of Dallas’ neck and he couldn’t help how his jaw dropped in shock. A small smile crept onto his coach’s face and he saw a genuine look of joy in the middle aged man’s eyes which was a strict contrast with the typical ‘you’re not working hard enough, dammit!’ look that normally resided there. “I know you understand what this means. This could be your one chance, kid. Keep your stick to the ice and your nose clean and you might have a real shot here.” Numbly Dallas nodded in agreement, still trying to soak in this new information. Shaking his head, he grabbed his bag and stood up. Simpson was saying something but it fell on deaf ears. The only thing Dallas could hear was the thick beat of his own heart which seemed to be going at an impossibly high rate. “No disrespect, but there’s someone I really need to call and tell about this.” He shook both of their hands and walked out of the office on wobbly legs, bee lining for the emptiness of the Degrassi parking lot.
Long fingers dialed the only number he had memorized besides his own and he listened to the cheery dial tone. Taking a seat on the last of the Degrassi steps he waited for the phone call to click over to voicemail, knowing she was in the middle of English class right now. “Hello? …Stop talking to yourself, loser. You’ve hit my voicemail. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back!” Click. Her overly bubbly voicemail was probably the most Vanessa like thing he’d ever heard. He’d nagged her so many times about changing it he’d lost track, but yet almost four years later, here it was. It had taken him a solid year to stop falling for the stupid thing and not before he’d left numerous messages that started with him half way through whatever he wanted to tell her and followed by a steady stream of profanity. There were several of his particularly irate ones still saved on her phone. One time he’d questioned why she still kept them on her phone and she’d looked at him so sweetly and explained that even if she was having one of the hardest days of her life those voicemails never failed to make her grin. Pushing the memory from his mind he continued with the task at hand. “Hey, V. I can’t even think straight right now. It’s happening. It’s finally happening for us. Coach just told me there are a couple of teams considering drafting me. Everything’s falling into place. All I have to do is keep my game up and we’ll have everything we ever wanted. We’ll be able to give Rocky the life he deserves, and we can shamelessly turn him into some spoiled rich kid. I should probably go, I guess. Give Rock a big hug for me and call me back when you’re done with school for the day, yeah? Bye.”
