by Johi Jenkins
At that moment I think of Thierry. I want to call him. What was that great reason I had to run away from him? I can’t remember. Now I’m afraid it may be too late and he might have forgotten about me.
I pull out my new journal, and write him an apology.
***
Monday morning arrives, and, as expected, I’m freaking out about my first day of school. I dress in my favorite clothes, but I have nothing new. Even though no one at my new school will know how old my clothes are, my entire wardrobe is a little outdated. It would have felt good to have something new to wear, like Fiona is.
I push the thought away; try to stop thinking about it. Focus. New school, new me. I do wear my contacts, which make me look better in my opinion. Well, in the opinion of a girl named Sharon, who was my friend in Eldridge. I got them for the first time a year and a half ago for my sixteenth birthday, a gift from Nana and Grandpa John, one which wasn’t the norm. I grew up with very little extravagance.
Fiona drives us to school in the Impala, and she’s enthusiastic. She says she’s excited for me, and tries to describe the teachers and the important people in high school. I like that she’s including me, but frankly, the information overload is making me nervous. As if I’m going to have a horrible day if I don’t remember that Janet dated Scott before Jessica dated him, or that Darcy and Kirsten aren’t talking because Justin asked Kristen out and she said yes, when Kristen knew that Darcy liked him. I smile and nod like I follow, but inside I just get more and more anxious.
We pull into the parking lot, and I finally read the name of my new school—Walter L. Cohen High School—and for all the bonding we did in the car, Fiona immediately abandons me as we get to the office where I’m supposed to pick up my schedule. She wishes me good luck, but that’s it; she walks up to her friends and immerses herself in whatever conversation they were having, without anyone paying attention to the new girl.
When I exit the office, I stand there next to the doors like a total newb looking down at my schedule and trying to figure out the little map that the secretary drew for me. The woman’s calling was definitely not architecture or anything that requires drawing plans. She couldn’t draw a map to save her life.
“Hey, hi,” a voice says, and I look up to see a guy. Of course. I’m new. Not only I’m new but I’m new and trying to read a map right next to the main office.
“Oh, hi,” I say.
“I’m John. Schmidt,” he tacks on his last name as an afterthought. He doesn’t look like a John Schmidt. From his golden brown skin and sharp features, I would think he’s either Latin American from the Caribbean, or perhaps Indian—from India—or something. A mix. I’ve no idea.
“Tori Green,” I introduce myself.
“Green? For real?”
What an odd question. “Yeah. Why?”
“Your eyes are green. That’s like double-dipping on the color,” he says.
Oh. I’ve always been a Green with green eyes. I’ve never thought much of it.
I shrug. “Brown’s a last name too. I’m sure there’s plenty of Browns with brown eyes,” I say, possibly sounding bitchy.
“Yeah, I guess. I didn’t think about that.”
I don’t know what to say, so I look around.
“So hey—you’re new, right?” He asks, but not unkindly. “Do you need any help? Figuring things out? Like where your locker is, who the bad girls are, that sort of thing?”
“I could use some help pointing to my locker,” I show him the paper.
“Great! I know where that is. Follow me,” he says.
I’m trying to take note of the things John points out on our way to my locker, but all I do is think about Thierry… how it’s too bad that he’s old and goes to college. I could sure use a friendly face right about now.
“Okay, thanks! See you around,” I tell John after he takes me to my locker, maybe a bit dismissive on my part.
“Good luck, Tori,” he waves at me as I go find my homeroom.
The morning goes by slowly. It’s the first day of class in the semester, so no one’s really teaching yet. Some teachers don’t even bother introducing me, which is totally fine by me. Fiona is in one of my classes, and at least she doesn’t ignore me like she did when we got to school. We make it to lunch and I sit with her and only one of her friends, the blonde Asian (Lauren?), because the other one (Megan?) is busy trying to catch a guy whose name I forget right away. This time they stick to stories about teachers that I’ve already met, so I don’t feel so left out. With only two girls it’s not that bad and I actually don’t have a bad lunch.
In the afternoon, during my sixth period, Biology, I meet Fiona and the Asian friend again. I sit a few tables behind them next to the only girl sitting by herself—a pretty, willowy girl named Kerin Mercer (she spells out her name for me). She was in my fifth period before this one and I think I recognize her from a few morning classes, too, because she stands out, being taller than most girls. Her skin is dark, almost like John Schmidt’s, but unlike him, she doesn’t look like a Physics problem. Her eyes are a dark shade of brown that makes them appear black. We sit in the back and whisper over the teacher’s first-day intro lecture.
Apparently, Kerin has a lifelong friend, Lynn, that turned out to be a geek in high school. Lynn is in all of the advanced classes, which leaves Kerin partnerless and open to friendship. She’s chatty and asks me questions about my life left behind. Where did I come from, why did I move?
“Did your parents switch jobs or something? That’s what happened to Neesha a few years ago. She started high school in a different state. At least you’re already a junior. But imagine being a freshman on top of being the outsider.”
“I guess it could be worse.” I thank her for putting it in perspective for me.
“So did you leave a bunch of friends back in Iowa?”
“A few. But they all have each other. We didn’t pair up. I mean, I didn’t have just one that I left all alone.” In fact, for the most part, my friends had been best friends with each other first, before I joined their ranks.
“So have you made any friends here?” Kerin asks.
Thierry, I think automatically. A sudden wave of warmth and pleasure sweeps my body. However, I don’t want to tell her, for a few reasons. One of which is I’m embarrassed, and I don’t want to show what a hell of a crush I have. I’m afraid she’ll judge me. And second, well, it’s not like Thierry and I are really friends. I never called him.
So I just say, “No, not really.”
“Aww. What’d you do during lunch?”
“I sat with Fiona Harris,” I say, assuming she knows Fiona. “And her friend over there. Do you know them?”
“You’re friends with Fiona? And Lauren?” She sounds disbelieving. And there’s a little reverence in her tone that bothers me. Great, Fiona and her pals are probably the most popular girls in our school year.
But at least I now commit Lauren’s name to memory.
“Just Fiona. I guess you could call her my friend….” I say. Then I think about it. “Well, not really; she’s just my cousin. I live with her.”
“I thought Fiona didn’t have any cousins,” Kerin says right away.
Okay, apparently Kerin knows more about Fiona than I do. I have no idea whether Fiona has real cousins or not. The fact that Kerin seems to revere Fiona and Lauren makes me a little jealous, but of course I don’t say anything. I don’t want to antagonize my lab partner who so far seems okay, popular girls-idolization aside, and the heavens have made her provisionally friendless.
“Yeah, okay, she doesn’t,” I allow. “But you know she has a half-brother, right?”
“Yeah, Jack. He’s in first grade with Lynn’s little sister Emily. I hear he’s kind of cute. Emily has a little girl crush on him.”
The thought of little girls having a crush on Jack makes me want to find him and punch him. I ignore the urge and focus on the conversation.
“Well, Jack’s dad is my uncle.”
“For real? Dude, wow. Fiona’s like, super popular.”
“Maybe that’s why we don’t hang out that much. I don’t like to hang out with popular people.”
In my mind I used to group together “popular” and “beautiful.” I never liked beautiful people, because they were usually shallow and ugly inside. But since Thierry, I’ve taken exception.
“So you only hang out with us losers? Gee, thanks,” Kerin says, but she laughs.
“No, no! I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know, I’m kidding,” she says, smirking, making me feel like she could be my friend. “So why did you move with them, if I may ask?”
“Well….” I don’t know how to start. I haven’t been asked the question since I moved here. I decide to skip the part about my parents. “My grandmother was my legal guardian. She passed away about a month ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she makes a concerned face, like she’s worried about how I’m coping. “And your parents?”
Here goes. “My parents died when I was four. I don’t really remember them,” I say quickly, although it’s partly a lie. I just don’t want her to pity me.
It doesn’t work. “Ohh… I’m sorry,” she repeats, now sincerely affected.
“That’s okay. I have one aunt on my father’s side and one uncle on my mom’s side—that’s Fiona’s stepdad—so I came here to live with him.”
“So you’re here to stay, then?”
“I guess so.” The thought is a little depressing. Then I remember Thierry and cheer up.
“Well, I’ll make sure you feel right at home, then.” She smiles again, sincerely, and I want to hug her. “What do you do during the weekends?”
“I’m actually looking for a part-time job I can work during weekends. I’m not exactly fully pledged to the Harrises so I don’t ask for money.”
“But they’re loaded, Tori. Don’t feel bad.”
“I just…. I don’t know. I’ve only been with them for a week. Less than a week.”
“Okay, so give it a little while, you say, till you start buying me lunches?”
I smile. I guess I’ve made a friend.
***
I meet John again during seventh period, History. As we’re picking up our books and heading out of the classroom, he asks me if I’ve seen one of the new big movies out on the theaters right now. I fear that his follow-up question will be if I want to go watch it. He doesn’t show any interest in me, and he doesn’t flirt with me. He’s just being friendly, I suppose. But just in case, I’m careful. I use the money excuse, which is true so I don’t feel so bad lying to him.
“I’d like to, but I’m so poor right now. I’m actually looking for a job,” I say.
“Hey, if you’d really like to, I could sneak you in. I work at the theater.” Oh. That explains why he mentioned movies. See? Nothing to fear.
I act like he’s such a daredevil. “I don’t think I have the nerve to sneak in.”
“It’s nothing! Every one of the employees sneaks in their friends all the time. I think it’s an unwritten official benefit. Who needs healthcare when you can sneak in your buddies? It’s such a great job.” His face suddenly lights up. “Hey—you need a job! They’re hiring high school kids at the movies where I work. The job’s easy. All you have to do is sit behind the counter and look pretty. Oh and occasionally sweep popcorn, if Jason is a no-show. Oh and sometimes point the customers to the right theater. Oh and—”
“Okay, okay! I get it.” I say laughing a little. He actually had me at they’re hiring. “Sounds good; I’ll definitely consider it. In fact, what’s their number? I’ll call them tonight.”
“Just ask for Amanda and tell her I sent you. Here.” He scribbles down something on a notebook, tears out the page and hands it to me.
“Thanks, John,” I say, excited about the possibility of working at the movies.
“No problem! Gotta run—good luck!”
I meet Fiona by her car.
“Had a good first day, did ya?” She asks me.
“It was okay,” I say. It wasn’t stellar, because Thierry doesn’t go to school here, but it wasn’t bad.
“Why so smiley, then?”
I automatically stop smiling. Does she hate seeing me smile? “Nothing. Well, a guy told me they’re hiring at the theater. I might check that out.”
“What guy?”
“John Schmidt.”
“Oh, I know him. Meh. He’s alright,” Fiona says. It sounds more like, he’s not interesting enough for her. “So which theater? The IMAX?”
“I don’t know,” I say, a little pissed off. I don’t like how she just dismissed John. He’s kinda cute. It makes me wonder if she really doesn’t care about him, or if she’s just pretending not to, because he chose to be friendly to me. “He just gave me a number.”
“That’d be so cool if you worked at the IMAX. You’d meet so many hot guys. And you’d keep some of the coolest posters….” She keeps listing the benefits of working at the theater all the way home, while I shove my annoyance in the back of my head, as usual.
I actually call Amanda at the movie theater—it turns out to be the IMAX—and she says she wants to interview me tomorrow. It’s near the French Quarter, and there’s a bus that takes me there almost directly. I’d have to walk a few blocks from the house to the bus stop and from the bus stop to the theater. It sounds doable. For the first time since I got here, I go to sleep excited with the possibility of tomorrow.
***
On Tuesday I find out Kerin and I have three classes in the morning together, which cheers me up more than I care to admit. We walk together to the cafeteria after PE, and I sit down next to her without even thinking about Fiona. After a few minutes we’re joined by a bit plump and short brunette.
“Hey, Lynn, this is Tori. She’s new,” Kerin introduces me.
“Hi, Tori. Oh, you’re new? I wouldn’t know,” she says, making fun of Kerin.
“Screw you, Lynn,” Kerin replies, but she snickers.
Fiona comes in, but doesn’t care to approach me or even acknowledge me. It doesn’t surprise me, but it still stings. Lynn turns out to be okay, but she’s into doing geek things like library club or chess club or A/V club… something. The whole time we talk Kerin makes sure to include me in the conversation. When they talk about other people, she goes out of her way to give a short background on the person, so that I follow the story or the point either she or Lynn is trying to make. I don’t tell them, but I’m really grateful.
After lunch, Kerin and I head off to class together while Lynn goes off a different way. Kerin seems cool with me replacing her recently-busy friend, at least during classes. And I don’t mind being a replacement if it means I have someone to talk to. During seventh period I tell John about my interview, and he’s excited for me. He says it’s a bummer that he won’t be working today so he won’t see me there, which makes me feel a little weird, but I ignore it.
Finally, after school, Fiona takes me to my interview. Andrea turns out to be a young manager in her late twenties, and also a fan of John. Half an hour later I have a job.
“That was easy,” Fiona says when she picks me up.
“Yes! Wow, I’m actually excited,” I say.
“Yeah, Tori. You’ll let me sneak in the good stuff, right?”
I’ve no idea what she means. Candy? Hard-core liquor? I don’t know. So I give a non-committal response. “It sounds like I’ll be in the office box for the most part, but I’ll help you in whatever way I can. Thanks for driving me today.”
“Oh, not a problem. I wanted to get out of the house, and Mom blows shit when I go out on a weeknight. However, since she’s interested in helping you out, she encouraged me to take you.”
I don’t know how to reply to that; it’s a typical Fiona response that somehow always manages to leave me feeling unwanted. But I’m happy about my small success today. It’s a simple job at the movie theater, and all I have to work is minim
um ten hours a week. Sounds easy enough. I’ll get paid minimum wage, but I’ll get a few hundred dollars per month. I’ll be able to afford a cellphone and call my supposed BFF Thierry. Squeal.
Now let’s just hope he remembers me.
5. Working Girl
Saturday is my first full day shift. I’ve worked twice already for a few hours after school, and it wasn’t bad at all. I got most of my training done, and today I’m ready to sit behind the counter with John. If I need anything I can ask him directly.
I get my first customers. They’re a couple, older than me, probably in their early twenties. They present their college cards to get a discount. College! Thierry is in college. This is a college student hang out; it didn’t occur to me when I joined. What if he comes here to watch a movie? Crazy tingles run up and down my body at the thought of seeing him again. Thierry Colbert.
“Hey, John, do you know if it’s Col-bert or Col-bear?” I ask, after I’ve handled the students’ transaction.
“I’d say Col-bear. Like, you know, Stephen Colbert?”
“Who?”
“You don’t know who Stephen Colbert is?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Yeah, actually, I do; I just asked you because I momentarily forgot. Or I just like to hear you explain things to me. No I don’t know who he is! That’s why I said, ‘Who?’”
“Hey now. Sorry. I forget you grew up with grandparents.” We’ve taken the bus together after school, so we’ve discussed my life. “Stephen Colbert’s a comedian. He’s got that show, the Colbert Report?”
It now rings a bell. “Oh. Right.”
“Why do you want to know?” He asks, but he doesn’t sound nosy. Just standard follow up question: Why?
“I just…. I know someone whose last name is Colbert, and I don’t want to pronounce it wrongly in front of him. And actually, that actually explains his first name.”