Of course. I should have expected this with the kind of morning I’m having.
I step out of line and attempt to find Lin in the crowd, but it’s impossible with the whole school in here. I’m stopped multiple times by old Wavette teammates and other students in my grade who say they’re happy I’m back and ask a few polite questions about Portland. It’s nice to feel so welcome, especially after my abrupt departure, but I don’t want to be late to my first class, so I try and hurry along.
If this were any other day, the grayish-blue walls and scuffed linoleum would depress me. But today I let myself soak it all in. I’m enthralled by the rows of navy lockers and the slightly cheesy motivational posters tacked to the walls. I relish the echoing of the morning announcements that are being ignored by groups of friends loudly comparing schedules. I’m obsessed with the normality of it all. I will never again refer to this fine institution as prison.
When I walk into the front office, I immediately spot dozens of students in the waiting area. A stressed secretary barely acknowledges me before grabbing my schedule and jabbing her keyboard like it recently wronged her.
“Let me guess.” She pushes her rimless glasses up the bridge of her nose before looking up at me. “Your schedule’s wrong?”
I wonder if she can read minds.
She lets out a frustrated sigh. “Our system bugged out last night. Have a seat and I’ll call your name when your guidance counselor is available.”
I look around the waiting room for a place to sit and quickly realize that’s not going to happen. All the chairs are taken, and a lot of students have already claimed the corners as standing space. I don’t recognize many of them, so I figure most must be freshmen.
I end up standing awkwardly next to the front door. I’m tempted to pull out my phone and text Lin or Raegan, but I don’t want to risk having it taken away on my first day. The secretary looks like she’s ready to snap at anyone who steps out of line.
“Ramos?” she calls.
I freeze. Wait, Ramos? Alex Ramos?
My eyes fly to the back corner of the room just as Alex stands up. His gaze falls on mine, and his eyes widen in surprise. But before either of us can say anything, the secretary ushers him toward the guidance counselor’s office.
Here’s something I haven’t mentioned about Alex Ramos: At one point in time, I had a crush on him.
But then freshman year happened.
Alex was unofficially inducted into the theater kid clique while I became a part of the Wavettes, but we’d always meet out front after school to wait for our parents to pick us up. And because my dad was constantly late, Alex’s mom began to offer me rides home, which I gratefully accepted.
This wasn’t a big deal at first. During those car rides I’d tease him about getting paint on his Converse from painting theater props and he’d threaten to tell my friends that I still listened to One Direction. But there was one Friday where my mood had turned sour. My dad had stumbled home late the previous evening reeking of beer and causing me to worry even more about his emotional state over Grams.
“What’s wrong?” Alex had asked when he sat down on the brick wall next to me. I noticed today his Converse were splattered with streaks of gray.
“Nothing,” I replied, the same thing I’d told Raegan and Whitney and Lin.
He just stared at me.
“What?” I finally snapped.
Instead of getting defensive, his eyes softened. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”
I looked at him, realizing just how much he paid attention. Even though my friends knew about Grams passing, he was the one who continued to text me every evening to help ease my mind away from my sad thoughts. I wasn’t as guarded as I thought I was, at least not around Alex. It’d always been easy to talk to him.
So I took a deep breath.
“It’s just… my dad.” Then I told him about his occasional binge drinking and how he was always late to get me because he’d usually go straight for the beer after work and pass out.
“Anyway,” I’d finished. “He’s still torn up about Grams. It’ll be okay.”
“Well,” Alex kicked the heels of his sneakers against the wall. “If you need anything…”
A new kind of warmth spread through my chest. “Thank you.”
He tugged on the back of his beanie, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth.
Later that night, my phone chimed with an incoming text. My heartbeat tripled when I saw who it was from.
ALEX: you watching Crime Boss?
