~Emmalyn~
Being the new kid anywhere sucks.
Heart High School was a freaking labyrinth, with twists and unforeseeable turns at every corner, kids streaming down the hall and shoved up against lockers; perched on the window seats and filing into classrooms. I gulped, weaving my way tentatively and cautiously to the office that, mercifully, was in the front of the school and in clear view. I hoped they provided maps and possibly GPS devices if I were to become lost.
I pushed open the door to the office and stumbled in, letting the noise of the hallways fade away. I sucked in a deep breath, cleansing the pounding in my skull.
"First day, huh? You must be Emmalyn."
My eyes snapped open to the secretary. She was smiling at me, glasses perched low on her nose. I nodded, walking over. "Yeah, that's me."
"I thought so." She popped her gum and I smelled the strawberry flavoring. She slid a folded up white sheet of paper over the desk to me. "Here's your schedule. I know it's a very confusing school but there's a map in there. It's pretty clear-cut, so you shouldn't have any problems. Any questions?"
I glanced at my first class which also happened to be my homeroom. English. "Do you think you can pity the new kid and tell her how to get to her first class?"
The secretary nodded, pointing toward the direction of the doors. "When you leave the office, go straight down this hallway here. That's the English hall. Your room will be down there."
"Thank you." My shoulders sagged with the relief of one burden off my shoulders. I stuck my schedule in my back pocket and wove my way through the crowds. I happened upon my room and pushed it open. I just about died with happiness when I saw it was empty inside. I needed a few moments to catch my breath.
"Emmalyn?"
Startled, I spun around to come face-to-face with the quirkiest teacher I had ever seen. He had flyaway grey hair and a face just starting to retain some wrinkles. His thick glasses magnified his eyes and he was tall. "U-um . . . Yeah, that's me."
He grinned a wide-tooth smile. "Excellent! I'm Mr. Matthews." He held out his hand. I shook it uncertainly. "I'll be your AP Literature teacher this year. I'm rather excited to get to know you, I must say. This school hasn't seen a new student in twenty years."
I smiled awkwardly. "I'm honored to break the lull."
He laughed. "I do suppose you are!"
What a strange man. He didn't say anything after that exclamation, just stared expressively at me. I blinked a few times before I started backing up, choosing a seat in the back-what new kid would sit in the front?-and slumping down. So my morning as the new kid wasn't terrible. I still had the whole rest of the day to go, though.
A bell blared through the intercom, signaling for the students to drudge on to class. The door whipped open and kids began filing in. It was a Monday and the first day of school, so everything I expected to see I saw; bags under the eyes, murderous glares, the occasional kid smiling and bouncing along. It was almost comical.
"Emmalyn! Hey!"
The realest smile in a long while spread across my face at the sound of a familiar voice. Rose ambled down the aisle and crashed into the seat in front of me, vibrating with excitement.
"You're in my English class? This is great! You know, I heard this guy starts every year with a project. Maybe we'll be partners!"
"Maybe," I replied, not minding her overzealous enthusiasm. I was just glad to have a friend.
Some of those who entered, the more alert ones, registered the fact that a student nobody had seen before was present. But majority of the teens trudged by unspoken. And quite oblivious.
"You have such a lively school," I mumbled to Rose, who just chuckled.
"Believe me, this is us at our best day," she replied. "We're slow to excite and about as apathetic as anything."
I nodded, leaning back. I would believe it.
"Good morning, class!" Mr. Matthews boomed, unceremoniously slamming the door shut, snapping everyone awake in their seats. "That's right, give me your eyes and ears, because there will be no time for napping in here!"
Admittedly, I was a little bit scared.
He strode to his desk and leaned back against it. "First of all, I'm Mr. Matthews. You can call me Mr. M if by some inane handicap you're kept from addressing me by my given title."
That raised a few interested snorts. An insane old guy as a teacher? Bring it on.
"As some of you may have heard, I do assign all my AP Lit classes a semester-long project. Most of you will not understand the significance of this assignment and I'm sure just about all of you will whine and moan and request partner changes because you are unhappy. So just so we can get it out of the way now, there are no changes. What I say is final. You are free to express your dissatisfaction, however I will not take your opinion into account and I will not deviate from my original instruction. Clear?"
Astounding, shocked silence answered him. He smiled.
"Excellent, glad you understand. Now," he clapped his hands once, sharply. "For this assignment, you and your partner will choose a classic novel, movie, poem, anything like that which accurately expresses your relationship with the other. I've found it's a relatively more inviting and enrapturing project. I expect you to actually learn something about the other. That's what it's for, after all, and you're stuck with them for half a year so you better find a way to get along."
More silence. Mr. Matthews had stunned us into muteness.
"You all made me do this," he continued, shaking his head. "Because God forbid any of you read Black Beauty or Huckleberry Finn. So I had to dive within the creative recesses of my mind and pull this out. So just thank yourselves.
"Alright. Now that that is out of the way, just one more formality before moving on to the partners. We have a new student among us, everyone. I think we should all get to know her a little bit if she'll let us." He grabbed a paper behind him and began reading off it. "Emmalyn . . . Hall?" he paused after he said the last name, and then finally glanced up one more time, carefully masking his surprise. But I caught it. He acted like he recognized it. Should he?
Everyone's eyes turned to me. My face burned as I focused on Mr. Matthews in the front of the class. "Yes?"
"Would you like to tell us something about yourself?"
"Not particularly."
He nodded. "Alright, then. It's always an option, of course, I won't pressure it." He flopped the paper down. "So, I've taken the liberty of carefully designing and constructing these partnerships myself. The first pair is Rose and Lucas."
Rose sent me an eager look full of anticipation and excitement. "This is great!" she whispered to me. "I mean, horrible because I wanted to pair with you, but great because I've had a crush on him since eighth grade!"
I grinned, though it felt like a grimace. "That's good!" I whispered back.
She composed herself before turning around. Mr. Matthews continued rambling off names of partners until he reached me. I was the very last to be paired.
"Emmalyn and Rhys."
For the second time that day the whole room lapsed into silence. It lasted about four seconds, and then a couple people off to the sides began whispering. I frowned, confused. Mr. Matthews sidled around his desk and began shuffling through papers. Rose turned to me with a sympathetic look in her eyes.
"Why does everybody keep looking at me like that?" I questioned, feeling the stares but trying my hardest to ignore them.
"Because," she mumbled. "You're partners with Rhys."
I blinked. "And?"
"And he's Rhys."
"I still don't understand . . ."
"He's just bad news, okay?" she quipped, peering worriedly at me. "I don't know why Mr. Matthews would pair you-the new girl-with a loaded down guy like him."
Peering around the classroom, I saw nobody that could possibly fit her description. "Where is he? Is he here?"
She laughed, shaking her head. "Rhys? Nah, if he shows up he'll be late."
"Oh." Great, so my partner was a delinquent.
"Since it's the first day of school and no teacher actually plans any learning for today, why don't you all get with your partner and start learning a little bit about them, yes? That sounds like a great idea! Get to it."
Much to my surprise, the class actually shuffled around to meet with their assigned buddy. A tall guy with a charming smile, dimples, and wavy blond hair fell into a seat beside Rose. "Hey, Rose."
"Hi, Luke." Rose's face was red and she looked like if he said one more word she would swoon and die.
"So what do you think about this project? Lame, right?"
She shrugged. "Not sure yet. We haven't started it."
"True." He cast me a side-glance. "You're Emmalyn, right? I'm sorry."
I exhaled slowly. "For what?"
"For having to be paired with Rhys. He's a rough guy."
I threw my hands up. "Where is this guy? Everybody keeps talking so darkly about him but I have yet to even see what he looks like!"
Rose opened her mouth to respond, but didn't get a chance to. No sooner had I finished my angry exclamation than the door to the class slammed open, rattling the wall and alerting the class to the violent intrusion. My eyes widened. The boy was tall, and bigger in build than most high school guys tended to be. He wore thickly soled brown boots and jeans with a hole at the knee, along with a black t-shirt. His dress spoke volumes about his character, but that wasn't what struck me the most.
No, it was the tattoo peeking out of his shirt collar and the piercing in his ear. His hair was short and brown, the same color as his eyes, the most intense I had ever seen. And if it were possible, they were glaring at every single person in the class, all at once.
"That's Rhys," Rose squeaked, and I knew I was in trouble.
"Hello, Mr. Richardson," Mr. Matthews greeted when the boy in question had yet to move and nobody in the class offered a seat. His presence was powerful and demanding and just the teensiest bit frightening. He didn't respond to the teacher. He continued standing at the door, as if daring somebody to comment on it.
"Good luck with that one," Luke mumbled to me, shaking his head. "Of course, I suppose somebody had to get him."
Yeah, and that obscure "somebody" always seemed to be me.
Joy.
"I've already assigned partners and explained the project," Mr. Matthews said. "But perhaps your companion can explain everything to you. She's in the back. Emmalyn?"
Swallowing hard, I reluctantly drew my gaze to the front. Rhys's eyes locked with mine and burned a hole of contempt straight through me. Well. This would be a delightful experience.
Slowly, with deliberate steps, Rhys meandered his way down the aisle. I watched as people shrank away, lowering their eyes or turning their heads. If it bothered Rhys, or if he even had any indication it was happening, he didn't let on. He dropped his ragged backpack to the floor and sprawled into a chair, stretching his long legs out. He didn't stop staring at me. I had an itch to look away but I didn't. Everybody else was and I wasn't going to give him that, because I knew it was what he expected.
I was pretty sure I threw everybody for a loop when I actually smiled at him and said, "Hi, I'm Emmalyn."
He stared at me, intense brown eyes trailing over my features. I felt like I was being examined for approval. My heartbeat increased and I began anxiously gnawing on my lower lip. His stony expression didn't change.
"Come on, Richardson, at least be civil to the new girl," Luke offered, either aiding in my rescue or ultimate destruction. "After all, she's the only one that knows little enough about you to actually not mind hanging around you."
Rhys growled and slammed his hand on his desk. I wasn't sure about that last part Lucas said. I was feeling pretty uneasy around the kid.
Heeding the threat, Lucas held his hands up and turned back to Rose. Rose cast me another apologetic gaze before engaging in an animated conversation with her partner. I sighed and sat back, bravely dragging my eyes over to Rhys.
He was picking at his nails, looking altogether severely unentertained. I swallowed hard. God help me, I thought, before opening my mouth. "So what is your tattoo of?"
He didn't respond.
I shifted awkwardly in my seat. "Rhys?"
"The only girls that know my tattoos are girls I get into the bed." He sneered at me. "And no offense, but, you're not my type."
Okay. So now I was majorly offended. "Good to know."
He grunted.
"Are you going to communicate with me at all? Or am I just going out on a limb here trying to establish some sort of civility between us?"
He rolled his eyes dramatically over to me. "Your voice is already starting to irritate me. Shut up."
I crossed my arms over my chest, huffing. "Well. What crawled up your ass and died this morning?"
Rhys pinned his intense brown eyes on me. They sparked with temper. I hadn't realized we had raised our voices but people in the class were staring, Rose and Lucas included. Rose looked like she wanted to help me out but every time she opened her mouth and stole one glance at Rhys she shied away.
Wow. Great help.
Rhys grabbed the edge of his desk in a white-knuckled grip. "Listen closely," he warned, voice threateningly dark. He leaned in. I forced myself not to flinch away. "I know your kind. All you goody-two-shoes freaks are all the same. You do what you're told and go home at the end of the day to help your Mommy in the kitchen and share smiles and talk about how fucking awesome life is. I don't give a shit about your rainbows and smiles life, alright?"
I stared at him hard, lips pressed into a thin line. A neutral expression. If only he knew how wrong he was.
"This class is a joke," he growled, and rose from his desk. He stormed to the door. Mr. Matthews caught him on his way out.
"Where do you think you're going, Mr. Richardson?" he asked from his desk.
"Anywhere but this circus," Rhys replied grittily, wrenched open the door and was gone. Mr. Matthews shot me a pointed look for a second, as if telling me without words it was my job to clean the disaster that was Rhys Richardson up.
I sank down in my seat.
Being the new kid stuck with a delinquent for a whole semester sucked.
"And this is the cafeteria," Rose explained as a big room enclosed by glass came into view. Kids crowded dozens of lunch tables, chatting up a storm. I was awed by it all, feeling immensely insignificant compared to the size.
Things did look up after the horrible experience that was English class. Seniors, I found out, were rewarded early leave if all credits and such things were met. I had been something of an over-achiever at my old school so, like Rose and Lucas and a few others in the twelfth grade, I could leave once half the day was done. That meant two classes and lunch and I was out. Talk about agreeable terms.
Rose had given me a brief tour of the school and now we were in the cafeteria for lunch. Some of her friends waved her over. She grabbed my arm and hauled me with her. My stomach grumbled. In all the fiasco of getting ready for a new school, I had neither packed my lunch nor brought money to buy one. My mother wasn't a huge lunch eater but food and I had an inseparable relationship. It was always there for me when people weren't.
My mother told me it was because I had the metabolism of a freakish monster. When I was little she got worried because there was a period of my life where I literally never stopped eating, and yet never gained a pound.
"You must be Emmalyn," a girl with wide yet stylish glasses and pale blonde hair spoke up. She had a kind smile.
"That's me," I commented. "How did you know?"
She popped a cherry into her mouth. "It's all around the school how Rhys treated you. He can be a real asshole, but to go off on the new girl? That's low."
I shrugged. "I've seen worse."
The whole aura of the cafeteria seemed to change, and everybody at my table felt it. I shivered, eyes drawing toward the door. Rhys entered with a couple guys in tow, who looked just as intimidating and unapproachable as him.
"The bang gang is here," the girl with the glasses muttered. "Everybody hide your children and lock away your valuables."
Rose swatted her arm. "Shut up, Jamie. They might hear you."
Jamie rolled her eyes. "Oh, God forbid. And what would they do to me, Rose? Group date rape me?"
Rose's face was serious. "I've heard rumors."
"You guys are ridiculous," a different girl with springy brown hair stated matter-of-factly. "You're just feeding fire to the absurd gossip that floats around this heinous institution. I can't believe I call you my friends."
Jamie and Rose just stared at the outspoken girl. "Darlene, nobody likes it when you talk like a freaking genius girl. So come back to high school."
Darlene waved the comment off with a flick of her wrist, digging into her salad. A half-smile curved my lips. Rose's small group of friends was rather amusing.
Rhys shoved passed a group of kids and kicked a couple out of a table so he and his entourage could sit down. The two kids-they looked frightened and scrawny, probably freshmen-gladly scurried away.
"Look at that guy," Rose muttered. "He lives to defy authority. He's like that John Bender character from that eighties movie."
I cocked my head. "The Breakfast Club?"
"Yeah!"
I chuckled. "You're right, he kind of is."
After a few momenst I shifted my attention away from Rhys, focusing on the entertaining group surrounding me. Rose and Jamie were stuffing french fries in their mouths simultaneously, and Darlene seemed to be counting. I shook my head. They were nothing like my friends from my other school.
And that was a very good thing.
~*~
"The girl of the hour arrives! Tell the world, Emma; how was your first day of school?"
I rolled my eyes at my father's antics. He had taken a little time off work since the incident at my old school. He wasn't due back for a couple weeks. He was gone a lot. I liked having him home. Weirdness and teasing aside, my dad was awesome.
After setting my bag in the foyer I strolled into the kitchen, grabbing an apple out of the bowl on the table and bit into it.
"Where's Mom?" I asked, just recognizing the resounding silence in the house.
"She went out with Clara to sort out some formalities with your . . . With your old school," he explained hesitantly. "Michael is out organizing a funeral, so it's just you and me, kiddo."
I nodded. "What does a federal agent do when he's not busting people and dishing out justice?"
He laughed. "He stays home and watches bad soap operas all day, grinding his teeth and telling himself it's not worth it to shoot the television to keep 'Days of our Lives' from airing."
The grin that surfaced creased my cheeks, I laughed so hard. "You're so stupid, Dad."
He ruffled my hair. "What every parent wants to be called by their child. 'Stupid'. Thank you, Emma, for making my dream come true."
I shoved his shoulder. "Come off it, Dad. You're so weird."
"Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
"Then I'll pretend it was one."
"Wow."
He winked. "Well, since I don't think my fatherly pride can take any more of your brutal beatings, I'm going to go back to my refuge by the TV. I think Jeopardy may be on."
I shook my head as he sauntered back into the living room. I finished off my apple and tossed the core into the trash can, loping up the stairs to my room, where I flopped down on the bed and stared thoughtfully for a moment up at the ceiling. My first day could have gone a whole lot worse. Then again, if my past experiences had taught me anything it was that things only grew worse with time. And I had a lot of time left until the end of the year.
If there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that Rhys and I wouldn't last. Mr. Matthews would be making an exception to that rule and pairing us with different people, because either I would be found dead in a ditch somewhere or Rhys would be without important bodily limbs. As it was, nothing remotely good could conceivably come out of us being together.
That was inevitable.