this school year she’d been a cheerleader and president of the drama club. In the fall I heard she was dating some guy in a band from a high school in Atlanta.
Kaidan Rowe.
Her colors began to change then. Yellow to red. Red to gray. Gray to black. She was full of anger, then self-loathing, and most recently depression. Gossip flew about pictures of Jamie taken on her boyfriend’s cell phone, and their eventual breakup. She was soon kicked off the cheerleading squad for failing grades. Next came stories of her partying, moving from one guy to another, but never being happy. For the first time she wasn’t given the starring role in the winter play.
My heart contracted tightly as I looked at her again, sitting there at the end of the long lunch table. She still dressed trendy and took time to style her hair, which was probably why she was welcome to continue sitting with the others. But her smile and her sunshine yellow were gone, replaced by a dull gray haze.
The bell rang and I watched her shuffle out of the cafeteria.
No, I did not want to see Kaidan again. Of that I was now certain.
I made my way through the crowded halls, barely cringing anymore at the onslaught of emotion from the people surrounding me. It had been difficult adjusting to a big school after spending the first eight years in a small private school, but I was used to it now.
It was almost the end of the school year—two more weeks to go. The Georgia heat had set in, bringing with it tank tops and flip-flops, as well as shorts and skirts that kept no secrets. I shied away from showing too much skin, partly because of my own modesty, and partly because I felt kind of bad for boys. Unlike other girls, I had to see firsthand that most boys were having a hard enough time concentrating on anything besides their overpowering hormones.
Jay mussed my hair as I passed him in the hall, never pausing in his conversation with one of the guys from band class. I smiled, smoothing my hair back down.
I slipped into my Spanish class and immediately started the class work written on the board. Once finished, I peeked over at Scott McCallister, who sat next to me. He was dozing off on top of unfinished verb conjugations.
Scott was an all-state wrestler—a cutie with big brown eyes and a baby face. He’d always been courteous to me, even flirtatious at times, but I didn’t take it to heart, seeing how he flirted with lots of girls.
The class finished early and we were told to work on our final project.
“Um, Senora Martinez?” I raised my hand and she nodded. “Are you going to collect the homework?”
A collective groan rose up from the students, and the guy next to Scott muttered, “ Shut up, stupid! ” I slunk down low in my seat, mortified by my own social faux pas.
“Ah, sí !” Senora Martinez said. “ Gracias , Anna.”
“Why you gotta be so good all the time?” Scott whispered. I lifted my eyes and caught his teasing expression. He had no assignment to pass up when the teacher came around.
My face was still warm by the time she finished collecting the worksheets. Veronica, who sat in front of me, turned and gave me a sympathetic look. She was one of the only other students who did the homework.
Nobody worked on their projects after that. Well, I did, of course, compulsive rule follower that I was. The class erupted into the excited chatter of free time, and Senora Martinez turned to her computer, ignoring us. Even the teachers were ready to be done with this year.
I opened my notebook.
Veronica bent to put her stuff in her bag and caught sight of my sandals.
“Cute shoes!” she said to me. “Where’d you get them?”
Oh, how I wished I felt okay about lying. I kept my eyes on my notebook when I answered, “Thanks. Um, I think they were from a yard sale or flea market or something.”
“Oh.” Veronica glanced at them again with less appreciation this time, and we shared a polite smile. She had short dark hair and a Grecian
Kaidan Rowe.
Her colors began to change then. Yellow to red. Red to gray. Gray to black. She was full of anger, then self-loathing, and most recently depression. Gossip flew about pictures of Jamie taken on her boyfriend’s cell phone, and their eventual breakup. She was soon kicked off the cheerleading squad for failing grades. Next came stories of her partying, moving from one guy to another, but never being happy. For the first time she wasn’t given the starring role in the winter play.
My heart contracted tightly as I looked at her again, sitting there at the end of the long lunch table. She still dressed trendy and took time to style her hair, which was probably why she was welcome to continue sitting with the others. But her smile and her sunshine yellow were gone, replaced by a dull gray haze.
The bell rang and I watched her shuffle out of the cafeteria.
No, I did not want to see Kaidan again. Of that I was now certain.
I made my way through the crowded halls, barely cringing anymore at the onslaught of emotion from the people surrounding me. It had been difficult adjusting to a big school after spending the first eight years in a small private school, but I was used to it now.
It was almost the end of the school year—two more weeks to go. The Georgia heat had set in, bringing with it tank tops and flip-flops, as well as shorts and skirts that kept no secrets. I shied away from showing too much skin, partly because of my own modesty, and partly because I felt kind of bad for boys. Unlike other girls, I had to see firsthand that most boys were having a hard enough time concentrating on anything besides their overpowering hormones.
Jay mussed my hair as I passed him in the hall, never pausing in his conversation with one of the guys from band class. I smiled, smoothing my hair back down.
I slipped into my Spanish class and immediately started the class work written on the board. Once finished, I peeked over at Scott McCallister, who sat next to me. He was dozing off on top of unfinished verb conjugations.
Scott was an all-state wrestler—a cutie with big brown eyes and a baby face. He’d always been courteous to me, even flirtatious at times, but I didn’t take it to heart, seeing how he flirted with lots of girls.
The class finished early and we were told to work on our final project.
“Um, Senora Martinez?” I raised my hand and she nodded. “Are you going to collect the homework?”
A collective groan rose up from the students, and the guy next to Scott muttered, “ Shut up, stupid! ” I slunk down low in my seat, mortified by my own social faux pas.
“Ah, sí !” Senora Martinez said. “ Gracias , Anna.”
“Why you gotta be so good all the time?” Scott whispered. I lifted my eyes and caught his teasing expression. He had no assignment to pass up when the teacher came around.
My face was still warm by the time she finished collecting the worksheets. Veronica, who sat in front of me, turned and gave me a sympathetic look. She was one of the only other students who did the homework.
Nobody worked on their projects after that. Well, I did, of course, compulsive rule follower that I was. The class erupted into the excited chatter of free time, and Senora Martinez turned to her computer, ignoring us. Even the teachers were ready to be done with this year.
I opened my notebook.
Veronica bent to put her stuff in her bag and caught sight of my sandals.
“Cute shoes!” she said to me. “Where’d you get them?”
Oh, how I wished I felt okay about lying. I kept my eyes on my notebook when I answered, “Thanks. Um, I think they were from a yard sale or flea market or something.”
“Oh.” Veronica glanced at them again with less appreciation this time, and we shared a polite smile. She had short dark hair and a Grecian
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