the sleep from my eyes I headed to the shower, cranking the heat with hope to chase the chills. Thank god it was Friday. The weekend was in reach, not that I had a life to boast about. My weekends were alternately spent at the shop.
The steam from the shower massaged my taunt nerves, as the memories of yesterday started flying in my head. This day couldn’t end fast enough.
Donning on my favorite outfit, a plum tank and my most flattering crystal-studded jeans, I figured the comfort of looking good might overrule the tensions. Better to face your problems head on. I don’t know who said that, but they defiantly didn’t have my problems.
Chapter 4
THE TOP WAS DOWN ON my very used black mustang, its engine roared like a big Herculean cat. To drown the noise and my nerves, I turned the radio a few octaves higher than comfort – One Republic’s Apologize crooning from the speakers. The seats vibrated in time with the bass. Carelessly my hair was tied in a ponytail, letting the wind caress my cheeks. The skies dejected clouds hung overhead in a display of chaos.
The middle of October had an aura of fall creeping closer. More storms would threaten the oceans as hurricane season started to settle in. Focusing my attention back to the road, the mustang effortlessly hugged a gentle curve. My Roxy messenger bag was thrown in the back seat as I pulled into the parking lot of Holly Ridge High. This was my senior year and something told me it might just be a year I won’t forget.
The schools structure reminded of an odd shaped S , with its faded red bricks reflecting the wear and tear it weathered. There was a sweeping pink dogwood in front of the main office with wooden benches flanking either side. A large cougar mounted over the front of the building with the schools motto stretched across the top in bold black letters.
Maneuvering my slightly rusting mustang into a parking space, the lot was packed with second hand-me-down vehicles like mine. Occasionally there was the glimmer of something flashy like the silver Infinite next to me – I deliberately avoided. The last thing I needed was to dent the luxury car with my peeling burgundy paint.
I grabbed my bag out of the backseat and headed toward the lockers. Arriving at the rundown row of metal compartments, I started shuffling my books for my first class. Pulling out my U.S. History book with subdued enthusiasm, I was acutely aware of the murmuring hum from the students around me. The hall sounded like the swirling buzz of mosquitoes after a humid rainfall. The hope that the event of yesterday was old news and my classmates had found some other gossip to spread perished.
Resigned to whatever fate was in store, I numbly headed to homeroom.
My first two classes went as expected. Nothing life threatening, just more of the hushed whispers I vaguely noticed anymore – or maybe I just didn’t care.
In between the following class, I stopped at my locker to switch books. Flinging my Chem text into my bag, I heard the locker beside mine squeak. In no mood for company I slung my bag over my shoulder ready to make a quick exit. Laying my hand on the door of the locker with every intention of slamming it shut, I averted my gaze to avoid the body against the lockers. In that quick movement a scent of reckless woods washed over me.
Silently I groaned. What is with this guy?
Rolling my eyes I angled towards him, not expecting to see his sapphire eyes pinning mine. Was I supposed to breathe when he looked at me like this? My annoyance was momentarily forgotten.
He smirked, moving the hoop in his lip slightly. “Hey Bri.” The shorten name sounded so intimate when it came from his mouth, indicating he knew me on a more personal level.
I knew that if I stayed another minute with him, I was going to make a complete fool of myself, utterly not trusting that I wouldn’t say something idiotic. Then there was his smirk I couldn’t figure out. Was he laughing at me? Was
Frances and Richard Lockridge
David Sherman & Dan Cragg