The Right Side of Reckless

by Whitney D. Grandison

  Raviv acknowledged me with a bob of his head. “Sup?” Glancing at the girl on his arm, he squeezed her a little closer. “This is my girl, Camila. Cami, this is... Actually, I never got his name.”

  “Guillermo,” I offered.

  “Where ya headed?” Raviv asked.

  “Lunch,” I read from my schedule.

  “Need help getting there?”

  “Nah, I think I remember the way.”

  Raviv left it alone. “Cool, I’ll catch ya later. Keep thinkin’ about soccer.” His attention turned to a tall, lanky kid down the hall who was leaning his head against a locker as he dialed in his combination. “Heads up, Kayde!”

  Camila smiled at me a little too long, angling her head in a funny and suggestive way.

  Deciding I was being paranoid, I smiled briefly and went in search of the cafeteria.

  They were serving cheeseburgers and fries for lunch, and unlike my old school, it was real hamburger meat, not that soy meat crap I’d been forced to swallow for two years.

  I didn’t mind sitting alone—

  My body lurched forward as somebody bumped into me. A look over, and I found a couple boys with trays in their hands walking by, one stopping and noting my glare.

  “Problem?” he challenged.

  “Yeah, mind sayin’ excuse me, or watchin’ where you’re going next time?” I shot back.

  “Man, what?” As if to intimidate me, he bucked at me, stopping only when his friend pressed a hand to his chest to push him back.

  My fists clenched my tray. With everything in me, I wanted to throw the tray down and feed this dickhead’s face to the linoleum.

  “Hey.”

  A boy was beside me—Avery. He swept a nervous gaze from me to the two boys now walking away.

  “Trust me, guys like that aren’t worth it,” he said.

  That wasn’t the point. Where I was from, you didn’t just let people walk all over you. Screw that. “Here’s how my fucks work—I don’t give any.”

  Avery blinked and took a step back. “Uh, that’s one way to look at it.”

  Seeing his unease made me freeze.

  It was only my first day. I couldn’t lose my shit this soon, this early. I practiced even breaths to calm myself down. This wasn’t Rowling Heights—I couldn’t let every asshole get to me. I knew I could handle myself, but maybe—just this once—I didn’t have to prove it.

  Running a hand down my face, I forced myself to let it go. “Sorry.”

  Avery shrugged. “I get it.”

  “I’ve got an issue with authority. The less I come into contact with people to answer to, the better.”

  A small smile tugged one corner of Avery’s mouth up. “That’s a good train of thought.”

  I glanced at the cafeteria, feeling a little antsy as I slowly came down from my anger. “If it’s not too much trouble, can I sit with you?”

  Avery bobbed his head, and together we went and grabbed an empty table for ourselves. Almost immediately he pulled a graphic novel from his bag and commenced reading it. With his quiet demeanor, he seemed like a safe choice to associate with, someone my parents and PO would approve of.

  Two girls walked by with their lunches. Two girls with identical faces—twins, one wearing a blouse with teal polka dots and teal jeans, and the other wearing a blouse with pink polka dots with pink jeans. They were twinning to the max.

  “Those are the Winston sisters, Britney and Briana, they wear matching outfits every day,” Avery clued me in.

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Never asked.”

  This school definitely had its own character going for itself. The cafeteria was abuzz with chatter, some kids throwing things back and forth, and some playing music in various areas. As I looked around, taking the place in, I noticed a girl sitting alone.

  Like Avery, she was reading during the lunch hour. She sat with her legs crossed and her nose deep in her book, not eating or paying anyone any attention. Even from this slight distance, I could read her Don’t-Fuck-With-Me demeanor. The attitude etched on her face, just daring someone to approach her, caused me to smile.

  My gaze ran up her golden-brown legs and settled on her face, which was pretty no matter the angry expression on it. As I studied her, I realized I recognized her from a couple of my earlier classes, trig and geography.

  “That’s Jenaya Omar,” Avery said, clearly noticing my staring. When I faced him, he added, “She’s...tough.”

  My eyes returned to the girl. Jenaya. Tough suited her, because even though I was new, I could tell from her body language that she didn’t take shit from anyone.

  I rose from my seat, grabbing my tray. “Let’s go sit with her.”

  Avery blinked. “Th-that’s not a good idea.”

  Maybe it wasn’t, but I wanted to know the girl everyone else seemed to be staying away from. She was alone, and I was alone, apart from Avery. Why not?

  “She’s tough for a reason,” Avery went on, taking a moment to observe her. “She’s sorta got this reputation.”

  A reputation? That would piss me off, too. That made my decision final. “So do I, let’s go.”

  Avery didn’t have to join me, but he did, and we walked to Jenaya’s table together. I sat across from her, and Avery stood beside her, looking nervous.

  At once Jenaya stopped reading and glanced between Avery and me. For some reason, she gave me the mean look. “Can I help you?”

  Up close, I saw that she had pretty hazel eyes. The tone of her voice was strong, too, letting me know she meant every word she’d ever utter.

  Feigning nonchalance, I looked around before shrugging and opening my bottle of juice. “Nah, I’m good.”

  I didn’t miss Jenaya narrowing her eyes. “There’s a bunch of empty tables.”

  I couldn’t tell you why I wanted to sit with this girl and befriend her, but something about her drew me in. “True, but I like this one. I recognize you from trig. I’m new, and I saw you sitting alone, so I figured why not eat together?”

  She lifted a brow. “Not interested.”

  “No? Too bad. The cheeseburgers look good.” I faced Avery, still standing uncertainly beside us. “Sit. I don’t think her bite’s as hard as her bark.”

  Jenaya lifted a brow. “Wanna try me?”

  I met her sneer with a careless smirk. “No, not particularly.”

  She leaned over the table, as if to tell me a secret. “I don’t have the best reputation around here, so I don’t think you want to be associated with me.”

  I mirrored her movement. “I got an arrest record, and probation. One more strike and it’s back to juvie for a lonnng time for me.”

  One of those finely shaped brows of hers arched upward. “No shit?”

  I gave a nod. “Unfortunately, unless you got an arrest record, I beat you by a mile in the bad seed department.”

  She let it go. “Jenaya Omar.”

  “Guillermo Lozano.”

  Finally she peeked at Avery. “Hey.”

  He took that as his cue to sit down and join us.

  Suddenly my skin prickled and I smelled the fruity scents of berries and vanilla. Before I turned my head, I knew who I’d see. Regan had walked up behind me and stopped by Avery. She looked between me and Jenaya suspiciously. “Everything okay, Avery?”

  Avery looked up at her, frowning. “Yeah, Rey, just having lunch.”

  I looked between them, noticing their similar expressions, and I realized they were siblings.

  Regan had been in my homeroom and study hall. She’d smiled at me and looked friendly, and I’d had to remind myself to shut it down. Now, here she was again.

  I studied her soft, feminine face, admiring the protective, resilient look in her dark eyes. Each time I bumped into her, it felt like something new was revealed. T
here was Nice to Meet You Regan, Sullen yet Proficient Worker Regan, and now there was Protective Sister Regan. I wondered, foolishly, what Happy Regan was like.

  She looked at me, those dimples coming out as she smiled. “Hey, Guillermo.”

  My name, wrapped in her musical voice, coming from her nice—

  “You good?”

  I snapped out of my haze and forced myself to focus on my burger.

  Her boyfriend had come over.

  Regan tucked some hair behind her ear. “Troy, hey, I just noticed Avery sitting here. You know Jenaya, right, she’s a junior.”

  Troy tipped his head toward Jenaya. “What’s up?”

  Jenaya nodded his way.

  Regan peeked at me, then back to her boyfriend. “And this is actually our new neighbor, Guillermo. He just moved in across the street.”

  I narrowed my eyes. She didn’t mention the center. I caught the omission and wondered if she was being considerate, or if she didn’t want to be publicly linked to someone like me.

  Troy regarded me, as if obligated due to the introduction. “What’s up, man.”

  I lifted my chin. “Sup.”

  A wave of awkwardness swept over the table, swamping all of us.

  Regan opened her mouth, but Troy was quick, reaching a hand out and steering her in another direction. She glanced back at us and gave an apologetic frown as they went to another table full of students. From the size of the guys, I assumed they were athletes. Regan seemed out of place among them, and even more out of place with her boyfriend. Something about the way she looked so small and helpless under his arm made the picture kinda cringey.

  I focused on Avery and the reveal.

  He wasn’t that talkative, and his quietness helped me see more of his resemblance to Regan. She seemed shy and innocent, and as I sat with Avery, it was clear he was, too. The only difference between them was that Regan was more outgoing when she approached people, whereas with Avery you had to start the conversation.

  Jenaya was studying me, smirking just a little. She said nothing and went back to her book. Avery was into his graphic novel as well.

  I ate my cheeseburger.

  * * *

  Right after lunch I had chemistry with Mrs. Renner. I waited at her front counter while she was outside on hall duty, looking out for any prohibited activity. I’d spotted several teachers doing this throughout the day, each carrying a pad in hand to issue citations if need be.

  The bell rang and the teacher entered the room, closing the door behind her. She went and stood behind the front counter, meeting me with a joyful smile that reminded me of Mrs. Greer. Suddenly all the positivity didn’t seem so great.

  Please tell me the whole damn school isn’t like this.

  “Greetings!” she said, that big smile growing wider. She looked to be in her mid-to-late forties. She had very curly graying brown hair, some framing her face while the rest was clipped up at the back of her head, and she wore glasses. But nothing could distract from that big smile on her face. Whether she was tough I wasn’t sure, but it was painfully obvious she was friendly. “You must be new.”

  For a second, I considered responding in Spanish, so that we wouldn’t have to talk.

  Instead, I bobbed my head.

  “Excellent. Let’s take a look at your schedule to see if you’re in the right place.”

  I handed it over and eyed the room. Typical science decor adorned the place, with a focus on chemistry. Over the whiteboard behind the teacher hung a large poster of the periodic table, and chemistry posters littered the walls. The back of the room contained the actual lab, set off in three rows of black laboratory counters. To my right was a glass case, which looked to be housing little beanie babies.

  I focused back on the teacher, who was staring at me funny. It was enough to make me uncomfortable and the class behind me laugh.

  She handed back my schedule and glared at my shirt. “That’s an interesting choice of clothing you’re wearing, Guillermo.”

  Her comment made the class laugh more. I didn’t get the joke, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  The question fueled the humor in the room, annoying me more.

  “Well, Guillermo, my name is Mrs. Renner, and here in Mrs. Renner’s chemistry class, we do not take to the color orange kindly,” she replied.

  I looked down to take in my navy and orange tartan button-down and the orange T-shirt underneath. From a couple of my bracelets to my shirt, I was covered in orange. The look on Mrs. Renner’s face said she was indeed serious.

  I nervously swept a hand through my hair. “Didn’t get the memo.”

  “We do very much like the color green. It’s also one of our school’s colors.”

  Looking around the counter, I spotted an orange highlighter lying beside her open binder. I nodded in its direction. “Your highlighter’s orange.”

  Mrs. Renner glanced at the utensil. “Yes, I use it to highlight the tardies. I don’t like tardies, Guillermo.”

  She was strange as hell. “Okay.”

  She walked to the left end of the counter and patted what looked to be a medium-size box turned into some type of creature with teeth. “This is Earl, our recycling bin. Whenever you have nibbly bits of paper, you’re more than welcome to feed them to him. Bear in mind that Earl only eats paper, no wrappers or plastic.”

  I looked from Earl to Mrs. Renner, finding her to be completely serious once again. I blinked, unsure how to take the recycling bin and the eccentric teacher behind it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She walked back to her post behind the counter and took a seat on a stool. “After class I’ll be sure to hand you our guidelines and syllabus and assign you a textbook. For now, let’s get you seated.” She reached for her binder and flipped it open to a seating chart. She looked up at the desks behind me and counted silently to herself. “You’ll sit behind Regan London. Regan, please raise your hand.”

  I inhaled. Of course she was here. Turning around, I spotted Regan sitting toward the back, hand raised.

  I gathered my schedule and walked to the seat behind the familiar face.

  “You picked a great day to show up, Guillermo,” said Mrs. Renner. “As I said last week, I’ll be assigning lab partners, but we won’t be getting into the lab until later in the grading period. Today we’re doing icebreakers!”

  Mrs. Renner truly must’ve found joy in everything except the color orange. She was so happy even Eeyore would’ve lost his damn depressive mood. Hell, I could just imagine her and Mrs. Greer in a contest to see who was more positive. No, you’re the happiest!

  She went through her seating chart, reading off pairs alphabetically, so I wasn’t surprised when I got paired up with Regan. After she’d read the last of the pairs, Mrs. Renner grabbed a thick stack of papers and started passing them out.

  Regan briefly turned and offered me a smile, capturing me with those dimples. “Welcome to Chemistry 101, where the color orange can be triggering,” she joked.

  I glanced at Mrs. Renner. “That shit’s no joke?”

  Regan shrugged. “Don’t worry, most of us wear orange or bring orange things just to set her off.”

  The playful smile on her face allowed me to ease up on my feelings for Mrs. Renner. She was odd, but not so bad. The orange thing was a quirk I’d just have to get used to.

  “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t like a color,” I said.

  “I know, right? When I first got here, I thought her students were kidding, but she’s for real. She’s real sweet and fun, though. We have Mole Day in October, I’m really excited.”

  “Mole Day?”

  “It’s a day where we celebrate Avogadro’s number, 6.022 x 10^23, or a mole. She’ll explain it better when it’s time. We get to make T-shirts, hand stitch stuffed moles, an
d bring food in.”

  Regan seemed excited at the idea. She must like school.

  “Cool.”

  Mrs. Renner passed out two worksheets. She paused beside us, her attention on me. “I told everyone on the first day, and now I’m telling you, this isn’t a class that many pass with high marks. You don’t want to miss a day, and if absence is unavoidable, I am here before and after school for any assistance you need.” Mrs. Renner faced Regan. “Or, your lab partner could help.”

  Regan seemed to agree with a nod of her head.

  Mrs. Renner walked on, and we got to work. The icebreaker was filled with trivial get-to-know-you questions, giving us an easy day in class.

  I watched as Regan filled out her name, her handwriting thin yet curvy. She looked up and caught me staring. “How many siblings do you have?”

  “One. Her name’s Yesenia. You?”

  “Just Avery.”

  “Favorite place to eat?”

  “Taco House.”

  I wrinkled my nose, frowning as I wrote down her answer.

  “What?”

  “Taco House is nasty.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Yeah, it is. It’s a sorry excuse for Mexican food.”

  Regan rolled her eyes, clearly not agreeing. “Taco House is the bomb, and it’s only the American version.”

  “The American version sucks. The stuff they serve is insulting to the culture. You ever have authentic Mexican food?”

  She shook her head, shy suddenly. “No.”

  “You try it once and you’ll never go back to that dump Taco House.”

  How she could consume the crap Taco House called food was beyond me. One bite from one of my mom’s famous albóndigas and Regan would be in love with authentic Mexican food.

  Regan stared at me, seeming thoughtful. The next second, she was looking elsewhere, like she was hiding a blush. “Maybe someday I’ll try the real thing.”

  At least there was hope for her.

  “If you could have a superpower, what would it be?” she read from the list.

  “Invisibility,” I answered, thinking of the past summer, school year—my entire life. If I could, I would be invisible all the time at home due to the mess I’d made.