I opened my emerald eyes, blinking against the watery morning sunlight that was streaming through my bedroom window. Dull as the light was, it still pained my eyes so I rolled over and attempted to go back to sleep. Then the shrill beeping of my alarm clock shattered the morning's stillness, causing me to jerk in surprise then roll over to slap the alarm clock's battered top until it silenced itself.
When the alarm finally stopped, I sat up and blearily looked around my room. That's right… I wasn't in my real house anymore. I didn't have the spacious room, the closet that my clothes actually fit in, or a bed that was anywhere near comfortable.
Instead, I had a tiny little room that was hardly useful as anything more than storage. The only thing that remained the same was my 'Miss Teen Texas' sash that was pinned up on the ceiling right above my bed, a single surviving memory of the good times… before the divorce, before the move.
I frowned and sighed. Nothing was going to make me cheerful, not today.
After finally pulling myself out bed and riffling through the two large packing boxes still full of clothes for a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, I brushed her mane of brown curls and dabbed on some modest makeup before grabbing my backpack and went out to the kitchen.
It has only been two days since I moved to Oregon from Houston, Texas. When my parents suddenly split up, mom decided to hightail it for the climate drastically different than Texas... and that meant mountains. That's how we ended up in Ashland, Oregon.
I don't like Ashland... It's cold and rainy, completely opposite from the warmth of Texas. The old house in Houston was my home, not here. Ashland so far held nothing I could possibly want. I was practically foaming at the mouth until I turned eighteen right after graduation. Good-bye hippies, hello University Huston. I could get a job, move in with my cousins, and have some room to breathe.
When I got to the kitchen, I saw mom's usual sticky note on the freezer door. It said the usual well wish for the day. I sullenly ripped it into tiny pieces.
I wasn't looking forwards to school in the slightest. Being the new kid was flat out miserable, and being the new kid in your last year of high school was, if possible, worse than any other year… Take that, multiply it by the embarrassment of popping into school in the middle of the semester, and you have a tenfold shaming saved only for bad pop culture movies.
With this thought, I practically threw a toaster waffle into the stainless steel microwave, setting it for thirty seconds. Anyway, school was only bearable when you have friends… and I wasn't good at making those, never have been. My only "friend" back in Texas wasn't missing me at all… Shawnie had a new flock now.
Shawnie had always been a popular girl, more popular than I ever had been. Just before I moved, we had a falling out that ended with Shawnie breaking one of our matching friendship turtles I got us in Laguna Beach and ignoring my existence entirely. The broken shards paired with my unscathed turtle now made a pitiful little reminder of Shawnie's lost friendship in the kitchen window.
Looking out the same kitchen window and ignoring the turtles, I glared at the weather outside. It remained cold and rainy to match my mood, with no sign of either letting up. The timer on the microwave went off, and I took the waffle out and began munching on the barely nutritious carbs.
At exactly seven-thirty, I packed up my things in my black backpack, exiting the house and locking the door behind me. Class started at eight, and I wasn't going to be late the first day. Luckily mom had decided to "Go green" and carpooled with some other women from work, leaving the car for me to take to school instead of riding the bus or walking in this downpour.
The beat up tan station wagon wasn't nearly as nice as some of the other cars I'd seen in town, but it was better than nothing in this weather. I got in and started the car up, taking it down the steep decline of Gresham street and turning right on Siskyou boulevard until Ashland High appeared on my left.
The High School was fair sized, several gray buildings and a stadium for sports. The hand drawn map of the campus that i'd received with my student packet said that one of the buildings was a full theater.
That excited me... actually being able to be in a real theater. My school in Texas didn't have a great theater program, but last year's performance at regionals won me a school scholarship for voice lessons. It had been the best hours of my life. My mother told me I sung like a little bird now.
I parked on a side street and got out of the car, carefully avoiding eye contact with a few other students walking to the school. I made my way towards the "quad", holding the bizarrely designed map in front of my nose whiletrying to determine where first period was.
After I deciphered the map, classes went in a blur of the same routine. Get introduced to the class, get stared at, live through classes, get stared at more, then repeat. Calculus, Advisory, French, then lunch.
At lunch I sat alone in the spacious and noisy lower commons, trying not to be jealous of the laughing crowds around me. Back in Texas, I would have been in one of those groups, talking and laughing carelessly with my friends. Here, I was invisible. Lunch continued, as bland and unexciting as the cafeteria food.
After barely staying conscious through Government, I was pleased to see that her fourth period class was one I mildly looked forwards to. "Mythology as literature and dramatic development." Long title, but it sounded good.
The class was taught by a Mr. Haden at the top of the theater building in a very small room across from the art studio. I misread the floor plan on the map and ended up in the Home Economics Department two floors below and spent a few minutes trying to force my way into a room I found out later was the dressing rooms for the drama department.
By the time I found my way, I was well past ten minutes late. When I entered the classroom, The teacher, which cramped writing on the board identified as Mr. Haden, pointed wordlessly at the back of the class.
I hurried to a double desk in the back row of the class, keeping my head down as the Mr. Haden began to lecture about the importance of being on time, his unnerving glare fixated on me.
I tried to ignore him and sat down in my indicated seat, taking out my binder as quickly as I could, practically throwing my pen at the boy next to me in my haste.
"Sorry" I muttered, taking my ballpoint pen back from the boy next to me. Our eyes met, and I suddenly felt butterflies pool in my stomach as the boy gave me a small, yet dazzling smile.
For a moment, my gaze lingered on my desk mate. His hair was golden brown and stuck out in front, accenting a statuesque face; blue eyes gave off a mischievous glint under perfectly sculpted eyebrows and I nearly swooned at the length of his eyelashes. This guy was too good to be true…
The sound of the door being slammed open startled me out of my staring. Two wayward students ran in, out of breath from the stairs. Their excuses weren't very adequate and luckily The teacher's wrath was re-directed. As the other late-comers sat down, Mr. Haden's eyes met mine again, almost smoldering unnaturally. I resisted shivering.
The boy next to me shifted, drawing my attention away from Mr. Haden and to him instead. He had me fixed in his gaze, which was surprisingly confident for a teenage male yet still made my heart palpitate.
"Don't worry, he'll warm up eventually" He said in a musical voice.
"Oh, okay." I replied, blushing a little.
"I'm Eron" He held out a neatly groomed hand. I shook it. He pronounced the 'O' like an 'I', which wasn't at all like the weird Texan pronunciation I was used to hearing. Luckily for me, the soft Washington accent my mother carried was passed down to me instead of my father's hillbilly slang and I could actually pronounce Eron's name correctly.
"I'm Ari."
"Ah-ri... I like it. Unusual pronunciation" Eron said. I shrugged.
"I would be happy to answer any of your questions you have, I've been here a while" He continued, eyes dancing with some sort of hidden amusement.
"Thanks" I tossed back, tucking some of my curls behind an ear and fingering the newly cut ends. Mom had layered it before they left for Ashland, and I didn't like it one bit. My Mom was a talented hair dresser, but only on her own head.
I glance over at Eron and noticed he was staring at me unabashedly. When he saw me notice, he winked then turned away and began shuffling through his notes.
Mr. Haden began writing on the blackboard, his speech about tardiness finished. He began to drone about the difference between Greek and Roman Mythologies, and within the next ten minutes a quiet stupor settled over the class.
Author's Notes:
So, this is my original idea that I have been working on for six years. I want to present it to the world to see what kind of reaction comes up. Please give me lots of feedback, this idea is burning so strongly. I want to know what you think. Please respect my original work. Thank you.