Bursts of red and yellow filled the streets of Ketchikan. To my delight, autumn was sprinkling its magic every where and the cool air of September was rich with the signature smell of ocean and evergreen. The first day of senior year looked promising.

“I know this sounds stupid,” Donna said, “but I’m really nervous.”

“It’ll be okay Don,” I replied, trying my best to comfort.

“You’re right,” she breathed, more to her self, “we will be fine. I’m being ridiculous.”

I glanced over at my best friend, who sat awkwardly, twiddling her thumbs. Her caramel hair tussled carelessly over her shoulders and her blue eyes were blurred with anxiety. Donna Preston was the smartest person I knew and possibly the biggest worry wart in the state of Alaska. She exceeded without fail in science, art and debate, but her anxiety problems were just as strong. I had always been her crutch when these panic attacks came about and sometimes found it irritating when she went to the extreme, though she never did it intentionally. Despite her worrisome ways, it would be false to label her timid or anything associated with the word.

“Vanessa and Brendan are trying for a baby,” I said.

“Really?” she responded, elated, “since when?”

“They must have decided not long ago,” I replied, “she cornered me this morning just to brag about it.”

“Wow,” Donna mused, confirming my plan of distraction had worked, “You’ll be Aunty Michelle soon!” We giggled at the notion and chattered a bit more on the topic.

As I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel, I contemplated how this year would pan out. Vanessa reassured me that senior year was almost always the best year of high school, and the most eventful too. Her words had put my mind at ease, though repeating them to Donna had little effect. In truth, I was a tiny bit nervous myself but I tried my best to remain calm, thinking positive thoughts and promising to attempt my studies fervently this year, not giving way to any distraction; namely, boys. The hopeless romantic in me always found herself infatuated with teenage men who returned no interest in her at all. In the end however, they never gave my imagination justice, always managing to disappoint by lacking substance.

This summer, Donna and I had discussed the subject with dark humor, and she pressed, as always, how boys were a waste of energy and a waste of time. Not that, any of them had given us the opportunity to waste our energy or our time. I guessed that my clumsiness and inability to charm people didn’t help with my chances.

My mind once again wandered back to, my one and only, sister. It hurt me to think I was to leave her and my brother in law in a year’s time. But knowing they were planning a little family of their own relieved me. My mother had passed away from cancer, three years ago, and Vanessa and her husband sprung into action to make sure I was safe in their care. They were firm guardians, almost always drilling into me the importance of education, but they disciplined me with fairness, and love was always their motivation. I had grown to love them both far more than I ever thought I could. For a young wife at 26, Vanessa played the mother role down to a T, and Brendan who had been dating my sister since they were 15, took on the responsibility as a father figure quite naturally. I based my idea on a father’s mannerism on books and movies because those men were the closest I had to ever having a father. My mother’s first husband, who fathered Vanessa, had died before she was born, whereas mine remained anonymous. My effort to unveil that mystery to my life was cut short by my mothers dying wish; that I never sought to find my biological father. Even though what she insisted only sparked my curiosity all the more, I chose to obey her final request because it would be extremely immoral not to. His absence in my life shook no empty hole in my heart but like others in my position, I did feel a sort of yearning for closure, still maybe not as strong.

I pulled into the bustling parking lot of Ketchikan high, and skimmed my eyes over the parking spaces. “Wow, we’re booming this year,” I said .The atmosphere was buzzing with laughter and already it seemed people had reunited after the long summer. Unfamiliar and familiar faces mingled together and a hint of anticipation started to gnaw at my anxiety. My beetle conked into park, and I stepped out of the driver’s seat. The passenger door creaked open, and Donna reluctantly closed it as she stood. She flung her vision about her, and I observed as her shoulders relaxed. “Now that we’re here,” she trilled, “it actually feels good to be back. I can smell the empty pages begging to be written on.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I rolled my eyes.

“Eb, you’re just as much of a nerd as I am,” she chortled, letting her chatter emerge.

“No,” I protested, “I’m not a stereotypical anything.”

“Well okay,” she snorted, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest, “I guess being a piano genius and an extreme book worm doesn’t spell out nerd at all.”

In that moment, a sudden crash hit the windshield and we shrieked in unison. A football bounced off the glass, and then the bonnet, landing neatly at my feat. I gawped in horror at the deep cracks that were out lined into the glass of my beloved beetle. A silent pause fell pregnant in the air as I stared, and stared at my car, tracing the imperfection with my vision. The smash wasn’t minor; it was smack bam in the middle, creating a crate big enough to be a huge nuisance while driving. My stomach began to churn and I remembered having just spent all my life savings this summer on fixing a smashed headlight.

“Oh. Heck. No.” I growled.

Suddenly and intensely, all I could see was red. I was furious, or maybe that was an understatement. I clenched my fists so tight; I could feel my knuckles whiten. My cheeks fumed with animosity, and my head was hammering severely.

I whirled my head around to see where the culprit had flung it, and my gaze narrowed on a group of boys, perched on a sitting bench, pointing at us in bouts of laughter. Each were slapping a tall guy on the back, chuckling with him in approval. He met my gaze and smirked triumphantly. He was large and masculine, obviously due to sport. Through my fury and dry breathing, I recognized him as Darren Canyon, heart throb of Kay High and captain of the football team. In our sophomore year he was the centre of my infatuated ideals, but he smothered my silly daydreams by tripping me over in class when I had attempted to take my seat. He and his friends thought it hilarious, but to me, the minor incident only confirmed his small mind. His girlfriend, Briana Donaldson, gymnastic star and chief of the four Plastics pack, thought it funny to use me as the butt of her arid jokes. They were the perfect couple, people frequently chirped, but if ever the words crossed my lips, it was always creamed off with sarcasm and a hint of irony.

“Now, now, Michelle,” Donna placed her hand on my shoulder, “we can get this fixed, don’t do anything dramatic.”

I knew better, but I didn’t listen, nor did I really want to. Calm was a word unknown to me in that moment and Donna’s pleas were silenced by my fury. I picked up the football with my hands, and stormed toward them. They all stared at me amused, nudging each other and grinning with surprise. I felt no intimidation, although I should have. All I wanted was justice and thought my yellow beetle deserved that much at least.

I shoved the ball into his big hands, my face frozen, not a hint of mercy showing.

“You’re going to pay for that,” I demanded, my voice low but sharp and cold.

“Oh,” he mockingly threw his hands up, “I’m scared. Seriously, I am.” His friends collapsed into a heap of laughter, encouraging his act like sick puppies on Prozac.

My reaction was quick and surprisingly swift. Before I realized what I was doing, my knee bent into a 90 degree angle and greeted his groin at full force. Astonished gasps rang out from either side of me, as he fell onto the ground yelping. His eyes rolled back into their sockets, hands clasped over my target. Shallow breathing erupted from his chest, as his friends stood with their mouths gaping open in utter shock.

I wasn’t fully aware of the crowd that surrounded us until a girl, ran out screeching, bending over to cradle Canyons scarlet smeared face. She swung her head up to glare at me, ringlets of golden locks flicking as she did.

“How dare you,” Brianna roared as she stood, flailing her index finger at me. “Who do you think you are?!” her voice was high pitch and shaky, “You need to be put back in your place you friggen bi…” Chuckles exploded from the crowd around us, as the people watched with wide eyed absorption.

“This is awesome,” one boy said.

“I hope they start pulling hair and scratch the crap out of each other,” someone beside him whispered loudly.

“Why did muso geek kick him?” a girl questioned.

“I don’t know, but she’s definitely placed herself at the top of the Plastics hit list,” her friend replied.

All the while Briana shouted obscenities and threats, exciting the crowd even more. I stood glaring back, neither moved nor threatened by her menaced ranting. Hit list? The intensity of the situation couldn’t keep my mind from echoing the words.

The bell rang and saved me from dealing with the enraged cheerleader, drowning out her teenage slander. I bit my lip and blushed profusely, as the sanity started to settle in once again. Ah crap, I thought, if Vanessa hears about this she’s going to kill me.

“Alright, alright,” the excited crowd broke, giving way to Mr. Booth, “get to class all of you, show is over!” He spun and bore his eyes into my own, “YOU, principles office, NOW!” The crowd dispersed, and they hurried to their classes, keen to avoid sharing my fate.

“It wasn’t her fault!” Donna interceded, pointing at Darren who was now sitting on the bench, recovering from the blow, “He smashed her windshield with-“

“She’s crazy,” Brianna cried, now sitting next to her boyfriend, dramatizing her tone with expertise, “she just attacked Darren! Oh Sir, it was terrible!” She dug her head into Darren’s neck with practiced sobs. The face that was a moment ago hurling insults into midair like a dragon breathing fire was now replaced with an angelic pout. Her three friends hovered around them, protectively murmuring sympathies.

“Oh brother,” Donna gagged beside me, mirroring my thoughts.

Mr. Booth, who stood plump and stout between the two groups of foes, was obviously won over by the cheerleader’s charade. His bald head shone a little in the sun, and his bushy eyebrows furrowed down into a frown. He reminded me of a human sized oompa loompa, with a protruding belly and black framed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“Just hurry on to class,” he directed to all but me. Donna huffed, preparing for an outburst, but the teacher held up his hand toward her, signifying no interest in her protest. Darren limped to class, with the Plastic pack following close behind. . I nodded for Donna to hurry along as well, not wanting for her to sink down with me. She sighed and pouted, then hustled away in the other direction toward her home room. As Mr. Booth fixed his eyes on me, Brianna turned to give me a tight lipped smile of victory. I sighed aloud, grasping fully what the girl in the crowd had meant by hit list.

“Now, young lady,” his voice was rash, “seeing as you’ve somehow managed to forget how to move your legs, I suppose I will have to escort you to the principles office myself.”