Chapter 7:
I slammed my locker door in frustration and sat down on one of the benches, sighing into my hands. Not exactly the best way to start my career here. If I have a career after the stunt I pulled today. I thought bitterly. I jumped a little when I looked up and saw Greg standing in the doorway, sheepishly staring at me.
"Um sorry I didn't realize you were still here."
I stared at him for a minute. His hair was a darker shade of brown but he still had those classic highlights. He was a bit taller, and I could see that he had filled out when his black t-shirt grew taunt as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.
Greg's POV
The girl kept staring at me and I crossed my arms defensively over my chest, studying her like she was studying me. Her hair was a pretty light brown color and her eyes were a hazel color, which looked really nice with her petite face. She looked so familiar, and I wanted to call her out on it, but considering how she had shoved me earlier it probably wasn't a good idea.
My eyes met hers and my breath caught in my throat as I noticed how much emotion her eyes showed. She looked hurt, sad, angry, and a bit scared. Why on earth is this girl afraid of me? I wondered. Tentatively I took a step forward and she immediately countered with a step backwards. I frowned slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking me and almost defending herself against me.
She took a deep breath and her voice came out quiet and sad when she addressed me. "I'm sorry I shoved you. I was out of line and it wasn't right."
"It's okay," I said a bit too quickly. Her voice sounded so familiar. I made a bold move and decided to ask her. "This may seem really cliché but I swear this is not a pickup line, but do I know you?"
Her face fell and I immediately knew something was wrong. I heard her whisper, "Of course," and she ran past me, stopping at the door and looking at me. "Woolridge High School. Class of '98."
And with that she was gone.
I slammed the door to my apartment and ran into my bedroom, yanked open the closet door and pulled down the box with my yearbooks. I grabbed the one from 1998 and rifled through it until I got to the seniors. Slowly I took in each face, comparing them to the girl from the lab. I was frustrated that I didn't know her name.
An idea dawned on me and I pulled out my phone, texting Nick and asked him what the new girl's name was. He replied back in seconds with one word; Mar. I frowned. That wasn't much to go on, but I sensed that was all I would get from him. I decided to text Warrick and ask him, still absentmindedly flipping through the yearbook. I got to the S's and saw my goofy face smiling back at myself. My phone dinged and Warrick's response was a bit longer, and not what I was expecting. Marilyn. Don't know her last name.
Marilyn.
Marilyn.
Where have I heard that before? My eyes widened when the impossible came to me. Could it be? I thought to myself. I ran my finger down the line until I came to one name, then slid my finger across to the picture. Staring up at me was the girl from today. My eyes traveled to the name that accompanied the picture.
Marilyn Sorenson
I stumbled backwards and hit my head on the footboard of my bed. Oh. My. God. My brain as moving a mile a minute. The girl I would see walk in the hallway, get beat up, who lived across from me, who was adorable beyond words, who I was so awful to because I was scared, was now my new colleague.