"Hey."
The other kid didn't answer, just stared down at the wet ground.
The blonde boy bit his lip. "What's up with you, brother? You haven't been yourself, lately."
The other just sighed.
The blonde boy got up and held out his hand to the dark haired boy. For a moment, the little one didn't move. But then, slowly, his black eyes glittering, he took the older kid's hand and got to his feet.
Just then, someone screamed.
* * * * *
Startled, I jerked upright, heaving my covers off. The clock read 9:15 am. I panicked for a split second before I remembered that today was the last day of summer, and first day of orientation at a new school. Orientation was a eleven. Groaning, I flung myself back into my pillows and stared up at my ceiling. It occurred to me that I had just had a dream, but I couldn't remember what it had been about. Within a few minutes, though, I had fallen back asleep.
As I rolled out of bed an hour later, the only thing I could remember from the dream was a name and a face. That name was Luke, and that face had had blonde hair and grey eyes. Totally meaningless to me.
I was pulling a T-shirt over my head when I suddenly remembered that today was also my birthday. I was fifteen. Wow. I don't think the realization had quite hit me, yet, because I didn't feel any different at all. And here, I'd been looking forward to turning fifteen all summer, and now that it had finally rolled around, I'd completely forgotten about it. Funny how that goes.
I bounced down the stairs two at a time and headed to the kitchen, where the aroma of bacon, sausage, and egg omelets wafted out to tickle my nose and make my mouth water. I knew Mom was making omelets because of the bacon and sausage smell. That was the only time she ever used bacon and sausage together. But as I walked in, I caught whiff of something else: Matches. And seeing as it was my birthday, that could only mean one thing. . .
"Happy birthday, Pete!" Mom shrieked happily. Sure enough, I walked in and was faced with an enormous cake and billions of bright little candles to spell out "Happy 15th!"
"Awe, Mom, you shouldn't have." I said grinning, as my thin, but lovely mother, with her mess of dark curly hair, planted a kiss on my cheek.
"Oh, it was fun, honest!" she insisted, slinging her arm over my shoulder. We were almost the same height, so either I was growing, or sadly, we were just both super short.
Okay, my mom isn't like normal moms. She's actually super fun to be around. Sometimes, I can see the kid in her still shine through. Unlike other mothers, she always encouraged me to explore, maybe get into a little trouble occasionally, which I'm ashamed to say, I do a lot. But here's the funny thing about Mom: She's a teacher. Yeah, I know, right? Teacher, and super fun don't usually go together in the same sentence. . . But hey, there's always a first for everything, right? Apparently. So, anyways, my mom's a teacher. She teaches art at a college here in San Francisco. So, I guess if you want to get technical, she's a professor.
Ever since I remember, we've lived in good 'ole San Fran. So, why am I going to a new school? Well. . . I seem to have issues with schools. I've been kicked out a lot. Now, wait before you start drawing conclusions, and let me clarify some things: One, I am not dumb. I don't get kicked out because of bad grades. Two, I may be a loner, but I am not a trouble maker. I don't bully innocent little children, or set things on fire just for the heck of it. Three, I am an unlucky person. I always seem to be in the wrong place, at the worst possible time. And then I get blamed for it. Take my last school, for instance. Let's just say there was a mishap with a bully, a bottle of spray paint, and I got blamed for it all. But, what's new, right?
My new school was a ways away, but not far enough that I had to take the subway. Just three buses. Today, however, Mom was giving me a ride. As we drove, I ate my cake, trying to keep the butterflies out of my stomach. I'm not sure why I was nervous, because I had done this 20 times (Sadly, that isn't much of an exaggeration), but for some reason, this felt different. When we finally pulled into the school's parking lot, I knew why.
The school was enormous. But it wasn't a normal high school. It was a prep school. Now think of the phrase prep school like you would think of dog-poop-on-your-shoe, or eating-vomit. It was that bad.
"Welcome to Rowe High, Pete." Mom announced cheerfully. I groaned and sank down in my seat, wishing I was invisible. Prep schools were not good places for kids like me; the kind nobody likes.
"Come on, Pete. Get your butt out of the car. Today will be fine, I promise." Mom had taken my half-eaten piece of cake away from me, and now she was pushing me out the door, which I hadn't really remembered opening.
Reluctantly, I began trudging towards the huge double doors, where kids were streaming in and out. I looked back hesitantly at Mom, who was sticking her head out the window to watch.
"Do you want me to come with you?" she called.
Quickly, I shook my head. As much as I loved my mom, that would be even more embarrassing. So I went on alone. I grew confident as I walked, but as soon as I waltzed through the doors, that confidence vanished with a poof! Hundreds of kids, preppy kids, milled about, going up and down stairs, coming in and out of doors, most crowded in one big pile in the center of what most people would call a lobby. The place was, like I said earlier, enormous. Stunned, I circled slowly, looking up, rubbing at the the palm of my right hand, where a thin pale and ragged scar ran along its width.
This place had a freaking spiral staircase. A spiral staircase! I mean, come on, they shouldn't have those in high schools. It's too dangerous for clumsy people like me.
So, there I was, twirling around like a fairy princess, when I heard a voice in my head whisper, "Watch out." At that moment, I lost my balance and fell right smack into another kid, and together we proceeded to tumble to the floor. Feeling myself turn beat red, I started stuttering apologies as I tried to scramble to my feet. I only succeeded in falling back on my butt. I made a point not to look at the other person, but then a hand shot out and a quivering voice answered, "No, no, it was my fault. Here, let me help you up."
I followed the arm up until I saw the other kid's face. He was a wiry little guy, with messy black hair and circular glasses that set crooked on his nose. He was wearing a faded blue T-shirt that said GAMER across it in big black letters. His skin was lighter than mine, but I suspected that was because he was probably one of those guys that shuts themselves up in their rooms all day and played video games. But hey, who was I to judge?
He was still holding out his hand. Blinking, I grabbed it and together, we hauled me to my feet.
"I'm Braden Michaels." he said, vigorously shaking my hand that he was still holding. The way he said the s in Michaels sounded more like "thh."
"P-Pete. Pete Coleman." I answered. "Sorry about that," I started, motioning to the floor, "I-I just wasn't watching where I was g-going." Silently, I cursed myself. I stutter when I'm nervous.
Braden batted the air with his hand. "No big deal. Maybe we're just both clumsy." He laughed, seeming a bit nervous himself. "So you a sophomore this year?" Again, there was the "thh" when he said his s's. Maybe he had a retainer in or something.
"Unfortunately, yes." I grumbled, momentarily forgetting I was nervous.
"Ditto." he agreed gloomily. "Preps annoy me."
"Ditto." I laughed. This guy actually seemed pretty cool, and his lisp, whether natural or not, somehow made him all the more likeable. It made me realize that I may not be the only geek in the world, which lifted my spirits some.
After we went up to the front desk and got our class sheets, school maps, and all that, we talked awhile about stuff we liked, hobbies and such. I found out quick that he was a pretty much a geek in every way, but that was cool with me. He was easy to get along with, and super easy to talk to. He began going off about the school and how it was designed, or something, and I scanned the crowd. Almost everybody was dressed up all preppy-like. Ugh. I glanced over at the reception desk thing, and that's when I saw her.
Her dark brown curly hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she was wearing thin glasses that had slid down to the end of her nose as she studied the yellow paper in her hands. Even from where I was standing across the room, I could see that her eyes were a bright and sparkly blue. She wasn't dressed up in the short little skirt and tight shirt that most of the girls there were wearing. Instead, she had on faded blue jeans, a black tee, and a tan button up shirt over top of it. She had left the over-shirt unbuttoned, and her sleeves were rolled back to her elbows, exposing tan skin. And instead of stiletto heels that looked like they could become murder weapons, she was wearing a pair of red Converse, which, I had to admit, were a nice touch.
I must have been drooling, because Braden had to snap his fingers in my face to get my attention.
"Dude, what are you staring at?"
"W-who is that?" I stuttered, still staring. Braden moved his head next to mine, to see who I was gawking at.
"Oh, that's---"
"Annabell!"
The girl turned in the direction the voice had come from. Suddenly, I noticed the crowd parting like the Red Sea. Literally. At first I thought it was out of fear. People always did that when somebody they feared walked by, right? But I soon saw that it wasn't out of fear; it was out of pure adoration. You could see it, plain as day, in the eyes of everyone (especially the girls, who were all sighing dreamily. Yuck.) I couldn't see over everyone's heads unless I jumped up and down, which I didn't really want to do since that would draw a lot of unwanted attention. Finally, I managed to get around the stupid crowd enough to see who everyone was treating like royalty. Braden followed on my heels, so close that when I jerked to a stop in surprise, his head collided into the back mine. I barely noticed. I was too busy trying to sort out reality.
A tall, lean guy was walking toward the girl, Annabell. He had pale blonde hair, and the most startling dark grey eyes. I knew his name even before Annabell cried it out in joy and threw her arms around his neck. The crowd got in my way, then, going back to whatever they were doing before their god had shown up, but most still shot sneak peaks at the couple. Witless infatuation and, I suspect, jealousy towards Annabell, was plastered on every girl's face, along with envy, plus admiration, glowing in the eyes of all the guys. But I was completely out of it. I was hardly aware of Braden telling me that the guy was a Junior here, and everybody's idol. I was too absorbed in my own thoughts.
The next three hours went by in a blur, and I if I rubbed at the scar on my hand any more, it probably would have broken open. I barely payed attention to the slide show they played for all the sophomores. Part of our orientation process, I suppose. I knew I should've been paying attention, because the slides showed the rules and such and such that we were supposed learn. I just couldn't help it. I have a small case of ADHD, but that was hardly the problem.
However, I did learn a few things that day. Three, to be exact: One, that beautiful sophomore girl I'd seen? Her name was Annabell. Her name was as beautiful as she was. Two, Annabell, unfortunately, seemed to be taken. And, three: I had already met Annabell's boyfriend. His name was Luke, and he was in my dreams.
©Brittany Jo Robertson
This is a work in progress. Tell me your thoughts!
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