Lollipop Lure

by Rita Delude

  When Honey got her turn with the secretary, she introduced herself and the secretary made a big deal of introducing her to everyone in the office as if she was a celebrity. Not what she wanted to be at all.

  “We love having new students at Laconia High School. Welcome. If you get lost, confused, whatever, you pop in here and one of us old folks will find an answer for you, hon,” the round faced lady with cherry lips and permanently happy painted-on eyebrows said.

  “I’ve got a guide for today. But thank you,” Honey answered trying to escape as soon as possible. Was this really going to be one of those places where everyone was into everyone else’s business? God, no. I don’t need that drama, she thought as she headed back to the guidance office to pick up her volunteer shadow for the day. But when she got there, she was introduced to Henry. Henry was not anything like Honey expected to be her volunteer tour guide. He was taller than her by about eight inches, making him at least six feet tall with dark hair and blue eyes, her favorite blue, a light, peaceful color.

  “Hey, I’m Henry Blake. I’ll show you around today and answer any questions you have. Mr. McFarland said your name’s Honey Delano. Is Honey a nickname or something?” he asked as he stuck out his hand to shake it. She slipped the red lollipop she had in her hand into her mouth and slid her hand into his. His was huge, warm, and rough like he’d been scraping his hands against sandpaper. She pulled away as quickly as she could without seeming rude.

  “It’s nice to meet you Henry.” She smiled around the lollipop. “No, it’s not a nickname. My mom had cravings for honey throughout her pregnancy for me, so they thought it would be cute to name me Honey. Of course, it’s not, but I had no say in the matter.”

  “No, no, it’s nice. Different. I like it,” he said and blushed. “I’ve taken a look at your schedule. “You’ve only missed the opening assembly and part of first period, so let’s get you off to your first class.”

  Honey walked with him down the corridor, which was long and well lit and loaded with bulletin boards that welcomed everyone back to classes. At least they pretended they wanted the kids to be there. She hoped they’d want her.

  Chapter Four

  Classes were much the same as at Cony High School. Some teachers were boring and some not so much. She was, however, very impressed with her English teacher, Mr. Farnsworth. His first assignment wasn’t the usual, boring, “What did you do this summer?” it was, “If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?”

  Honey started writing and had a hard time pulling herself away from the assignment when the bell rang to signal they needed to pass to their next class. She didn’t want to leave. She had too much to write.

  “Seems you enjoyed the writing prompt,” Mr. Farnsworth said. “You never took your pen off the paper the whole time.”

  “Yes, it was different, you know. I liked that. Thanks.”

  “See you tomorrow, Honey.”

  “Tomorrow,” she said and lowered her eyes shyly feeling almost like she used to before Uncle Peter. “English has always been my favorite subject.”

  “Mine too,” he answered her. When she left the room, her shadow, Henry, was waiting.

  “You’ve got Mr. Farnsworth. He’s cool. He’s our junior class advisor. He’ll be in on our plans for the junior class trip, prom, and lots of other class activities. He also directs the school plays. This year’s musical is Hello Dolly. Are you into acting or singing?”

  “Not me. I can’t sing to save my soul.”

  “We can always use help behind scenes with painting sets, lighting, sound, props, even just handing out programs on the nights of the show. Think about it. It’s a great way to meet some nice people,” Henry said as they traveled along with the crowd through the corridors.

  “You involved?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah, I’m stage manager. I keep everyone and everything on schedule. Mr. Farnsworth couldn’t do it all without me.”

  Honey stopped in her tracks and two kids ran into her and almost knocked her over. When Henry realized, he stopped too. “What?”

  “Brag much?” she asked.

  “It’s not bragging if it’s true.”

  “Oh, okay. I guess so,” she answered giving him a pout and wondering if all the guys around there were as full of themselves.

  “So will you help out?”

  Pushy much? she wondered.

  “I’ll think about it. It’s a lot to take in the first day.”

  “Yeah, right. Sorry. There’ll be tons for you to sign up for at lunch today, too.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I’ll explain later. Here’s your French IV class. You must be some sort of girl genius being a year ahead in language.”

  “No, we took French I in middle school in Maine.”

  “Oh. I’ll be here to show you to lunch after class.”

  She turned to him then and said, “You know, Henry, I appreciate it, but you don’t have to keep this up all day. I’m sure I can follow the crowd to lunch and find my way around for the rest of the day.”

  “No way. I’m enjoying this. Later,” he said and took off at a sprint.

  Madame Boisvert greeted the class in French and spoke no English throughout the period. Just what Honey was hoping for. She’d spent three weeks that summer visiting her grandmother, who lived in Italy. Since Honey went there every summer, her grandmother surprised her and rented an apartment in France, so Honey could immerse herself in the language she’d been studying at school. Of course, her grandmother wished they offered Italian lessons. But Honey had picked up a lot of the language from her over the years and believed that’s why she had an affinity for languages.

  Some of the kids in the classes mumbled to each other, not in French, as Madame Boisvert introduced herself to Honey and carried on a ten-minute conversation with her during roll call. It was clear she was testing to see if she belonged in the class. Except for a single stumble over one word she was trying to use to describe the Eifel Tower, Honey felt she had done well. Yet, the class of mostly seniors chuckled at her. They clearly didn’t approve of the new girl taking center stage. When the conversation with Madame Boisvert finally concluded, Honey unwrapped a heart-shaped lollipop and stuck it in her mouth determined not to mumble another word the whole period.

  Of course, that became impossible when they were divided into groups of five and asked to complete a discussion of none other than what they’d done on their summer vacation—in French, of course. Honey soon found that many of her peers weren’t as advanced as she was and resented her finesse with the language. But when asked to pick a representative to summarize what the group discussed, they all pointed to the new kid to stand up and speak for them. Honey wanted to crawl under a rock.

  French IV was not going to be her favorite class. She was happy to hear the bell ring and see Henry waiting at the door to escort her to lunch. Things had to be better there.

  Chapter Five

  But it was at lunch when things went really wrong. Apparently, Henry knew everyone. The cafeteria was made up of tables that seat four, six, or twelve. Henry, much to her chagrin, picked a twelve-seater that was nearly full. He had his buddies smoosh in to make room for Honey and him. Then he went around the table introducing Honey to everyone there. She tried to concentrate on every name and face and repeated the names after Henry said them, but it felt like she was preparing for the SAT’s. She’d been in the same school district all her life. That day, she was the new kid, and everyone was on the inside of all the school gossip, knew all the school jokes, and certainly had all names and nicknames down to a science. She would be expected to learn them quickly, she knew, or be considered too dumb or not interested. Yet, she was faced with a dozen of them, while they had only one of her to remember. It wasn’t fair. She reached into her jeans pocket to be sure her anxiety meds were still there, but she didn’t dare take them out in front of them. She’s take one or maybe two in the ladies room after she ate. She had to calm
her nerves. It was all too much.

  But the guys seemed to like her. They took turns sitting near her and introducing themselves personally while suggesting clubs she should sign up for. Honey did what she’d been doing post Uncle Pervert; she hid behind her lollipop after her lunch was finished. That seemed to gather even more attention. But the girls at the table mostly ignored her. At first this one girl, Amanda, was all smiles and sweetness welcoming Honey to the table as though she was her long-lost sister or something. But once the boys started paying closer attention to Honey, things soured fast. Honey couldn’t make out what they were saying, but the girls were definitely whispering about her. Finally, this guy named Cory, who was Japanese or Chinese or something said, “Hey, ladies, cut her some slack. Remember, it wasn’t long ago I was new here too.”

  “What do you mean?” Honey asked innocently really wanting to know.

  “He came here from Coldstream at the start of the summer,” the short, pudgy girl she remembered was named Tara answered as she pulled him into her. “Cory’s only been here a few months, so he gets it about being the new kid on the block. You’re certainly welcome to join us. That is if you play by the rules,” Tara warned, giving Honey what looked like a Wicked Witch from the West stare.

  “What rules?”

  “You’ll learn as you go along. It’s time to sign up for clubs now. Want to join us?” Sophie asked. She didn’t seem to be hooked up with any guy, but most of the others were paired off. Henry, as he had all day, shadowed Honey, but with him came a chick named Beth. Maybe they were a couple. Although, Henry seemed pretty interested in Honey all day for someone who was part of a couple, she thought. Rules? What rules? I better keep my eyes and ears open if this is going to work out. Maine got ugly. I don’t want this to be uglier, she thought.

  “Do you always do that?” Beth asked as they walked around checking out the various tables to let Honey see what there was to join.

  “Do what?”

  “Suck on lollipops?”

  “Yeah, it’s kind of a nervous habit, I guess. Do you want one? I have plenty.”

  “No. It’s disgusting,” Beth said making a face that rivaled the one Tara made earlier.

  “Why?”

  “Why? Watch yourself in the mirror sometime when you’re doing it. You’ll see what I mean. Unless hooker’s the look you’re going for. Is that it?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Honey shouted.

  “Hey, what the hell? Beth, what did you say to Honey to make her mad? I’m her ambassador for the day. If you can’t be civil to her, you can just go and leave us alone.”

  Beth stopped in her tracks, put her hands on her hips, and stared Henry down. “What did you just say to me?”

  “I said, go, now.” And he pointed across the room. She turned on one foot and stomped away. All of the girls who had shared lunch with them came running to her to find out what had happened. Seconds later, they took off together to the ladies room. Beth was crying.

  Henry got her signed up for chess club, which he participated in, and the school newspaper, which he wanted no part of, and as a stage hand for that year’s musical production of Hello Dolly. He felt pleased with himself for getting her involved in two activities where he’d be able to spend plenty of time with this very good looking, very sexy, new girl, who seemed so fascinating that he couldn’t understand why his Beth would have been cruel to her.

  The rest of the day went off without any drama, and Henry delivered her back to the guidance office. Before he left her to meet with Mr. McFarland, he asked for her phone number as several other guys had done throughout the day. None of the girls in her classes or at lunch had asked, but she had swapped numbers with at least eight guys. Her mom was planning to pick her up on this first day, so she had a few minutes to chat with Mr. McFarland before leaving to meet her outside.

  He asked how her day went, and she told him that for the most part it seemed pretty okay. She didn’t want to share that some of the girls seemed pretty stand-offish. She’d give that time. It was enough that she liked some of her classes and that some of the kids seemed friendly—particularly the guys. It was a reasonable start for a new kid in a new place, she figured. She’d try to hook up with that Cory guy tomorrow and pick his brain about how he managed to fit in so quickly.

  Chapter Six

  The next day, she took the bus to school. There weren’t many kids on it that she recognized. Then she realized most juniors were old enough to drive and likely had wheels of their own. She’d have her license in another three months, and she, too, would ditch the bus as soon as possible.

  She expected to sit alone, but the bus was crowded and a tall guy called out, “Hey, sit here.”

  She slid in next to him, resting her backpack on her lap. “I’m Joe Davie. You new here?”

  “Yeah, I’m Honey Delano. Just moved here from Augusta, Maine. I’m a junior. You?”

  “A junior, too, but I lost my license for speeding. Got another week before I get my wheels back. Won’t do that again anytime soon. The bus sucks.”

  Looking him up and down, she saw a finely-toned six-pack bulging from his black T-shirt, nice biceps, dark hair that was bit too long and not styled in any way, just left to towel dry, a two-day old beard, and large hands with tons of dirt or grease under the nails.

  “Don’t you have friends who could drive you?”

  “My friends are either too young to drive or in the same boat. We’re grease monkeys, and proud of it, so we tune our cars to drive fast. That makes it easy to push the torque and get high performance, which means we get pulled over a lot, but the ride is sweet, especially when you know you made it happen yourself by pushing the equipment to the limit.”

  “Sounds great, but it does suck about the license.” That explained the grease under his nails. “What kind of car do you drive?” She figured it would be a big pickup truck with those giant wheels or a Jeep the guys in Maine were so fond of.

  “It’s a 2006 Chrysler Dodge Charger R/T with a high performance 5.7 L Hemi V8 engine, four-door sedan, and rear-wheel-drive. The engine was originally rated at 340 horse power and 390 pounds per foot of torque, but I’ve made a few adjustments. You should see me and my buddies race out on the track just out of town some Saturday night. It’s awesome.”

  “Wow. TMI. I have no idea what you just said, except maybe about going to the track on a Saturday night. So you race your car?”

  “Yeah, that’s why it was extra stupid to be pushing the limits on the highway. I can get all the adrenaline pumping I want at the track. I don’t need to be doing it there.”

  “Now that makes sense, but nothing about all that torque and shit did.”

  He looked her up and down then like it was the first time he noticed her. He smiled, and she saw he had nice teeth.

  “That’s what I hear from most people. It’s why I keep to myself and my shop rats. We get each other, you know?”

  “I guess that makes sense.”

  “Hey, give me your number, and I’ll let you know next time I’m racing once I get my freedom back. Maybe you can come out to see what I’m talking about. I’ll even pick you up if you need a ride,” he added as though it was an afterthought.

  They exchanged phones and inputted data.

  This day was starting out pretty nice, Honey thought. That was until she got off the bus and said, “Goodbye, Joe, nice to meet you,” and Sophie was standing there and overheard her.

  “Goodbye, Joe, nice to meet you,” she snarked. “So, you’ve met ‘Sloppy Joe,’ you’ll pick up any guy off the streets won’t you?” she barked at Honey.

  “What? I just met Joe on the bus. We had a conversation about his car. Is that against the rules, Sophie? ’Cause if it is, I don’t want to play by your rules. And when you get a minute, could you do me a favor and send me a list of those rules, so I’ll know when I’m stepping out of bounds?”

  Sophie turned around then. Honey watched her jog into the building with her short, dark h
air not moving an inch out of place. It was as though she was running track, racing. Her legs were muscled hard like a man’s. Someone had said yesterday that she was the school’s star female athlete expecting a full scholarship to college. If they gave scholarships for nice welcoming attitudes, Sophie wouldn’t earn one. She’d only seen her smile once at someone’s joke at lunch, and they were probably laughing at Honey.

  Honey stuck a green lollipop into her mouth and practically skipped into the building. She felt good having the guts to tell the bitch off. Joe seemed like a nice guy. Why the hell shouldn’t she talk to him? Apparently, he, like she, was persona non grata around that place. Must be he and his shop rats didn’t play by Sophie’s “rules” either.

  Mr. Farnsworth kept Honey after class for a few minutes and talked to her about her essay from the day before. “You have real talent. I’d love to see you join my fiction writing class. It meets seventh period.”

  “That’s when I have study hall.”

  “I know. I looked up your schedule. If you and your parents would be willing to give up your only study hall, I think you’d benefit from the class and enjoy it.”

  “Who’s in it? I mean are they all seniors?”

  “A mix of students who have come to the class through recommendations of their English teachers and some self-identified. You’d fit right in. But you’d have to do all your homework at home; there’d be no time at school to even start it; that’s the drawback. Do you think you could handle that?”

  “Yes!” Then she realized she sounded like she was bragging. “I mean I was a good student before, before I had some family stuff happen. Then my grades slipped a bit, but I can keep up if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Okay then. Here’s the paperwork. If your parents sign off on it, you can start tomorrow. And let me give you a late slip to your next class,” he said as kids had been coming in all around them as they spoke, but no one seemed to be paying any attention. They were just a log jam on the stream to their seats.