The Last Day of School

There was something about the last day of school that always made Lola Poloma sad.

Usually, she would drift through the hallways of Lincoln Senior High enjoying the rambunctious students laughing and talking, and diligent teachers trying to control the chaos around them. She would get a thrill from the naughty boys tugging on girls’ hair and loved listening in on the snobby girls gossiping about their friends in the hidden corners. The smells of chalk, graphite, cologne and sweat were a sweet perfume.

The days were structured into classes. Math, English, Spanish, French, German, Civics, Chemistry, and the list went on and on. It was amazing how many different types of classes there were. She loved orchestra, it never ceased to amaze her how talented everyone was. And art class, with pottery, paint, and pencils, the students made their creations come alive with their talent and imagination.

Lunchtime was a special delight. It was a party of laughter and drama and everyone talking all at once, a cacophony of wonder and excitement.

There were angry lunch ladies who were tired of rude kids. There were nice kids who were tired of bad food. Some kids brought their own lunches in color boxes or brown paper sacks, some kids sat in the corners reading, drawing, or playing games. Everyone always seemed to talk at once.

Sometimes there was sadness. Like when Suzy came in with a broken arm because she’d been hit in the arm during a softball game. Or, when Joey told his table mates that his Dad had to move out because his Mom wanted him to ‘find himself’ somewhere else. But, mostly it was who liked who and whether they’d finished their homework, what were they doing the next weekend, and laughter, lots and lots of laughter. It was wonderful.

The students would start the beginning of the year clumsy and awkward. Not knowing where they fit in or even who they were, and by the end of the school year, their talent, creativity, and personality shown in everything they did.

Now, nine months after it started, it was the last day of school. Tomorrow the halls would be empty, and the only noise around would be the teachers cleaning out their classrooms. The week after that, the school would be empty. For a whole nine weeks, she would be alone.
Alone! Lola choked back a sob.

Things hadn’t always been like this. Once upon a time, she’d had a Mom, Dad, and a little sister. She lived in a house with a huge yard. They had a dog and she rode horses. She would leave school and go home at the end of the day. She attended parties, concerts, and plays. During the summer, she would play with her friends and go on trips with her family. She’d worn colorful dresses and ribbons in her hair and life had been wonderful. Only, she hadn’t realized it at the time.

She could barely remember what happened. She remembered feeling angry, sad, and alone. If she thought about it, she could recall running out of the school down the road with her classmates laughing as she fled. But after that, things got blurry.

Now, she was stuck in the school, truly alone.

Sitting on the window sill in the storage attic, she watched the yellow buses line up in the driveway. Tears streaked her cheeks as she silently cried out her grief. She knew the next school year would start before she knew it, it just didn’t alleviate the sorrow she felt today.

~~~

“Hey! Look up there,” Jean said, point up at the attic window from inside the bus she was driving. Pulling out her phone, she snapped some pictures of the pale figure who appeared to be sitting the attic window.

“Holy shit, I thought you were pulling my leg,” said Bill, pushing forward trying to get a better look.

“No way, been driving bus for six years now. She always shows up on the last day of school.”

“Seriously?” Bill said, rubbing his arms. “Look, goosebumps!” He held out his arm for Jean’s inspection.

“Yeah. I talked to the guy who mentored me, and he said that she’s been showing up since the early eighties,” said Jean, frowning at her phone that failed to capture the pale translucent figure in the attic window. “I never seem to be able to catch her though.”

“That’s crazy, I bet you have to have a special camera. I wonder why she’s here?”

“Well, from what I could find out it happened in 1979. This girl Lola Poloma was kind of an outcast and she had been teased and picked on constantly. This one day, I guess all the teasing became too much, because she ran out of the school and right in front of a bus. You know how hard it is to stop one of these things. Well the impact killed her instantly.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Right?” Jean watched the figure as teenagers started to pile into the bus, “How awful would it be to end up stuck in the place that caused so much grief? It must be torture for her. I bet she loves summer break.”


~~Word Count: 870~~