by T. Torrest
I grabbed a tray and loaded it with a miserable-looking burger and fries before exiting the food line. I allowed myself exactly five seconds to size up the table arrangements in order to decide where I was expected to sit. The cafeteria in every school was always the same: Brainiacs banding together, burnouts off in a corner, geeks scattered throughout.
And then, inevitably, there was the Alpha Table.
It depended on the school of course, but the Alpha Table was normally comprised of the jocks. And if you wanted to suss out who the jocks were, all you had to do was find the hottest chicks. Cute girls and athletes always seemed to go hand in hand. In Indy, the basketball players were the kings, but I had a feeling this was a football town all the way.
My theory was proven correct as I scanned the room and spotted a super cute blonde with big, crunchy hair. She was seated at a center table with two huge apes and an absolute gorilla.
Definitely football players.
With my target acquired, I psyched myself up for the ritual hazing as I took a casual stroll through the middle of the room. Sure enough, as I passed by, the gorilla called me over. “Yo, New Kid!”
The rest of them snickered at that as I walked toward them, all heads turning in my direction. Gorilla leaned back in his seat and asked, “So, what’s up, man? Who are you?”
“My name’s Trip,” I answered, holding out my hand.
Gorilla shook it. “I’m Rymer,” he offered, before pointing to the rest of his tablemates in turn. “That’s Sarge, that’s Cooper, and that’s DeSanto.”
The big-haired girl rolled her eyes. “It’s Lisa DeSanto. Nice to meet you.” She cocked her head to the side and asked, “How come we don’t know you yet?”
“First day.”
“School started last week, you know.”
“Yeah.” I ran a hand over my hair, taking notice of the two apes talking (undoubtedly about me) under their breath. “Took me a little longer to get here from Indy.”
Lisa looked intrigued. “You’re from Indiana?”
“I’m from everywhere.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile as one of the two apes—Sarge—asked, “You want to sit with us?”
I assumed their invitation was offered less out of charity and more as a way for them to continue sizing me up. I didn’t care. I was used to it. “Yeah, sure, thanks.”
I settled in as Lisa leaned across the table toward me with her chin in her hands. “So. How’s your first day going?”
“It’s going.”
“Where’s your next class?”
I pulled my schedule from my pants pocket and unfolded it. “Uh, English Lit, room one-twenty-four.”
“Ohhh, that’s Mason. She’s good. You’ll like her. My best friend is in that class and she just raves about her. Just take a left out of the caf and go straight to the end of the hall. It’s right there on the left.”
“Left then left. Got it. Thanks.”
“No problem whatsoever,” she purred. “In fact, I can walk you down there if you need me to.”
The gorilla—Rymer—piped in to bust her chops. “DeSanto’s trying to bone the new kid!”
There were a few snickers from the guys as Lisa’s jaw gaped, affronted. “I was trying to be nice, you Neanderthal.” She waved him off and added, “Don’t pay any attention to them. They’re all bark.”
Cooper saved me from having to come up with the right way to respond when he perked up to ask, “Hey, where is Layla anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Lisa said. “Probably decided to go to the art room, if I had to guess. She was all freaked out about some project or something.”
Cooper shook his head. “Second week of school and she’s already gunning for extra credit?”
Lisa chuckled and answered, “Probably.” Then she turned to me to add, “Layla’s the friend I was talking about. You’ll meet her soon enough. It’s not like this school’s so big that you wouldn’t run into her on your own eventually, but... Oh! And you should know, nobody calls it Saint Nicetius. It’s the only Catholic school in town, so we call it Saint Norman’s. Kind of an inside joke. But don’t let the nuns hear you calling it that. They’ll beat you with a ruler and make you attend morning mass every day for a month. It’s probably just a rumor but I wouldn’t take any chances. So... tell me about Indiana! I’ve never been there.”
Holy hell but that girl could talk. Not in an annoying way, though. She was pretty entertaining. She kinda cracked me up. I swallowed my mouthful of burger to say, “There’s not much to tell.”
“Yeah, but like, are there farms and stuff?”
“Yes, lots of them. But not in the city.” When she looked at me quizzically, I elaborated, “We lived in Indianapolis.”
“Jesus,” Sarge said. “You left a city just to move here?”
“Wasn’t exactly my choice,” I answered. My voice came out sounding more bitter than I intended, so rather than continue to whine about the situation, I changed the subject. “So. What do you guys do for fun around here?”
Cooper answered, “We were just discussing that, actually. Rymer here is having a party this weekend.” Directing his next comment to Sarge, he asked, “Dude, is your brother getting us the keg or what?”
“He said he would.”
Rymer elbowed me in the ribs. “See there, Farm Boy? You’ve got a party to look forward to. Now you don’t have to spend your weekend tipping cows.”
Everyone enjoyed a good laugh at my expense. Even I had to acknowledge that it was a funny line.
But I couldn’t let it go unchallenged.
“Good one,” I shot back. I took an extra beat to gauge the prudence of delivering a ballbusting comeback to a guy who could kick my ass with one hand tied behind his back, but then decided to just go for it. “But now your mom will be grazing in that pasture alone all night wondering why I didn’t show up.”
There was a pause as everyone stared at me in stunned silence... before they all exploded into a laughing fit. Sarge even went so far as to high-five me across the table, saying, “I like this dude!”
The sarcastic dig was a risk, but apparently, it had paid off.
I was in.
* * *
By the time the bell rang, I’d solidified my place in the Alpha group. For all the places I’ve ever lived in, the formula for popularity was always the same. All it ever took was a little bit of confidence and a whole lot of ballbusting.
Momjokes. The universal language no matter where you went.
Rymer came with me to pit-stop at my locker so I could grab a notebook for English class.
“So, hey,” he said. “You play any sports?”
“Yeah. Hockey.” I grabbed my notebook and checked my back pocket to make sure I still had my pen. “I’m checking out the Shermer Heights rink after school. Is it any good?”
“Definitely. Hey, the bell’s gonna ring, but I’ll see you sixth period.”
I’d already compared schedules with everyone at the lunch table and found that Rymer and I had study hall together after my next class. “Yep.”
“And you’ve got Mason now, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Heh. Good luck with that.” He snickered out an evil laugh as he started walking backwards, disappearing into the crush of kids barreling their way down the hall. “She’s tough, man. You’d better watch your ass with her. Just a heads up.”
“Noted. Thanks.”
I slammed my locker shut, navigated to room 124 just as the bell rang, and handed my admittance slip to the teacher. She stopped what she was doing to fold her hands across her desk, greeting me with an enthusiastic, “Well, good afternoon to you!”
I gave her a polite smile as she checked out my stats. “Welcome to St. Nicetius, Terrence.” I didn’t get the chance to correct her about my name because she quickly added, “You can take the desk over there by the windows. Last row, behind Miss Warren.”
I’d been waiting for Rymer’s assessment of Mrs. Mason t
o prove true, but she didn’t seem “tough” at all. In fact, she seemed kind of nice. Maybe he was just breaking my balls.
In any case, I followed her pointed finger as Miss Warren looked up from her seat and...
Wow.
I was still distracted by the whole personality thing, so I wasn’t expecting to be met with the most incredible brown eyes I’d ever seen in my life. Warm. Fathomless. Almost too large for her face.
Damn. I’d met lots of pretty girls in my life, but she... I don’t know, man. She did something to me. I stood there paralyzed, conscious of nothing but the sensation of my heart actually lurching in my chest.
Huh. That was a new one.
I tried to play it cool as I walked down the aisle and offered her a smile. But the girl had already dropped her gaze to the book in front of her as she fiddled with the ends of her long, dark, poofy hair. Either she wasn’t interested or she was trying to look like she wasn’t interested. No matter. I’d make sure she came around one way or another.
I slipped into the desk behind her as she tossed a mass of waves over her shoulder, allowing me to catch a whiff of her shampoo. Coconut? Piña colada? She smelled like suntan lotion or something. Like summer.
It knocked me right the fuck out.
While I was still reeling from the punch to the gut, Mason stood to start class. First on the agenda was to announce my presence.
Great.
“Good afternoon, everyone. You may have noticed that we have a new student today, and I’d like to invite him up here to introduce himself.” She held her hand in a welcoming gesture, calling me to the front of the room.
Jesus. Why was that always a thing?
I stepped to the front of the class, feeling every set of eyes in that room boring into my back. Once I turned to face them, my suspicions were confirmed as their stares focused solely on me. And why wouldn’t they? I was the new kid in town. The latest exhibit at the museum. A prime attraction at the fair.
A sideshow freak.
Mrs. Mason looked down at my admittance slip. “Class, this is Terrence C. Wilmington the third.”
God, my name made me sound like a pompous snob. I really hated it, and for more reasons than just that one.
I ran a hand through my hair and offered the teacher a courteous smile. “Everyone just calls me Trip,” I explained, before turning back to the audience and running down the rest of my resume. “We just moved here from Indianapolis. Before that, we lived in L.A., Seattle, Phoenix, and Chicago, where I was born.”
I tried to see if Summer Hair was impressed, but every time I looked over toward her, she averted her eyes.
Mrs. Mason asked, “Is your family in the military, Trip?”
“What, like an army brat?” I chuckled and explained, “No. My family is in hotels.” I said that last part a little too brusquely, so to lighten the mood, I added, “According to my sister, the brat part sums me up pretty good, though.”
A couple kids started laughing. Even Summer Hair over there slipped out with a smirk.
“My father likes to oversee construction whenever any one of his new hotels is being built. So, we normally spend a few years in each city until the grand opening, then we move onto the next one.”
Mrs. Mason asked, “You named a bunch of big cities, there, Trip. How is it that you wound up in Norman? We’re not exactly thought of as a tourist destination.”
There were a few snickers from the class which made me smile. I guessed everyone who lived here was well aware that this town was a dud. “Actually, the hotel’s being built in New York, which I guess is right nearby. My father says this is his last one, and he wanted to save it for when he was ready to retire, so I guess we’re here for the long haul.” I scratched the back of my neck, giving me an excuse to look over at Summer Hair and continued, “He spent his teen years here. I guess he wants that for me, too.”
“Well, Trip. Welcome to Norman. I hope you’ll like it here.”
I gave the teacher a nod and started to head back to my desk. Summer Hair immediately became fascinated with her nails, picking at them in an obvious attempt to avoid looking at me.
“Thanks,” I shot back. “I have a feeling I will.”
Just as I reached Miss Warren’s desk, I tapped two fingertips on its surface, causing her to look up. In the split second we made eye contact, I saw her bottom lip drop a fraction of an inch. I couldn’t help but smirk as I slid back into my seat behind her. I was kind of hoping she’d take the bait and give me the time, but instead, she faked a coughing fit and excused herself from class.
Man, was she cute.
I was still reeling from the sight of her when Mrs. Mason started diagramming Romeo and Juliet on the board, and I folded my notebook open to an unmarked page in order to copy her charts for myself. With the notable distraction removed from the room, I should’ve been able to focus on actual classwork. But I’d already covered Shakespeare at my last school, so there was nothing new happening on that board that I hadn’t already seen before.
And man, fuck Shakespeare anyhow. Give me Christopher Marlowe any day. Now he was a badass. Who ever loved that loved not at first sight? Hell, if it weren’t for him, there wouldn’t even be a Shakespeare. Kit Marlowe came first.
I checked the door to see if Summer Hair was on her way back into the room, and got discouraged when I caught the eye of some blonde chick instead. Her eyelids lowered to half-mast as she aimed an inviting smile at me, and I was flattered, but definitely not interested.
You’d think I’d have been used to it by now, but it was almost comical at this point.
Thankfully, I had enough experience to know the mystery would die down soon enough. The girls were always intrigued by the mystifying New Kid, and the guys were always wary that I was looking to challenge them for Top Dog status. It normally only took a few weeks for everyone to realize that neither was true, and I was tough enough to endure the near-constant scrutiny until then. Fact was, my only agenda was simply trying to find a way to fit in.
Summer Hair came back into the room and avoided looking at me. Well, she was avoiding looking at everyone, so I guess I shouldn’t have been so put off. But seriously? She seemed to be the only girl in the entire school who didn’t have any interest in gawking at me twenty-four-seven. The irony being that she was the only one whose attentions I would have welcomed.
Enough of this bullshit.
I poked her shoulder with all intentions of introducing myself properly, but she turned around with a wiseass smirk on her face and asked in a near-whisper, “What is it, New Kid?”
What the hell? This chick was a piece of work. I couldn’t contain my grin as I asked, “You okay?”
Her brows furrowed in confusion before she responded, “Oh. The coughing. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you okay?”
It was my turn to look confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
She took a peek over her shoulder to make sure the teacher was still at the board. “Mason making you get up there and introducing yourself to the class.”
Oh. I gave a shrug like it was no big deal.
“It didn’t bother you?”
She had this great expressive face whenever she was talking. Like her lips had a personality all their own. They scrunched and pouted and—combined with her incredible eyes—fully animated her beautiful face.
Simply gorgeous.
I leaned back in my chair and tapped a pencil across my notebook. “Nah. Not the first time I’ve been forced to do that. Third time today, actually.”
Her lips pursed in a sympathetic smile just as the teacher turned from the blackboard. “Layla! Eyes up front, please.”
Layla’s eyes went wide before she twisted around in her seat. Either there were a bunch of girls in this school with her same name, or this was the friend Lisa and Cooper were talking about at lunch. I was banking on the latter.
My lip curled as I teased, “So you’re the infamous Layla... Nice.”
* * *
I
kicked off my loafers and dropped my backpack inside the front door before heading for the kitchen. I was starving.
Mom was sitting at the table, running her hands over its surface. “Hi, honey. How was your first day?”
I opened the fridge and leaned against the door as I answered flatly, “Just like all the other first days.” It looked as though I was going to strike out on the food front; there was hardly anything in the fridge.
“Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to get to the supermarket today. I had to wait here for the delivery men. There’s some leftover chicken in there, in the blue Tupperware. Want me to heat it up for you?”
“No, I got it.” I popped the whole container into the microwave and set it for a minute.
“So, what do you think of the new table? It’s hand-painted.”
I peeked over my shoulder to check out my mother’s latest pride and joy, and quickly came to the assumption that “the artist” must have slapped some paint on an old barn door before tearing the thing down and making it into a piece of furniture. But I wasn’t about to insult my mother’s taste. What the hell did I know about decorating anyway? “It’s nice, Ma.”
Where the hell are the forks? I finally located the right drawer in the center island, grabbed the proper utensils as the timer beeped, then hauled everything to the new table and dove in.
I just wanted to eat in peace, but Mom obviously wasn’t nearly through with her inquisition. “So, tell me about your new school! Did you make any friends?”
“Yeah, sure Ma. I’ve already been voted class president and I’ve got twelve dates lined up for next weekend.”
I was being a little shit and I knew it. But I didn’t want to give her an inch. Let her see how bad this sucked for me.
Mom sighed. “I think you’re going to like it here, Terrence. I know you weren’t happy about having to leave Indiana, but New Jersey has a lot going for it, too. This is the very town where I met your father, you know.”
Yeah, of course I knew. They’d mentioned their origin story as a selling point only a gazillion times over the past three months. “And what an absolute fairytale that’s been,” I scathed through a mouthful of food.