Chapter One
Meeting Mr. Wright
It was the first day of my freshman year of high school and I was pumped. I'd been looking forward to this day since my sister, Alyssa, had started four years ago. Her experience, from what she'd told me, had been wonderful, and I was hoping it would be just as good for me.
"Hey, Caitlyn!"
I turned around to see my best friend, Mindy, coming up the concrete path that led from the sidewalk to the front steps of my brand new school. Mindy and I had been best friends since third grade. That was the year I'd gotten braces and she stood up to a girl that had been making fun of me and told her off. Since then, we'd been inseparable. She liked me, she said, because I was clever and a bit of an anchor to keep her out of too much trouble. "Not to say you're no fun or anything," she would add hastily. "But you think things through better than I do." I liked Mindy because...well, everybody liked Mindy. It was just hard not to.
"You ready for school?" Mindy asked happily.
"I've been ready since fifth grade," I declared.
"Do you think anyone will make the connection between you and your sister?" Mindy asked as we started up the front steps to the glass doors.
"Maybe the teachers," I said. "When they see the last name. But I don't really look like her, do I?"
"Not in the face," Mindy admitted. "But you both have the same hair colors and your eyes are almost identical, so that might be enough. And maybe she told people about you."
"Doubt it," I scoffed. "Alyssa was, like, Queen B. The last thing she was going to talk about was her little sister. She was too busy partying and having a good time."
"Well, who knows? Once it gets out, you might be able to get into some cool parties just by virtue of relationship." There was a hopeful look on Mindy's face. "And, of course, you'll be bringing your best friend along, right?"
"I don't need to bring you to parties, Mindy," I told her. "You'll get in off your looks."
It was the truth. Mindy was very pretty, with long, raven hair and bright green eyes. Her face was always clear of acne and she had one of the prettiest smiles I'd ever seen in my life.
"Thanks," Mindy said, and blushed. "You will, too."
I smiled and shook my head. It was a stretch, to say I was as pretty as Mindy. I had a nice body, I knew; it was one of a short list of things I shared with my sister. Otherwise, I was pretty normal. I mean, sure, I was blond-haired and blue-eyed, and that always made people look twice. But I had a big nose and almost nonexistent lips. During seventh grade, Mindy had read that biting your lips made them bigger. I'd bitten mine so hard that I ended up with a bloody lip.
I wasn't ugly, and I was sure I'd get a boyfriend or to at some point. But I wasn't the sort of person that got invited to parties because she was cute.
"What class do you have first?" Mindy asked as we got to our lockers. We'd been very pleased to find that we only had two separating us.
"English," I said, and smiled. English was my favorite class, and easily the one I was best at. There was just something about words and grammar that I got. My junior high English teacher told me I should be a journalist. I liked the idea. "What about you?"
"P.E."
I grimaced and looked over at Mindy, who laughed at my expression.
"It's not so bad," she said. "There are actually showers in the locker rooms here. Your sister told me last year. So I won't have to walk around all sweaty or anything. Besides, we're required to have a year of P.E."
"Well, I'm putting mine off as long as possible," I said, shaking my head.
"You just don't want to lose your chest," Mindy said, gesturing at it. It was one thing I had over my best friend. While she barely made a B, I was nearly bursting out of a C. It was selfish, and a little mean, but I was happy I had something that made Mindy jealous, since she got most of the looks.
"I'm not worried about my chest,' I said. "I just don't like the feeling of being sweaty. It's why I do so badly in those classes."
"It's a shame. You'd be really good at sports if you'd stop worrying about sweat and just tried."
"I'm not a sporty girl. That's just the way it is. I'll leave all that stuff to you." I smiled at Mindy and she smiled back. Then we started down towards our classes, splitting off at the end of the hall, her heading off toward the gym and me going upstairs to my English classrooom.
It turned out my old English teacher had talked me into an AP class, which made me sort of pumped. Granted, it was only AP for freshman. But it was still something to brag about to Mindy when I saw her at the lockers later.
"You must be Caitlyn," the teacher, an older woman with curly gray hair and a kind smile said from behind her desk as I walked in. I was a little surprised. Back in junior high, the teachers always referred to me as Miss Abad.
"I am," I told her, and looked around the room. It was, I guessed, the classroom they used for their normal English classes. There were at least thirty seats crammed into it. But only four, right at the very front of the room, were occupied. I walked past four pairs of watching eyes and sat down at the end before looking back and taking in the faces.
The desk closest to me held a girl who, despite obviously being a freshman, too, looked like she would be better suited for an elementary class, given that her wavy brown hair was pulled back with a headband, her skirt sported flowers and her cheeks were super pink. She smiled brightly at me and I smiled back before looking at the next seat.
This one held a boy, and I blushed at the sight of him watching me, only because he was cute, though not in the typical way. Rather than being muscular, broad-jawed and wide, he was rather gangly with thick, black glasses that hung off the end of his nose. But his hair was a sandy brown color and he had a pleasant face. Much like the girl, he gave me a big smile when our eyes met. Unlike the girl, it made my heart do a little dance in my chest.
The last two chairs were also occupied by girls, one with flaming red hair and a shy smile and the other with a rounder girl with brown hair and a guarded expression as though she was getting ready for someone to start telling her off.
"So this is the whole group," the teacher said.
My eyes widened and I glanced over at the other kids. They seemed as equally shocked as me, which made me feel a little better.
"I know most of you didn't sign up for this class," the teacher said. "It wasn't an available option when you signed up for your classes. But the school board brought it on; thought it would be good to let you guys flourish as much as possible in a class we could fine tune to you. You could say you're my guinea pigs this year. We selected you based on teacher recommendations; so if you ever see your teacher, be sure to thank them; it's a compliment."
The teacher was smiling in such a way that made me want to smile to and she met my eye and winked. I grinned even broader and we both giggled.
"My name," she said. "is Mrs. Linda. Before you ask, yes, Linda is my first name. No, I do not allow any of my other students to call me Mrs. Linda. However, I thought that we could be a little more casual in this class. And for that reason..."
Mrs. Linda disappeared through a door behind her desk and came out a moment later dragging a large, black bean bag chair behind her. She sat it down in front of the classroom and sank lazily into it.
"If you'll all go through that door there, you'll find five more bean bag chairs. Don't worry, they're all exactly the same so you don't have to fight over the best one. Go on, now."
All five of us got to our feet, a little hesitantly, and started to the front of the room, walking around the teachers desk and through the door. It led us into one appeared to be nothing more than a very large closet. All the walls were covered in shelves that were piled with books, both text and novels, papers, binders and boxes of classroom items. And sitting against one of the walls was a group of bean bag chairs, grouped together. Just like Mrs. Linda's, they were big and black.
I made a point of staying behind the others. They all went and got their own chairs, then went back out into the classroom. All except the tall, gangly boy who lifted one of the chairs and handed it to me.
"I hope you're not one of those feminine sorts that think chivalry is dead," he said.
I blushed. I could feel it; the heat rushing into my cheeks. And I could read it in the boys expression as he grinned, still holding the bean bag up to me. I took it hesitantly.
"N-no, not at all," I said.
"Good," he said. "I hate girls like that."
"Me, too," I said quickly, then sort of regretted it. I didn't have a problem with girls that wanted to be able to do things for themselves. But I wanted to have things in common with the boy.
"I'm Devon," he said, and held out the hand that wasn't holding a bean bag. "Devon Wright."
"Caitlyn Abad," I said, and when I reached out to take his hand, I forgot I was holding my bean bag chair and dropped it on the floor. Blushing again, this time in embarrassment, I bent over to pick it up at the same time that Devon did. Our heads collided and I groaned, rubbing it.
"You okay?" Devon asked, rubbing his own forehead.
"Fine," I said. "It's you I'm worried about... My thick skull might have done permanent damage."
I wanted to smack myself. Why had I said something so stupid? My thick skull? Did I want him to think I was stupid and incompetent? I looked up, my mouth opening as my mind raced to find a way to take back the words, but Devon was chuckling.
"Your head doesn't seem thick to me," he said, and pushed his forefinger against it.
I smiled at him, then lifted my bean bag chair and carried it out into the classroom.
The desks in the room had been pushed back against the walls and the bean bags were all sitting in a circle with a big space left for me and Devon. I put my chair down by the teacher and Devon dropped is next to mine. On his other side was the bubbly, young-looking girl, then the shy redhead and the pudgy, defensive girl was on the other side of Mrs. Linda.
"Alright, then," Mrs. Linda said, and reached down on the side of her chair, picking up clipboards. "If you'll each take a clipboard. They'll be our make-shift desks this year."
The clipboards went around and then a we each got a small packet of papers. The front page was a welcoming, followed by a general overview of the class and a list of possible topics they might cover. I was pleased to see that there was more reading involved than writing. I was good at writing, but I preferred reading and critiquing better. Finally, there was a sheet to have your parent or guardian sign and date, and then you had to sign it yourself.
"This is just a basic syllabus," Mrs. Linda said. "I don't know if you guys got these in grade school or junior high, but it's just a basic overview of what we're going to be doing in this class. You'll notice there's not a lot of things that are set in stone. I'm going to require two written assignments every quarter and there will be a test every now and then, but I'll never throw anything on you without warning you first.
"On the third page you'll see a list of some possible projects and books we might get into. They vary in difficulty level. The first few weeks this year I'm going to be gauging your capabilities in English from comprehensive reading to creative writing to essays... We're going to cover a lot of things. I want to know what you guys are most comfortable with and figure out what your weak points are. One of my goals is to hone your skills through group work and also one-on-one sessions with me.
"Any questions?"
"Are we going to be reading boring books?" the perky girl asked.
"No, Mariah, we are not," Mrs. Linda said, smiling. "At least, not in my opinion. That's the great thing about this class. Everything that we read is going to be something the class decides on as a group."
"Will we be working in poetry?" the redhead asked.
"Yes, we will." Mrs. Linda beamed at her. "Your teacher sent me some of your work, Katrina. You're a wonderfully talented little poet."
Katrina's cheeks when red and she looked away.
"Another treat for you all: after our first semester together, I'm hoping that you'll all stick around for another semester and that we'll be so tuned into our English and Literature gears that we can get involved in some contests. Essays, creative writing, poetry... I have connections, ladies and gentleman. I can get you into some pretty good ones that can give scholarships, and even pocket money."
Mariah squealed, clapping her hands together. "That's so exciting!"
"Isn't it?" Mrs. Linda said, clearly pleased with this response. I was starting to like her; she was very fun and very bubbly. I knew I'd get along with her just fine.