After dropping off Joshua and Isaac, we made the two minute drive over to the high school in comfortable silence. I'm just thinking we've arrived too late to get a good spot when Angela turns around a row of cars and stops in front of a free space. There's a boy standing there, kind of short with coke bottle glasses and a goofy grin. Angela immediately brightens at the sight of him. He moves out of the way to let us park then steps around to the driver's window.
"Morning Ange," he says and I can tell right off the bat from the blush in his cheeks and the crack in his voice that he has a crush on her.
"Morning Ben. Thanks for saving a spot for me," she replies, her shy smile and softening voice reveal that she has similar sentiments.
They stay there, blushing and smiling for a minute before I speak up.
"Yes thank you Ben, now could you step aside so she can get out" I muse, almost laughing when they both look at me with embarrassed expressions.
"Oh yeah, sorry." He steps back and lets her out. I get out and meet them at the front of the car.
"Ben this is Mika. She'll be staying with my family for a while. Mika this is Ben Cheney."
He gives an awkward little wave and I return it with a nod. We set off towards the office, where Angela says I'll need to pick up my schedule, map and attendance slip. The fact that I would even need a map to navigate the school is disturbing.
Inside the office is the same welcoming atmosphere of warm paper and potted plants. Ms.Taylor looks up from her computer screen and smiles.
"Ah, it's good to see you again Ms.Mika. Hope you're ready for your first day!"
I'm wary of approaching the counter for fear of being crushed into another hug, but she just busies herself with looking through a stack of papers.
"Now I know I said Jason would be here as a tour guide for you today but he's a bit sick at the moment. I'm taking some home homemade soup over to his house on my break - Lord knows that boy has probably been surviving off of air and energy drinks as skinny as he is - and that should fix him right up. He'll be ready for tour guide duty bright and early tomorrow morning!" She assured, handing me everything I need. I realize that she must be his grandmother, or at least a great aunt of some sort for her to be going over to his house and dropping him off food. She gives a brief explanation of the campus set up, stresses that every teacher has to sign the slip, and that I must return it at the end of the day. I thank her and go back outside, reading my schedule.
"Can I see?" Angela asks timidly.
I nod and hand her the paper, having already read the building and number my first class is in.
"McCallister is your homeroom teacher, and your first period class? Ouch," Ben hisses.
"Ben, just because you don't get along with Mr. McCallister doesn't mean she won't." Ben shrugs and sheepishly looks away.
"I'm just saying, anyone who loves math or failing kids as much as that man is pure evil. He's the Mr.Crocker of Pre-Calc."
"C'mon, I have Economics just down the hall from you. After this you might have to rely on the kindness of strangers until lunch. It seems like you're taking quite a few AP and upper division classes. You must have been pretty busy at your old school." Angela starts walking down one of the pathways and towards a building my map labels the math sector.
I follow beside her, easily keeping up with her long but gawky strides while Ben trots to keep up. A few people wave and call out greetings to the two but as soon as my unfamiliar face moves into view they lose their open demeanor. Whispers fly and gazes burn into me. Nothing I'm not used to.
"Here we are. Room 233," Angela proclaimed, stopping in front of a door.
Ben mutters something about the gate of hell under his breath but smiles innocently when Angela asks him to repeat himself. Even though there's still a few minutes left before class officially starts, the entire class already seems to be in their seats. They're all talking quietly while a tall man with a beard like shag carpeting writes complicated formulas on the whiteboard.
After getting him to sign my attendance slip, which he does with no small amount of attitude, I am allowed to pick any free seat in the room. There are only three open and all three are located in the front row directly in front of the teachers desk. I chose the one closest to the window and sit down.
Fifty-five minutes later, I exit the class somehow disliking math even more than when I entered. I make my way through the next few classes without too much of a problem, choosing not to ask for directions. I get plenty of stares and a few whispers here and there walking down the hallways, but nothing a pointed look in their direction couldn't fix. I've always found it funny how people can stare you down and blatantly talk about you when they think you weren't looking, but clam up when you face them head on.
When the bell rings for lunch, there's only two periods left in the day. After gathering a tray full of food, I scope out the lunchroom for a table. Angela is nowhere to be found. That's good I guess, since I don't really want to rely on her for a seat.
After a moment more of deliberation, I head for an unoccupied group of circular tables on the far side of the lunchroom, up against the windows. I place my tray on one and sit down. I immediately suck my teeth, realizing that I forgot to grab a plum from the salad bar. I get back up and approach the bar. As I'm trying to pick out a nicely ripened one, I realize the buzz of conversation that had served as a quiet background since my entry into the cafeteria stopped. Wondering what could have possibly inspired the sudden silence, I turn to scan the lunchroom. Everyone's attention is focused on the table my tray and bookbag are occupying and the three figures standing near it.
My breath stutters as I recognize the same rusty-red head of hair I'd seen just two days ago outside of the office. In almost the same instance, he turns to look at me. I expect the same feeling I'd experienced before to hit me full force, I even brace for it.
One beat,
Two.
Nothing. I breathe again, confused but relieved.
"Mika?"
Angela is standing beside me, a tray in her hands and her bag on her arm. Her face screwed into the same look of concern as her mother's had been after I collapsed against the car.
"Are you alright?" she asked, shifting her food to one hand so she can rest the other against my arm.
I take a moment to clear my throat while shaking my head.
"Um..." I can't bring myself to form an excuse for my behavior, and telling the truth behind it would garner more of an explanation that I am ready or willing to give to anyone anymore.
Looking back to the table, I see that the Rusty ones head is now sitting at a slight angle, as if he is questioning himself on something. The other two are looking this way as well. One is a girl, so slight and small that I would almost mistake her for a child were it not for the fact that she obviously attends this high school. She pulls on the arm of Rusty, encouraging him to lean down towards her to presumably whisper something in his ear. How far he has to bend to put his ear near her lips would be funny were it not for the situation. My attention is drawn from them as the other boy there moves to sit at a different table a few spaces away. He sets his tray down on the table, in a spot facing away from where my things lie. This one is blond, similarly to Carlisle, but his has more of a honeyed tint to it.
"Um... what?" she asks, grabbing my attention again.
"I'm alright," I lie.
She doesn't appear to believe me but she doesn't ask again.
"If you want, you can sit at our table," she gestures to the other side of the room. "I see you already picked a spot, but I don't know if it would be possible for you to sit with the Cullens. Not that you aren't allowed to or anything, it's just," her voice trails off.
I can almost feel her apprehension at the situation. I want to say fuck it, take the L and just have the plum for lunch, but I know my pride and growling tummy will not stand for it. I take a deep breath to steady myself, then pick my head up, push my shoulders back and head straight for where my tray lies. To my surprise, Angela follows right beside me but hangs back once I get closer to the table.
Rusty and the little one have now joined their blond friend at the other table. I have to pass them in order to reach my things. Once I'm a few feet away, I feel it. It comes on slower this time, the pit yawning itself wide open in my stomach. It's never been this way before. In most cases it's only a brief sensation, like passing by an air conditioned doorway on a hot day. You feel it for a moment then it's gone before you really get to appreciate it. And even then, I'm usually reminded of a color, maybe a smell. I try to hang on to it sometimes, because it's a rare occurrence. That Carlisle was the first person I'd "felt" since stepping foot in this town. It also happened to be the strongest sense I've gotten from anyone in my working memory. And now here I am feeling the exact same thing from people I can only assume are his family.
I finally pass them and sit down at the table. The feeling lessens, but not much and with it now sits a seed of nervousness.. Having my back to them is no comfort either, but it beats risking eye contact were I to face them. Angela takes a seat beside me and sets her things down.
"'I'm surprised they actually moved. This is kind of the Cullens spot. They sit here every day at lunch," she says quietly, opening her juice.
I nod, wishing I had known this before. She goes on to make polite conversation, asking how my day has been thus far and how I'm liking my classes. I answer her between mouthfuls of my food. I try to take deep breaths to steady my heart and the pulse I feel drumming in my ears.
Minutes tick away and Angela becomes occupied with something on her phone. I wonder if it is her friends at another table asking her what is going on. With nothing to distract me I start to focus even more on the sensation wrestling for room in my stomach and the anxious pressure building on my chest. It's become more and more pervasive the longer that I sit here. If I wasn't the firm believer in not wasting food that I am, I would get up, dump my tray, then leave. I pause in my meal and try to chug down some water from my bottle, but have to stop when it feels like I'm about to vomit. Angela notices and immediately asks again if I am alright. She leans closer and starts rubbing circles into my back with her hand.
I hear a window open, then feel a cool breeze. I can't look up but I know it must have been one of them. Maybe it's the air or the rhythmic motion Angela is making, but some of the anxiousness I've been feeling starts to relieve itself. The blood rushing in my ears quiets down enough that I can hear her imitating the deep breaths I tried to take earlier. I catch on and breath with her. Moments pass and all I'm left with is a feeling of exhaustion and that same pit, if not a bit smaller now. I chance a look upwards just in time to see the blond boy turn and walk away from the opened window between our tables.
Angela is asking if she should walk me to the nurse. I notice that most of the lunch room is beginning to thin out as people leave for their next period class, and I watch as the pale trio dump their full trays into the garbage can and leave as well.