by Gruder, Liz
Then, the spell broke. He tapped her head while knitting his brows, a perplexed expression in his large golden eyes.
Before Kaila could react, he pushed two long fingers to the side of her face and then under the plastic.
Kaila’s cheeks grew warm.
“Why?” he asked. There was no mocking in his tone, only curiosity.
He lifted the plastic and exposed her real hair. She felt the cool of his long fingers on her warm, damp scalp. His huge eyes locked hers. She was again completely paralyzed.
Her brain rushed with memories—riding the horses, watching TV with Mom and Nan, fishing with Mike, grilling sausage and chicken with Paw Paw, throwing a Frisbee for Lucy, feeding the ducks stale bread in the pond. He peeked through a window into her mind.
The bell rang. He removed his fingers from under the black plastic.
The others stood silently, like silver statues with big, seeing eyes. Kaila stared back, speechless.
“You. Please. No worry,” he said in a mechanical foreign voice. “Go in this door.” He pointed a long slender finger. “Down the hall, turn right, and homeroom there. I see you again.”
Then, he turned.
“Wait,” Kaila stammered. “What’s your name?”
“I am called Jordyn Stryker.” He looked at her as if absorbing her essence, his eyes like the suns of a forgotten planet. His gaze felt warm and all encompassing. Her heart skipped a beat.
“I’m Kaila.”
He nodded, then rejoined his group. They walked in a straight line toward the modular units in the field, the rising sun glinting on their silver overalls.
Kaila was so shaken she couldn’t move. She had never in her life been so blown away meeting a person, ever. Who was he? The strange outfits they wore could have been something out of an old black-and-white science fiction show and their eyes, the last time she’d seen eyes like those were on department store mannequins—huge, round, and nowhere near normal. Though hot and trembling, the hairs on her arms stood up. She swallowed, realizing her body confirmed her intuition that he had just swept onto the stage of her life theater and that his role would prove life changing. The bell rang again. She straightened her wig, trying to calm her breath and mind. She hurried into the school, raced down the hall, and found her homeroom just as Jordyn Stryker foretold.
Chapter 2
In homeroom, Kaila tried to concentrate. The whole encounter with Jordyn seemed like a dream. She was dazed, like her mind had been submerged in a swamp. Numbly, she followed two girls in the hall, cursing herself to pay attention. She dropped her things in her assigned locker, then trailed the other students into the gym for an assembly.
A teacher made announcements about the school year. The gym buzzed like a threatening beehive. But all Kaila could think of was Jordyn. She had liked his touch, had never felt anything like it. In fact, it felt like he was still with her, in her head. She couldn’t shake it. Plus, he hadn’t laughed at her wig or hand. She hugged herself, barely able to sit still on the bleachers.
The principal stood in the center of the gym holding a microphone. “You have heard on the news about the cult in New Mexico, where authorities took into custody several youths,” he said. “We here, at Bush High, took some of them in. Last semester, they were taught privately in the modular units in the back field. This year, they will be integrated in regular classes.”
Kaila had never heard of any cult in New Mexico. Of course, she wasn’t big on watching the news. Her family watched, but she found stories of war, murder, and disasters depressing. It was positively medieval. Kaila preferred peaceful things like listening to music on her iPod.
“These students were raised in hard circumstances, without mothers and fathers and the luxuries you enjoy, so they appear different,” the principal continued. “I ask you to make them feel welcome as we try to assimilate them into society.”
Jordyn must be one of them, Kaila thought. That must be why they seemed so strange.
She was desperate to find out more. Mustering courage, she whispered to the girl next to her. “Hey. You ever heard of this cult thing? I haven’t.”
The girl raised her eyebrow. “Where’ve you been? It was all over the news for weeks.”
Kaila shut up. Where had she been? Probably playing with her dogs and horses in La La Land. Rebuked and self-conscious, she tucked her left hand beneath the bottom of her t-shirt.
In second period English, someone tugged Kaila’s wig. Kaila slapped her hand on her head to secure the wig and turned around.
“Nice hair.” Dark bangs slanting across the girl’s forehead covered one eye.
“Thanks,” Kaila said, hoping that it wasn’t obvious her hair was a wig. So far, no one but Jordyn had seemed to notice.
“I had long hair but cut it off,” the girl said. “Too much work.”
“Well, I got a big head. Someone once called me an egghead, and the hair hides it. So that’s my deal,” Kaila said. “It really sucks being called an egghead, ya know?”
At once she blushed. Why did she blurt something so juvenile?
The girl smiled. With relief, Kaila realized it was okay.
“I’m Melissa. You?”
“Kaila.”
“I saw you get on the bus this morning,” Melissa said.
“Really? I didn’t see you.”
“Cause I was in the back. You’re new here, huh?
“Yeah. First day.”
“I can tell.”
“How?”
“Girl, your eyes are as big as saucers.”
Kaila digested this. Was it so obvious?
“Just kidding. Didn’t see you here last year. Where were you before this?”
“Home schooled.”
“Hmph, don’t know what’s worse—stuck at home or in this hell.”
Kaila smiled at Melissa and Melissa smiled back. Melissa’s left eye didn’t focus straight at her. It turned inward like a cross eye. Melissa lowered her gaze. Kaila realized that she must be self-conscious about her eye, just as Kaila was about her left hand. It was probably why Melissa wore her bangs in her face. Kaila panged with empathy, knowing what it was like to feel different and weird.
“Hey,” Kaila said. “I like your hair. It’s sassy.”
Melissa looked back at Kaila and this time didn’t avert her gaze.
The bell rang and the teacher, Mr. Foret, who had curly black hair, black-rimmed glasses, and a faded plaid shirt, handed out the semester’s reading assignments. The class groaned.
“Silence!” he shouted.
Someone threw a paper football that hit him on the side of his face. Everyone tittered as Mr. Foret’s face reddened. Another paper football sailed by and hit the board.
“Stop,” he said with little conviction.
A guy next to Kaila with hair to his shoulders slumped over his desk, sleeping.
A paper football hit Kaila’s head.
“Score!”
She turned around. Two big guys sat in the back, laughing. They had wide shoulders and puckered their lips at her with mock kisses. She then noticed a girl with long strawberry hair and a headband staring at her, a cold, withering look.
Kaila turned and focused on the teacher, as stale and spineless as he was. Oh my god, she thought, who are these people?
Melissa pressed a note under her arm.
Welcome to the Bush Zoo. Meet me in the cafeteria by smoothies at lunch. I’ll give you the full freak tour.
Kaila smiled gratefully at Melissa. Thank goodness, she wouldn’t have to hide alone at lunch.
“Because I don’t want to be a whale,” Melissa replied after Kaila asked why all she ordered for lunch was a smoothie and chips.
“The same,” Kaila said to the cafeteria lady. Oh, my God. She was positively hangry—a cross between hungry and angry. But since she was learning the ropes, she begrudgingly copied Melissa and ordered just a smoothie and chips. She felt like stabbing a boy in the eye who carried a tray w
ith baked chicken, macaroni and cheese, and chocolate milk. Kaila made a mental note: full breakfast before school.
“C’mon,” Melissa called. “As promised, the Bush Freak Tour.”
Relieved she had someone to hang with, Kaila trailed Melissa through the cafeteria, noting her trim figure in her black gauze shirt, tight jeans, and short black boots. Melissa headed outside.
When she spied all the other students holding a bag or smoothie, Kaila was thankful she hadn’t gotten a meal. It was impossible to socialize outside and hold a tray.
Outside, humid air surrounded them like hot breath.
“Unless it’s raining, most everyone eats lunch here,” Melissa explained. They paused in a crowded, covered walkway and sipped their strawberry smoothies.
“Each group has a tree,” Melissa whispered. “Over there,” she pointed, “are the preps. There you will find some of the most stuck-up, back-stabbing assholes in the world, so don’t say I didn’t warn you. Here, you are defined by what you wear: Abercrombie, Hollister, Aeropostale, Pac Sun, DC shoes and hats, American Eagle, Billabong, Diesel, Juicy Couture, et cetera, et cetera.”
Kaila, in her t-shirt and jeans from Wal-Mart, felt even more inadequate. She hadn’t realized clothes were so important. Everyone probably thought she was a hick. A know-nothing from a farm. She might as well start chewing tobacco and spitting.
“Brandy Powell, the one in our English class giving you the evil eye, is the worst. She has gone out with Derek Mendoza, the guy throwing the paper footballs. She was pissed when he threw one at you.
“Watch out: Brandy will smile at you and then chop your head off behind your back. Tara Melancon next to her, with the straight brown hair, prep skirt, and pearls, is the snottiest. When she looks at you, she looks like she smells something rank.”
“Oh, the prep review,” said a girl joining them. She had short auburn hair and doe-like eyes with a smattering of freckles and a delicate pointed nose. She wore a form-fitting olive green t-shirt with a colorful beaded necklace and bracelets. “Hey,” she said to Kaila. “I’m Pia. You new here?”
“Yeah. I’m Kaila.”
“Well, hey. But I’ll give the shorter review: the girls are super bitches and the guys are all assholes.” She grinned as she pulled a brownie from a paper bag.
“Pia’s cool,” Melissa said, brushing against Pia.
“Get off me, ho.”
“Pia makes her own jewelry. Isn’t this cool?” Melissa said touching Pia’s maroon and green beaded necklace. “Plus she’s a great skater and plays the fiddle.”
A loud crash interrupted them. The two jocks from English who had thrown the paper football at Kaila had this scrawny guy in their arms. They had picked him up and thrown him in the dumpster.
“Another douche hits the trash!” they shouted, slapping a high-five.
“Not again,” Pia sighed. “The jock with the black hair is Derek Mendoza, the quarterback. Yeah, he’s hot but don’t think his shit don’t stink. And the hulk with the buzz cut is Wade Stoops. He is asshole numero uno. He’s on the football team too, but the reason his face is so red and pudgy like a pervert is ’cause he looks at nasty stuff constantly online. Put a permanent sneer on his face. He is gross, trust me.”
Kaila watched the trashed boy pulling himself out of the dumpster, hitching his legs over the side. He had curly dark hair and adjusted thick glasses over reddened cheeks.
“Hey dork dick, you stink!” Derek and Wade laughed as they sauntered away from the dumpster, their wide shoulders swaying.
The dumped boy furiously wiped his baggy pants to remove pieces of trash.
“That’s Douglas Lafarge,” Melissa whispered.
Douglas balled his fist and shouted, “Eat me!”
Several students in the area mimicked, “Eat me!”
Douglas glared back at the students with defiance.
Wow, Kaila thought, this is vicious. They all gang up like wolves.
“Forget him,” Melissa said. “He’s a dork. Look. That tree over there is geeks. And over there, techno-nerds. There, gamers.” She inclined her head to the left. “That tree over there is the gangstas.”
Kaila noted boys with wide pants and baseball caps.
“The ones sitting alone, the loners, um, inside on the bench in black are the Goths,” Pia added. “And the ones in the parking lot by their trucks chewing chaw are the hicks.”
Why were there all these groups? So complicated and daunting. Was she supposed to come to school appearing a certain way so people could pull out a checklist and say, okay, Kaila is X. But to which X did she belong?
“There’s the skaters out in the parking lot,” Melissa said.
“And a ton of wannabes and posers,” added Pia, crumpling her brown lunch bag.
Kaila said nothing, digesting the school groups. Then, she saw way off under a distant tree the mysterious “cult.” Kaila was dying to know about them and Jordyn. “What about them?” she pointed.
Melissa and Pia held a hand above their eyes and squinted.
“Weird. I didn’t see ’em there before,” Melissa said. “This is the first time they came out of their area. They usually hang in the back field away from everybody.”
In their silver overalls, the group stood in one line, side by side, looking at everyone on the school grounds, saying nothing, just staring beneath dark sunglasses.
“I met one of the guys this morning,” Kaila said.
“Yeah? What was he like?” Melissa asked.
“Very intense.”
“Really?” Pia said. “That’s the exact word I heard others say when meeting them. There’s something weird going on with them.”
“They’re weird cause they were raised in that cult,” Melissa said.
“There’s more to it than that,” Pia said. “I was next to one in the office over the summer. She gave me the creeps. Felt like she raped my mind or something.”
Though perspiration trickled down the back of Kaila’s neck, she shivered. That was exactly what she had felt. Jordyn had gotten inside her head. Still, she didn’t want to admit that she thought he was really hot and was dying to see him again.
“Hey look,” someone shouted. “The freakin’ aliens are out to play!”
Everyone gathered under the shaded walkway and peered at the group way off under the tree.
“That’s a good name for them,” Pia said.
“What?” Kaila asked.
“The aliens. That’ll be their name.”
Kaila thought this was mean but didn’t say so. “Aliens, prep, gangsta, skaters, hicks, geeks, so then what are you?” she asked Melissa and Pia.
“We’re undefinables,” said Melissa. “And that’s what to be because you can hang with everybody and wear and do whatever you feel. There’s a lot of us.”
Her appetite near gone, Kaila tore open her Lay’s potato chips bag.
Pia’s heavily mascaraed lashes fluttered as she touched Kaila’s long fingers on her left hand. As if burned, Kaila yanked her hand away.
“I noticed her hand too,” Melissa said, meeting Pia’s gaze. “Since we all live so close we’ll have to hang out.”
“This is going to be an interesting year,” Pia said.
Kaila knew there was some sort of subtext going on, but she couldn’t figure what. Her nerves were killing her.
A girl with long, white-blonde hair walked up to Kaila.
Kaila shrunk before this goddess with bright blue eyes. She wore a silk cornflower-blue sundress with a white belt.
“I’m Priscilla. Just wanted to say ‘hey’ and hope you’re happy here.” She seemed utterly sincere.
“Thanks. I’m Kaila.”
“Okay, nice meeting you.” Priscilla’s face grew even lovelier as she smiled. “See you around.”
Kaila turned to Melissa and Pia for interpretation.
“That’s Priscilla Snowden,” Melissa said. “She’s a prep, but she never backstabs people. Yeah, she’s so
beautiful it makes you feel like a turd. But she’s super nice and no one can find one mean thing to say about her.”
Kaila thought they said the preps were mean. How would she figure these people out? And was it necessary to find something mean to say about everyone? She shuddered, imagining what they could say about her.
The bell rang. Kaila slurped her melted smoothie and shoved her uneaten chips in her book bag. She glanced at the far off tree. The “aliens” had vanished.
As she was jostled with the crowd inside the school, a blast of air cooled her face and neck. It smelled of Pine-Sol and dirty gym socks. She heard some boys shouting: “Three, three, three!”
Pia, noting Kaila’s stricken look, whispered, “Besides dumping Douglas Lafarge in the trash, that’s a lunchtime ritual too. Albert Jackson, the big fat guy up there—see him? He eats three lunches every day.”
Kaila spied a huge boy close to three-hundred pounds. He kept his eyes downcast as three boys hounded him, raising three fingers and shouting “Three,” like jackals feeding on misery.
This was probably why Melissa didn’t want to eat a real lunch. Thinking it was shameful the way these people treated each other, Kaila bustled with the hoard in the hall. She had to hurry to make it to her advanced physics class in the modular unit in the back field.
As Kaila opened the door to her class, she immediately noticed Jordyn. He sat at a desk in the middle of the classroom. She froze. All six of the aliens were seated in the middle of the class, and they simultaneously turned to look at her. It was creepy, as if they were one unit. The fluorescent light above emitted a low buzz.
“Hello,” the teacher said from her desk in the front of the room. She had pageboy hair, curled under, holding a brassy tint from a drugstore bottle. Too much blush smeared her cheeks. “You must be Kaila.”
How did she know her name?
“I’m Mrs. Bourg,” the teacher said, peering with icy blue eyes. She rose and met Kaila in the doorway. “Come,” she said, taking Kaila’s left hand. She stared at her three long fingers, then smiled, curling her four shorter ones around them, immensely pleased as a mother lioness to her cub. “You may take a seat next to Jordyn.”
