by Holly Hood
I thought about this. “No, it’s not wrong. It would be wrong to lead girls on though.”
“That I don’t do. If I like you, I’ll say I do. If I don’t, I’ll say get away from me.” He hopped down from the table, pulling me down, and then he finally let go of my hand.
“Welcome to Ashwilder, Hope,” he said, going back out the door. As we headed back down the hallway I was starting to feel better about the whole school scenario.
“Look, before we go back in,” he grabbed my arm, stopping me. “Your grandma is going to ask if I invited you out, so I really want to do the right thing. Hope, do you want to go out for some ice cream?”
I crossed my arms, a bit disturbed. “Um, not if you’re doing it out of pity because of Nona.”
Tucker laughed, “You’re funny. That’s a really great quality in a girl. I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t interested myself. My mom and your Nona were right, you’re something else.”
I blushed, giving him a nod of agreement. “Fine, then we can go, but as friends, okay?”
He brought his hand to his heart. “Friends.”
First day
I banged on the bathroom door. It was almost seven and Easton was taking his good old time getting ready for school. “Hurry up, I still have to blow dry my hair!”
Dad shuffled out of his room half asleep, any other day I would have been sorry for waking him, but not today. Today I hoped he could take the door off the hinges and give Easton a good lashing.
“Easton Andrew, Hope is going to have a heart attack out in this hallway if you don’t let her finish getting ready for school,” Dad warned, not taking it seriously. This was typical Dad behavior.
“It’s not funny, Dad,” I grumbled, giving the door one last kick before I went back to my room. I slammed my door shut, tapping my feet anxiously, waiting to hear the door creak open. But Easton was doing his best to make me late for my first day.
I dropped to my knees, pulling out my makeup bag. I would have to make do with what I had. I was no girl scout, but I would figure something out. There was no way I was going to school looking like a wet dog. I patted Crawford’s head at the thought of it.
I did my best to dry my hair with my mini blow dryer that was bought at one of those rest stops on the way here. It was the best I could do right now. I flung my head upside down, drying the under part of my hair.
“Hope, you have a guest!” Dad yelled from the hallway.
I flipped my hair back over my head, totally confused. Who was here before school? I wasn’t even dressed. I grabbed my dark blue jean shorts from my bed, pulling off my pajama pants. This morning was going to be the death of me, I thought, ripping my wife beater over my head.
The door suddenly flew open. I screamed, covering myself with both hands. Tucker apologized, covering his eyes with his hand. “I didn’t know you would be getting dressed, Hope. I’m sorry.” He shut the door quickly, leaving me completely mortified and as red as a beet.
I was going to kill Dad for letting Tucker past the kitchen. And I was going to kill him for making my morning that much worse. Now Tucker had seen my buds, as Nona would put it, and I could only imagine what he thought. I was sure he’d seen much more impressive boobs in his life. If anything, he was probably vowing to steer clear of me now.
I grabbed my backpack from my bed, completely defeated. This would just have to do. I buttoned the last button on my pale yellow top and smoothed out my shorts. My hair was only half dry and I didn’t care anymore.
Dad tried to comfort me in the hallway. “I’m sorry, doll, I thought you were just blow drying your hair.”
I shot an evil glare at the bathroom door. Easton strolled past me with a giant bowl of cereal in tow. I bit at my lip, trying to fight the urge to retaliate. I shoved my foot out in front of me and Easton tripped, spilling his cereal all over the carpet. He face planted, his whole body wet, and I was pleased.
Dad gave me a disapproving glare. “He had it coming to him.”
I caught a look at Tucker who was on our couch. He was making himself at home, his hands on the back of our ratty furniture. He jumped up as soon as I hit the door, going out onto the porch.
“Wow, you’re a firecracker.” He laughed, looking back inside at my brother.
I crossed my arms. “This is the morning from hell. First day of school and it already sucks. Not to mention…” I didn’t add the other part to the story, I was sure Tucker knew just what I was talking about it.
He touched my arm, his fingers brushing softly against my skin. “If it’s any consolation, I think you look beautiful.” I eased up just a hair. He took my backpack slinging it over his shoulder. “And I promise you I didn’t see much.”
I scoffed. That was about right. “I’m sure you didn’t, because there is not much to see.”
Tucker tossed the backpacks into his jeep. I was a little taken aback but brushed it aside. If he wanted to drive me to school who was I to argue?
“Oh lord, now you’re going to have to make me go back on what I just said.” Tucker went around the jeep. He rested his arm on the top of it, shooting me a smile.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, giving him a weird look.
“I liked what I saw. Now let’s drop it before you have me thinking about what I saw again.” He slid into the jeep.
I froze up, my heart doing back flips. Did he just tell me he thought I had a nice rack? I was sure I had heard him tell me he liked my body. I smiled and quickly stopped before I hopped in his jeep.
Tucker threw the jeep into drive, heading down the street. “Did I just make things really awkward?” he asked, coming to a stop at the light by the shore store.
I looked down at my nails. “Maybe a little.”
“Next time I’ll steer clear of your bedroom, if I come over again, alright?” he asked, shooting me a sympathetic smile as he rocketed forward into the school parking lot, the jeep bouncing hard over the same bump Claude tried so desperately to avoid.
“I thought we were going to stop talking about it?” I smiled, showing him I was joking.
Tucker slid easily between two red cars. He undid his seatbelt. I looked him over; he was wearing hunter green polo with tan cargo shorts, his feet in a nice pair of brown flip-flops. And once again he smelled amazing.
There were hardly any kids in the parking lot. It seemed school had just about started. I wondered why we were still waiting around.
“I wanted to see if you were still up for ice cream. Maybe after school?” He studied my expression, a twinkle in his brown eyes.
“Sounds good,” I said, taking my backpack out of the backseat of his jeep. I hopped out. I knew I had to head to the office for my schedule. It seemed schedules were mailed to the students, and seeing I was new, I didn’t have that luxury. Tucker opened up the door for me. I slipped under his arm, shooting him a smile.
“Well, maybe we will get lucky and see each other at lunch or something. Good luck, Hope.” He slung his black backpack over his shoulder, heading down the hallway.
I stared up at the sign hanging above the door. It was obviously the office. I opened the door. The office had dark green carpet, three chairs against the wall and a giant bookcase to the right of me. A big countertop divided the room with various papers and hard candy dishes resting on top of it. Beyond the desk were filing cabinets and copy machines and several desks for the staff to sit at. I poked at the name plaque. Mary Renrose, School Secretary.
“And good morning. What can I do you for?” a woman asked, coming to a stop behind the counter. Her hair long was dull brown, her eyes a slate gray. She rubbed her hands together, waiting.
“I’m new here. I was coming to pick up my schedule. Hope Zigler.” I stared at the pictures on the wall as she turned around going through a filing cabinet. She pulled out a file. I watched from the corner of my eye, a little nervous to be starting the day.
“You’re from Georgia?” she asked.
“Yep,” I offe
red.
She sifted through a couple of documents, probably something my dad had given them. I reached out and took the schedule, its thin white paper flopping over my hand.
“Enjoy your day. Any questions, feel free to visit the office anytime.” She snapped my file shut and kept staring at me.
I gave a short wave, heading into the hallway. Was it me or was this lady a bit odd?
The bell rang above my head and several doors snapped shut, and then one after another, more followed. I was late for the first day of school.
I grabbed hold of my schedule with both of my hands.
First period was bio, a class I was rather great in back home. Room seven. Simple enough, I thought, following the signs to my first class. The door had stained glass, hindering any ability to see into the classroom. I read the door silently to myself. Mr. Rudner.
Giving a quick knock, I made it into the classroom. Everyone’s eyes fell on me. I stared back showing my confidence. Mr. Rudner, a tall gangly man in his forties, beckoned me to his desk.
“New student?” he asked, extending his hand.
I hesitated on what he was after. Probably not a high five, I thought. I plunked my schedule down in it. Mr. Rudner cleared his throat. I stared out into the classroom. Most of the kids I didn’t even recognize from open house. But I was sure that was because of my tour with Tucker.
Scanning through the group, I settled on Jesse, Lydia and Tucker. Tucker shot me a smile. Mr. Rudner finally gave me back my schedule. He scratched at his dark greasy hair. This made me a little queasy.
“We will partner you with Mr. Sinclair.” He wiggled his pointer finger in the air as if he wanted me to disappear and reappear in the chair. He jotted my name down in the seating chart. A few girls in the front row let out audible disdain for my placement.
Tucker pulled the chair out for me patting it with his hand. “So we meet again. Welcome to Biology,” he whispered.
I smiled, glad I knew someone in the class. Jesse gave me a glance over his shoulder, as well as Lydia who was his partner.
“You know Jesse?” Tucker asked me. He rolled his pencil across the tabletop.
“He works for Nona,” I shot back.
Mr. Rudner stood up finally, his black dress pants stained with some kind of white substance. I cringed again.
Tucker nudged my arm with his elbow. “Powdered doughnuts. If you’re ever on his bad side just give him a dozen.”
I nodded. Mr. Rudner started writing on the chalkboard, bringing everyone’s attention to him. Tucker kept rolling his pencil, and it was beginning to grate on my nerves. I placed a hand over it, shooting him an annoyed glare. He placed his hand over mine, giving me goosebumps. I avoided his smirk, going back to the board.
He was a flirt.
Tucker sighed, leaning back in his seat. A few girls gravitated to his noise.
Mr. Rudner set the chalk down. “Mr. Sinclair, is this boring to you?”
I waited for Mr. Sinclair to share with the class. It served him right.
“No, sir,” Tucker said, sitting up. Mr. Rudner returned to what he was doing, which was writing down the rules on the board. Tucker slid a paper across the table to me.
What’s your favorite ice cream?
I scribbled vanilla, and shoved it back.
He nodded, jotting something else down and sliding it over again.
I stared down at the paper. Cone or cup?
I sighed, was he really asking me these mindless things right now? I wondered if he had an attention problem. I was sure I was going to fail biology at this rate.
Why does it matter?
Tucker took a little longer jotting his answer this time. I waited, going back to the board to make sure Mr. Rudner didn’t catch on. I didn’t want to be in trouble on the first day. I never was one to get in trouble at school. It was simple enough to follow simple rules.
I get the feeling watching you lick an ice cream cone would be hot.
My stomach fluttered. And then I jumped inches off my seat as Mr. Rudner’s hand crashed down on the desk, stealing the note. Tucker didn’t seem to care. But I did.
Mr. Rudner walked to the front of the class.
“Mr. Sinclair, come up here and share what was so fascinating that you had to interrupt my class.”
Lydia smirked, completely amused with my embarrassment.
Tucker stood up.
“I apologize, it won’t happen again,” I spoke up. Everyone in the class turned to me now, my cheeks warmed. I needed to keep him from reading this in front of the class. I would never live it down.
Tucker took the note from Mr. Rudner. He gave a little stretch, and then cleared his throat.
“Sir, maybe an explanation would be better than verbatim?”
“Off you go, Mr. Sinclair,” Mr. Rudner said, not budging.
Tucker cleared his throat. “What’s your favorite ice cream? Vanilla. Cone or cup? Why does it matter?” I literally cringed. “I get the feeling it would be hot watching you lick a cone.”
The class burst into laughter, some boys hooting and hollering. I even caught a couple perverted eyes in my direction. Tucker smirked, tossing the paper in the trash and taking his seat next to me.
Mr. Rudner wrapped his ruler against his desk, ending the laughter. Silence consumed the room. “Extracurricular activities, Mr. Sinclair, are to not be discussed in my room. Do you understand me?”
Tucker nodded. I gave a nod, not even allowing Mr. Rudner to ask me the same thing. He returned to the board. Once his back was to us I kicked Tucker under our desk. He grinned, and then shrugged his shoulders as to say what are you going to do?
The bell rang, releasing me from first period. Tucker grabbed my biology books, carrying them with his. “Sorry about that.”
I stared up at him as I hugged my backpack to my chest. “I’m slowly getting past it. What’s your next period?”
He took his schedule out of his back pocket. “Sociology, Mrs. Long. Or as everyone else likes to call her, Mrs. Legs.”
I fiddled with my schedule, realizing we were in the same class again. A couple guys shoved past me. “I guess I am stuck with you another period,” I said, feeling a tad happy and a tad disappointed to have to deal with his short attention span again. “By the way, not to be rude, but are you supposed to be on Ritalin?”
Tucker laughed. “No. Mr. Rudner is just so boring. It’s hard to handle sitting there a whole period.”
I gave a nod, heading into Sociology.
The room was a bit different than any classroom I had ever seen before. Instead of chairs there were bean bags and mats on the floor.
“What is this, preschool?” I asked Tucker.
The walls were lined with little cubbies and several enormous plants hung from all three windows. The classroom filled with a small group of rambunctious kids, everyone settling around the floor eagerly. I allowed Tucker to take my backpack and put it away. I stared around the room, confused.
Campbell grabbed my arm. “Hope, we’re in a class together!”
I smiled happily. Tucker took a seat on a bean bag. I sat down with Campbell. Tucker was busy chatting with one of his friends from the open house, a boy with shoulder length black hair. He wasn’t really that much to look at compared to Tucker, so I barely noticed anything that great about him.
“I’m so glad you’re here. Biology was so embarrassing,” I said under my breath to Campbell. She made herself comfortable in her own beanbag. I opted out of the beanbags and decided sitting Indian style on the floor was good enough for me.
“I might have heard something.” She smirked.
“That quick,” I asked in awe.
“Word travels fast at Ashwilder, or any school for that matter.” Campbell shrugged as the door opened. The group hushed as a tall, leggy blonde made it into the room. She was dressed in a black pencil skirt and a sheer white blouse, her black bra apparent underneath. I raised an eyebrow. Since when were schools so slack on dress code?
“Morning boys and girls,” she said coyly. She set her purse on her desk, and instead of sitting in her seat, she sat on top of the desk, crossing her long tan legs, her red high heels catching my attention.
“How was summer?” she asked everyone.
I swallowed hard, feeling like I was part of some weird cult where we all sat on the ground worshiping this early thirties blonde goddess.
She brought a big black coffee mug up to her red lips, staring over the brim at me. “You, what’s your name?” she asked, taking a sip.
“Hope,” I said, feeling self conscious.”
She nodded her head heavily. “I’m Mrs. Long, but you can call me Mrs. Legs.” Her eyes were crystal blue and piercing my aura as she blew on her coffee. I gave her a nod; I was so not calling her Mrs. Legs.
“I saw you this summer on the beach, Mrs. Long,” Tucker pointed out. I turned. He was smiling ear to ear, his body on display for all to see. I wished I could always be as comfortable as he was all the time.
Mrs. Long hopped down from the desk, taking some papers as she went. “I know you did, Tuck. Those were nice swimming trunks, by the way.” She winked at him, actually winked at him. I shot Campbell a look. She was just as mesmerized with Mrs. Long as everyone else was.
“So, Hope, are you more a bikini or one piece girl?” she asked, handing out papers to each of us.
I shook my head. “Excuse me? What does my bathing suit attire have to do with sociology?”
The class laughed.
Mrs. Long stood over me now. She handed me a paper with rules and regulations. I wondered if there were even any rules for this odd class.
“I say bikini,” Tucker commented from the peanut gallery.
Campbell laughed along with the class.
“I like to make my class fun. Sociology is the time to talk about everything. Nothing is off limits in here.” She moved to Campbell, handing her a paper. “My only rule is whatever goes on in here does not leave here.”
I couldn’t believe the school would hire such a slack teacher. This was becoming more and more bizarre by the minute.
