Chapter Five
It was Dylan.
“Hi…” I said, noticing that his basic style hadn’t changed very drastically from Saturday morning to now. He had on a pair of scuffed up jeans, a T-shirt, and Jordans.
“Holy crap, you look fucking different,” Dylan observed. “What the hell happened?”
“Eh. Everything was packed away,” I half lied.
“Oh no. Please don’t tell me that this is how you normally dress,” he groaned. I shrugged my shoulders, my eyes darting about at the stares and gaping mouths sent my way. What a fun day this’ll be!
“Where’s room five-twelve?” I asked.
“Down that hallway,” he said, pointing.
“Thank you,” I said, walking in the direction he had pointed to.
“Wait, wait, wait!” he said, coming along side me. “You’re in homeroom 512?”
“Uh… I think so,” I said, amazed that this school had lacked all creativity and originality to name the homerooms after the number of the room in which they were held. Last year, the different homerooms were named after different animals found in the state. I was in the longhorn one. Yeah, I still don’t have a clue what a longhorn is...
“Oh shit. Babe, I hate to break it to you, but that’s the bitch homeroom,” he said, patting my shoulder in consolation.
“Excuse me?” I said, as we made our way down the hall.
“All the bitches are in that homeroom,” he said.
“I don’t get it…”
“There’s a group of girls, you’ll meet them, and they’re bitches. The teachers group them together because one year they were broken up and complained to their parents. It was a whole thing,” he explained.
“Oh…” I said simply, looking at the plastic numbers placed on the centers of the doors as we passed them.
“Look Liz, I know you’re hot and all, but please, don’t become one of them,” he said. I had to roll my eyes at that one, not that I think he noticed, but come on! Calling me hot? No. When I was a freshman, some idiot had the audacity to call me hot, and I told him I wasn’t a temperature, and then I socked him in the eye. We didn’t talk after that incident.
“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. “By the way, I know I’m the new girl and all, but why are people giving looks as though they want to kill me?”
“One, you’re hot, and they’re jealous. Two, who are you walking with right now?” he said.
“Uh… you,” I answered, unsure of how this related to the resentful looks I was receiving.
“Who am I?”
“Dylan…” I said, still very confused.
“You know what, let’s start over, and reintroduce ourselves,” he stated, nodding his head as if to agree with himself.
“Okay…” I said, silently searching for room 512 as if my life depended on it, which at this point, it just may have.
“You start,” he said.
“Umm… I’m Elizabeth Turner; the new girl who hates labels,” I said, realigning the backpack that was weighing heavily on my shoulder.
“I’m Dylan Collins; the boy who people misjudge the hell out of, and who wants to get out of this shitty place,” he said.
“Okay…” I said, unsure of my correct response to his remark.
“Look, you’re a pretty blonde, and I’m me. We shouldn’t even be socializing right now,” he said, as I saw “500” appear on one of the doors. Twelve more away…
“Why not?”
“Because of what the losers at this school think.”
“And what exactly do they think?” I asked, stopping at a door had “512” etched on the front.
“I’ll let you figure that out for yourself. This is your homeroom. Hope you don’t die. Sorry if my talking to you crippled your social status,” he said, nodding his head at me, and leaving before I had a chance to respond. I shook my head, taking a deep breath. The bitch homeroom? Right. We’ll see about that…
My hand outstretched for the doorknob, and I turned it, pulling the door open. I stepped onto the glossy, white, tiled floor, and entered the room, mentally preparing myself for anything thrown my way. I saw an empty desk at the front of the room, and zeroed in on it, walking over. I set my bag down, and sat down in the seat, smoothing my skirt down. Skirts suck.
“Hey! Are you the new girl?” a brunette girl asked me the minute I was finally settled. Her lips were coated in something shimmery, and her face looked too fake to even be mistaken for real.
“Uh… yeah,” I said.
“Were you the girl who walked in with Eric Wilson?” another girl asked. She too was wearing more makeup than needed, but had a tanner complexion than the first girl. Her hair was dark, close to black, and looked to be naturally straight.
“Yeah,” I nodded, “he drove me.”
“Unbelievable,” the first girl shook her head.
“Crazy,” the second girl agreed.
“Hi, I’m Alice,” said another girl whom I hadn’t noticed. She had a minimal fakeness about her that was less than the other too, but still present. Her hair was sprawled across her shoulders in perfectly blonde curls. Her hair color was like mine, but darker, resulting in a dirty blonde tone. She a simple look about her that for some reason gave me the overall sense of security.
“Elizabeth,” I said, standing to match the three’s height.
“Oh! Sorry! I’m Lauren,” the brunette girl said. Lauren. It fits her.
“And I’m Tara,” the dark haired girl said. Again, very fitting.
“Now that we’re all introduced, why did Eric Wilson drive you to school?” Lauren demanded.
“Uh… I was going to take the bus, but he saw me, and asked if I wanted a ride…” I said, feeling as though I was being prosecuted for some heinous crime.
“Wait, so he stopped his car, and asked if he could take you?” Tara questioned for clarification.
“Yeah…”
“Did you guys talk?” Lauren asked.
“I guess,” I shrugged, not knowing why it was such a big deal.
“I think it’s finally happened,” Tara declared.
“I know. Wow. I can’t believe it,” Lauren agreed.
“What am I missing?” I asked Alice.
“Eric Wilson doesn’t date,” she explained, “he’ll flirt with girls, occasionally take them out, but it never gets serious. He’s never had a girlfriend.”
“Okay… so?” I said.
“So, the fact that he stopped his car, asked if you needed a ride, talked to you, and walked you in is like the biggest thing in the world!” Lauren exclaimed. I disagreed with her statement- when the Red Sox won the World Series back in ’04, that was the biggest thing in the world.
“How so?” I asked.
“He probably think’s your hot, which you are,” Tara said, quickly adding, “and he might like your personality or something too.”
“Did Eric bring you here, like to the room?” Lauren asked.
“No,” I shook my head, “Dylan did.”
“Dylan…” Alice said, searching for a last name.
“Collins..? I think that’s what his last name was,” I said.
“Dylan Collins? You were talking to Dylan Collins?!” Tara said, shock spread through her entire face.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Oh my god! Sweetie… don’t talk to Dylan, he’s not worth it. He’s trash,” Lauren explained, giving me a sympathetic look, as if I was naïve to the culture they were used to, which to be honest, I was. I didn’t know how things went around here, and I’m sure in their worlds, talking to Dylan is like committing social suicide. Dylan seemed nice, so I didn’t plan on taking into account what these girls said, but they didn’t need to know that.
“She’s right,” Tara backed up, tucking a piece of her dark hair behind her ear. A loud ringing sound hit my ears, and I was uncertain what to do.
“That’s the bell,” Lauren said. I nodded, picking up my backpack from the floor, and slinging it on my back. Lauren, Tara, and Alice went over to another side of the room, each picking up identical purses in design, but varying in color. Lauren had a pink one, Tara purple, and Alice bright blue. The bags looked like something my mom would have… in fact, I think she did have one of those purses. They had a zipper on the top, and brown flap covering it, that buttoned to the other side. I forget what they were called, but I knew I had seen them before.
“Bye Elizabeth!” Lauren said cheerily, waving to me, so I caught a glimpse of her light pink nails.
“See ya later!” Tara said as she and Lauren walked past me, matching strides.
“Once you get to know them, you’ll like them,” Alice assured me, staying behind with me.
“They seem nice,” I commented.
“No they don’t. They seem fake, superficial, and like bitches. They’re not, they have good hearts, and for the most part, good intentions,” she said.
“Oh.”
“They like you, don’t worry.” I wasn’t…
“You think?” I asked, though it didn’t truly matter to me.
“Absolutely. What class do you have first?”
“Honors Physics,” I answered, recalling the schedule I had reviewed the night before.
“Really? Me too! Let’s go!” she said, smiling at me, and taking a step towards the door, waiting for me to follow. “Oh, and Elizabeth, welcome to Madison!”
Welcome to Madison, indeed…