DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
A/N: The fic is gonna be told from different people's point of view. I think we'll start with the new girl.
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7:35 AM
My name is Daisy Rose. (Sometimes I think what my folks really wanted was a greenhouse). I usually go by my middle name. I'm starting my junior year of high school today. I'm originally from the big city of L.A., but my dad found a better-paying job as a construction foreman in the comparably sleepy town of Santa Monica. So we moved in the middle of the summer.
I'm glad Dad didn't change jobs midyear; I have a feeling I'll have a hard enough time fitting in at Pacfica High as it is. Don't get me wrong; I wasn't Miss Popularity at my old school, but I had enough friends there that it really sucked to leave. Plus I had a spot on the varsity dance team. The only thing I like about Santa Monica so far is that I'm still near the beach. Surfing has been a big part of my life for the past seven years; Dad taught me everything I know. I love it almost more than dancing. (Not that I'll probably be doing that anytime soon). There's just something freeing about paddling out in the water, then coasting down the face of a wave.
Realizing I better get to school, I quickly dress in a typical outfit for me: faded jeans with frayed hems, black flip-flops, and a Ron Jon's tank top. I also put on a brown leather bracelet, a necklace of white puka shells, and blue visor-style sunglasses. I run a brush through my shoulder-length hair, which is in between brown and blond. I also throw on some lipgloss and put the tube in my backpack, just in case there's any cute boys.
I go to the kitchen to grab a Pop Tart and my bagged lunch before dashing out the door. I throw my backpack in the backseat of my red 1976 Buick Wildcat, Dad's old car and a gift from him for my 16th birthday. The thing's way older than I am, but it runs, gets okay gas mileage, and has a radio. Right now, that's all I really need. I back out of the driveway and drive off.
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7:45 AM
This is it. My new school. It's a lot smaller than my old one and they don't have metal detectors by the front doors, either. As I start to walk through the crowded hallways, people give me funny looks. I figure it's because most people are wearing skate gear. What made me decide to show up dressed like a surf rat on my first day?
"Well, well, well, look what the tide washed in," says a boy with long brown hair and big front teeth.
I ignore the boy and walk past him to the locker number that's printed on my schedule. Great, I get the top locker. (Did I mention I'm short?) I put my notebooks and lunch in, then I hang a picture of Kelly Slater on the inside part of the door. All of a sudden, the door slams. I look up to see the ugly boy again.
"What's your deal?" he asks me.
He stomps away when I don't answer. I look over shoulder at a group of kids standing together: three guys and a girl. One boy is tall boy with shaggy blond hair, definitely a skater. The girl is Latina with curly black hair. The second boy has dark hair, green eyes, and is a little shorter than the shaggy-haired blond. The third boy with them grabs my attention: He's shorter, and let's face it, a little chubbier than the other two. He has short honey-blond hair and bluish-gray eyes. When he smiles, I notice a small gap between his two front teeth.
Do not giggle, I tell myself firmly.
I think briefly of letting my books fall out of my locker so he might come and help me pick them up. No, I don't want to make my first impression by acting helpless. The bell rings; I head to science class, winking at the cutie as I pass him.
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12:05 PM
Pacifica High has a nicer cafeteria than my old school. Instead of a big, stuffy room, the students eat in a picnic area outside. It's in the shade, an added bonus. I sit at one of the picnic tables by myself. I've just started unwrapping my PB and J when I hear a voice beside me say, "Okay if we sit here?"
I look up and see the skater with shaggy hair from earlier. I'm not about to say no 'cause brought his cute friend.
"Fine," I reply, trying not to sound too excited.
"Say, you're new here, aren't you?" asks the dark-haired boy.
I nod. "Yeah, just moved here from L.A."
He lets out a whistle. "Major culture shock."
"Tell me about it," I say. "I don't even know anybody yet."
"Well, my name's Brink," says the boy with shaggy hair.
"I'm Peter," says the dark-haired boy.
"Gabriella," says the Latina. "Call me Gabby."
The cutie keeps his eyes on me, blushing slightly. Gabby lightly swats him on the arm.
"Are you gonna introduce yourself or not?" she asks.
"I'm, uh, I'm..." He's turning redder. Peter elbows him in the ribs; the cutie clears his throat and starts over. "My name's Jordy."
"There ya go," says Peter. "Now you officially know some people."
"We still don't know her," Gabby points out. "What's your name?"
"Rose," I say, opening my bottle of strawberry-passion fruit juice.
"Cool name." says Jordy.
"Thanks. Right back at ya," I say.
Just then, I hear a voice across the courtyard scream, "FOOD FIGHT!" I sit there numbly as all heck breaks loose. Worms begin to fly as well as food. My best guess is that someone kidnapped the worms from the science long-haired guy with big teeth screams like a girl and runs away. Brink chuckles.
"Wonder why he's so scared of worms," he says.
The others laugh, but I don't. It's obviously some kind of inside joke. Peter tells me the guy (Val) is a huge bully, so they once put worms in his sandwich to get back at him. That seems kind of mean to me, but then again, Val may have deserved it.
A/N: That's the end of the first chapter. Reviews much appreciated.