Dad would probably make me see the shrink if I skipped school today. With a resigned sigh, I changed my mind and decided to stake out the usual table Ruthie and I liked, near a large maple tree. I was early and the tables were still unoccupied, so I thought I could “lose it” for a second without anyone noticing. I slammed down on the bench and leaned over onto the table.
“Freakin’ stupid school!” I exclaimed into my arms.
“Wow. And the day’s only half over,” said a low voice.
There was that feeling again, like a warm current of air on a cold day. Now I knew exactly where it was coming from. I sat up straight and glared toward the tree trunk. Sure enough, someone was lounging at its base, backpack next to him. He crunched into an apple. Great. A witness to my latest meltdown. Thank goodness I hadn’t started crying. The guy stood up, out of the shade, and took two strides to my table, sitting down next to me with his body pointing away from the table, elbows on the table behind him.
Okay. As bugged as I was that he had eavesdropped on my misery, there was no stopping the sudden thumping of my heart as I took inventory; I seemed helpless to do anything else at that moment.
Dark chestnut hair and blue eyes, dark blue eyes. His hair was thick and just long enough to curl at the ends, flipping up near the part on the side of his head. His straight nose, only marred by the slightest bump, ended at a masculine point over—can I just say—the most perfect mouth, the type of mouth you see on Greek statues. A wave of familiarity swept over me. Had we met before? Oh man, it was probably last year when I was so out of it.
“Sorry if I scared you.” He was starting to look concerned. Not him, too, I thought angrily.
“Oh, yeah. No—no, you…uh…just surprised me, that’s all,” I stuttered. He reciprocated with a deep chuckle and held out his hand.
“Zander. You?”
I offered my hand automatically. As our palms touched, a warm, humming sensation enveloped my arm. It reminded me how I felt when petting a purring cat. He looked just as surprised as I did. We released our hands quickly.
“Whoa. Must be some kind of static shock or something. Sorry. I’m Tru. Are you new here?” He stared at me more intently than before, like he was trying to decide whether or not to reply. Could my day get any weirder? I wondered. Homeschooling was starting to sound good.
I was fairly sure I’d never seen him before. He looked like a senior, with his shadowy jaw. Yes, he shaved, and without any nicks like half the population around here. His neck was corded with muscle, although he didn’t look steroid-bulky, more athletic and healthy.
He finally seemed to come to a decision. “Yeah. Moved here at the end of summer.”
“Really? Senior?”
“I wish. My parents pulled me out of school last year so much, I have to retake my classes.” He leaned closer. “So I’m probably the oldest junior here.”
“Actually—“ I started to say.
Just then, Ruthie called out, “Hey, you got here fast!” She was followed by Isaac and Phoebe. They spread out around the circular table and looked questioningly at Zander.
“Oh, hi guys. Yeah, my, uh, class got out a little early.” Like I was going to tell them I ran out of class to cry like a baby. I shot Zander a surreptitious glance, hoping he wouldn’t mention my little table tantrum. He raised an eyebrow at me, but said nothing.
I gestured toward my new acquaintance. “This is Zander. He’s new this year.” Zander gave Phoebe and Isaac that assessing look he had given me. Isaac seemed to dislike him on sight. Phoebe gave him the tilted-head half-smile look, aka the “come hither” look. So obvious, I thought. But I couldn’t blame her. And I wouldn’t blame him for falling for it—she was just as beautiful as he was.
“Cool! We need some fresh blood here at our table,” said Ruthie, drinking in every inch of him. I could almost read her mind. She was in heaven. Two gorgeous guys at our lunch table. We’d really stepped up in the world. Ruthie was going to have to swat away the girls who would soon be flocking our way.
Here we go, I thought as a giggling squad of girls sashayed past our table, their eyes trying to catch those of both Isaac and Zander, who were still squaring off. I was surprised to see two old friends from my old basketball team, but they totally ignored me. I had to admit it hurt a little, but I reminded myself that I probably did the same thing to them last year.
Then the moment passed, and after one of those guy nods, Isaac ignored Zander and turned his big brown eyes on me. “So how are your classes so far? Did you get Mrs. Tisdale for English?”
Having his total focus on me made me feel conspicuous. He seemed to be ignoring everyone else, and there was just so much of him. It reminded me of earlier when he sang to me, and remembering my reaction made my cheeks heat up again, especially since Zander was watching, a slight scowl on his face. Why should I feel embarrassed? Any girl would be into Isaac, right? Why did I feel guilty suddenly?
I decided to ignore the first question—I had nothing good to say about my classes so far, and I didn’t want to complain, yet. I would unload it all on Ruthie later.
“No, I’ve got Mr. Mac.” That’s what we called him; his name was actually Macintosh. He was Scottish, with the cool accent and everything. I loved to hear him read out loud. And he happened to be pretty good-looking, for a teacher. Girls were known to stare at him throughout the entire class, especially when he read Shakespeare. He gave off an Ewan McGregor vibe with the whole accent and good looks thing. He got pretty frustrated sometimes because he had to repeat himself all the time. Personally, I thought it was entertaining.
“No kidding,” Zander piped in. “I’ve got him too, seventh period.” He did seem like a nice guy. Most guys would have run the other way from a girl on the verge of a breakdown.
“Oh, cool,” I said, smiling. Perhaps if he never found out how weird I was last year, he’d actually keep talking to me.
“Let me see your schedule, Tru. Maybe we have something together, too.” Isaac scooted closer, tipping the table as he adjusted his weight.
Zander frowned, then stood up. “Gotta run. I’m supposed to meet with my counselor about some paperwork. I’ll see you in English, Tru.”
“Sure. See you then.” I watched him as he stepped back to the tree to snag his backpack. He hesitated there, turning back to us, like he was rethinking his actions. But with a tightening of his jaw, he twisted away and loped off across the pod. I felt a strange desire to follow him. My heart squeezed and I had to make myself breathe slowly. I was so messed up!
All three of us girls watched him, enjoying the view.
“Nice…” drawled Phoebe. My heart tightened uncomfortably at their slack jaws. Then I saw Phoebe glance quickly over at Isaac, who was scowling. She rolled her eyes as if he’d said something annoying.
“Okay, let’s all get our schedules out and compare,” suggested Phoebe.
As it turned out, I had a class with each of them. First period with Ruthie for Algebra II, fifth period with Isaac for drama, and sixth period with Phoebe for PE. Originally, I had been peeved to be stuck in drama, which was way out of my comfort zone, but knowing Isaac would be there with me took away some of the sting. At least I’d know someone who would talk to me in all of my afternoon classes. And maybe I could figure out what bothered me about him. Ruthie and Isaac had two classes together already, but only World Civilization with Phoebe.
By the time lunch was over, several guys had stopped by to chat with Phoebe, and just as many girls had hit on Isaac. I wasn’t surprised, but it was getting old really fast. Ruthie also caught up with some old acquaintances. Fortunately, Isaac kept me from feeling like a total pariah. I couldn’t help but give him points for that.
Ruthie and I were dumping our trash when Val Johnson, Ruthie’s first ever boyfriend back in middle school, stopped by to ask her about her classes. Despite my personal prediction that he would turn into a class nerd (which I’d told Ruthie to console her after they broke up in eighth grade), he�
��d become a school jock, and turned out pretty smokin’ hot himself. Unfortunately, it came with a typical jock personality. Ruthie didn’t seem to mind, though. She gave me the “I’ll catch up with you later” look. So I waved good-bye and took off to my locker to get my stuff for drama.
“Hey, don’t forget me!” called Isaac.
I’d already forgotten we had the next class together. To be honest, I was wondering about Zander and his deep blue eyes. Isaac was being really nice to me, and there I was zoning off about another boy.
“Sorry. I have to stop by my locker first.”
“No worries. I’ll walk with you!”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling up at him. How shallow was I to feel this awesome about walking to class with a guy who looked like a beach model?
Hormones
As our drama teacher went over the classroom rules, I had to keep my hand over my mouth so that I didn’t burst out giggling. Isaac mimicked the teacher with amazing accuracy. If he didn’t go anywhere with his singing, he definitely had a career in acting. But apparently, the rest of the class wasn’t as talented. Their reactions eventually tipped off the teacher.
“Mr. Efoti, I’m glad to see that you are such a natural entertainer.” Mr. Romano peered at us, a small smile on his lips. “Perhaps you can put that charm to good use and begin our game of charades.”
Thankfully, Mr. Romano wasn’t angry and seemed to know how to handle Isaac’s playfulness. The rest of the period showed us who the real hams were in the class. I was not one of them, and thankfully the bell rang before my turn arrived.
As I started to rise, Isaac, who was already standing, blocked me by crouching down beside my desk. His face was so close to mine I could see every eyelash surrounding his golden brown eyes. He smelled woodsy and minty.
“Tru, uh, I just wanted to say that I’m glad you’re back to normal this year.”
I felt my face heat up, remembering last year. Isaac quickly backpedaled.
“I know it was awful and everything, about your mom, but I’m just glad to see you smiling again.”
I thought he was very sweet to say so, but I really did not want to talk about my mom or my horrible existence last year. So I just pasted on a smile and said, “Life sucks sometimes, but eventually you move on.”
That’s what my dad said to me, and even though I did not feel like I was over it, I agreed that I had to move on. One corner of Isaac’s mouth turned up, and he grabbed my hand and squeezed.
“I’ve gotta get over to Mr. Dao’s class,” he said. It was on the other side of campus. “But I’ll see you after school!”
I shook my head with bemusement as I watched him stride away. Students and teachers alike moved out of his way, his sheer size bringing out their sense of self-preservation. Top that off with his soft brown skin, sun-kissed hair, and rippling muscles—well, I was surprised he didn’t have a crowd of groupies pursuing him yet. But it was just the first day of school, and I knew it was only a matter of time.
My thoughts strayed to Zander as I headed to my next class. Although he wasn’t the hulking hotness that Isaac was, he was sure to attract his own “whore horde,” which is what Ruthie called the girl packs who hung out at guys’ lockers and followed them everywhere.
PE wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Phoebe sat beside me on the gym bleachers as we listened to the teacher make her first-day-of-class speech, followed by locker assignments. Although we weren’t friends, she didn’t treat me like a plague victim like the other kids. I dared to think we could even be friends.
Evidently, if Phoebe Efoti could stand sitting by me, then I must not be too bad. Most of the other girls eyed Phoebe warily, almost like they were scared of her. Perhaps that’s why she sat with me. We both seemed to be outsiders. I could see why Phoebe put them off. She was almost too confident and had little patience for idiots, demonstrated by the number of times she laughed at the questions. Admittedly, they were lame, but she certainly wasn’t winning any friends by pointing that out.
We were finally left to our own conversations while the teacher handed out locker numbers. I was desperately trying to think of something to say to Phoebe, when Brianna, a girl I knew from middle school, sat down next to us.
“Tru, I love what you did with your hair this year! Where do you get it highlighted?”
When I said it wasn’t highlighted, several other girls joined in to tell me how lucky I was. They went on about how their hair was too frizzy, too straight, wouldn’t curl, and so on. Girl talk. And that was it—last year was forgotten. Go figure.
I saw Phoebe rolling her eyes and pulled her into the conversation, asking her how it was possible she had such straight hair when Isaac’s was so curly. All the other girls looked enviously at her ebony curtain. Phoebe actually took the bait and explained that they each got one of their parent’s hair types.
But when the girls started asking questions about Isaac, talking about him as if he were some rock star, Phoebe rolled her eyes again and shut up. So the conversation moved back to hair and what kind of shampoo everyone used. Honestly, even though Phoebe looked bored, it was nice that everyone wasn’t ignoring me or talking about me behind their hands.
By the time my last class arrived, the day had taken a bizarrely positive turn, and my heart felt light as I walked into Mr. Mac’s English class. I caught Zander’s eye immediately. There was an empty desk next to him. I headed toward the back of the class where he was sitting, but Zena Taylor, wearing a skirt attempting to redefine “mini” as “micro” and a low-cut blouse, slipped into the chair ahead of me, which said a lot for her dexterity because her platform heels were at least five inches. As much as I disliked her, I couldn’t help admire the way she got around without killing herself. She immediately leaned toward Zander, ignoring me standing in front of her. A few pens toppled to the floor as several guys pretended to retrieve them all just to get a peek up Zena’s skirt. Disgust tightened my lips even as an embarrassed blush spread across my cheeks. Meanwhile, Zena didn’t seem to notice them. She was too busy giving Zander another kind of peep show.
“Hi! You’re new here.” She cast a sultry look toward him, held out her hand to Zander, and then started reeling him in.
“Welcome to Scotts Valley High,” she said in her best kitten voice. He shook her hand politely, although it seemed to take an absurd amount of time for his gaze to reach her face. That ought to teach me. Boys were all the same.
I cleared my throat, tempted to tell them to get a room. Zena didn’t acknowledge me in any way. She just dug her heels in and whipped her long brown hair over her shoulder with the hand that wasn’t clinging to Zander’s. Her eyelashes dipped in appreciation as she tilted toward him, almost drooling. I needed a vomit bag. Maybe I should retreat down the aisle and find another way past them, I thought. I should have known Zena would be in this class. It had all been too perfect.
Okay, everyone has an enemy, and although I wouldn’t exactly call her my arch-nemesis, she was definitely on my list of least favorite people. She and her groupies had bullied Ruthie and me all through middle school. Basically, every bad memory of those awkward years involved Zena Taylor, the self-proclaimed gift to Scotts Valley. Gag! I told myself she couldn’t help it. What chance did you have with her parents? They were the biggest snobs in town.
However, I loathed any time Zena and her entourage crossed over into my sphere of school. How did she get into this class anyway? Then I remembered that it wasn’t AP Lit like I normally would have taken. The school counselor thought I shouldn’t push myself with AP classes this year, which meant I was stuck with Zena and her stupid cheerleader friends.
But right now, I felt more peeved that she was sitting next to my blue-eyed guy from lunch, whose introduction had seemed to turn my terrible day around—until now. My distaste must have been visible. Zander’s hand was still held captive by Zena, but he was looking at me questioningly, a guilty redness stinging his face. I blinked. Where had this possessiveness
come from? Who was I to claim his attention? He looked more like Zena’s type anyway—gorgeous. Hoping that I looked indifferent, I smoothed my features and shoved my way over to the aisle on his other side. There was an open seat toward the back. As I tried to squeeze through the narrow aisle, my arm brushed up against him. We both jumped a little from the contact, and he finally escaped Zena’s grip. There was that warm hum again. It was not static electricity, but it seemed to cause the same reaction.
“Oh, sorry,” I muttered and quickly found my seat. What was wrong with me? Zander’s head was twisted around toward me when I settled in and looked up. Next to him, Zena was giving me an “artful” finger gesture behind her back. Whatever. At least Zander didn’t seem mad. Actually, one corner of his mouth tilted up, which gave me fluttery heart spasms. He was really good-looking, I thought.
Aghh! Seriously, what was wrong with me? Had I reached some weird teen hormone stage where I reacted this way to every good-looking guy? I shook my head. I looked over the class. There must be another hunky guy here for me to get flustered about. I spotted Hugh Lawson off to my right. He wore his blond hair overly long, curling around his neck and ears. And he had the cutest freckles over his tanned face. His sky blue eyes and thick eyelashes were the talk of many girls, and I’d seen quite a few comments about him written on the stalls of the girls’ bathrooms, which automatically had me glancing down at his butt. I wrenched my eyes back up to his face and gasped. He was looking back at me! He saw me looking at his butt! My face flushed with embarrassment. He did that head nod thing guys do that seemed to say, “Hey, babe. Yeah, come and get me.” Oh my gosh! I quickly turned away. Okay. No attraction for me there.
Looking up, I saw Zander glancing between Hugh and me. He caught my eye and tilted his head. When he raised his eyebrow, I knew he was wondering if there was something between Hugh and me. What did he care, anyway? He had just been ogling Zena. Still, I didn’t want him or anyone to think I had some crush on Hugh. Flushing again, I shook my head, wanting to bury it in my arms again. Instead, I tried for indifference by pulling out my pen and notebook.
Secrets of the Sleeper: True Nature Series: Book One Page 4