I pinched my lips together—I wasn't a cute lip biter like the girls in the books that Helen smuggled to me—and yanked my arm out from under his hand. I turned back to face front and stared stonily in front of me.
"What is it?" Haley asked, touching my elbow with his fingers. "What did I do?"
I drew in a deep, deliberate breath and set my jaw. He was so clearly mocking me now, and it wasn't fair that my body was reacting to his touch in all kinds of nervous, shivery ways.
At this point, Jordan, Rob, and the others had started paying attention to Haley, and as a result, to our interaction. I heard Jordan snicker and fought to keep my eyes dry and on my notebook. I hadn't cried in front of anyone since third grade, and I wasn't about to start senior year with a relapse, no matter how awful my day was starting.
Luckily, the second bell rang, Ms. Collins came in. I felt Haley's hand slip from my elbow, and I relaxed just a fraction. Like most teenagers, I had the perfect ability to use half my brain to listen to the lecture, while the other half was busy replaying the drama.
Seriously, why couldn't he have left me alone? I wasn't trying to "jump fences" into the popular crowd. I knew my place. He was the new guy, too! Didn't I get a grace period before new kids started making fun of me? Then I realized something that almost made me groan out loud.
The Sarlls-Starr-Sterling order had been interrupted by Smith. Haley Smith and his brother were my new locker neighbors. Great. Just freaking great.
A cool touch brushed my hand, and I looked down to see Haley drawing his hand back. Oh. I was clenching my pen so hard that my knuckles were white and the ink was soaking into the pages of my notebook.
The bell for the end of class rang. Startled, I jumped up, jamming my notebook and pen into my bag, and ran out into the safe anonymity of the hallway.
My next class, Poetry, was just down the hall. I slumped into another middle desk, in the greyed-out white classroom, and wouldn't you know it, Haley Smith took the desk next to me. I treated him to a short glare before staring down at my notebook.
I felt a touch on my shoulder and looked up in surprise to see him slowly tucking my hair behind my ear. Thrilling little zings went straight to the pit of my stomach, and my heart lurched in confusion between panic and excitement.
It was such a tender gesture that I wanted to cry again. What the hell? Why couldn't this be real? Why couldn't this be like a book, where the mysterious new guy fell for the pretty geek, instead of zeroing in on her for a particularly cruel brand of mockery?
Adults might have called me paranoid or diagnosed me with a persecution complex, but I knew better. This was high school, the ultimate petri dish for social Darwinism—which I had learned about last year in Social Studies.
His fingertips slid down a lock of my hair and rested lightly against my shoulder, burning through my dress to brand my skin. Or, at least that's what it felt like.
"I'm sorry if I upset you," he said softly, and damn if I couldn't help looking up at him. Big mistake. Narrowed black eyes stared back at me hungrily. My heart went from jackhammering to stalling out. I should have been creeped out, but I was more creeped out by the fact that I wasn't.
"Whatever," I mumbled, forcing myself to shrug off his hand and fix my gaze on the front of the classroom. "It's fine."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him sit back in his chair. I could feel his gaze on me, but I locked myself into position so I couldn't even accidentally catch his eye.
But what if he wasn't mocking me? The thought was too shocking to even consider for a moment. No, nothing like that ever happened outside of books. I liked to think of myself as a good judge of character—like Elizabeth Bennett from Pride and Prejudice. Sure, she made some mistakes, but she was also right on the money a lot of the times.
All my instincts told me he belonged with the beautiful, popular crowd, and the speculative look that Jordan gave him as she came in confirmed it.
She took a seat in front of him and turned around to face him.
"Hi!" she chirped, flashing her big teeth in a big smile. "I'm Jordan. You're new, right?"
Haley still sat back against his chair, his body perfectly relaxed, and he slowly looked away from me and over to her.
"Yes," he replied finally, a cool, patient smile on his lips.
"Haley, right?"
"Yes."
"Why don't you sit with me and my friends at lunch?" Jordan gushed. "We can tell you all about everything you need to know about Darbyfield."
"That would be nice," Haley said evenly. "Thank you."
"Your brother should have lunch with us, too!"
"I'm sure."
Jordan paused, and I bit my lip to keep from smiling at her confusion. I could read the whole situation like a book. Even if I didn't know Haley, I knew Jordan. I had had twelve years to study her, from her first princess party to her becoming the captain of the varsity cheerleading squad. She was like my monkey in a cage.
She clearly expected Haley to be a lot more enthusiastic about having lunch with her and to jump to it to invite his brother. It had been a long time since she had had to do more to attract someone than smile and extend her gracious notice to whatever subject she decided to take into her kingdom.
Haley was either an idiot to blow her off like this, or he didn't give a rat's ass about her approval. Given his attempts to talk to me, I began to wonder if his social barometer was just completely whacked.
I just had to be calm, to keep my walls up and give it a day or two for him to get suckered in by Jordan. He would find a new desk in the classroom next to her and learn to ignore me.
Everything would once again be as it should be in my glass-bubble world.
Mr. Brown came into the room and started class. Outside the window, the wind howled, and the rain slapped against the windows, leaving icy smears.
The bell rang at the end of class. As I stuffed my things into my bag, I tried not to look over at Haley, who only carried a notebook and pen with him. I was almost through the door when I heard that low, gravelly voice behind me and felt a whisper of cool breath against the back of my neck.
"Later, Stephanie."
For the sake of my sanity, I sincerely hoped not.
CHAPTER THREE
THE REST of the morning passed like most first days of school passed for me. I tried to get my bearings, memorize the pattern of where my classrooms were, and what was the quickest way between them and my locker. After a summer of relative isolation spent between the store and home, I was hungrily curious to see the changes in the other students. Darbyfield wasn't that big of a school, only 500 students total, so it was easy enough to know almost all of them by sight. I noticed who had grown taller, who had grown fatter or thinner, new haircuts, outfits, and tans. I suffered my way through the disoriented clusters of freshman that clogged the halls.
I stopped in to the college counselor’s office before heading off to lunch. I wanted to pick up some information about the SATs and tip-sheets about selecting a college even though I was the one who was excited about the thought of going to college. Though she had never said anything directly, Mom always gave me the impression that she didn’t care if I went to college or not. She’d be happy to have me live with her forever, no matter what I did for an education or, eventually, a job.
Over the summer, I had started thinking more and more about college, and like a seed that was planted, watered and exposed to light, my excitement about the prospect grew. I felt that I was ready for new people, new surroundings, new challenges. I was edging closer to a decision about whether to apply in-state or out-of-state, and the only reason I hesitated was because I didn’t know what to do or how to handle Mom’s insistence that if I did have to go to college, I would live at home with her—even if it meant selling our house and moving out of state together.
I bit the inside of my cheek as I stood in the small, cramped office, squinting a little in the extra-bright fluorescent lighting and looked through the various
flyers.
Haley Smith walked in and came over to the rack of flyers, standing beside me. I glanced up at him, but didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.
He absently picked up a brochure, unfolding it and flipping it over and back, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see he wasn’t paying any attention to it. He was looking at me, a slight smirk on his lips.
I felt my ears start to burn, and I finished grabbing all the flyers and hurried away, my heart beating quickly and awkwardly.
I heard footsteps behind me but refused looked around. Instinctively, I knew it was Haley. I ducked into the stairwell and ran down the steps to the cafeteria, which was in the basement. I reached two sets of double-doors to the cafeteria, and I couldn’t help myself. I had to look behind me.
Haley was just a few feet behind me, and he caught my eye and smiled a quick, wicked grin. He opened his mouth as if to say something, when practically out of nowhere, Jordan and her friends caught up with him.
“Hey!” she gushed, sliding around him so that she stood between us. “Come have lunch with us! I met your brother in chemistry, and he’s joining us, too.”
“I was actually—” Haley began to say, his eyes sliding from Jordan to me.
“Oh, come on!” Jordan squealed. “You’ll have such a good time, and you’ll meet all my friends. They’re so cool. They’re really nice. You’ll love them!”
He hesitated, his eyes still on me, and I bit my lip and turned away, slipping into the cafeteria, feeling like I had just had a narrow escape from being noticed by Jordan. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she had marked Haley for herself already, and anybody who got in her way would be very, very sorry. I definitely didn’t want trouble, and I certainly didn’t want Haley.
I headed toward the back of the cafeteria. It was ridiculously easy to map out the social structure of the big, square basement dining area. In one corner, you had the food line with its dubious-looking green beans, congealed mashed potatoes, and rubbery pizza. Next to it was a wall of vending machines and some microwaves that were certifiable bio-hazards.
The cafeteria itself was a soul-searing mix of pumpkin linoleum tile, stained ceiling tiles, and multicultural murals from the 90's, encouraging friendship and togetherness. Crappy laminate lunch tables and primary color plastic basket chairs completed the stellar interior design.
I had names for all the groups in the cafeteria. In the front, near the doors, the most popular guys and girls congregated, rearranging the chairs to cluster around each other. These were the Gaggle and the Jocks. The Gaggle was any combination of popular girls because of the way they clucked and squawked and honked together, just like nasty-tempered New England geese. The Jocks were, well, jocks.
The further back you got in the cafeteria, the less popular were. Maybe it had to do with how close you were forced to sit to the back wall with its dorky, happy, multi-cultural people mural.
Mid-way through the cafeteria, you'd have to run the gauntlet of the Goons. These were guys who were too lame for any girls to sit with them, but who were too mean to hang out with the nerds and geeks. The Goons kept themselves afloat, above the losers (aka the Snub Club), by tormenting them at every possible turn.
Finally, at the very back, there were a few tables where the rest of us sat, card-carrying members of the Snub Club: the computer geeks, the literature geeks, the science geeks, the math geeks, the music geeks...you get the idea.
I dropped my lunch bag onto a table where Helen and our other friend, Morris Chow, sat already.
"Hey, Morris!" I exclaimed, happy to see him after the summer. His mom had sent him to chemistry camp at the University of Massachusetts and then to distant relatives in New York City for Chinese culture lessons, so I hadn't had a chance to see him at all. Not that my mom would have actually let me spend time with a boy, even one as short and dorky as Morris.
"'Sup, Steph," he said around a mouthful of sandwich, pushing his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose.
I gave the sandwich a meaningful look.
"It's roast beef, apparently," Helen said, interpreting my look perfectly.
"What happened to tuna?" I demanded. Morris had brought tuna fish for lunch every day, all last year. It had been bologna the year before that.
"Got tired of it," he said with a shrug.
"Makes sense," I conceded, trying not to laugh. "So how's it going?"
"We met one of the new senior twin brothers in Chemistry," Helen said. "Zack Smith."
"He's assigned as Helen's lab partner," Morris added, grinning.
"That a good thing or a bad thing?" I asked, pulling out my tiny container of salt-free tabouleh salad (Did I know that salt was very bad for me and could lead to high blood pressure? Yes, Mom.).
Helen wrinkled her nose. "I don't know yet, but I'm pretty sure it's a bad thing."
"I met the other Smith brother," I mentioned, opening the salt packet I had snagged from the condiment rack and pouring it over my salad. "Haley Smith."
"And?" Helen asked.
"He's kinda weird. I think Jordan likes him, though."
"Figures," she said, rolling her eyes and biting into her highly-processed, sodium-packed, delicious, delicious Hot Pocket. She pushed the other one over to me, just like she always did. A girl cannot live by tabouleh alone.
"Hey, you guys hear about the hot new librarian?" Morris piped up, wiping the last crumbs of his sandwich off his lips.
"No, but is she hot?" I asked innocently.
"Shut up!" he said, blushing a little. "She really is totally hot."
"Morris, have you been to the library already?" Helen asked with a laugh.
"Yeah," he retorted. "But, you already put all the homework due dates for chemistry in your phone. Who's the geek now?"
After lunch, Helen and Morris went off to Honors Physics and Honors Biology, and I spent the afternoon between Government and U.S. History.
Finally, I headed to the last class of the day, English with Mr. Lafitte. I met Helen at the door, and we walked into the classroom together.
Mr. Lafitte's classroom had the desks arranged in an open rectangle. I'd seen this sort of thing before in my American Literature class in sophomore year. It was supposed to “facilitate discussion.”' Well, whatever, how could teachers know it really just facilitated staring and gossip?
"How's the rest of your day been?" I asked Helen as we considered which seats to take. It seemed like the seats you chose on the first day ended up being the seats you stayed in for most of the year.
"Eff my life," she said flatly.
"That good?"
"Seriously. I have a feeling I'm going to end up a statistic. You know, one of those teenagers that collapses from overwork and exhaustion, has a nervous breakdown, and then goes on to write an amazing memoir about their time in a mental hospital."
"Sounds great."
"What about you?"
I opened my mouth to tell her all about the rest of my day when Haley and Zack Smith came in. They took the desks directly across the room from ours.
I studied Zack surreptitiously, curious as to what Haley's brother was like. What I found was that he couldn't have been more different.
He was blond, beautiful, and boisterous. Already, he was best friends with everyone in the class, flirting with the Gaggle and joking with the Jocks. He was the all-American, athletic, cute guy in jeans, Chucks, and a rumpled polo shirt.
Haley lounged long in his chair, sticking his legs out and toying with his pen laconically. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his expression darken as he looked between me and Zack.
"Hey, Helen," Zack called out, giving her a million dollar smile. "What did you think of Chemistry?"
"I think I wandered into the seventh circle of hell," Helen replied drily, unaffected by his charm offensive.
"Nah," Zack laughed and chucking his thumb at Haley. "He'd know if you did."
"What?" she asked, confused.
I was totally confused
as well, though I couldn't help smiling at Zack's infectious good humor.
I risked a glance at Haley, and his frown disappeared as he smiled at me. It wasn't the mega-watt movie star grin of his brother. It was slower. Sexier. Like he had been waiting all day for me to smile at him, and now he wanted...more.
Parts of me tingled completely inappropriately, and I whipped out a frown and put it on. I knew I would be spending a lot of time over the next few days drilling it into my head that Haley was bad, off-limits, probably making fun of me behind my back, not interested in me, forbidden, and completely off my menu. Total ignoring was the only course of action.
Mr. Lafitte came in and started class before the bell rang, taking us through the syllabus and piling on the homework already.
By the end of class, my brain was exhausted, both from Mr. Lafitte and from actively avoiding looking at Haley. I was so ready when the final bell rang. Helen and I got up and went downstairs to the senior hallway.
"Haley was staring at you all through class," she said.
"He's done that all day," I complained. "I don't see why. It's not like I'm trying to get his attention."
"He's really cute," she mused.
"Really? You think so?"
"Maybe he thinks you're cute?"
I gave her a look, and she nodded understandingly. We were both relatively attractive and prettier than some of the Gaggle, but our social status prevented us from being considered “cute,“ or, in other words, acceptable to date.
"See you tomorrow," she said, dropping me at my locker and heading down the hall to hers.
"Hey! Stephanie, right?"
I looked over to my left to see Zack Smith at his locker next to mine.
"Yeah," I replied with a quick nod and reached in for my rain jacket.
"Is it dry yet?" he joked, pointing to my jacket. "Mine was still soaked at lunch."
"It was supposed to be sunny today," I commented, hoping he didn't notice the smell. He grinned at me, and suddenly I found it much easier to talk to this Smith brother.
Despite being earmarked for popularity, Zack had a genuinely nice feel about him. I certainly didn't get the sense that he was looking down his nose at me. In fact, in his own way, he even seemed eager to be friendly and talk.
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