Strawberry Chapstick has always bugged me.
I mean, it's a dead shot for cherry. The taste, the smell, the color. But for some forsaken reason, Chapstick decided it worked better to swap the names. Have they ever seen a cherry? Hint: they're not pink.
I pulled out my Sharpie from my boho bag (a category ten hurricane in regards to cleanliness; I threw a bunch of stuff in there I thought I might need for the first day of the school year), sticking the cap between my teeth as I tugged off the marker and scribbled through Strawberry. My left hand wrote a messy, cursive Cherry next to it. The word takes up half the tube, but it will do.
In extended homeroom on the first day, there is nothing better for me to do.
I brought the marker up to my mouth to put the cap back on. However, the cap slipped through my slick lips (thanks to the balm) and fell onto the dusty tiled floor.
Reaching down from my desk, I twisted my body back, towards the desk diagonally behind me.
My hand wasn't met with the cap of my Sharpie or the sharp coldness of the floor, but instead with the gentle hand of a stranger. That is, surprisingly, even tanner than me. But I guess that's not saying too much.
Oh curse you, Chapstick. You and your misnaming of your balms.
"My bad." His gravelly, yet smooth, voice chuckled. "Here you go." He placed the cap, which—in case you forgot—was in between my lips seven seconds ago, into my open palm, and I trailed my eyes up to meet his.
"Thanks," I said steadily, turning the corners of the mouth up, just enough to suggest a half-smile.
"I'm Alexander. Are you new?"
I consciously run a hand through my tangled hair, but it gets caught midway down so I have to subtly tug it out while talking. Typical. Revealing a hint of attitude, I say, "Yes, I'm new."
"Man, how many times have you been asked that today?"
"Including you, fourteen. I mean, I know people normally know who's at their school, but damn," I pause momentarily. "Do you guys study the year book for third period?" I set the Sharpie cap on my desk, reclaiming it's rightful place on the end of the marker.
I turn back around as he speaks and I notice how his dark brown hair shines in the sun from the windows of the chem lab. And the way his shirt is unbuttoned from the two buttons it has. And if I were boy crazy, I would say how I wish there were more and that those were unbuttoned, too. But I'm not boy crazy. "Psh. We memorized the yearbook. No need to review it when you know it by heart." He brings a veiny fisted hand to his chest, patting it a couple times.
My mouth turns up as I playfully narrow my eyes. "Now I'm expecting you to recite it. P's?"
He doesn't miss a beat. "Peterson, Perry, Predlin, Pearson, Puh-puh," Alexander thinks for a moment, trying to conjure up another P name. "Okay, I'm out."
"I can't believe I'm talking to someone who hasn't memorized the whole yearbook. That should be illegal."
"Oh, it is. I'm due for eight months jail time in November for incriminating the law."
"Oh thank God they aren't making you miss Halloween."
We laugh, his brown eyes closing momentarily when he lightly tilts his head back.
"I'm Colette."
"It's nice to meet you, Colette." He plays with my name on his lips. I shift back around, slumped in my seat, grinning like an idiot.
Curse you, Chapstick. Curse you!
Without the Chapstick Company and the mistaken naming of their balms, and the slippery state of my lips and that damn Sharpie cap and his inability to not be a gentleman, I would've never met Alexander Hotchkiss. And boy, what a different world that would be.
Before I know it, I've made it to lunch. I have survived the soul-sucking personal introductions, and I only have one class left. Surprisingly, this first day hasn't been half bad. Sure, it has just been syllabuses and feeling like a freshman as a junior, but I was prepared for much worse.
Today, I'm in a good mood. And I am going to embrace it. No judgments of teen girls in vintage jean shorts (which they would be totally against thrifting them if it wasn't trendy) and a $60 hoodie from Brandy Melville. Complete with vans, hair in a scrunchie, and various bracelets lining their wrists. Nah, not today.
I won't even bother with the guys who eye me up and down. There's really not much to say. 1) Gross. 2) If you won't stop, I'll call my older brother and he'll book it all the way here. 3) Not really, but that threat will probably do the trick.
I just keep thinking of the dismissal bell, and running out to my car, and flooring it straight to the beach. I wore my bright red, one-piece swimsuit under my jean shorts and tied up surf tee for this reason. If I want a chance in the Billabong internship, I am going to need to step up my game-- and considering I haven't been practicing much lately, I have a lot of work to do.
The thing is, my dad used to pay for my impromptu surf trips all over the world. When North Carolina started to feel too claustrophobic for my wild-child heart, I would pack my bags and be off to somewhere exotic. My dad would often come with me, sometimes my mom, and always my brother. He would tag along like a stray animal you've fed and now won't leave you alone. That's Coop for ya. A stray animal. Like a dirty raccoon or something.
Now that my parents aren't together, I realize that I can't ask daddy to buy his little girl a ticket to Hawaii. It is not that he wouldn't let me (I am almost sure he would write the check without thinking twice), it's that my mom probably wouldn't. And there is nothing I would rather do less than start some family drama.
California will have to do for now.
I stand with the plastic lunch tray in my hands, putting one foot in front of the other towards the courtyard. The lunchroom is crowded and stuffy; so after noticing some kids studying on the miscellaneously-placed benches, I decide that this would be the best place for me to be as least awkwardly alone as possible.
Carly has lunch A, but I got stuck with lunch B.
I don't mind that much. I'm cool with chilling out here today. I find a bench under a shady tree and finish my lunch faster than I thought I would. It is better to scarf down the cafeteria food than to slow down and taste it. Learned the hard way.
After throwing my trash away, I begin walking to my next class early, because if I'm honest, I have no idea where I am going. Plus, lunch is so ridiculously long here (I would have been happy with that if I had any friends at all, but, well, you know).
The hallways are deserted right now in this section of the school, but the natural sunlight flooding in from the skylights above makes up for it.
I hear voices as I round the corner to what I think is the theater.
"So are we gonna do this?" A boy says.
"Well, all of us but this loser. Guess he has a problem betting on the new girl."
New girl? I'm a new girl. I wonder who they are talking about, because I haven't noticed any fellow new girls, but then again, I bet they get twenty any given year.
I hear a faint mumble, sounding like "whatever dude." Inching my way further, I keep myself pressed to the brick wall. I'm beside the open door now, making sure I'm not seen but that I have a perfect spot for eavesdropping. What? I'm bored.
"What's her name again?"
I hear a deep laugh. "Well, this is gonna be easy. He can't even remember her name, how's he gonna get her to sleep with him?"
Oh shit. If they're talking about what I think they're talking about, that's pretty fucked up.
Someone hits the other, from what I can assume by the "ow" echoing outside the room.
Another voice cuts in; "Colette. Her name's Colette."
Oh shit. Oh fucking shit.
I bolt out of there faster than my brother and I ran from the cops after graffitiing the rock cliff on Riche's lake— long story.
I stop when I get out to the main lobby, trying to catch my breath. A women walks through the exterior doors and into the office, so I take a seat against some lockers in the neighboring hallway. Less humiliating to be hidden, I suppose.
There's nothing like breaking a sweat from running a couple hundred feet. I'm a surfer, can you really blame me?
Back to the matter at hand, I tell myself I'm overreacting. There has to be another new girl named Colette.
I mean, come on. I have experienced all my bad karma and I'm caught up. All good and even with Mother Nature or God or whatever you wanna call 'em. Being caught in the middle of a (obviously) pre-pubescent boys' bet would be like, a crime against nature. Actually, make that a crime against God.
The bell rings, and I realize I have to book it back to where I just came from. Eh, screw it. If they have a rep of me being late on the first day, it can only go uphill from there.
Unless, of course, I start skipping my classes (wink).
For the entirety of fifth block, I can't stop bouncing my prickly leg up and down, thinking about what I overheard. For first impressions, this school year is gonna suck. I try to find a bright side to this whole ordeal, and come up with the fact that I was in the right place at the right time. I know. At least, I think I know. And they don't know that I think I know.
If something happens, I'll know and I'll deal with it. And with that, I push the thought out of my mind and pay attention to the kids stating their names and a fun fact about themselves.
For my personal amusement, I always make something up as my fact. Something so out there and wild that people don't question whether I'm lying. They just believe me.
In first block, I speak fluent Italian (but only a native, hard to interpret version, because my family was there since forever, of course, and we're only familiar with the root language. Oh, and I find it offensive when people ask me to speak it).
In third, I once went into a coma for three months after a mountain biking incident in the Alps. That one really puts the fun in fun fact.
"I'm Colette," I begin, already cracking up in my head about what I'm going to say next. "I was mauled by a bear in Banff in '09. That's how I got this scar," I say, pointing to a huge line trailing up my calf and under my jeans shorts on my thighs.
Can you blame me for improvising SFX makeup with school supplies? Second period was so dull.
Various sounds fill the room, kids either applauding me or expressing pity. Eh, I'll take both.
The teacher, a young woman who seems cooler than she'll let her outdated style reveal, nods a slight nod of approval, almost out of respect, and moves on to the next person.
He stands from his desk in front of me, like the rest of us had to do, and states his name, "I'm Cole." Something about his voice sounds familiar, but I can't place my finger on it.
His leather jacket clings tightly around his shoulders when he crosses his arms. "And I like to skate," Cole says.
He sits back down as the next person begins talking, and I get his attention by saying, "Hey skater boy, nice jacket."
He smirks, watching me seriously and playfully all at once. "Thanks, nice face."
I crinkle my eyebrows and give a slight nod with my lips pursed together. Weird compliment, but I'll take it.
He locks eyes with me for a moment too long, and turns back around, slouched in his seat, tapping his pencil against the wooden desk.
Tap, tap, tap.
Tick, tick, tick.
The dismissal bell finally rings, but I don't leave before I listen what Cole has to say to me once I, regrettably, let him get my attention.
"You know how you like my jacket?" Huh, nope, I don't recall. "Maybe I'll let you wear it one day," he flirts, eyeing me up and down before he walks through the doors, turning left down the hall.
Shivering, I shake my head. Gross. Someone's a little eager, aren't they?
I exit out of one of the side doors to track down my car. Carly's already waiting there, and I wonder how she got out so fast.
She hangs on my open window, resting her chin on the metal, with the (practically antique) frame of my old car emphasized due to the fact that I have no roof. I can't believe I actually convinced my mom to let me take it off; my dad was always more of the careless one.
"Hey, how was your day?" She asks me, as I open the driver's door she's standing in front of, hopping into the drivers' side, my legs criss crossed on the gray, cushioned seat.
"Not bad. What about you?" I close the door and we talk through the rectangular gap, in absence of a window.
"Good," She smiles. "I made some friends, actually. I'm gonna get a ride home with them, if that's okay?"
I'm impressed. I didn't expect Carly to have friends, plural, already. I gotta get on my game.
"Of course, Car. See you at home," I tell her, twisting the keys into my vehicle as she smiles and skips away to her friends. I notice the skateboards in their hands and quietly laugh to myself. Of course.
I pull in to an empty spot at the beach, recognizing how many people there are, arriving and hanging out. I shimmy off my clothes and decide against wearing one of the wet suits stashed in my trunk; the waves are calm, unlike a few days ago.
There's a good amount of people from my school either on the boardwalk, where I had to park, or down by the beach, where I'm headed-- I guess there's not much else to do around here, hangout-wise.
After I finish surfing, making sure to practice rather than just have fun, I walk toward the midpoint between my house and the boardwalk. Located there are ice cold showers built with wooden palettes; I intend to get the salt out of my hair before it dries all tangled and stiff.
With my head down, full of thoughts, I don't even realize I'm walking into a group of three guys until I've collided with one's chest.
"My bad, man," I say, turning my face to look at the male I've run into. That's when I see it.
Surfer boy, ice cream boy, and none other than the boy with the leather jacket.
I take a few steps back as my eyebrows knot together on my forehead, putting all the pieces in place. "Wait a second, I think I--"
"Yeah, you definitely know me. Could you do me a favor? Don't tell anyone how pathetic I was being on Monday."
"Ha. You got it," I assure him. My feet draw circles in the sand absentmindedly as I vertically balance my board next to me.
I look up as Cole locks eyes with me, reintroducing himself. "You might already know me if you were paying attention. My name's Coleman, but you can just just call me Cole." He seems much less flirty than he did two hours ago. Maybe he's just nervous in front of his guys. Ha. That's funny.
I respond nodding, "Okay, Coleman." I shift my eyes to the boy I have yet to talk to, the one from the ice cream shop. Blaine, I think his name was. "Hey ice cream boy, where's your apron?"
The other two laugh-- one deep, one playful and light-- as he rolls his eyes. "It's Blaine," he says, "and, that apron stays at work."
"A shame," I pout.
I watch each boy as they stand next to each other. They are all pretty tall in front of 5'9 me, except for Blaine, who seems much shorter than the two (and maybe even an inch or two smaller than me). Surfer boy— whose name I have yet to know— next to Cole and Cole next to Blaine feels familiar in a nonexistent way. I shake off the feeling.
"Alright boys, I'm gonna go hit the showers. See you at school?"
They nod in sync, their eyes focused on mine. I realize how attentive they have all been toward me, listening, watching. I won't hesitate to admit it— I'm not all that to listen to. Or to look at, for that matter. Especially after a vigorous session, when my face gets all dry from the salt and my body is all scorched from the sun. Real cute.
The way they pay attention, the way they are so differently alike, the way I've met all of them before, and now, all together.
I jog back to the showers, turning the knob to start up the freezing water. It warms up as I let it wash over my hair and shoulders. I run my hands under the straps of my bathing suit to gain some temporary relief; they've been bugging me all afternoon.
A sound replays in my mind. A deep laugh. First from the conversation I just had with the boys. Second from what I overheard outside the theater, fourth block, in the bright hallway.
That's when it hits me.
hey guys. sorry i've been so inconsistent, i've just been feeling really self conscious about this story and the lack of interest i've been receiving. im not saying i'm meant to get all the support (or any at all)-- im just questioning myself as always lol. lmk if you liked this part (by giving it a vote!) & comment your thoughts/suggestions if you'd like to <3
btw im working on character mood/aesthetic boards !! comment what you think the characters look like so far ;~)