Darby begins to hum happily as she roots around in her backpack, pulling out pens and notebooks. She’s one of the only people I know who actually get excited about going to school for an entire day.
“It’s n-not n-n-normal to be this h-h-happy about school,” I remind her.
She smiles even wider. “I hate summertime and being stuck at home with my loathsome stepbrother. At least school gives me some freedom,”she says.
“How’s it g-g-going since everything h-h-happened?” I ask gently. Darby lost her mom and stepfather in a car accident a little under a year ago. Her stepbrother has sole custody of her now since he’s over the age of eighteen, and Darby has been rebelling against him ever since.
A dark shadow crosses over her face just then. “It’s going okay,” she says quietly, her smile slowly fading away as she stares off into the distance.
“Darby,” I whisper, reaching out and touching her shoulder. She scares me when she gets like this. It’s like she’s holding a deep, dark secret that she refuses to tell anyone about, even me, her best friend. I’ve known her almost my entire life; and to say she’s done a one-eighty since her parents died would be the understatement of the century. It’s like she’s a completely different person sometimes, and it worries the hell out of me.
When I give her shoulder a light squeeze of reassurance, Darby seems to shake herself out of the dark mood; and she’s suddenly right back to how she was before, smiling from ear to ear and full of excitement. “It’s fine,” she says, dismissing me. “My stepbrother is just an asshole. But hey, isn’t every brother?”
“I d-d-don’t know. Never had one.”
“Well, you can be glad.” She turns to her locker and unlocks it before stuffing her bookbag inside. She takes out a few notebooks, pens and pencils and then closes it. “It’s going to be a great first day of high school,” she promises.
“B-b-but we don’t have any c-c-c-classes together,” I point out with a frown.
“We have lunch and Phys ed together,” she offers with a grimace. We’ve always hated PE. “I mean, it’s all your fault. You’re the one who signed up for all those AP courses,” she says with a roll of her eyes.
“Not by c-c-choice,” I retort. My stepmother made sure my curriculum was filled with the hardest classes I could possibly take. I know it’s simply for bragging rights to all of her friends. That coupledwith the fact that if I fail or do mediocre with any of them, it leaves room for her to berate and punish me.
“You’ll be fine. You’re too smart for school anyway,” Darby says proudly.
Darby is smart too. It’s just that she takes herextracurricularactivities a little too seriously. Speaking of which…
One of her boyfriends, and yes, I saidoneof her boyfriends, comes around the corner and scoops her up in his arms. I can’t remember which one this is. Is it Chad or Brad?
“Brad, put me down!” she chastises him with a giggle.
Okay, it’s Brad.
“Never,” he declares dramatically before swinging her around. When Darby kicks her feet in protest, he eventually eases her back down to the floor. He puts his hand against her locker and leans down to Darby before asking, “Hey, are you coming over to my house tonight?”
“Tonight?” she asks, hesitating. “Uh, no, not tonight.”
“Tomorrow night then?” he asks while waggling his brows suggestively.
“Tomorrow works,” she tells him before kissing his cheek. “See you then.”
“Bye, babe,” Brad says before disappearing around the corner.
“Why not t-t-tonight?” I wonder out loud.
“Because tonight, I’m staying at Chad’s house,” she says with a devilish grin.
Oh my god, so there’s a Chadanda Brad?I groan inwardly. “Darby,” I start, but she doesn’t let me finish.
“Before I go to his house, though, you and I have plans,” Darby announces.
“P-p-plans?” I squeak out. I have a feeling I’m not going to like whatever she’s cooking up. I really don’t feel like getting into trouble on the first day of school.
“Yeah, I heard a rumor about a huge fight happening afterschool down at the abandoned cove in Brooklyn. All the freshmen are going, so we have to be there too,” she says.
“I d-d-d-don’t know, Darby. You know how my p-p-parents are,” I remind her.
“Tell your dad you’re spending some time after school with me at the library so that we can study for a big test or something. I don’t care. Just make something up. But you and I are definitely going,” she declares with finality.
