New Beginnings

by Victoria Schwab

“I love your hair.”

  “Still scrawny, Parker!”

  “Where did you go this summer?”

  “Where did the summer go?”

  All around Gabby, kids were talking, but none of them were talking about her. Or Marco. None of them looked at her with worry. Because none of them looked at her at all.

  Gabby quickly realized that the best thing about Grand Heights Middle School was also the scariest. No one knew who she was. As she made her way down the hall she told herself that’s what she’d wanted. The chance to be somebody new. But she hadn’t thought about the fact that until she became that somebody, she was nobody.

  Marco could walk into a room and say hello, could start new relationships with one word. Gabby couldn’t even will her feet forward. She imagined walking up to a group of girls at a locker and saying hi. But she couldn’t.

  The conversations happening all around her were like closed loops. She couldn’t seem to find a way in. Everyone had these strings running between them, connecting their lives. And Gabby knew that all conversations involved questions. Such as:

  What did you do this summer?

  How would she even answer?

  I just moved here.

  Oh, really? they might say. Where did you come from? Why did you move?

  And what would she say to that?

  Lying would feel like a betrayal to Marco, but telling the truth would ruin everything. They’d stop seeing Gabby and start seeing some sick kid’s sister instead. Maybe they’d retreat. Or maybe they’d look at her the way Alice and Beth had started to. Maybe they would hang out with her out of pity.

  Gabby couldn’t stand the thought of that, and she was saved from the anguish by the morning bell, which rang out overhead. The chattering students broke apart and hurried into classrooms. Gabby hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and followed them.

  Her first class was English. The room was filling fast, and most of the groups from the hall had simply reformed around the desks. Gabby sighed, slid into an empty chair, and put her head down a moment on the desk.

  “Is this seat taken?” asked a familiar voice, and Gabby looked up to find Aria standing at the desk beside her, one sneaker resting on the chair, her laces sunshine yellow. Happiness rolled through Gabby. She didn’t realize how badly she wanted to see someone she knew … or at least, someone who wasn’t a total stranger.

  “I didn’t know you went to Grand Heights,” Gabby said.

  “Me either,” said Aria cheerfully. “It’s my first day. I mean, I guess it’s everyone’s first day, but it’s my first first.”

  Gabby frowned. “You didn’t go here last year?”

  “Nope,” said Aria. “I just moved to Grand Heights.” She brightened. “Like you! We should stick together,” she added.

  Gabby smiled a little, caught up in the relief of not being alone. The teacher rapped on the board.

  “Hello, class! My name is Mr. Robert.” Gabby already knew this because his name was written in three different places in the classroom — on the door, on the board, on the desk — as if the teacher was afraid the students would forget. “I know what you’re all thinking,” he continued. “No, I’m not one of those hip teachers who goes by his first name.” Gabby doubted anyone was thinking that. “My first name is Bertrand,” said Mr. Robert. “But don’t call me that….”

  Mr. Robert passed a stack of papers down each of the rows as he talked, and the girl in front of Gabby — who was tall and blond, with a high-wattage smile — turned and handed her a page. The girl bobbed her head back and forth as Mr. Robert rambled on, mouthing along, and Gabby nearly giggled.

  “Charlotte,” warned Mr. Robert, and the blond girl winked at Gabby and then spun forward. “Now, on to roll call.”

  He went down the list, and Gabby tried to remember the names and the faces that went with them, but she quickly lost track. Was the boy with the short black hair Evan or Ethan? Was the girl with the red glasses and the ponytail Mandy or Morgan? Gabby stole a glance at Aria and was surprised to find her staring intently at the paper in Mr. Robert’s hand with a small frown. He made it all the way down the list before he called her name.

  “Here!” said Aria brightly.

  “Aria, I’m afraid I only have your first name,” said Mr. Robert, taking up a pen. “What’s your last name?”

  Aria’s brow furrowed. “Oh, no,” she said. “I’m pretty sure it’s always been Aria.”

  The students around her began to laugh. Gabby smiled. Mr. Robert sighed.

  “I mean your last name. As in, the one that comes after your first name.”

  Aria frowned, and began to fidget with the charm bracelet around her wrist. “Oh,” she said, looking down at it. “Um … blue!”

  “Blue?” said Mr. Robert, raising a brow. “Like the color?”

  Aria nodded. “Exactly. Aria Blue.”

  Mr. Robert shrugged, wrote in the last name, and set the sheet aside.

  “All right, class. Let’s get started.” He leaned back against his desk. “You might think this is just an English class, but it’s not. It’s an expression class. We’re going to be learning to use our words to tell our own stories. To that end, I want you each to dedicate a notebook to this class. You’ll be given journal assignments over the course of the year. Some days you’ll take the journal home, and some days you’ll leave it with me, so don’t think this is going to be one of those projects you can skip out on. I’ll be checking in. And I hope you’ll all embrace it, because we’re going to start today.”

  The class groaned. Gabby groaned with them.

  “Everyone take out a notebook.”

  Gabby took out the journal covered with music notes.

  “Now,” instructed Mr. Robert. “Turn to the first page —” A hand shot up. “You cannot possibly have questions yet, Jordan.” The hand came back down. “Your first writing assignment is as simple as it gets. An introduction. I want you to introduce yourself to me. To the reader. I know that a blank page can seem daunting …” he added, “but I think you’ll find that once you make the first mark, the rest will follow.”

  He turned and rounded his desk and wrote on the board.

  Introduction.

  Fun facts.

  How I spent my summer.

  All around the room, pencils and pens began to scratch and glide across the paper, but Gabby’s pen hovered over the blank page. She couldn’t think of a way to introduce herself, not without introducing Marco, and she couldn’t tell Mr. Robert about her brother. When her old teachers back home found out, life became Oh, Gabby dear, if you need more time … and Oh, Gabby, I know it’s been hard … and Oh, Gabby, if you can’t focus …

  She knew they didn’t mean to make her feel different, but they did, and if Mr. Robert found out, it would happen all over again.

  To her surprise, Gabby wasn’t the only one struggling. She stole a look at Aria’s journal and saw that it was blank, too, except for My name is Aria Blue and I

  Gabby wondered how someone like Aria could have trouble finding words. She seemed so … interesting. The kind of girl who’d have tons of things she’d want to write about. But staring at the girl’s blank page, Gabby realized something: she knew absolutely nothing about Aria Blue.

  When the bell rang, Gabby’s notebook was still blank. The blond girl in front of her — Charlotte — had filled half a dozen pages, and the other students Gabby could see from her seat had all written at least a few pages.

  “Your homework,” announced Mr. Robert, “is to finish introducing yourself and to introduce your family. Be specific. Be observant. Life is a story, so tell it.”

  Gabby and Aria got to their feet with the rest of the room and went to leave with the rest of the room, but Mr. Robert stopped them.

  “Miss Blue, Miss Torres,” he said. “Unless you’ve developed a new way of writing that doesn’t involve moving your pen, I’m guessing you did not participate in today’s exercise.” He held out his hand. “Your journals, p
lease.”

  Gabby’s heart pounded as she reluctantly offered her teacher the notebook. He flipped it open and clicked his tongue at the blank pages. Her gaze went to the linoleum floor.

  “I didn’t know how to start,” she mumbled.

  “Yes, well, starting is the hard part. Do you have an excuse for not working, Miss Blue?”

  Aria shrugged. “I haven’t lived enough to write about it.”

  Mr. Robert gave her a sad smile. “How very existential,” he said. Gabby didn’t know what that meant, but then again she didn’t really understand half of what he said. “But I’m willing to bet you’ve got something to say.” He handed the journals back. “I’ll be collecting these tomorrow at the end of class, so I suggest you find something to write about.”

  Gabby’s heart started to sink, but Aria flashed her a smile.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “We will.”

  Aria carried her lunch tray to the register in the cafeteria. When the lady told her how much she owed, Aria hesitated. She’d never needed money, but money was a thing and she was pretty good at making things out of nothing. So she dug her hand into the pocket of her skirt, and willed the money to be there, and a second later produced a fistful of cash and coins. She handed it over to the lunch lady without counting, and the lunch lady marveled at the fact it was exactly the right amount of money — not a penny more, not a penny less.

  “Smart pockets,” explained Aria with a smile.

  The noise in the cafeteria was deafening. Aria saw that Gabby had already gotten her food and was standing at the edge of the sea of tables. She was clutching her tray and looking terrified. The blue smoke swirled nervously around her shoulders.

  Aria had to admit, the cafeteria was daunting. But Gabby didn’t have to face it alone.

  She bumped Gabby’s elbow.

  “Let’s find a seat.”

  They snagged a small table in a corner of the room.

  “Everything on your plate is red,” observed Gabby.

  Aria looked down at her plate. It was true. She’d grabbed an apple and some kind of pasta with sauce and a bowl of Jell-O (even though it scared her). She’d never eaten before. She knew she didn’t strictly need to eat, but it looked enjoyable. Besides, she was a student now. Other students ate. But her tray was looking less and less appetizing.

  “I thought it would be fun,” she explained, “to pick by color.” She poked the Jell-O with a fork. “Everything was so bright and pretty piece by piece, but all together it’s kind of a mess.” Aria thought about the way she felt seeing herself for the first time, the whole so much better than the parts. “I guess food doesn’t really work like people.”

  Gabby looked at Aria like she’d said a strange thing but then smiled.

  “So, Aria Blue,” she said. “That’s a really cool name.”

  Aria beamed. “Thanks!” She was pretty proud of it. She hadn’t realized when she’d imagined her name on the roster that she’d need two. At first she’d been at a total loss, but then she’d seen the bracelet and thought blue. It was the color of the smoke that circled those marked for her. It was part of her identity, just like a name. “I really like yours, too,” she told Gabby.

  Gabby shrugged. “It’s a family name. Gabrielle. It’s my grandmother’s name. And my aunt’s. And, like, four other relatives. When that many people have something, it starts to feel a little less special.”

  “There may be other Gabrielles,” said Aria, “but there’s only one Gabby.”

  “Actually, I’m pretty sure there are other Gabbys, too,” said Gabby.

  Aria ran a hand through her hair and accidentally snagged her charm bracelet. “What I mean,” she said, tugging it free, “is that there’s only one you. Only one me. And we get to be whoever we want, and no one can be us like we can. Isn’t that exciting?”

  Gabby gave a half-smile. “You’re really different.”

  “One of a kind,” said Aria with a wink. “Sooo” — she poked at the Jell-O again — “is Grand Heights Middle School everything you wanted it to be?”

  Gabby shrugged lightly, but Aria watched the smoke coil and twist around her.

  “My mom wanted to homeschool me,” said Gabby. “She thought it would be easier, and maybe it would have been, but I begged her not to.” Gabby picked at her food. “It wouldn’t be homeschooling. It would be hospital-schooling, and I thought, if I was trapped in that place all day, every day, I’d just … disappear. But I’m here, surrounded by all these new kids, and I still feel kind of invisible.”

  “I see you,” said Aria. “But I know what you mean.”

  “You do?”

  Aria gave a somber nod. “I’ve been invisible. It’s awful.” Gabby looked surprised. “I mean, not … literally … of course,” amended Aria hastily.

  “But you’re so … bright,” said Gabby.

  Aria looked down at herself. “I guess so.”

  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” said Gabby. “Just that you stand out…. I wish I did.”

  Aria shrugged. “I wear these colors because they make me happy, not because they make me stand out. I don’t really think wearing loud clothes is the only way to be loud. I mean, sure,” she added, “if you go around wearing neon-pink pajamas, people are going to look at you, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to be seen.” Aria took a cautious bite of her apple. “I think there’s a difference.”

  “Maybe,” said Gabby. “I don’t really want to be loud. I just don’t want to be invisible.” Gabby’s eyes escaped to her tray.

  Aria looked around. “Well, the cafeteria is full of people. Why don’t we make friends with some of them?”

  Gabby gave her a withering look. “It’s not that easy.”

  “Why not?”

  Gabby chewed her lip. “Because it’s not. Not for me.”

  “It’ll be fine, come on!” Aria sprung up from the table, but Gabby grabbed her arm.

  “Please don’t,” said Gabby, shaking her head. “Please don’t make a scene.”

  Aria didn’t understand, but Gabby seemed genuinely worried, so she sat back down. What Gabby needed was a little confidence. A chance to stand out in her own way.

  Aria watched as Gabby hurriedly finished eating and then pulled a printed flier out of her bag.

  “What’s that?” asked Aria, trying to read upside down.

  “It’s a club list. Didn’t you get one with your class schedule?”

  Aria shook her head. “They must have left mine out,” she said, which wasn’t strictly a lie. “What’s it for?”

  “Grand Heights Middle has a bunch of after-school clubs,” said Gabby, “and you can pick one, and I was thinking that maybe …” She looked down at the list and shrugged. “I don’t know … maybe it’s lame but —”

  “This is perfect!” said Aria brightly.

  “It is?” asked Gabby, surprised.

  Aria nodded, and plucked the list out of Gabby’s hands. There were more than a dozen choices. Cheerleading. Painting. Pottery. Track. Dance. Perfect, she echoed to herself. Gabby could find her own way to stand out!

  “Which one are you going to pick?” Aria asked, handing the sheet back.

  Gabby shook her head. “I don’t know. We have all week to try them out before we have to decide. Do you think you’ll do one, too?”

  Aria could hear the hope in her question.

  “Yeah, sure!” said Aria. “Sounds like fun.”

  “Which one do you think you’ll choose?”

  Aria hesitated. She didn’t want to sway Gabby. “Tell you what,” she said. “I’m not picky. Whatever you choose, I’ll go with you. For moral support.”

  Gabby’s eyes widened. “You would do that?”

  Aria beamed. The fluorescent cafeteria lights brightened a fraction overhead. “Yep. So what do you think?”

  Gabby looked down at the sheet. “I used to run track….”

  “Do you like it?”

  “I did,” said Gabby. “I�
�m not sure anymore.”

  “Well,” said Aria as the lunch bell rang, “only one way to find out.”

  “I don’t think this is such a good idea,” said Gabby after school. A sick feeling was forming in her stomach.

  “Nonsense,” said Aria, guiding her down toward the track. “It’s a gorgeous day,” she added.

  It was, but a strange tightness was working its way into Gabby’s chest. It had started back in the cafeteria and followed her through the afternoon classes and past the last bell, worsening as she changed into gym clothes and made her way out the doors to the rubber ring that ran around the soccer field.

  She tried to swallow her nerves as she and Aria reached the dozen or so students gathered at the edge of the track, standing around a coach with a clipboard.

  “All right, guys!” boomed the coach, even though everyone was well within earshot. “Huddle up!”

  A couple of thin, long-legged girls — they look like deer, thought Gabby, born to lope — chuckled. A boy sniffed his armpit. The coach passed the clipboard around and everyone signed their name and then started to stretch and warm up. Aria mimicked them, but it was obvious she had no idea what she was doing.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” asked Gabby. “Have you ever run before?”

  Aria looked down at her laces, which were now teal — Gabby could have sworn they’d been yellow this morning — and then back up. “I’m a fan of new experiences.”

  “Now,” said the coach, “a few things you should know …” He started rambling on about track rules — no pushing, no tripping, et cetera — and Gabby’s gaze drifted past the track to another group of students huddled in the middle of the field. Eighth graders, by the looks of them, passing a soccer ball back and forth. The tightness in her chest got worse.

  “Hey, you okay?” asked Aria, and Gabby dragged her attention back and nodded absently, automatically, even though she didn’t feel very okay.

  “Yeah, why?”

  Aria chewed her lip. “Well, it’s just, he blew his whistle, and everyone else started running and we’re still standing here.”

  Gabby whipped her head around to see that Aria was right. All the other students were jogging around the track, at least a quarter of a lap ahead.