The bell rings and now it's time for lunch, but since I forgot mine at home it doesn't look like I'm eating anything. I walk through the cafeteria but because I have no food and feel a bit overwhelmed by the place, I head for the courtyard.
Out here, I see a few people I recognize. That blonde girl named Maddie is eating with a large group of girls and someone I assume to be her boyfriend, Joey from English is just entering campus with a friend and they have McDonald's bags, and over in a shady corner eating Chinese food all alone is Dylan.
The long sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, and I watch him handle his wooden chopsticks like an expert. I sit in a shady area myself, not too far from him but not all that close either. Taking out my phone I scroll through social media a little bored, then take a picture of my new school and post it. I suddenly hear someone calling my name but the voice doesn't exactly sound familiar. I look around and finally see the girl I met at Starbucks the other day, Ivy. I guess I forgot what she sounds like...
"Anita!", Ivy waves at me and starts walking in my direction. She has a guy with her and a Starbucks iced tea in her hand. "I was hoping I'd see you at some point today."
"Well you've found me," I smile as she and her friend stand in front of me.
"Oh, this is my friend Brandon," she gestures to the guy who waves. "Brandon, this is the new girl Anita."
"Hi," he says plainly, and I wave back at him.
"Did you already finish your lunch?", Ivy asks.
"No, sadly I forgot my lunch at home so I just didn't eat anything."
"You're joking! Do you have money?"
"Yeah."
"There's a student store in the lower floor of the cafeteria. I can go with you and you can get some food."
"Nah, it's okay," I tell her. "I'm not that hungry anyway."
"If you say so," she says.
"Ivy," Brandon nudges her. "Let's go."
"Oh, right. Sorry Anita, we gotta go study for our vocabulary test next period. Do you wanna come?"
I shake my head, "I'm enjoying the sun, but thanks."
"Alright, well, I'll see you later!", Ivy calls to me as the two of them depart.
I'm alone again. I look at the time on my phone and see that it's almost noon. I'm not sure when lunch is over but it can't be much longer until that bell rings again. Deciding to find my next class early, I take out my schedule and unfold it to read where I'm supposed to go.
Advanced Placement Chemistry is next with a teacher named Mister Luthy, in the basement. I haul my backpack over one shoulder and head into the large building that I now call my school. I look for a staircase and take the stairs down to the basement where it's a little bit cooler. I follow the signs on the doors as the numbers go up, but I don't see Mister Luthy's room number anywhere.
Getting a little frustrated, I walk back down the hall and look again. There's still no sign of room number B-14 and I wonder if I'm going crazy. I see some people in the hall who look like Sophomores, so I ask them if they can tell me where the room is. A girl with blue hair and a nose piercing tells me I'm on the wrong side of the building. Again.
I thank her and go to the other side like she told me to, and almost immediately I see room B-14. Feeling relieved, I walk up to the door that's wide open. An older looking gentleman is eating a salad at his desk; this must be Mister Luthy.
I walk into the room slowly and he says hello without looking away from a paper. After a few seconds he finally looks up to see me and a look of realization seems to come over his face.
"You must be the new girl they told me about," he says. "Anita, is it?"
I nod.
"So you took AP Chem back in wherever you came from, yes?"
"Yes, I did."
"Great, I'm Mister Luthy. You should be just about where we are if your school system did things correctly. We're just starting on Covalent Bonds."
"We had just started the chapter on that before I left."
"Excellent, then it shouldn't be too hard for you to catch on with what we're doing," he looks pleased. "Now, we have partners in this class but not assigned seats. So basically every time you walk into my class you're picking your partner based on who you sit next to. Make sense?"
I nod.
"Usually people tend to sit with the same people but every now and then there's a mix-up."
The bell rings loudly, and I look at the clock on the wall. It reads 12:07, so now I know when lunch ends. Mister Luthy goes to his desk to prepare some power point he has. Not knowing what else to do, I stand at the front of the room as people slowly start to trickle into the room.
I recognize just a couple people from my other classes, but nobody I know by name walks through that door crushing my hopes of having a partner that I know. But then Dylan walks through the door and I'm just elated that someone I know is in this class. He walks over to a table in the back corner and starts taking things out of his backpack.
Some guy I don't know taps me on the shoulder and when I look, he has a smirk upon his face.
"You're really pretty," he tells me.
"Thank you," I say quietly. I'm so awkward when guys compliment me.
"Do you want to be my partner?", he asks and for some reason I don't want to say yes; something tells me not to be this guy's partner. I can't explain it.
"Sorry, I'm already working with someone else," I lie quickly.
"Oh," he looks disappointed. "Who?"
Crap, I wasn't counting on him asking that! I come up with an answer quickly, "Um, Dylan."
"Seriously?", he raises his eyebrows.
"Why's that so hard to believe?"
"Because that guy never works with anyone, he's always alone. Kind of a weirdo. But I guess no one could say no to you, huh?"
I stare back at him, "I guess not." Unsure how to continue the conversation, I head straight toward where Dylan is sitting, and I wonder how he's going to take this if he apparently always works alone.
As I take the seat next to him, he stops tapping his pencil on the desk and turns to watch me.
"What are you doing?", he asks me.
"Being your partner," I tell him.
"I don't remember you asking me."
He doesn't sound very angry but I still worry that he is.
"Well," I begin. "You're the only person in here that I know by name. Plus I think we're sort of friends by now, right? Or... maybe.. not..."
He stares at me and smiles a little, "I think you worry yourself a little too much there."
"Why do you say that?", I ask, but I'm secretly relieved that he's not mad.
"You should have seen your face. You looked scared that I was going to reject you."
"So I do get to be your partner?"
He nods, "I mean, if you're smart enough to be in this class you can't ruin our experiments too badly, can you?"
"I'm actually very good at Chemistry," I tell him as I take out a pen.
"I think I'll be the judge of that," he pauses. "Why are you using pen?"
"I can't stand to write in pencil," I explain. "I just like pens better."
"You must be confident then. Can't make any mistakes writing in pen or else you'll have to scratch them out."
"My mom bought me erasable pens," I wave the pen in front of him proudly, and he takes it from me, trying it out for himself on his paper.
"Pretty cool," he says, handing my pen back.
"Look at you, O'Brien," some guy sitting in front of us has turned around to taunt Dylan. "You're actually talking to someone for once."
"What, did you think I was deaf?", Dylan asks him.
"Just saying, you're such a loser it's pretty surprising."
Dylan gives him a look, "A loser? Really? Okay."
The guy turns back around with some laughs.
Dylan and I sit in silence for a while, during which I notice his mood seems to have fallen slightly. Finally I break the silence and ask him, "Why do people think you're such a loner or.. loser?"
"People have been telling you that about me?"
"Just a couple," I don't want him to get offended or sad or anything.
He shrugs then, "I just keep to myself. There's nobody here who really is interesting to talk to. I just don't really dig any of their personalities, and without other people I have much less to worry about."
I nod in understanding, "I get it. But isn't there at least one person whose personality you like? Don't you ever wish you had someone you could talk to?"
"Well I do now," he says with the smallest grin, and pats my shoulder gently.
~
After Chemistry, I have fourth year Spanish on the first floor for my last period of the day. I'm one of the last people to enter the room, but the class is small and I immediately see some familiar faces. Ivy, Cassie and Naomi are in here and I find myself smiling at this fact.
There's also that interesting guy with the tattoo that sits next to me in Calculus. Naomi, Ivy, and the guy are all sitting at a table together but Cassie is standing off to the side looking at some poster of Guatemala. I tap her shoulder as I walk by and motion for her to follow me, which she does.
"Anita! Hi!", Naomi says cheerfully with a large smile. "Glad to see you have this class with me."
"How do you know Anita?", Ivy asks her.
"I have English and Jazz with her. How do you know her?"
"I met her at Starbucks this weekend," she laughs a little.
"Don't I have Calculus with you?", the boy asks me and I nod.
"Well aren't you Miss Popular?", Naomi laughs. "But this is perfect; Ivy and Cassie are two of my friends so it totally works out that we all know each other."
"Awesome," I grin.
"I'm Adrian, by the way," the boy says. "Thanks for helping me out earlier."
"No problem," I tell him.
"We all have Spanish names in this class, though," Cassie says. "I'm Esperanza, Naomi is Sofia, Ivy is Claudia, and Adrian is Rogelio."
"Interesting," I nod. "I wonder what mine will be."
"I'll ask him!", Ivy says. "Eme!", she calls to the teacher, which they explain to me is what everyone calls him. A tall man who certainly isn't skinny and has a bald head comes walking over.
"¿Qué es su nombre español va a ser?", Ivy asks him in well-spoken Spanish. I know that she asked him what my Spanish name will be.
Eme looks at me for a while, apparently trying to decide what my Spanish name ought to be. Finally, he says, "Ana Maria."
I nod and smile at him and he smiles back before heading back to the front of the class to begin teaching.
Eme speaks in Spanish the whole time, just fluent Spanish. Since we're in fourth year, everyone is able to understand what he's saying for the most part. At one point during class, Naomi explains to me how she thinks Ivy has it pretty easy because she speaks Spanish at home and is therefore fluent.
Ivy then explains to me that she still struggles with the writing aspect of it, and I understand. When class ends, so does the school day which makes me happy. I walk with Naomi and Cassie to the parking lot (Adrian had gone to football practice and Ivy to debate team) and Cassie tells me about how Naomi apparently has a crush on Adrian.
"You do?", I ask her with a grin.
"There's no use in denying it," she says. "Did you look at him? He's so beautiful."
Cassie nudges me, "He's a dancer, just like her. She once told me that she thinks guys who dance are even hotter."
"It's true!", Naomi exclaims. "And he's really good at it, too."
"So why aren't you two dating?", I ask her.
Naomi shrugs, "He hasn't asked me. I mean we talk, if you know what I mean. But he won't ask me out!"
"Patience," Cassie reassures her.
"Patience gets us nowhere, fast," Naomi replies stubbornly which causes Cassie to laugh.
"Alright, my car is over that way," Naomi says suddenly, pointing behind her. "I'll text you that address, okay, Anita? See you pretty soon!" We wave goodbye to her and she runs off.
"Where are you two going?", Cassie asks me.
"I'm going to open gym with her so she can prepare me for cheer leading tomorrow."
"Aw, you're gonna do cheer?"
"Well I'm trying out anyway. Sounds fun," I shrug.
"Alright well I'll talk to you in first tomorrow, I gotta catch my bus."
"Okay, bye!"
I get into my Range Rover, lightly tossing my backpack onto the passenger seat. Starting the car, I turn on the radio to the one station I know has the kind of music I like. Trey Songz is currently singing a song that the screen says is called "Na Na". The beat is pretty catchy but I have no idea what he's singing about. I roll down the front two windows and pull out of the lot and onto the road. My hunger has finally caught up with me and I can't stand to go much longer without food.
I decide to drive around in search for a place to eat and I end up heading downtown. After a few minutes of passing numerous clothing and toy stores, a movie theater and clubs, I find a cozy looking coffee shop that seems to be exactly what I'm looking for.
I park and pay for thirty minutes and get out of my car with nothing but my keys, phone and wallet. Closing the door behind me, I look and see that the coffee shop is dimly lit and extremely comfy. There's tall stools set at a bar against the window and tables with soft-looking armchairs around them.
There's a corner with six or seven beanbags lining the walls, and there's shelves and shelves of books all over the place. White Christmas lights twinkle from the ceilings, weaving in and out of the wooden beams. A giant aquarium with some of the most beautiful fish I've ever seen stands near the bathroom door, which is covered with advertisements for upcoming music and film festivals and art shows.
In a loft above is a stage sort of thing with nothing on it for the time being but a large grand piano, speakers and some microphones, but there's a sandwich board sign with upcoming performances written on it in chalk. For the time being, soft indie music plays but I suspect it often gets replaced by the music of live performers.
I smile to myself; this place is absolutely perfect. I walk towards the counter but stand back because I need to figure out what it is that I want. There are quite a few appealing drink choices and the case full of pastries and sandwiches looks amazingly appetizing, too. The man behind the counter smiles at me.
He has that swooped up hair style that a lot of younger guys have these days, along with gauges and quite a few tattoos. I order a vanilla latte and a grilled ham and cheese sandwich and the man approves of my choice. He asks my name and I tell him, then he lets me know that his name is Alex.
After only a five minute wait, Alex hands me my sandwich and latte. I smile at him and send a thank you before taking a seat in one of the oh-so-inviting plushy armchairs. I dig into my food and it tastes amazing! I manage to down the whole thing in ten minutes and my hunger is finally fulfilled.
I sip on my latte while scrolling through my social media to see that my photo of my new school has gotten 67 likes since I posted it. Some people I knew from Washington comment their jealousy or ask how much I like it, but I don't reply to any of them. Where were these people when I was alone and insecure, stressed out and crying all the time?
I try not to think about those times and think about the present circumstances I find myself in, and the future I'm building for myself with the choices I'm making now. I can't change where I put myself in the past, but I can choose where I go from there. And right now it's looking pretty good.
I put my plate and tall mug into a bin designated for dirty dishes and wave goodbye to Alex, the friendly barista, before climbing into my car. It's almost three o'clock, so I head home quickly. Mom is in the living room watching a lady make a souffle on the Food Network, and she turns to smile at me as I hang my car keys up on one of the hooks.
I join her on the couch and she plays with my hair for a second.
"How was your first day?", she asks me a bit eagerly.
"It was pretty good," I tell her, reflecting on the day myself. "I got lost a little bit but people helped me out."
I think of Dylan's mysterious self, how innocently and unknowingly attractive he is, and of all the things people say about him.
"That's good. You make any friends?"
"I did, actually. They all seem pretty nice so far. Speaking of, my friend Naomi convinced me to tryout for cheer."
"Really? That's great!"
"I know, but the thing is tryouts are tomorrow and Wednesday. So Naomi invited me to her gym's open gym tonight so she can help me prepare."
"How nice of her," mom nods her head. "When is it?"
"From 4 to 6," I say. "So I have to leave pretty soon."
"Alright. Dinner should be around 7 so it'll work perfectly."
"Are you cooking something?", I ask her, glancing meaningfully at the television.
"Yeah, but certainly not souffle!", she laughs a little at the thought of herself making one. "I'm making lemon chicken and pesto linguine. Sound good?"
"Sounds delicious, actually. I'm sure I'll be starving afterward," I stand up then. "Well I'm gonna go change and get my stuff together."
"Okay, just call to me on your way out."
"Will do," I say, before climbing up the stairs.
I plop down onto my bed and see that I got a text from Naomi five minutes ago.
Hola, it's Naomi! Hope you didn't forget about me. The address for the gym is 9418 S Miller Street. It's only an eight-minute drive from school. Be there or be square! (;
I smile at the screen and text her back, letting her know that I'd see her soon and could never forget about her. I go to one of my drawers and extricate a sports bra and spandex shorts much like the ones I wore in Jazz earlier. I also grab a pair of sweatpants and a track jacket to wear over them.
I change my clothes and go into the bathroom to gather all of my long brown and blonde hair into a high ponytail. I do some deep stretching on the floor in front my bed just to put in some extra effort.
At a quarter to four, I jog down the stairs and find my blue water bottle in one of the cabinets. I fill it to the brim with cold filtered water from the sink and a few ice cubes from the freezer. I call out to my mom that I'm leaving and she tells me goodbye and to have fun and to try not to die.
I look at the address that Naomi texted me again and enter it into the GPS in my car. Following the blue lines and directions carefully, it takes me almost fifteen minutes to get there. I get out of the car and see Naomi waiting for me outside the door.
She smiles as I approach her, "There you are!"
"Here I am," I repeat.
"Well come, come, we mustn't waste any time!"
I follow her into the building where she tells the lady at the front desk that I'm a friend of hers, and we're cleared to enter the gym. There are quite a few other people here but it doesn't make too much of a difference because the place is huge.
We put our things on one of the wooden benches along the side and shed our outer layers of clothing. Four different fans are going at top speed in the four different corners, and upbeat music plays into the gym.
"I did some stretching before I headed over here," Naomi confesses to me.
"So did I," I tell her.
"Oh good!", she exclaims. "We should just do a couple light stretches before we start."
I agree and we do just that before we head over to a spring mat with a long wall of mirrors in front of it.
For the next hour and a half, Naomi teaches me basic cheering things such as high v's and low v's, hurkies, pikes, toe-touches and round offs. She also teaches me our school's three main cheers which I pick-up and memorize fairly easily.
She gives me tips such as how to get a loud voice without sounding like I'm screeching, and tells me that I have to remember to smile a lot. The last half hour we spend tumbling and doing flips and tricks.
Naomi can do round offs, cartwheels, a kick-over and a back handspring. I do all of these things with her, but then she tells me that she knows I must be able to do more things since I'm a gymnast. She asks me if I've won any awards and I show her a picture of my award shelf at home.
After she sees it she demands that I show her all that I can do. I oblige and do aerials, a back tuck, back handspring, a double tuck, a front walkover and a layout. She gives me rounds of applause and tells me that we need to come up with a trick combo for me to do at tryouts.
We try a few different things and the one we end up choosing is amazing. She takes a video and puts it on all her social media accounts that she promptly adds me on. An announcement comes on that open gym is over, causing nearly everyone to leave. Naomi and I part with a high-five and a hug.
I thank her three different times before we get into our cars and drive our separate ways. As soon as I get home, I run upstairs to rinse off and change into my pajamas. I go back downstairs just as mom is putting our plates on the table. At our large table that holds seven chairs, dad sits at the head and mom and I each sit on one one side of him.
Dad pours himself and mom a large glass full of red wine. I always have a large glass of water and they always give me a half glass of whatever they're drinking. Hey, we're a family that owns a wine company, so naturally we drink it.
It's not like I love wine anyway, I never drink more than the small amount they give me, and I never have much of a desire to. We eat our delicious meal and sip our wine while conversing about our days.
Dad tells us about how much he loves the vineyard and the people working for him are really cool and nice. Mom tells us about how she's received emails and resumes from people who want to work for her and she's eager to look over them. I tell them about my first day at school and how I like all my classes and the people that I met.
I tell them how it went at the gym and dad tells me that he thinks I shouldn't even have to go to tryouts. Typical dad, he always thinks so highly of me. We finish dinner and I have to put the dishes in the dishwasher. Mom and dad go to watch a cooking competition show in the living room where they invite me to join them, but I politely decline because I'm too tired.
I hug them goodnight before going upstairs and falling asleep, feeling pure happiness and confidence for the first time in what feels like forever.