Cedar Valley High Series #1
Zaydence Denholm is in trouble. She and her best friend are crushing on the same guy. On her part, she views this as the ultimate betrayal. This crush alongside overbearing and emotionally detached parents, and a complica...
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I entered the classroom hoping to sit in the front. Zeriah said it helped with concentration.
Junior year was the most important year of high school. These were the grades that would determine my GPA that I entered on college applications.
This year I had to put my all into school. One, because of college, and two, to kill the feelings I had for M.C.
There were two empty seats. One next to Kenna, and the other next to Jacinda. Shivers ran down my spine. My eyes darted back and forth between them.
In the sixth grade, Jacinda told the girls not to speak to me because I liked to dig up worms. At least I didn't kill them. All I did was talk to them. Who else was I supposed to talk to?
In the seventh grade, she decided rock collecting was for boys and her cronies barred me from using the girl's bathroom. She ruined middle school for me, and the saddest part was she probably didn't even remember.
In the eight grade, I met Wyatt. For the first time in my life, I had a friend.
I hooked my backpack on the chair beside Kenna. She was the safer option. Although, the safest option would've been a random.
She wore a high puff with a Black Girl Magic clip on the side and BlarsPods in her ears—music at full blast. Tuning out the world around her one song at a time.
She doom scrolled in Nalorn. Her short nails were alternating colors—burnt orange and lime green—which matched the uniform.
Why was the most popular girl in the grade, sitting alone? This wasn't the Kenna in my mind's index cards. How had the apex predator become the prey?
Eric poked my arm, "Sure you want to sit at Chlamydia central?" Will boisterously laughed in the seat next to him.
The rumor of Kenna being passed around or ran through permeated the classroom. She appeared unbothered.
Appeared.
Is this about Mark's Bloqi post?
The laughter, the gossip, and the ostracization were all too familiar. Sooner or later this would get to her.
Guilt pinged through me like a notification.
"I'm fine where I am," I made my choice clear. She needed someone on her side. Even if it was just for this class.
Who knew what I would've done if Wyatt hadn't have befriended me. Would I even still be here?
We weren't supposed to like Kenna. We were supposed to admire her and envy her simultaneously from afar. That was the pre-determined relationship between populars and unpopulars.
She was a post on Bloqi. A name that flowed off of countless mouths. A vibe. An experience.
This didn't look like a vibe. Being forced to sit in front of an incel wasn't a vibe. Where were her witty comebacks and flawless takedowns. She was supposed to be a dream. An aspiration.
This isn't a movie.
Eric rolled his eyes, "Whatever."
Kenna tucked her BlarsPods away and gave the teacher her full attention.
The teacher clicked through an introductory slideshow. She was an Aquarius who loved Schitt's Creek and buddha bowls.
We have the same taste.
The teacher said, "I'm Ms. Ranedi, good morning, welcome back. A seating chart is being passed around, write your names on it. These will be your assigned seats for the year."
Sighs filled the air.
"Yeah, yeah, I know, it makes taking attendance and actually learning names much easier." Her heels clacked as she walked towards us. She set the sheet down on our table.
KENNA TOCLAVI. Her handwriting was neat—tiny and capital—compared to mine. It could've been a font. I held the seating chart out to the next table—Eric snatched it, scratching my finger in the process.
Asshat.
"Kenna," she smiled in my direction. Her voice was as soft as Jodie. Her dark topaz skin and the highlighter that adorned it glowed. She was prettier in person.
"Zaydence," I replied.
She said it under her breath a few times. Tested it out. Practiced. Decided if she liked how the syllables moved in her mouth.
"You got a pretty name,"
"Thanks."
Toya said the exact same thing to me, the first time we met.
It occurred to me that I had never spoken to Kenna. Only about her. Before that moment, she existed through phone screens and gossip. It was surreal how real she was.
Her phone kept going off. Bloqi notifications. She turned the ringer off, and flipped it over.
I sank into the cold chair, weighed down by my existential thoughts. Unable to focus on the lecture. I stared into space rethinking my entire high school experience.
Just a few weeks ago, I was in the car with Wyatt laughing at her expense. Here she was being made fun of by an incel. Did the power we assumed she held disappear? Was it real to begin with?
I couldn't stand to see people being bullied. Bullies mastered the art of tying barbed wire about their victims necks using their words. Silencing them in the cruelest way possible. Making them hate parts of themselves that they couldn't change.
Was I a bully? Had Wyatt and I become the bullies? What felt so right about talking fodd about the apex predator? Was it because we thought she was untouchable? Clearly, she wasn't.
She whispered, "Thank you for earlier. Eric will be Eric, but I'm glad you won't be Eric too."
I was reminded of what Penny texted me when Milo was at my house. Black girls needed to look out for each other. I'd been doing Kenna a disservice for so long, it was time to make it right.
"We have to look out for each other," I was conflicted. Half of me, meant every word, but the other half wanted to clear its guilty conscience.
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