Chapter 3
I'm already awake, showered and looking through my wardrobe when Brennan bursts into my room at 6:30 the next morning, banging pots and pans together shouting for me to wake up. The look on his face when he realized I was already awake was priceless.
I look around my room again, it feels more personalized now that I have unpacked. The desk holds my laptop, the bathroom contains all my toiletries and make up, the chest of draws display my flowers Ed bought me yesterday as an apology for missing my first full day. Even without him there, I had a pretty great day, Brennan gave me a full tour of the house, which by the way is huge. Logan helped me unpack and get fully settled, and Ana took me down to the horse stables where she works with Ella to teach kids to ride. I had never gotten the chance to ride a horse, having lived in Boston, but I had always wanted one, Ana said that one day when they didn't have classes we could go out riding.
I sigh as I shuffle through my clothes, now letting the nerves get to me, you see, I'm starting school today and I don't want to sound superficial when I say that I have to look good. Besides my love for fashion, I need to look good because this school is Oakridge High School, a school that has around 226 students across 4 grades, that's less than the number of students in one grade at my own school. So basically everyone will be looking at me. Great.
I finally settle on an outfit which consists of a tight fitting red plaid shirt with three quarter length sleeves rolled up to my elbows, dark blue, slightly ripped skinny jeans and 3inch brown leather cut out ankle boots. I quickly get dressed and go to the bathroom to do my makeup. I look at my reflection in the enormous mirror and shake my hair out of my towel so that it can air dry while I do my makeup. I apply a little foundation, to hide my pale skin, I put a little bit of eyeliner and mascara on, to make my violet eyes stand out, and add a little bit of clear lip gloss. I quickly curl my hair to enhance my natural curls and add some jewelry. I take a deep breath as I stare at my reflection. I'm ready.
#
We pull up to school and I can't even attempt to push the feeling of dread away. Oakridge High School shared campus with the Junior High, so there was a lot of people about. Well, at my old school I wouldn't have classed this as a lot, but this is the most people I've seen since I got to Oakridge. The school looks a reasonable size with the school colours, purple and yellow, everywhere. From the purple lockers to the yellow bins, the purple banners to the yellow posters, it surrounded you.
I was on my way back from the office with Ana to meet back with Logan and Brennan, they were running late this morning so Anastasia came to pick me up. We walked through the halls mindlessly chatting, she would occasionally point out a room I had a class in as we passed. When we made it to the front of the school I see the boys aren't here yet, I scan the small parking lot and I can already tell the Clarks cars are going to stand out in here. Sitting amongst beat up trucks and dented old Volvos, it would be more than conspicuous.
We sit down at a picnic table placed outside the school and continue our conversation, as we talk I scan the crowd of students milling around. My eyes wander back to look at Ana while she tells me about 'how amazing Saturday night was', don't ask me what happened Saturday night, I wasn't paying attention to her story. I hear the soft hum of vibrations followed by a simple unfamiliar ringtone, I know it's not mine, Ana ducks her head to fish through her bag for her phone, her blonde waves creating a curtain, obscuring her face.
But I don't pay attention to that. Because the minute her head drops, my breath catches in my throat. There, several meters behind Ana, was a guy that was so far back, I hadn't been able to see him until now, my view of him hidden by Ana. He sits there, just staring at his hands. He's sat down with his back against a tree, his knees bent up and his arms resting over his knees with his hands crossing at the wrist. He wears a plain black hoodie, battered old jeans and scuffed lace up boots. Even though he's sitting down I can tell he has a good build, tall but not too tall and muscly but not too muscly. My eyes travel up to his face, he possesses a square face with a strong jaw-line, and tan skin that seems to make his skin glow. Beneath the hood of his hoodie I can see short, dark blonde spikes in disarray.
I feel as though I've been studying him for hours, examining the way his face is contorted slightly as if he is deeply concentrating on something. And then his eyes meet mine. I let out a gasp of surprise, not just at his intriguing eye colour, an extremely light brown that looks almost golden, but also at the emotion his eyes hold. At first I see something cold and intimidating but then after a few seconds, I see that begin to waver, whatever walls he built up began to crumble. Then I see the pain of loss, the loneliness of abandonment, the hurt of accusations and most of all the resignation, a horrible, heart-breaking look of defeat. It was disheartening to see a boy around her age filled with so much grief.
And then my vision is obscured again. Now all I can see is a smiling face and intriguing grey eyes, which I subtly try to peek around.
"What are you looking at?" Anastasia's face ever so slightly screwed up in confusion. Obviously not subtle enough. Ana starts to turn and I get an over whelming feeling, I'm not sure what it is but I don't want Ana to see the guy. I get the strange feeling that it's because I don't want to share that moment. The moment I saw all his walls come tumbling down, the moment I think I saw something nobody has seen before. The moment that seemed so intimately private even though it was with a complete stranger.
But I didn't have to worry, because by the time Anastasia had followed my line of sight, the boy was gone. Swallowed up by the abundance of trees, leaving behind nothing to even suggest he was ever there. It made me question whether I had just imagined him. No, no I refuse to believe that my mind could create such a haunted person, no matter how messed up it is.
#
The rest of the day passed pretty uneventfully, and soon I found myself sat at lunch sat at quite a large table with Brennan, Anastasia, Logan and Selena, Brennan had told me she was a friend of Logan's, quite a good friend. We had a fair number of people stop to talk with someone at our table, football jocks talking to Brennan, band geeks laughing with Logan, cheerleaders gossiping to Anastasia. I even saw a few faces I recognized like Peyton Baker, an average height blonde with big glasses that dominated her face, covering her brown eyes, who I had Homeroom with. And Spencer Alden, a lanky brown-haired boy with a square face, who introduced himself during my Pre-Calculus class. But out of all the faces, familiar or not, not once did I see the one person I wanted to.
I went through the rest of lunch not really paying attention. I contributed to the conversations, talking to Brennan and Logan about classes we shared. You see, because of the small age difference, and when they were born, Brennan and Logan are both in their senior year, and I am in some senior classes despite the fact I'm only a junior. But, still, I didn't have any classes with them, or with Anastasia or Selena, so I knew nobody in any of my classes before going in.
When the bell rang at one, I wasn't really on a rush to go anywhere. I had a free period, but unfortunately for me, nobody else I knew had a free period. So, I watched them go off to their classes, still sat in the same spot until the silence became too much. I remembered Logan telling me that I could go to the library if I had nothing better to do, and I didn't, so I packed up my things, got out my student map and was on my way.
#
Oakridge High Schools library was like any other. Dusty and seemingly lifeless. The room was painted what I think was once yellow, but time had faded it to a light brown, it had high ceilings to accommodate the tall, mahogany bookcases that filled the space. They lined the walls and created aisles in the room, it actually amazed me that such a small school could have such a collection of books. I walked down the aisles, skimming past the familiar names, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Catcher in the Rye, Romeo and Juliet, Lord of the Flies. I continue like this until I find my personal favorite; The Great Gatsby, I pluck the dusty paperback from the shelf and venture to the back of the empty library. The back wall of the library is lined with rickety tables and unstable chairs made of the same bleached splintering wood.
I must have sat for about fifteen minutes before I realized, the library wasn't as empty as I thought it was. Hidden in the shadows of the back left corner, was the guy I'd seen this morning. Excitement grew in the pit of my stomach. Why? Why does this random guy, who I actually haven't even met yet, have me so captivated? The guy sat with his back to me. He had taken his hoodie off, revealing the plain white T-shirt beneath. It was evident he had spent a lot of time outside, the tips of his light brown hair were slightly lighter than the rest, his skin was sun-kissed to a golden brown tan. It doesn't make sense to me. This guy is the stereotypical popular guy, tall, lean, tan, gleaming white smile. So why does he seem to be isolated all the time? I don't know what I plan on doing, but I find myself walking up behind the guy, who, by the way, still hasn't seen me. I, myself, am astounded by how quiet I'm able to complete this task, the sound of my footsteps almost non-existent in the silence of the room.
"I'm surprised they'd let the new kid have a free period." The sound almost made me jump, almost. The only thing that prevented that was the voice itself. It echoed through the room, piercing the deafening silence, as soft as a gentle wave. It took me moments too long to recover enough to answer.
"How did you know it was me?" I was the only new kid in a school of 226, he had to be talking about me right?
"That's easy. Only the new kid would try and approach me." If I wasn't confused before, I sure am now.
"And whys that?" was the best I could come up with. I got a soft chuckle in response, so quiet that I almost missed it, followed by,
"Because everyone else knows better." Now, I'm not an idiot. This should have made me falter. It should have made me nervous. It should have made be leave the library running. But it didn't. I can't tell you why, mainly because I don't even know myself, but something, something buried deep down, some mysterious, unknown aspect of this boy intrigued me. Intrigued me enough to carry on with the exchange at least. Sucking in a deep breath, I circle around so I'm standing in front of him and all the air I'd just taken in, left my body in a matter of seconds. As beautifully captivating I had found him this morning, it was nothing compared to how he looked up close. Every facet of him was intensified, the golden brown of his eyes, the warm summer glow of his skin, the sharpness of his jaw. I stare at him as he stares back at me. To my relief he looks as stunned as I feel, maybe he hadn't been expecting me.
After what felt like years of just staring at each other, I see his gaze shift from me to something else and then back, so swift I barely even notice. His gaze moves up my body, before his eyes meet mine.
"Whenever you feel like criticizing any one, just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."
"Huh?" is clearly the most intellectual thing I can conjure up at this moment in time. With a simple nod of the head, he gestures to the worn out copy of The Great Gatsby, I still have in my hand. I look down at the book in my hands for a few moments, desperately trying to string together an eligible sentence.
"You've read The Great Gatsby?" I didn't mean for it to sound so insultingly incredulous. He laughs softly, at least I think it's a laugh, it's more like a soft humored breath.
"No. Those are the first lines of the book, anyone in high school with an IQ higher than 30 knows that."
"Yeah, I guess you're right." A stray piece of hair falls in front of my face and I see his hand twitch, so miniscule that I might have missed it, had I not been so absorbed in him, as if he wanted to tuck it back. "Can I sit?" I gesture to the chair opposite him.
"We're in America, it's a free country. You can do whatever you want." He leaned back in his chair, hooking one arm around the back. "All that I can do is give you advice that you strongly refrain."
"And whys that?" I repeat my earlier question.
"Let's just say I'm not what most people would call 'good'" he responded, making quotation fingers at the word 'good'. I narrowed my eyes slightly in defiance, before dropping the book on the table and slipping onto the chair. He raises his eyebrow in question and respond with a shrug of my shoulders.
"Let's just say I'm not 'most people.'"