After lunch, Skye, Jemma, and Fitz all had language arts together, and they found themselves back in Miss Hill's room from that morning. Miss Hill let Skye and Jemma take empty seats near Fitz's in the back, rather than force them into awkward assigned seats like other teachers normally did, which Skye appreciated. Right before the bell rang, she brought over copies of a book called The Giver from one of her many packed shelves and gave one each to Skye and Jemma.
"This is the book we've been working on in class," she explained. "We're talking about chapter nine today, but you can just listen since you haven't read the book yet. Maybe over the weekend you two can try and catch up so that you know what's going on in the story."
"We can take these home?" asked Skye, a little incredulous.
"Of course," said Miss Hill, nodding. "These are yours to borrow for as long as we're working on The Giver. Once we're finished with it, you'll bring them back and then I'll hand out our next book."
"Like a library," Jemma suggested. Skye was pleased to see that their time at lunch seemed to have snapped Jemma out of her silence in the classroom as well.
"Precisely." Miss Hill smiled, and Skye could have sworn she saw Jemma sit up a little straighter. Miss Hill drifted away from them then, turning her attention to a few other students who were sliding into their seats as the bell rang.
"Nine chapters sounds like a lot of reading," Skye grumbled to herself. Miss Hill was definitely her favorite teacher so far, but Skye couldn't help but feel a little resentful at the prospect of so much reading over the weekend. She didn't dislike reading per se, but her struggles with the subject when she was younger had made books feel a lot more like a chore than a pleasure.
As the class discussed the content of the chapter they had just read, Skye decided that The Giver sounded like a confusing and pointless book. Apparently, the boy in it got a new job, even though he was only twelve, and one of the rules of his job was that he could lie. Skye couldn't imagine why he wouldn't have been allowed to lie before. She had been lying long before she was twelve, and nearly every adult she had ever met had basically lied to her constantly. The nuns, her teachers, most of her foster parents. Miss Hand tried her best not to lie to Skye, but she knew there were times where she kept things from her. So far Phil and May hadn't lied to her, either, but she had only known them a few days. The only person who Skye knew for sure had never lied to her was Jemma, and part of that was because Skye was pretty sure Jemma was physically incapable of lying. Jemma was honest, sometimes to a fault, and in turn she was trusting, too. Skye did her best to honor how trusting Jemma was, and she worked hard to make sure she was more honest with Jemma than anyone else.
Skye had been so wrapped up in her thoughts about the truth that she almost didn't notice when the bell rang and everyone started packing up. Fortunately, Jemma's deliberate and meticulous stowing of her belongings gave Skye time to catch up, and the two girls followed Fitz dutifully as he led them downstairs towards the smell of overripe socks. Gym class.
Having seen her fair share of gym classes over the years, Skye wasn't surprised by what she found inside the gymnasium: overly waxed floors painted over with the lines for basketball and volleyball courts, folded up bleachers in the corner, a rack of basketballs ready for play, and a whistle-wearing coach who looked like his glory days of being varsity captain were well behind him. A group of kids already in gym clothes milled around, some goofing off with the basketballs, while others in normal clothes filed into locker rooms on either side of the gym.
Skye sucked in a breath. She hadn't thought about the prospect of changing into different clothes for gym class. Neither she nor Jemma had enough extra clothing to really spare an entire outfit just for one class, and most of her old schools hadn't really enforced a PE dress code, except for Our Lady of Mercy, which had had a uniform both for school and gym that the nuns provided them.
"You there! I don't know you two!" a gruff voice barked out, reverberating off the hard wood floors and high rafters. The coach was staring at Skye and Jemma, his eyes narrowed. Skye drug Jemma behind her and approached the grouchy man. He was well-built and had receding brown hair, plus a sour look on his face. He scanned over a clipboard he had clutched in his hand, then looked back at Skye and Jemma.
"Mary Sue Poots and Jenna Simmons?" he asked. Something in his voice made Skye think that he didn't really care one way or the other what their names were.
"I'm Skye, and this is Jemma. We're new," Skye informed him, keeping her own tone as flat as she could. A gut instinct told her to do her best to not push his buttons.
"Says Mary Sue here on my roster," he growled. Skye felt a flash of anger, but swallowed it down just as quickly as it had arisen. Behind her, she could almost feel Jemma start to tremble. Mentally she begged Jemma to not start tapping in front of this man. She had enough experience with irritable, power-tripping men to know that something like Jemma's tapping would not be taken well.
"That's my official name, but I prefer Skye," she explained, forcing herself to stay calm. "It should be listed on the roster as a nickname." Every other teacher she had had so far that day had been able to see that on their own list, thanks to Phil's addition of her preferred name on all of her paperwork yesterday. The coach grumbled something incoherent while scratching out a line on his clipboard with a pen that he uncapped with his oddly square teeth. Once the pen was recapped and his mouth was free, he turned back to the girls.
"Okay, whatever, it's no skin off my nose. Just get out there and don't let me catch you slacking or making trouble. If there's one thing I don't tolerate in my class, it's troublemakers and slackers. And you look like you could be both." His last sentence seemed to be directed specifically at Skye, but she didn't protest. She had no interest in provoking him before the class had even started.
Despite the fact that they were still right in front of him, the coach gave two sharp blasts on his whistle and bellowed out to the rest of the class.
"All right pipsqueaks, let's get moving!" Jemma flinched at the sudden loud noise, and Skye knew she was resisting the urge to cover her ears. Around them, kids started jogging around the perimeter of the gym. The coach glared at them, as if to say well, what are you waiting for? Gritting her teeth to keep her temper in check, Skye turned and fell in step with a pack of kids as they passed.
"Don't let Coach Garrett get to you," said a tall black boy who had pulled up beside her. She thought maybe she recognized him from her history class that morning. He was lean and athletic-looking, and the jog seemed to be costing him little effort. He smiled broadly as Skye looked up at him inquisitively. "He's a tough customer, but he'll lay off once he sees you can work."
"He's not exactly cuddly," Skye griped, pumping her legs to keep up with the boy's long strides. The boy laughed.
"No, definitely not. He's our football coach for the middle and high school teams, and he runs PE like he runs practice. No mercy and all that." The boy offered a shrug as they rounded the corner. Skye chanced a glance behind her and saw that Jemma was jogging half-heartedly alongside Fitz several paces behind them. Fitz was already red in the face, and his arms flailed awkwardly at his side as he tried to settle into a decent running form.
"My name's Antoine Triplett, but everybody calls me Trip," the boy said, flashing another grin. "Peewee football nickname that just kinda stuck, if you know what I mean."
"I'm Skye," she replied, returning his smile. "That's Jemma back there with Fitz. We just moved here from Sheboygan."
"Looks like the two of them became fast friends," Trip remarked, looking over his shoulder at the duo. Skye couldn't read his expression as his gaze fell on Fitz. Up ahead, a group of boys called out to Trip and beckoned him to them. "Team calls," Trip said. He gave Skye a wave, then put on a burst of speed and joined his friends. Skye slowed her own pace to draw closer to Jemma and Fitz.
"Saw you… talking to… Trip," Fitz panted. "You should… watch out… for… football." Fitz gestured weakly towards the boys ahead of them, unable to finish his sentence.
"He seemed okay, but I only talked to him for like two seconds," Skye admitted. "I'll stay away, if you think I should." Fitz didn't respond, just waved his hands like he was clearing the air. A blast of the whistle cut through the air, and everyone stopped their running and moved towards the rack of basketballs off to the side. Fitz gasped down a few lungfuls of air and caught his breath.
"It doesn't matter to me who you talk to, I just thought you should know that a lot of those football guys are trouble. So you can make an informed decision and all that." He said it with genuine concern, and Skye felt touched by gesture. She was glad he didn't sound spiteful or jealous like some other kids she had known who had tried to dictate who she socialized with, just worried that she didn't know what she was getting herself into.
"Thanks, Fitz," she said, giving him a nod. They arrived at the basketballs, and listened as Coach Garrett barked out the teams for the day's class. Skye didn't know much about the other kids in the class, but it definitely seemed to her like Garrett was very intentionally placing the more athletic kids all on the same team. She, Jemma, and Fitz all ended up on the "blue team," which was captained by a girl who Skye had seen sucking on an asthma inhaler a few minutes ago, while Trip and his football teammates and a number of other equally-athletic kids made up the "red team," captained by a tall, muscular boy with short brown hair and a smirk. He would have been kind of good-looking, in Skye's opinion, if he hadn't been wearing an expression of such superiority. She got the feeling that this was the kind of kid who ruled the place and expected to be treated as such. The boy caught her looking at him, and flashed her a wink. Unlike Phil's winks, which felt jovial and like he was sharing an inside joke with whoever was on the receiving end, this particular wink made Skye's skin crawl.
"Captain's, circle up for a jump ball!" Garrett shouted, ignoring the fact that everyone was close enough that he could have just spoken at a normal volume. As they moved into position on the court, Garrett said, in what must have been an undertone for him but was still loud enough for everyone to hear: "Try to go easy on 'em, will you, Ward?" The boy, Ward, Skye supposed, just smirked again, before launching into the air to tip the basketball backwards into Trip's waiting hands before asthma girl had even registered that Garrett had blown the whistle and tossed the ball upwards.
To no one's surprise, the red team dominated the game. Some of their players, like Trip, seemed to lighten up a little, and tried to give the blue team a chance to take the ball past midcourt, at least, but most of them, including that Ward guy, were too busy showboating and making unnecessarily impressive plays to offer any kind of compassion. Even Trip seemed to be a little caught up in demonstrating for his teammates, sinking baskets from farther out than almost anybody. He did slack off on defense though, and didn't try to steal the ball from Skye when she attempted to dribble it up the court.
Coach Garrett was no help at all, encouraging his star players to go for bigger and better plays and calling out the blue team callously for their "lack of effort." At one point, when Skye tried to block the path of the big Ward kid, he shoved a solid forearm into her shoulder, knocking her backwards. With his path clear, he made an easy layup, then circled back around to where Skye sat on the floor.
"Sorry about that," he said smugly, offering her a hand up. Skye didn't accept it, and scrambled to her feet on her own. She scowled at the boy.
"You know that's a foul?" she asked in her toughest voice. The boy laughed, but not in a kind way.
"Coach didn't call it, so it looks like I'm safe," he shrugged. His tone was sly, like he knew Skye knew he was messing with her but didn't care. "Haven't seen around before." It wasn't a question, so Skye didn't dignify it with a response as they both started jogging down the court once again. She tried to move away from him and focus on basketball, but he dogged her every move.
"I'm Grant," he said, practically in her ear. Skye glared and cut towards the basket, trying to create distance between them. "Grant Ward. What about you?"
"If I tell you, will you leave me alone?" Skye was seething. She was liking this Grant Ward less and less, and she wasn't the least bit interested in having him hanging around for the rest of class. He just smirked again.
"Depends on how much I like your name," he teased. Skye looked around, hoping that someone else was noticing what was happening between the two of them. Coach Garrett wasn't paying attention at all, and Trip was too busy taking another three-point shot to be looking at her and Grant Ward. Jemma was watching intently, though, and Skye felt relief flood though her. Even if Jemma wasn't the type to intervene, the fact that Skye had a witness was enough to embolden her. She checked once more to make sure that Garrett wasn't paying her mind, then stomped down hard on Grant Ward's foot. He hissed in pain, and began hopping up and down, massaging his toes through his sneaker. His expression twisted to one of pure venom.
"Well my name's Skye, and I don't think I like you one bit, Grant Ward," she snapped. "So do us both a favor and buzz off." With that, Skye zipped over the side of the court where Jemma was standing, and made sure to stick by her side for the remainder of the class. To his credit, Ward stayed away for the rest of the game, only shooting Skye the occasional look of loathing. Skye didn't mind. She could take dirty looks all day. She was just glad to be as far away from him as possible.
As the class ended and they headed out of the gym, Fitz congratulated her on standing up to Ward.
"He's on the football team and is one of Coach Garrett's favorites," Fitz told them. "There are rumors that he'll be on varsity next year at the high school, even though he'll only be a freshman. Obviously he's at the top of the proverbial food chain here, even though he's insufferable. Him and all his friends, really. I can't believe you did that to him, Skye."
"He was being a creep," Skye shrugged. "I don't like creeps."
"You should be careful, though," Fitz warned, his face puckering with worry. "You definitely don't want to be on his bad side. He's not exactly the type to let things go. I wouldn't try to antagonize him any more than you already have." Jemma made a worried sound beside them, and her hand slipped down to her side and began to tap.
"It's fine," Skye assured them both. "I've dealt with plenty of creeps and bullies before. I can handle myself. You know I can, Jemma." She turned to Jemma and gave her hand a squeeze. She didn't need Jemma worrying about her on top of everything else. Jemma looked unconvinced, but Fitz seemed to take her at her word.
They parted ways then, Fitz and Jemma heading towards some astronomy elective that Skye had zero interest in, and Skye towards the only class on her schedule she had truly been looking forward to: computer science. It made her happy to think that Phil had remembered her comment about liking computers on the night they met and had selected computer science for her elective. It made her even more happy to think that she would get to not only use computers every day, but actually learn about how they worked from a real teacher, not just outdated books from the library and grainy YouTube tutorials on coding.
After only one wrong turn, she managed to get herself to the computer lab, where she was greeted by a young black woman who introduced herself as Ms. Amador.
"You can take the computer over there next to Lincoln," the teacher said, pointing to a white boy with scruffy blonde hair that looked like it could use a good combing. The boy was too absorbed in his own work to say much, but he did smile and nod at Skye as she sat down. The lack of pleasantries didn't bother Skye in the least. She was here for the computers and nothing else.
The next hour was the highlight of Skye's day. Ms. Amador was a good teacher, and the class was just starting a new unit on website design, so Skye had hardly any catch-up to do. They spent the better part of the hour talking about things like HTML and JavaScript, and Skye was completely entranced. Some of the material felt a little over her head, but it was so interesting that she felt like she was going to have a handle on it in no time. Nothing felt fully foreign to her, the way some of her other classes, like math and language arts had, and Skye loved the feeling of control that came with having a grasp on the subject. She wondered if this was how Jemma felt all the time in school. If so, she was envious. The feeling was intoxicating.
The day ended back in Miss Hill's classroom, where Skye, Jemma, and Fitz all had something called Flex Time. It was basically a glorified study hall, but Skye didn't mind. Her brain was pretty much at capacity for the day, and she welcomed an hour of time where no one was trying to cram any more information into it. Fitz and Jemma used their time to work on some insanely complicated-looking math homework that had x's and y's all mixed in with the numbers, so Skye did her best to work on her own math homework. She hadn't really understood anything that had been covered in the class that day, and so, as she stared blankly at the worksheet in front of her, it didn't take long for the numbers to start swimming off of the page. It was so hard for Skye to make her buzzing brain focus on anything beyond the fact that she felt lost and she hated math. She was supposed to be multiplying and dividing fractions, but nothing about that made sense. A fraction wasn't a whole number, so how could she multiply anything by it? And somehow the answer was supposed to smaller than the original number, even though multiplying was supposed to make things bigger, she thought. And Mr. Bennet had said something about flipping the fraction upside down, but Skye didn't know why you would do that or which problems that was supposed to be for.
Skye felt her cheeks grow warm with frustration as she stared helplessly at the numbers crawling around on her page. Shoving the paper roughly into her backpack, Skye tried to put the math out of her mind. She would just ask Jemma for help once they got home. She pulled out the copy of The Giver that Miss Hill had lent her instead, but once again found it nearly impossible to focus. The first page of the book didn't seem promising, and Skye couldn't figure out why the boy in it was talking about being afraid of airplanes. It seemed like a boring thing to write about, and a boring thing to be afraid of. There were a few words that she skipped over, because she didn't exactly know what they meant, but she was fairly confident that even knowing those few words wouldn't have improved the story.
She spent the rest of the time pretending to read, but really instead she watched the other kids in the class. Most of them worked diligently on homework, a few read books. Two boys near the front were playing a furtive game of paper football, flicking the folded triangle back and forth between them. They were quiet enough to not draw the attention of Miss Hill, who was working one on one with a student on a grammar worksheet. Skye decided then that making her own paper football would be infinitely more interesting than any of her homework, so she pulled a blank sheet of paper from her notebook and set to work folding it into the right shape. The sound of the paper ripping out of its rings caused Miss Hill to glance up at her, but she looked away again before Skye started folding. It wasn't hard to make the football, and Skye enjoyed the back and forth motion of the folding. There was something soothing about it. Quickly, she made another one, and another.
By the time Skye had ripped out a fourth sheet of paper, Miss Hill had noticed and come over to her desk.
"Skye," Miss Hill said quietly, "why don't you work on something a little more productive?" Her face wasn't angry, and her tone was pleasant, but Skye still felt her whole face go hot with embarrassment and shame. She hadn't meant to be unproductive; it was just that paper footballs captured her attention much more than math or reading had. Upset with herself, Skye crumpled all of her papers up into a wad and crammed them into her backpack. Roughly, she picked her book back up again and reopened it to the first page, blinking back tears.
"It's okay, Skye," Miss Hill soothed. "I just need you to be a little less disruptive. Thank you for listening." Skye bore her eyes into the book, not reading a word but determined to stare at the page until Miss Hill left and she didn't feel like crying anymore. Miss Hill seemed to take the hint, and returned to her own desk. Skye was sure Jemma was looking worried beside her, and she was sure that Fitz thought she was bad and stupid, and that the rest of the class hated her for being disruptive while they were working. Fortunately, as soon as Miss Hill walked away from her, it seemed like everyone else lost interest, but that didn't stop Skye from feeling sick with anger and shame. She knew in her head that she was overreacting, but for some reason she couldn't make herself calm down, so she just sat there for the last fifteen minutes of the day with her eyes locked on page one.
Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, and Skye wasted no time in throwing her things into her backpack and bolting for the door. She probably should have waited for Jemma, but Skye felt like every bone in her body was vibrating with her need to get out of the room. She knew Jemma would understand, and figured that if she waited in the hallway, at least, Jemma wouldn't worry too much.
Jemma came out after another minute or so, her backpack snuggly strapped across her shoulders. Fitz was behind her, along with a few other students and Miss Hill. Miss Hill was waving and saying goodbye to everyone as they filed past her, and when Jemma reached Skye and began to move down the hallway with her, Miss Hill waved to them both as well.
"Bye Jemma, bye Skye. I'll see you tomorrow." She didn't sound mad, and Skye gave her a half-hearted wave before disappearing down the bustling hallway, but the bad, guilty feeling still gnawed away at her stomach.
"You know the front doors are this way?" Fitz asked, pointing in the opposite direction. His face was scrunched up in what Skye was beginning to think was his signature look of confusion.
"We have to go to the library," Skye said.
Jemma nodded. "Phil said to wait there until he can come pick us up."
"Oh," Fitz looked a little crestfallen. "So I guess this is goodbye, then."
"Just until tomorrow," Jemma comforted him. Skye bit back a chuckle at how tender the two were being. They had only known each other a day and a half and already they were brokenhearted about spending time away from each other. She wondered for a fleeting moment if she should be jealous of Jemma's fast, new friend, but the happy look on Jemma's face when she was around Fitz evaporated that notion almost instantly. Jemma could have more than one friend, really should have more than one friend, and Jemma being happy made Skye more happy than anything.
"Okay, then," Fitz said, giving them both a wave. "I have to go meet my cousin. He picks me up every day. See you tomorrow." He turned then, and vanished into the throngs of kids heading towards the front doors of the school, leaving Jemma and Skye to make their way to the library alone.