“Hopefully you completed your summer reading assignment by last night,” Mrs. Hodgkins announced, “because you are going to work together to complete an assignment on the material. Please pair up and then take a worksheet from my desk.”
Much to my dismay, Arianna immediately approached me about partnering on the assignment. The last thing I needed was her prying into my memory about the previous night, but I wasn’t about to leave my best friend high and dry. I smiled weakly at her and shifted my desk to face the one she occupied across from me.
“What’s going on, Ray? Why did you ask me how you got home last night?” Arianna pressed, a tinge of sympathy in her voice.
“Like I said, last night is kind of a blur...that’s all.”
“Okay,” she replied, drawing out the word, “I’ll play along, but don’t think I don’t realize there’s something you’re not telling me...”
I casually split open the book on my desk, ignoring her. “Let’s just focus on the assignment, I can’t afford to start the year behind in AP English,” I replied with a soft laugh. Arianna returned my statement with an inquisitive stare, but didn’t say anything further. I let out a slow breath of relief. Luckily it took us the whole class period to finish the assignment, so we didn’t have time to talk about anything else.
Later that morning, Lacey showed up to AP Calculus dawning a dark wash mini skirt and a pink tank top that showed her cleavage—she believed in flaunting her assets, as I liked to call them, any chance she got—and a stylish pair of pink flip flops. Her newly highlighted hair, sat in a messy bun on top of her head. Our math teacher, Mr. Rosenburg, made a point not to sit us anywhere near each other. Attending a small school—or at least HGH—meant it didn't take long for the teachers to catch on to cliques. And Lacey and I—along with Arianna—had been nothing short of inseparable since middle school.
I’ll never forget Lacey’s first day of sixth grade. She hadn't always radiated the same confidence she possessed now, even Lacey went through an awkward stage. I observed over the years that being the new kid in school at any age seemed harder for some students than others, so when Lacey walked into the cafeteria that day in middle school looking lost and alone, Arianna and I immediately invited her to sit with us. Grateful for our kind gesture, Arianna gave each of us a friendship bracelet at lunch the next day. And we’d been best friends ever since. The bracelet still hung on the bulletin board in my room among photos, ticket stubs and other mementos of our friendship.
Despite Mr. Rosenburg forcing us to sit clear across the room from each other, Lacey still made faces at me throughout the class. When's lunch? she mouthed to me, tapping at her imaginary wristwatch. I stifled a laugh. As if to answer her question, the bell rang ending class. She came over to my desk and locked arms with me, practically dragging me down the hallway to the cafeteria.
“Think Bethany and her minions will show up to crown the next initiation leader?” Lacey wondered aloud. The question had also crossed my mind, among other things, though I remained pretty indifferent about the whole thing. At the moment, I was more concerned with the missing span of time from last night.
As we entered the cafeteria, Danica Port’s bleach blonde hair acted as a beacon on a lighthouse, alerting the entire senior class that Bethany Cavanaugh was in the building. They were even wearing their old HGH cheerleading uniforms and I contemplated whether this was standard initiation procedure or nostalgia.
“A-W-E-S-O-M-E! Awesome, awesome, please kill me!” Lacey chanted as we approached Arianna, flailing her arms as if to do a cheer.
Arianna's eyes locked on mine and I could see questions still swimming around in them. “Let’s hope this is quick and painless for us all,” I groaned, casting my gaze elsewhere.
Not a minute later a strong hand squeezed my left shoulder and I jumped a little as Rider joined our circle, swinging his other arm around Lacey’s shoulders with nonchalant grace. “Well you’re awfully jumpy today,” Rider teased. He wore his typical uniform: a solid white v-neck t-shirt and his black leather jacket—he almost never took it off. Beside me, Rider lowered his head and whispered in all seriousness, “Anything new to report?”
I gestured with a chopping motion across my neck.
Respecting my request, he spoke to the group next—though his eyes stayed glued to Arianna. “Shall we take a seat?”
We all nodded and moved toward a round table nearby.
I sat across the table from Rider’s new friend Harlow, with Lacey on my left and Arianna on my right. Rider sat between Lacey and Harlow, and the disappointment on Arianna's face was unmistakable. As I sat down, I caught Harlow staring at me. Our eyes locked and his brow furrowed in a way that I couldn't quite discern. Concern maybe? My stomach knotted in embarrassment at the thought of Rider cluing this guy I had known for all of five seconds in on my blackout. No. Rider wouldn't. Harlow couldn’t possibly just know, could he? No. You're over thinking things again, Rayna, I thought to myself before breaking our gaze and turning my attention to Lacey instead.
No less than five minutes had passed since we had all settled in when a quiet “Ahem” came from behind me accompanied by a light tap on my shoulder.
Bethany.
I presumed she wanted me to turn around—so I did. Bethany stood behind me, with her followers and their eager expressions as they leaned over her shoulders.
I rose to my feet to look them in the eye.
Bethany gave me a half-hearted smile and cleared her throat again. “I would like to congratulate you on your excellent performance in the Harbor Glenn High initiation,” she bellowed, drawing the attention of all the students in the cafeteria. “On behalf of your senior class, I present you with the honor of leading next year's initiation.” She handed me a thin piece of paper—still warm from the printer—with Congratulations scrolled across the top in a fancy typeface, followed by Roslyn’s story and the date.
Blood rushed to my face as equal parts humiliation and confusion set in. “Uhh… thanks,” I uttered with the usual hint of contempt I let seep out when speaking to Bethany. “I’m truly,” I paused, searching for the right word, “honored.” As Bethany walked away, a smattering of applause filled the cafeteria and I could hear my closest friends doubling over with laughter behind me. Even Harlow snickered. There must have been a mistake. Me of all people? She couldn’t be serious. I hadn’t earned this. I hadn’t even completed the task.
Before I let any of them get a word in edgewise, I sat down with a firm, “Shut up.” And yet, I couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Just ‘cause you all suck at resurrecting ghosts doesn’t give you the right to make fun of me!” I teased, realizing then that the initiation had to have been rigged. Which explained why Bethany had been so nice to me at the bonfire.
“That—was the funniest—thing I’ve heard all day!” Lacey said between gasps.
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, guys.”
Once they stopped laughing, Harlow got up unannounced and wandered toward the vending machines, crossing paths with Ivy Branson. Watching them, I sensed a sort of familiarity between them as they spoke and wondered if they knew each other prior to Harlow's enrollment. Rider followed suit, heading for the lunch line.
I saw an opportunity and wanted to take full advantage of it. “So you guys didn’t take me home last night?” I asked bluntly, watching Lacey as she moved to take Harlow's seat opposite me.
“We wouldn’t lie to you about something like that,” Arianna said, trying to reassure me.
I couldn't remember how I had gotten home, but I was sure that no matter what, Lacey and Arianna wouldn't have left without me.
“Ha-ha very funny,” I replied dryly.
“I'm serious, Ray, we didn’t take you home last night,” Lacey insisted.
Chills ran down my arms at her words and for a moment I thought I might be sick. It took everything in me to keep it together. “Well, the last thing I can remember is sitting on a tree stump, after failing to see Roslyn’s ghost
,” I told them, staring down at the paper on the table in front of me. “And then I woke up this morning in my bed.” I couldn't bring myself to mention the eerie yellow eyes I had dreamt about—no doubt a nightmare brought on by Roslyn’s story. Frustrated, I put my head down on the table.
“We went back to the bonfire after an hour like we agreed, but you never showed,” Arianna explained. “Then Derek ran by. He said he thought he saw you leave with Rider.”
Lifting my head, I said, “And neither of you thought to check on me when you got home?”
Lacey and Arianna exchanged a look of confusion. “You sent me a text after midnight saying that you made it home okay,” Lacey replied defensively.
“Me, too,” Arianna added.
I bit my bottom lip, trying to remember. “Wait, Arianna, if that’s true, why didn't you say something about the text when I talked to you this morning?” I snapped.
“What?” she blinked, caught off guard by the question. “How was I supposed to know you didn't remember texting us? You only told me that you didn't remember how you got home.”
I withheld rolling my eyes and blew out a frustrated sigh. “Can you just show me the text?” I asked them, fighting to keep my voice even.
Lacey and Arianna busied themselves pulling up the message in question. Setting their phones down on the table in front of me, I was met with a text message sent to them from my phone number at 12:19AM. It read:
RAYNA: I'm home now. Hope I didn't worry u. See u tomorrow.
I dug around in the bottom of my purse for my own phone and once in hand, scrolled through my most recent text messages.
There it was, a group text sent to both Lacey and Arianna.
I shook my head in disbelief. “I don't remember sending this,” I admitted in a low voice.
“We'll figure it out,” Lacey encouraged. “Derek didn't offer you a drink, right?”
I closed my eyes trying hard to wrack my brain for the answer. “Maybe...” I trailed off, sounding just as unsure as I felt. “I only clearly remember the drink Bethany gave me.”
Lacey gestured with her hands, “Well there's your answer! There's no way Derek remembers how he got home last night either. Look, all that matters is you’re all right. From now on we stick together so this kind of thing doesn't happen again.”
“I hate to say I told you so, but I will,” Arianna quipped.
I sighed in submission, letting that be the end of the conversation as our other friends rejoined our table.
Harlow returned with nothing but a water bottle in hand and discovered Lacey in his seat. He said something I didn't catch, too absorbed in my own thoughts, as he took Lacey's former seat beside me.
Lacey gave me a swift kick under the table, pulling me from my thoughts and I gawked at her in response. “Pay attention!” she hissed through gritted teeth.
“I'm sorry, what?” I asked, shooting Arianna and Lacey a warning glance. I didn’t need the new guy thinking I was crazy.
“I heard we're in the same homeroom,” Harlow repeated.
“Yeah,” was all I could muster up for a reply. Trying to relax and distract myself, I poked at the chips on the table in front of me as the conversation continued on around me.
After lunch, I had to endure French with Mr. Harris. Most of the seats were occupied when I entered the classroom. My eyes tracked around the room for a friendly face and I almost missed Harlow sitting in the back corner of the room. Too preoccupied with the phone in his hand, Harlow didn’t seem to notice me. And not to my surprise, several girls had already claimed the desks surrounding him, so I settled for a desk two rows over, near the front of the room.
The bell sounded and Mr. Harris strode up to the podium in the center of the room in a way that exuberated confidence and addressed the class. “Rumor has it,” he began, stroking his goatee—which appeared to be graying a bit faster than his comb-over, “that a significant event of sorts took place in the woods last night…” wrinkles formed at the corners of his dark eyes as he smiled, trying to engage the class. A few people murmured to one another, but no one dared to reveal any details outright.
I snuck a glance over my shoulder at Harlow and found him staring back at me. I smiled at him, sharing in the inside joke of the initiation, but he didn't look amused. Blood rushed to my face and I promptly turned my attention back to Mr. Harris.
“Well, moving on,” Mr. Harris began. “We have a new student joining us this year.” His eyes flicked to the back of the room and everyone turned in their seats to get a glimpse of Harlow as if he were a different breed of human. “Harlow Payne, is it?”
“Yes.”
Unlike my classmates, I remained facing forward—still mortified by the less than thrilled look he had given me seconds ago.
“All right,” Mr. Harris continued, glancing down at a piece of paper in front of him. “Says here you’re from Canada—”
“I am. New Brunswick.”
“Oh,” Mr. Harris mused, intrigued by this otherwise insignificant piece of information. “That’s not too far from here, eh?”
No one laughed.
“About three and a half hours.”
“Do you speak French?”
“Un peu.”
Mr. Harris’ eyes lit up with excitement. “Ah, très bien!” It was now obvious to the rest of us that Mr. Harris had just found his favorite student in his senior classe de Français. I would have to tell Lacey that Harlow spoke French. That would put her over the edge.
After French, I managed to make it through the rest of my classes without any other embarrassing moments or awkward conversations. When the end of the school day rolled around, I headed to my locker to clear out my books.
“Rayna?”
I peered up from my locker to discover Harlow standing there unexpectedly—just when I thought my day couldn’t get any weirder. We didn't know each other well at all, so the fact that he had sought me out instead of Rider or Ivy was a little odd; especially after factoring in our uncomfortable exchanges throughout the day.
Regardless of my feelings on the matter, I greeted him with a warm smile. “Yeah, hey, I didn’t even see you there,” I admitted, still dumbfounded by his presence.
“How was your first day?” he asked, striking up a casual conversation.
“Pretty standard. Nothing new to report here. I think the real question is how was your first day?”
“Good,” he nodded. “Everyone seems pretty cool. This place just might grow on me,” he said with a smirk.
We began making our way through the end-of-day crowd toward the parking lot when Harlow asked, “So how about that initiation last night?”
“Yeah...” I trailed off reminded of the certificate I had stuffed in my bag. “I had a rough night, to say the least.”
“Rider may have mentioned something about that.”
His comment almost stopped me in my tracks. What? Oh, Rider would get an ear full from me the next time I saw him. Cringing, I asked, “What exactly did he tell you?”
Harlow seemed to understand how uncomfortable the subject made me and said, “Forget I mentioned it. I mean you’re here so…”
He had a point. If nothing else, at least I had made it home in one piece. “Right…” I trailed off agreeing with him.
“You’re okay, though?” he asked trying to be polite.
“All things considered, I guess so.”
We didn’t know each other much beyond a first name basis, but his concern for my well-being was nice all the same. Maybe I'd misjudged his expression during French.
Harlow and I parted ways at the parking lot and I made my way to my black Ford Focus.
Dalyn leaned against the passenger door, texting someone, so she didn't see me approach and jumped a little when I unlocked the car. I smirked at my small prank and she scowled in response.
We spent most of the car ride home in silence aside from Dalyn fumbling with the radio until she had irritated me enough with it that I turned i
t off altogether.
The rest of the week went about the same as the first day. Dalyn and I disagreeing about the radio on the way to school, classes, lunch, more classes, more disagreeing, homework, and repeat. By the time my first week of senior year ended, my life resumed as normal—if I counted out the fact that I had more questions than answers about initiation night. The initial buzz of excitement that surrounded the initiation at the start of the week had died off for the most part. No one mentioned it apart from the occasional playful remark about me “winning,” and I was thankful for it. I didn’t want anyone asking questions I couldn’t answer. The whole situation left me in dire need of some fresh air.
So Saturday afternoon, I made my usual trek into the woods behind my house—a tradition I'd upheld since Freshman year. As I walked the familiar path, my mind kept flashing back to the night of the initiation. There was all the stuff I remembered—and all the stuff I couldn’t. Not to mention the unexplained cuts and bruises that had been slowly healing since Monday.
I sat down under a red oak tree that had shed most of its leaves and rested my math book open against my thighs, tucking my notebook into the binding. It didn’t take long before I appreciated my decision to come out here.
“Hey,” a familiar voice greeted me.
I glanced up to find Harlow, of all people, standing about a foot away. “Hi,” I smiled, caught by surprise. Harbor Glenn may have been a small town, but what were the odds really? “How long have you been standing there? I didn’t even hear you.”
“Since I said hey,” he teased. “So ten seconds, give or take.”
I smiled with a playful roll of my eyes. “Are you like stalking me now or something?” Harlow didn’t pick up on the implied sarcasm and stared at me with a sort of strained expression until I blushed. “Don’t hurt yourself! I was kidding.”
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