The Night Orchid

by M. G. Hernandez

  My heart broke into a million pieces as I experience the first pangs of betrayal. I texted her my last communication afterwards. Simple and short, but it packed a punch. Later, I learned that her parents homeschooled her with no intention of enrolling her at Wakefield High.

  I look at Jo with a different lens—cursing myself for forgetting. She is no longer a friend and never again will I beg.

  When she sits, her right foot taps in rapid succession while she keeps her eyes on her lap. She always hated sitting in the front. Meanwhile, Mr. Cunningham calls out the Ts, and I get excited. It’s time to play.

  “Julian Taylor.”

  I watch her head snap up just as mine did.

  “Present,” I said, keeping her the object of my rapt attention.

  Her gaze follows the sound of my voice until those browns land on my blues. Three years of avoidance intensified this moment when we are finally reunited. She pales as her brain recognizes the bastard across from her.

  Surprise. Miss me?

  I return her look with the inscrutable grin of a Cheshire Cat, and I wink. She registers my unnerving smile, causing her to redden and shift in her chair.

  “3A4,” I hear Mr. Cunningham.

  My new seat is behind where I was just sitting. I chuckle as I imagine her groan when she realizes we’re still in the same aisle. The last thing she wants is to share a class with me. Now, she sits across from me where she must do the intricate dance of avoiding my eyes whenever she lifts her head. The universe has a sense of humor. I rub my palms together. This will be a glorious end to my senior year.

  Chapter 10

  Josephine

  Julian sits across from me.

  How the hell?

  Blowing a strand of hair off my eye, my heart beats a mile a minute while my face burns so hot an egg can fry on it. In the meantime, he stares, burning a hole through my head.

  I’ve been chewing my nails since this morning, dreading the possibility of my former friend in my classes. But he never appeared. My stupid ass thought the chances of sharing a class at this point were nil, so I abandoned my defensive stance and relaxed.

  Boy, was I wrong.

  I furrow my brows at the irony. For three and a half years, we avoided seeing each other despite being neighbors. But then the universe dumped us together in the last four months of our high school career. Someone up there hates me, and to think I go to church every morning. What a waste.

  When Mr. Cunningham finished his lecture, everyone started packing their bags and headed towards the door to wait for the bell to ring. Hands moving fast, I follow suit. My body needs to be somewhere in the middle of that line to avoid having Julian in front of me or behind me.

  But I lost and landed at the end. I curse at my bad luck. In the corner of my eye, I sneak a glance at him. He remains in his seat, talking to a short blond guy and a skinny redhead. I relax as I may dodge an awkward meeting.

  Since Julian’s preoccupied, I take this opportunity to examine his gray crewneck sweater with the words, “OBEY,” plastered across the chest. He wears dark fitted jeans and white retro Adidas sneakers. His only accessories are his black Apple watch and a leather bracelet on his right wrist. A simple laid-back outfit, but worn well because of his athletic physique.

  But there’s something in the way he commands attention from his peers that unnerves me. This Julian is larger than life. Height reaching 6 feet and extra 2 inches, he’s a giant in that armchair. I remember his cockiness when we first locked eyes. Arrogance was a word that never described him. Today it’s a fitting description as he watches his classmates gush over his accomplishments with polite interest but with veiled boredom. I stare in dismay. Written on his face and his stance is a guy on top of the food chain. The amiable and thoughtful friend I knew is long gone. He’s one of them now—no different from the popular crew that dismissed our very existence when we were kids.

  And yet a memory stirs. Who was he last night? The boy I saw at the alley sounded concerned and a far cry from this self-absorbed version.

  A petite student with mid-length curly black hair turns and faces me. I blink in surprise when I recognize her from last night. I didn’t notice her when the teacher began assigning our seats. But now, facing me, it’s hard not to look. Her skin, a creamy espresso, coupled with her dangerous curves, she’s a vixen in tight denims—an empress. And I’m the peasant standing beside her.

  She gives me a wave. “Denette. But everyone calls me Dee. Josephine, right?”

  I nod, but I shy away from her gaze. “Uh, call me Jo.”

  “So you’re new here. What brings you to the neighborhood? And so late in the game. We only have four months left of school, babe.”

  “Actually, I’m from here. My parents home-schooled me for the past three years.”

  “That’s shitty.”

  “Yeah. But in my case, I’ll take what I can get.”

  Dee tilts her head as if trying to understand, so I explain before she loses interest. I surprised myself for caring enough, but she intrigues me. “It sucks being stuck at home with your mom, so I don’t mind the four months of freedom.”

  She softens her gaze and smiles. “I can imagine. Well, welcome to Wakefield High, and I’m glad you escaped.”

  Grateful for the friendly gesture, I eek out a smile.

  “Listen, I hated being a newbie. My brother and I came here during our freshman year, and a welcoming face helped with the transition. So I’ll pay it forward. Let me introduce you to my friends, so you’ll stop looking like a sad puppy.”

  I laugh—the first time since setting foot in this school.

  But Dee pauses and knits her brows. “I guess starting now.”

  Forehead creasing as I watch her. “Hmm?”

  She giggles. “Boy, quit lurking.”

  I scratch my head until I realize she’s not talking to me.

  “Let me introduce you to Ian.”

  My eyebrows raise. “Ian?”

  She nods as she spins me around to meet the person behind me. “Jo, this is Ian. Ian meet Jo.”

  Heart attacks run in the family, and I’ll be next as I face the one person I was trying to avoid. Julian is inches away from me.

  The proximity alone is overwhelming, and it doesn’t help that Wakefield’s resident Boy Wonder smells good. A mixture of Cool Water and sandalwood. And now we’re locked in a staring contest. A part of me wants to hug him because I miss him, but my discomfort overrides this sentimental thought.

  But I can’t stop gawking at his face. Julian is a sculpted marble — the upgraded version of the one I used to know. I have the sudden urge to run my tingling hands through his blonde hair, styled long at the top and short on the sides. I want to tickle his thick lashes and graze his firm jawline. If time permits, let me linger on those bee-stung lips, too.

  Who is this guy?

  I search for something familiar. I see the freckles on his nose, which give me relief. But the strong currents of his ocean eyes grab my attention as they darken, reminding me of another moment—a few seconds before he kissed me. The room fades, our gaze fixed on each other as if imprinting every facial feature in our minds.

  Dee clears her throat, bringing me back to the middle of a crowded classroom. Someone needs to make an executive decision here. I either get this over with and acknowledge his presence or run in the opposite direction. Neither choice appeals to me, but a rational mind tells me to go with the former. I sigh in resignation. But I stand erect and utter that simple word we haven’t exchanged in years.

  “Hi.” My voice croaked, but I said it. A sense of relief pools in my gut, surprising me.

  He says nothing and continues to stare. Then his lips move into a self-satisfied smirk. In a shocking open dismissal, he turns around and returns his attention to Short Blond Guy.

  My mouth drops, and my face reddens when Skinny Redhead giggled at his stunt. Just then, the bell rings. Thank God. And I shoot out of that classroom—a zoo animal released from
its cage.

  Chapter 11

  Josephine

  Textbooks flying into the locker, I toss the school-issued hard bounds with the fervor of a quarterback. After the last clanging of books hitting metal, I close the door with a loud bang. Petty bastard.

  “Girl, didn’t your mama ever tell you not to slam doors?”

  The voice startles me, and I turn to find Dee standing with her hand on her curvy hip. A quiet groan exits from my lips because I don’t intend to discuss what transpired in class.

  “Hey.” I make no eye contact and fiddle with my backpack straps.

  She tucks a stray hair behind a multi-pierced ear and persists. “Sorry about Ian. That boy is usually friendly, so I’m not sure what happened there.”

  I do, but it’s not storytelling time.

  “And don’t worry, he mesmerizes a bunch of girls. Love my hot chocolate, but a little whipped cream never hurt nobody.”

  A chuckle escapes my mouth, and Dee responds with a wink. Guilt takes over, telling me to say something because those stilettos didn’t walk by itself. She cared enough to see me after that fiasco, and I can, at least, acknowledge her efforts. “Thanks for checking up on me, Dee, but I’m fine.”

  Cocking a perfect eyebrow, she looks at me as if she knows better, and I can’t blame her. That slam echoed through the hall saying, “Julian’s tires are about to get slashed tonight.” But she doesn’t press further, choosing to shrug and lean into my locker.

  “Listen, I came here for something else.”

  Now it’s my turn to cock an eyebrow. Releasing a few giggles, she squeezes my arm to reassure me. “Nothing to worry about, girl. Just wanting to share an opportunity.”

  “Ok…”

  “So, I manage the school’s concession stand, and we’re looking for another person. I think you’re perfect for the position.”

  Her question catches me off guard, and she notices me widening my eyes. She could’ve said many things, but I didn’t expect a job offer. “But you only met me a half hour ago. How do you know I’m the ideal candidate?”

  “Your vibe is on point, sis. Plus,” she pauses, giving me a sheepish grin. “No one else is interested.”

  I chuckle. “You wound me. I thought I was special.”

  “Queen. you. are. fire,” she says, emphasizing each word with a clap of her hand. “To be honest, no student in this pretentious school has integrity to make their own hard-earned cash. Mommy and daddy’s got the loot.”

  I get that. As someone who is preparing to launch out of her parents’ clutches, I understand the value of earning money. Unknown to Dee, her offer answers months of prayers. If I continue to fight, the chances of getting caught by authorities increase. But I could use the extra buck. On the other hand, talking to people other than Mama Nilda is uncharted territory for me. So, I got nervous. “Uh, I don’t know. Can I think about it?”

  She nods, eyes softening as if she understands. “Ok. Let me give you my number. Text me or call me when you’ve decided—or even if you just want to talk.”

  A tiny heartbeat knocks against my chest, and I fight a hint of a smile. This girl doesn’t intimidate me as other teenagers do. She’s a ray of sunshine, warming me up and giving me a small hope in humanity. Well, maybe that’s a stretch, but I appreciate at least one friendly face.

  When we bid our goodbyes, I watch Dee join her buddies outside the double doors. Loneliness creeps up, but I shrug it off and smooth my hair.

  As I turn to leave, a rattle and a squeak distract me, forcing me to glance at the ceiling. The rusty old light fixture swings above, causing dust to fall onto my forehead. I frown because I can’t explain the creaking and movement of a hanging lamp in a windowless hallway. Then it flickers, coaxing the hair on the back of my neck to stand. Although I’m alone in the hall, I get a weird feeling that someone is creeping up behind me.

  I close my eyes and exhale to slow my breathing. Then a curious scent envelopes me. I sniffed it when my mother entered my room this morning. A strange mixture of citrus and gardenia. I turn to face my visitor, only to find Alexa staring at me. A cool breeze swirls around us, causing me to shiver. “You’re back.”

  Dressed in a leather jacket, a tank top and skinny jeans, she could be any student in school. But her silvery skin and vacant translucent eyes hint that this girl no longer belongs with the living. “Listen, Alexa, I’m so sorry about what happened.”

  Her forehead creases and her nose flares at my words. Then her mouth opens. Her lips part in a silent scream. That panicked energy sends messages of pain and terror and repels me backwards with my palms covering my ears. Like a dog picking up frequency beyond human hearing, I’m the same way. Ear-splitting noise heard only by me, make me slide to the floor, knees to the ground.

  Without warning, the fluorescent lights flicker in rapid succession and locker doors rattle off the hinges. As I cower on the ground, the winds cyclone, causing my hair to halo above me. “Please… stop.”

  A massive headache attacks me, and I cry out in pain. With closed eyes and teeth biting lip, I pray for this torment to cease.

  “Hey, are you ok?” someone asked behind me.

  I jolt in surprise. Alexa’s panicked communications disappear, and the hallway is quiet once again. But my experience still leaves me paralyzed on the hard cement floor.

  The sound of footsteps comes around and stops in front of me. I lift my head to see who saw me at my moment of insanity.

  Whoa.

  I blink several times to recover from finding Alexa’s boyfriend staring at me. I watch Brandon bend his knees to hunch over to my level.

  “Are you hurt?” he asks.

  No, but I’m tongue-tied. This chiseled-faced boy with a man bun caught me on the ground, talking to myself. Gone are my fears, and they’re now replaced with embarrassment.

  I watched him on TV last week, competing at the NSSA surfing championship. I wonder if he remembers me. Most likely not.

  “Do you want me to call the nurse?”

  That wakes me from my trance. “I-I-I’m fine.”

  He tilts his head and scrunches his forehead as he watches me. Then he extends a hand. “Let me help you up.”

  With a clammy palm, I grip it as he pulls me off the floor and steadies me.

  “How are you feeling? Better?”

  I nod, but I focus on the lint on my cardigan to avoid his eyes. “The sensation on my knees is back.”

  “That’s a good sign.”

  My gaze shifts to my shoes. “Yeah, thanks. Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t worry about it. How did you land on the ground?”

  “Just felt sick.” I shrug. To be honest, I’m happy for the interruption. Otherwise, I’d still be on the floor, whimpering.

  “So, no nurse?” he asks.

  “Nope.”

  Brows furrowing, his brown eyes search this raggedy face of mine, making me self-conscious. I hear approaching footsteps, and Brandon hears it, too. He peers behind me, recognizes the person walking, and gives a quick nod. Then he returns his attention to me. “Well, I better head to class.”