Chapter 11
Fireworks
Mrs. Moorer nodded her approval. “You’re always so helpful, London.” She tilted her head in my direction. “You’re lucky to have such a model student showing you around. I’ll take you from here.”
Lucky? I felt like I’d just been kicked in the stomach. Twice. As Mrs. Moorer guided me through the auditorium doors, I could feel London’s eyes boring into the back of my head. I was sure her innocent smile had faded by now, and no part of me wanted to face her again.
The auditorium was enormous, with a large balcony overhead, a long wooden stage at the bottom, and crazed teenagers as far as I could see. Mrs. Moorer shook her head. “Sometimes I could really use a few tranquilizer darts.”
I forced a smile. London’s words still had my mind spinning.
“Anyway,” she continued. “You seem much too calm to be a freshman. Transfer student?”
I nodded.
“Let me take a look at your schedule. Hmm, a junior, huh? Looks like you’ll be having me for Collegiate Calculus this semester.”
Calculus? Great, that is more bad news. It must have registered on my face because she laughed. "I’m kidding. You only have me for Algebra II. You know you should really take a look at this thing we call a schedule.”
This time my smile was more sincere.
She pointed me toward the corner of the auditorium reserved for “newly transferred” upperclassmen. Unfortunately, what these students made up for in maturity, they severely lacked in friendliness. Most of them didn’t even turn to see who was passing them in the aisle. I didn’t mind; after my experience with London, I was in no mood for any human contact. I took a seat at the end of the row, right next to the wall of the auditorium, and watched as Mrs. Moorer untangled a pair of arguing girls a dozen rows beneath me.
Half an hour later, I was still waiting; the only things circulating inside my brain were thoughts of London and Darren. Growing up here, they had probably known each other their entire lives. I thought about her long hourglass physique. How could I compete with her?
Snickers interrupted my thoughts. I looked up to find a freckle-faced girl in a wide brown cowboy hat moving for the empty seat just beneath me. A boy blocked her with his arm. “Sorry, that’s my girlfriend’s seat. She just went to use the bathroom.”
“Oh sorry,” she said with a thick southern accent. More snickers. I could tell that she’d just become aware that she was the butt of everyone’s joke because a deep crimson was flooding her cheeks. She scanned over the faces in our section until she settled on mine. When she saw my shirt, her eyes got big.
“You can sit next to me,” I offered before she could ask. She literally jumped in the air.
Once she’d settled comfortably into the seat next to mine, she reached over and took hold of my hand. “Name’s Taylor Prescott, moved up here from Austin,” she said, giving my hand a good shake.
“Austin…Texas?” I asked. Stupid question.
“Yep, home of the Texas Longhorns. Hook’em horns!” She laughed.
“So I guess you’re pretty set on where you want to go to college then, huh?”
She smiled and nodded enthusiastically. I noticed her face was wet.
“Your eyes...”
She wiped them quickly. “Oh, sorry. I don’t know why I get so emotional these days. Well, that’s not true. I do know. Daddy won custody after the divorce and—I’m sorry, you don’t wanna hear about my messed up family. Where are you from? I can tell that you’re a southern girl like me, you’ve got just the teeny tiniest little pinch of an accent.”
“I lived in South Carolina for a while, and then I moved up here to stay with my grandmother. I’ve only been in Brighton for a couple of days.” I wasn’t certain how much I should tell her.
“Well don’t you worry a bit,” she said patting my knee. “I’ve been here for a couple ‘a months, now. I’ll look out for you. First thing you need to watch out for are those rich kids from the other side of town—they think they’re a step above everyone else.”
Yikes. When I didn’t answer, she realized her mistake. “Your grandmother isn’t from…”
I nodded.
She buried her face into her hands. “I’m so bad at this. I’m sorry. I’ve lived in one place my whole life—I never imagined I’d have to start over like this.”
“How about we start over?” I suggested.
She uncovered her face. “That would be so great.”
“Asking for my name is usually a good place to start.”
Her eyes got big again. “I didn’t—oh gosh, I’m sorry. What’s your name?”
“It’s Ana.”
She smiled and shook my hand again. “Hello Ana, I’m Taylor.”
If not for Taylor’s arrival, I doubt I would have made it through orientation with any shred of my sanity intact. It might have been bearable had there been breaks or even the possibility of stepping out into the hallway for some air. There wasn’t. We weren’t to leave the auditorium for any reason; if you had to use the restroom, you did it in bathrooms inside the auditorium. Every one of the school rules was explained and discussed at length. Was it really necessary to explain why setting school property on fire was a bad idea? Then there was the singing. Apparently, our school was once two separate schools, so naturally we had to learn two different alma maters—followed by a “fun” mix of the two. It was a mind numbing experience.
Once I got an indication that the orientation was winding down, I suggested to Taylor that we make a break for it—I wasn’t very keen on the idea of getting swept up in a sea of freshmen. Taylor wasn’t as eager. “But what if we get caught?” she asked. I could see myself in her eyes. Hesitant. Cautious. It was the version of me that I was suddenly desperate to get away from. The urge to do something reckless was boiling in my veins. Goodness knows where it came from.
“Ready?”
Taylor shook her head. “Ana…you’re not seriously gonna...?”
“Come on!”
I started down the aisle at a run, apologizing for the book bags I was kicking over and the new shoes that were being stepped on. I looked over my shoulder to find Taylor a few seats behind me, using the path I’d cleared to catch up to me. Once we’d reached the stairs, I took a hold of her hand and we sprinted for the exit.
“Hey! Stop!” called a wide man in glasses that was leaning against the back wall. He started after us.
The hallway was completely empty when we came bursting out of the auditorium.
“There!” said Taylor, pointing to the girl’s restroom. We ran inside and slammed the door shut. Once inside, we both collapsed on the floor, completely out of breath, red in the face, and giggling like six year olds.
“You’re crazy!” said Taylor grinning and shaking her head. She’d lost her hat in the escape, so her curly auburn colored hair now fell over her shoulders.
“Not crazy,” I replied. “Just mentally fatigued.” I wasn’t sure if I should be proud or worried.
Once we heard the bell ring, Taylor and I slipped out of the bathroom and blended into the busy hallway, following the mass of bodies to the lunchroom. Like everything else about this school, it was enormous. Filling up the nearest two thirds of the wide space was what looked like a hundred small tables. Situated against the far end, there was a cafeteria and directly in its center, an array of vending machines. Giant bumblebees were painted on each of the walls, and on the ceiling, in 10,000-point font, were two words: “The Beehive.”
Having attended my fair share of schools, I knew that there existed the same clichéd system to how lunchrooms were filled, with only minor variances. Every group would have their own area. The popular kids sat in one place, the upperclassman that is. The popular underclassmen usually sat in another area, prayin
g to get called up to the upperclassman table so that they might enjoy it’s benefits sooner rather than later. The skateboarders hung out in another area, the intellectually inclined in another, and so on and so on. The best thing for a newbie, I had learned, was to join a table of fellow newbies, which unfortunately meant freshmen.
After grabbing some chips and a couple of sodas, Taylor, heeding my advice, picked us out a seat amongst a group of freshman boys who were discussing, rather loudly, which college football team would win the championship this year. I did my best to talk her out of it, explaining the perils of fourteen-year-old boys, but the girl’s friendliness, and die-hard devotion to the University of Texas won out. She sat down and traded words with each of them, that is until a mysterious quiet fell over the table, and she realized that they were much more interested in how well she filled out her top than they were in which football team ended up on top.
I led an utterly disgusted Taylor to a secluded spot beneath a fake tree and surveyed the large area. It wasn’t difficult to spot the popular tables, they were all pushed together, and the football player’s all wore numbered t-shirts with their names on their backs. I spotted London amongst them, looking every bit the future supermodel. Thankfully, she and Darren were as far apart as was possible in their little group. When I noticed that he was checking the door every couple of minutes, I could feel myself blushing.
“He’s certainly a cutie,” said Taylor with her slow southern drawl.
I dropped my head and tried to resist the smile that was slipping across my face.
“So when you gonna go talk to him?” she followed.
“I have…I mean I know him. He gave me a ride to school. We’re kinda friends already.”
“Then why are you hiding over here like a chicken in a nugget factory?”
Because I was scared to death of London, that’s why. No voodoo mind tricks for me, thank you. “I just don’t want to bother him.”
She smiled. “Looks like he wants to bother you.”
I turned to find Darren standing over me with a wide grin. “There you are.”
“Hi,” I practically whispered.
“Why don’t you come sit with us, a lot of them were at your welcome party.”
I looked over at the table. If looks could kill, I’d be dead in my next life too. London was furious.
“I’m okay, really.”
He sighed. “Then I guess I’ll have to do this here. Stand up.”
I just stared. “Why?”
Taylor answered for him. “Because he’s hot and he said to. Go on, do it.”
“You trust me don’t you?” he asked, with a sneaky grin.
“I guess so.”
Taylor laughed. “Look at you, all scared. Where’s that crazy girl from before?”
I stood up. He leaned over and as his lips touched mine, everything else faded away. Only Darren existed in that moment, he and the electricity shooting throughout my body. When he pulled away, I had to remember to breathe again, while Taylor and the entire lunchroom stared at us with open mouths. Especially London.