Friday, March 23rd 1984: Shermer High School, Shermer Illinois
It was her first day of school. Sheila Donovan was dropped off at Shermer High School by her maternal grandfather, Joseph Winger—a hardened but kind former WWII veteran. She wore his Army jacket—donned with real patches. She wore a black and white striped t-shirt, a pair of jeans and black converses. She wore silver earrings: two sets of studs in her lobes and one in her helix of her left ear. Her copper hair hung at her shoulders and her face was dotted with light speckles. She had a stack of black jelly bracelets on her left wrist.
"Be good," he told her.
Sighing, Sheila got out of Joseph's 1963 Buick. She reflected on her old life. She was angry. She had a lot of shit going on: aside from her parents' divorce and her mother's remarriage, being sent away to live with her grandfather. Then having to transfer in the middle of the school year due to less than desirable circumstances.
Another school. Another life. It sucked being the new kid.
Flipping her hair away from her piercing green eyes, she went to her first class of the day. History with Mrs. Russell. She walked down the hallways, looking at the piece of paper that contained her classes and looked at the door numbers. Once she found Mrs. Russell's class, she sat in the back, hoping to keep a low profile. She stared out the window, looking at her own reflection. She hoped this would be a fresh start. She had promised her grandfather she'd be good.
"Hey," a shy, slightly lispy voice said in front of her.
Sheila looked over and saw a sandy-haired geeky student that had turned around to face her. He had shy blue eyes. He wore a green sweatshirt that he obviously failed to notice was inside out. He had braces on his teeth, making his Cupid bow lips pout slightly. Still, Sheila couldn't help but admit he was adorkable.
"Hey," she said.
"Must suck being the new kid, huh?" he commented.
Sheila gave a smirk. "Well, considering that it's only 11:15 and I'm wedgie free...I'd say it's a small victory."
The geek laughed. "I wish I could say the same," he answered, giving the back of his khaki pants a tug. Sheila could guess that this happened a lot with this kid.
"I'm Brian."
"Sheila."
"Do you like history class? It's my favorite."
"Yea. I enjoy it. Especially about World War II."
"Mrs. Russell keeps it pretty interesting. You'll love her."
When the final warning bell rang, the door opened. A tall, severe looking man dressed in a dated suit stepped into the room. He appeared to be about mid forties or early fifties. His hair was dark brown with some gray strands. His eyes were a steel gray that gave off an authoritarian air. He had a black leather glasses case that was clipped in the breast pocket of his jacket. A black leather belt with a silver buckle encircled his slender waist. He wore black leather dress shoes. On his left pinky, he wore a gold ring with a green stone.
"Not exactly how I pictured Mrs. Russell," Sheila said, arching an eyebrow.
Brian groaned. "That's Vice Principal Vernon.
Mr. Vernon went to the front of the room and made an announcement in a voice that meant no nonsense. "Listen up people! Your beloved Mrs. Russell is out for the rest of the semester due to what is officially being called "exhaustion"...so yours truly will be filling in until further notice."
More groans from the students.
"Which means...you may get an education for a change," he continued.
"Only if it's a course in how to be an asshole," a voice murmured in the back.
Sheila turned to see a jock dressed in a blue letterman jacket sitting to her right. He had light brown hair and blue eyes with an arrogant smirk. The name Andy was scrawled in white stitching. He was trying to stifle a snicker. The vice principal, who seemed to have ears like a hawk, glared at the jock.
"Mr. Clark...would you care to repeat that?" Mr. Vernon asked waspishly.
The man stared at the jock for a long time. Andy looked down at his desk, staying quiet after that comment.
"I thought so," Vernon remarked.
Sheila just prayed to get through this day without being noticed. Mr. Vernon turned his attention to her.
"We have a new student joining us today," he announced. "Everyone please welcome Miss Sheila Donovan to our fine institution."
God! Could this prick get any more pretentious? Sheila listened to the murmur of students and their greetings.
"Why don't you tell everyone why you're here at Shermer?" Mr. Vernon suggested.
Sheila didn't feel like talking about why she was here. Plus Vernon was annoying her. She just wanted to get through class and get it over with.
"Oh! I did not realize I had a choice..." she replied sarcastically.
Some students began laugh. Mr. Vernon wasn't amused.
"Watch it, Donovan," the vice principal warned. "Shermer doesn't need another wise ass. Consider this your first and last warning."
Sheila made a mocking sneer, imitating Vernon. This dude was a dick.
"I've read your file," he added.
I bet you found it REALLY interesting, Sheila thought with an eye roll.
A fashionably dressed girl with short red hair in the front row raised her hand. Judging by her appearance, Sheila guessed the girl who spoke up was in the popular crowd.
"Mr. Vernon, isn't that kind of...private?" she spoke concerned.
Mr. Vernon turned towards the fashionably dressed girl with his hands in his pockets.
"I don't think that's any of your concern, Claire," he said.
The man moved down aisle towards Sheila's desk with his hands in his pockets, towering over her. His steel gray eyes were smoldering as he locked with the green ones of the smart mouthed redhead. She crossed her arms, glaring at him with defiance.
"Shermer's a good school. Thanks to me," he said.
I'm sure it is, dick. Sheila thought with cynicism.
"And I'm gonna make sure it stays that way. Understand?"
Sheila stayed quiet, poking her tongue in her cheek, keeping her eyes on this pretentious prick.
"Maybe we should just get on with class...?" Claire said uncomfortably. "It's getting late."
Mr. Vernon glared in Claire's direction.
"I don't think you, of all people, should be talking about being late for class," he sneered.
Claire looked pretty embarrassed. Sheila began to realize this man treated everyone less than him. What a dick! Then, Mr. Vernon turned to the rest of the class.
"Let's get something clear...I control the time here," he said, jabbing a thumb to his chest.
"Excuse me, sir," said Brian bravely. "Time manipulation is a physical impossibility. I wrote a paper on it."
"Watch it, Johnson," Vernon warned. "You're in enough trouble as is."
Then Vernon pointed to Claire and the jock named Andy Clark.
"I suggest you both keep your mouths shut. You're in enough trouble as is too...unless you want to spend Saturday in detention too..." Then he motioned to himself. "Because this 'asshole' is getting agitated."
This was bullshit. Despite the fact that Sheila didn't even know anyone here at Shermer High, this dick was being completely unnecessary. Sheila felt her comedic mind get to work as she thought of a witty remark.
"I believe they have ointments for that, sir," Sheila quipped with a smirk.
"Huh?" Mr. Vernon said confused.
"You know, for your ass," she answered.
The class burst out laughing. Vernon did not look amused; his steely gaze fixed upon this defiant red haired miscreant who thought it was amusing to make a fool out of him. He snapped his fingers and pointed at her.
"You just bought yourself Saturday detention, Donovan," Mr. Vernon said sternly.
He grabbed a detention slip and strode over to Sheila's desk.
"Welcome to Shermer High," he sneered, slamming the detention slip down. "See you Saturday, Sunshine!"
Fucking dick.
