Two
It was the first day of my brand new school, in a brand new city where nobody knew my name, yet. And certainly nobody knew about my oddity. If I had a dollar for every first day that I started… Not that it would help, I may have had a lot but it doesn’t mean I’m any more used to it. It’s like losing a family member, then another. It doesn’t make things easier, but you sure learn how to adjust and repair yourself. I got very good at making myself invisible, metaphorically of course, strictly speaking I couldn‘t actually do that, and you‘d think they‘d give me an ability that’s useful? I’m not shy in any sense of the word, in fact I’m pretty much full of life half the time. I’m used to being part of large foster families, I had no problems getting on with the other kids, as long as I kept my ability firmly tucked away somewhere, we’d all get on like a house on fire. But when I first ever started High School, it toughened me but made me want to shy away. I’d walk behind large crowds, it was my safety blanket for travel purposes. I’d stand in corners, nobody noticed you in a corner. I was terrified, I didn’t want to be a loner, but I wasn’t sure if I had a handle on my, powers, my abilities, my disabilities, or whatever. I found it much easier to just try and blend in rather than fit in. High school was a scary place, you either eat or be eaten, there’s hardly ever any in between.
Langford High School was not particularly different to any other American High School I’d ever encountered before. The textbook beige building with huge white bay windows looked inviting enough, the schools colors were orange and white so pretty much every single wall was decorated in orange and white, even the lockers matched the Team’s uniform. The school gardens were neat and well kept, all the hedges were trimmed perfectly and evenly, some forming animal shapes and more obviously, letters and numbers to indicate learning. What was supposed to be inspiring words and phrases were hung everywhere around the school. Phrases and words like ’Create’ and ’Be Productive’ were among them. I made a mental note to develop my own sign for my own high school motto before mentioned. ’Eat or be Eaten.’
I wanted to make a change this year, I was sick of hiding in the shadows. I didn’t want to be invisible anymore, I didn’t want to stand out a whole lot either. But I figured what’s the harm in making a few friends this year? I hoped to be staying in this town for a long time, I didn’t want to face it alone. I yearned for companionship, I missed being part of a big foster family. My new parents had only decided to adopt the one child, I wanted girl talk, and boy banter. I wanted to go to my first sleepover, I wanted to sneak out to see a boy for the first time, I wanted to go on a first date, I wanted to have my first kiss. All things that surely, could be possible. Even for a freak like me.
I pointlessly started two weeks before the end of semester, and then it would be summer, and I hoped to make a few friends to perhaps spend a bit of time with. I was fast approaching eighteen, and my social worker Sue, said that soon enough I’d be able to live on my own, if I wanted to. She promised she’d help me find my own place and ways to support myself. And I believed her, for the most part. I could usually tell when a person was lying, it was weird. And I always knew if there was going to be trouble or not.
Today I planned to act as normal as possible, but I vowed not to hide or run in fear. I could handle high school, I was a big girl. There was nothing at high school that could scare me today. Or so I thought, until I walked right slap bang into the thing that I wanted to avoid most, and that was a cute guy.
He fumbled, I fumbled. Even worse we managed to bump heads after our collision, once on the ground and attempting to collect our things. I’d been carrying a journal I just got given at the school reception, plus my new timetable and a badge to wear. It was orange and white, regulation colours. And in horrendous yellow lettering it said. ‘Hey I’m new, go easy on me.’ Where the hell do they get this stuff from? I almost puked up own breakfast, needless to say I would not be wearing that badge, ever. Him, with brown curly hair was carrying a few science fiction novels, old battered copies belonging to the school, plus a couple of workbooks.
Sam Jones.
Read the name on the book, pretty average right? I had nothing to be afraid of.
“I’m so, so sorry.” I began.
“Do you wanna watch where you’re going next time? Or are you trying to get killed?” He replied abruptly, this guy was rude.
“Sorry, since when did the corridor become the state intersection?” My tone became sullen, I straightened up. I was going to help him with his books, but right now he could swivel. I did not like his tone one bit, I wasn‘t having anybody talk to me that way this year. And when he straightened up, I almost forgave him.
The first thing I noticed about Sam - well the second, because the first thing was how rude and obnoxious he seemed - was the fact that he was wearing a Smiths tee. I know right, total cliché but I really did love The Smiths, and I didn’t just pretend to be so I could claim to be ‘Indie.’ I didn’t class myself under any genre or label - except Freak of course - I was into all kinds of things, music, movies and books. And I certainly didn’t dress a certain way, being fostered those kinds of things are chosen for you, and because I’ve been around so many different people, I’ve been around a lot of influences. The most embarrassing thing about that was, I was wearing a similar Smiths shirt too. Only mine was a whole lot smaller and tighter, and it almost showed my midriff if I stretched up too high. A little daring, but I wanted to make an impression this year. He smiled weakly, obviously not wanting to admit defeat and still planning on giving me a hard time for being so un-co-ordinated and clumsy, he pointed at my shirt and began laughing. That was when I realised how white his teeth were, and how cute his smile was. But still, obnoxious and rude. Just obnoxious, rude, kind of cute with a great taste in music. I digress.
“You appear to have forgot your badge.”
How helpful of him. “I just can’t seem to lose this thing can I?” I shook my head.
“Nope.” His eyes locked mine, I didn’t look away. His brown, with a jade green rim, and mine were just a boring gray blue.
Awkward silence, followed by a rather awkward looking away and shuffling of feet, I appeared to have lost the will to speak slightly, what a surprise. I was not the type of girl to fawn over a boy. Nope, not me. He held out a sun browned hand, in order to free up this hand he had to rest a green workbook on top of his already impressive pile, and then I noticed a third thing. Next to his name he had written a ‘3’ in Roman Numerals.
“Sam Jones.” He stated matter-of-factly.
“Daisy Gardener,” Pause, followed by awkward hand shaking, not firm, definitely awkward. Get a grip Daisy, I remembered to blink since I hadn‘t ever since we had looked at each other. “Sam Jones, the third?” I added dryly.
“Yeah. I have a cousin and an uncle both older than me so, thought I’d make the definition. What’s your number?” He raised an eyebrow cooly.
If I didn‘t know better I‘d almost have thought this was a pick up, I wished I could raise one back. “One, I think. It’s not often you get two horticultural names pushed together, I think that’s a little more original than this shirt.”
Some suggestive head nodding, and then a mumbled see you around from him and that was it. I’d survived my first teenage, human interaction. Not to mention, my first interaction with a mildly attractive boy.
I think I was going to like it here.
SporkPunk here to review as requested. Before I begin, I'll explain how I do these things. Grammar first, then plot, then an overall summation. So, to the review.
Just remember that the shy girl dynamic has become hackneyed.
