“It's official, man. We're freshmen.” Rayne's muffled voice echoes in his navy blue locker. “Fucking high school!”
“Don’t get too excited,” Seth adds, throwing his army green colored bag over his shoulders. “It's still school, and we're at the bottom of the food chain.” He waits for the two of us while moving his blond, shaggy hair out of his eyes.
“Chill, man. It's not that serious.” Seth moves his focus from Rayne to me while I read over my new schedule, standing in front of my closed locker. It's a short white paper showing my name, Andrew Miller, up in the top right corner, and my grade: 9 right underneath it. My school subjects, including my homeroom, are listed in a vertical row with thin red linesseparating each one. They're listed in tiny letters from zero period through seventh.
“Yeah, you tell yourself that when these pricks shove you into your locker…” His anxiety about the first day of school at North High isn't unwarranted. This school is known for its fights, bullies, and faculty that doesn't do shit about it.
“No one is pushing me into my locker…” I say the words under my breath, still trying to read over my assigned schedule.Homeroom is with Mrs. Lyle. Room 202, that's not too far from here.
“Why do you think you're so fucking special that no one would try?”Is he really pouting right now?
“... because no one is going to know who I am…”
“That's fucking sad, bro.” Rayne finally finds his way out of the dark cave that is his locker. “You don't want to meet anyone new?”
“Nah, I just want to blend in and out of the crowd. Level up through each one of these grades, graduate, and get out of this town. Besides, I already know you guys. That's enough for me…”
“No one makes it out of this city, not unless it's in a damn body bag or a police cruiser…” Rayne continues stuffing his bookbag with blank notebooks and pre-sharpened pencils.
“Then maybe you'll be seeing me being driven away by flashing blue and red lights.” They both look at me with wide eyes as I laugh to myself. “Damn… I'm kidding.” The sound from my zipper could cut through the thick tension between the three of us.
“Whatever, man. Don't joke about that shit. Not on the first day of what is supposed to be the start of the best days of our lives.” Rayne can have his contorted idea of what this place is. Seth and I both know it's a fucking prison, and we're all just waiting to be released in four years.
I raise my hands, showing him that I playfully surrender. “Damn man. I'm just messing around. I'll be on my best behavior. Scouts honor.”
The three of us break away from our familiar group and go to different homerooms. Rayne's is on the third floor, and Seth's is right next to mine in Mrs. Bennett’s classroom. With unsure looks, we give our quick goodbyes, and I make my way to the back of the classroom. The last row of desks was a piece of safety that cloaked me in a sense of invisibility in middle School. It'll be the same sort of refuge. I'll stay back here, and it'll be what keeps me hidden in this sad excuse of an educational institution. It's just what I want to get me through this year and the next year and the following years after.
With a mix of nerves, I face the clock above the doorway. I'm already counting down the hours until this day ends.
That is, untilshewalks in. I first notice her long auburn hair that falls past the hem of her pale blue short sleeves covering her upper arms. My eyes continue upward towards her face, and the white glitter on her wide smile catches the yellow glow from the fluorescent lights.
I continue staring, my goofy expression surely evident, when I find her vibrant green eyes.Wow. She's so pretty. Who is she?She sits down in the front row and clumsily lays her pastel pink backpack next to the legs of the desk. The way I'm staring, I swear I could drill small holes in the back of her head behind her cinnamon colored waves.
“Candi… Hart…?” Mrs. Lyle’s shrill voice breaks me from my trance.
“Here!” She adorably raises her hand.So your name is Candi?Our homeroom teacher continues reading more names, but the only one that plays over and over is hers.Candi Hart.
“Andrew Miller!” How has she gotten through so many names? My own name jolts me to attention.What a great way to start my first day of high school.
“Uh… yeah, here.” My body goes rigid in my seat, and everyone looks around the classroom, everyone includingher,andsuddenly, I don't want to blend in anymore.
“Are you coming to band practice tonight?” My best friend Rayne’s voice is drowned out by the sounds of our dark blue lockers slamming in the hallway. He adjusts his long, black, wavy hair from under the ebony strap from his bag hanging across his shoulders and studies my face while waiting for an answer.
Our band, “Blood Red Serenade,” practices every Friday night. We begin at six, and I usually end up staying at his house for the entire weekend. Unfortunately for his neighbors, we have our jam sessions until midnight or later. His mom doesn't care. She works the third shift at the local hospital as a night nurse. By the time she comes home in the morning, we're passed out in hisroom, or we're still up playing his PlayStation. With her usual disappointed “mom” look, she finds us scarfing down whatever chips she bought at the store and a steaming hot plate of Totino’s Pizza Rolls. As for his dad, he's a piece of shit. He left when we were in the third grade, and no one has heard from him since.
“Yeah, I wouldn't miss it,” I answer immediately, sliding the dark colored straps of my backpack over my shoulders. He follows close behind and quickly catches up. Our footsteps are almost in tandem as the soles of our leather combat boots echo on the hard white tile in the halls of North High School. “Only four more months of this shit.” He laughs as we walk into our first class.
The first period is history with Mr. Ferguson. He watches Rayne, and I follow behind everyone else. He stands behind his desk with his gradebook and a blue pen in his hand. “Nice of you two to join us,” he states. His stern look behind his thick glasses trails us until we sit down at our seats in the back row.
“Chill,” Rayne begins. “The second bell hasn't rung yet.” Like clockwork, the final chime dings as he throws his bag down next to his feet.
“You're lucky this time, Mr. Thompson.” Mr. Ferguson’s eyes dart up to the intercom near the white analog clock hanging next to the door. Rayne rolls his eyes and props his feet on top of the empty chair back in front of him. “Now, that we can begin…” Mr. Ferguson turns to face the chalkboard, and his deep voice drones on about the branches of government or something we're supposed to memorize for the next test. I know, I know this stuff is important, at least that's what the adults in my life say, but I can't concentrate. Not when she's sitting so close to me.Candi.
Everything about this class sucks except sitting next to her. I can't help my stare at her shiny, long, auburn hair that brushes against the cover of her blue spiral notebook.Damn. I can smell her coconut-scented shampoo from here. Her strands lookso smooth and soft. The urge to run my fingers through them almost overtakes me.
I follow her pencil as it falls off the smooth desk, landing on the light grey tile between us. She struggles to pick it up with her pointy red nails. Goosebumps cover my arms under my long sleeves as I watch it roll towards me.She's never been this close to me before.Her emerald eyes meet mine before it hits my shoe. “L-let me get that for you.” I stutter, my voice cracking in my throat.
It's warm between my thumb and forefinger. Tiny bite marks are engraved in the sides.Her lips have been right where I’m touching.“Thank you.” She looks at me coyly, and the bright light from the overhead fluorescents reflects off her shiny pink lip gloss. “I don't think we've ever really talked before today. I'm Candi.” She whispers, grabbing the pencil by the used eraser.
