Making Bad Choices

by Rita Stradling

  The smile dropped off of Culter’s face and his gaze met mine in a searching way, before returning to Ms. Vale. He leaned across the desk further. “Would it be possible for us to be in some of the same classes? I know you have this. . .” he pointed to a note taped to the counter that read that you needed a doctor’s note to get out of classes, “but would it be possible to match us up in a couple? I’d just like to help her settle into the new school.”

  She blew out of her nose, but then her shoulders came up in a way that made me think she was giving in. She didn’t say yes or no, but turned back to her computer. After almost a minute, she turned back, “Okay, I’m just printing your schedules now, I’ll be right back.” Climbing up from her chair, she headed further into the office where several other office staff busily moved around.

  Glancing over to Culter, I whispered, “Did you know your mom posted that?”

  The look he gave me had sympathy written all over it. “No. I haven’t checked any of that stuff in a couple of days. Wasn’t how I planned to convince Ms. Vale, but at least we’ll have classes together.”

  Ms. Vale came back, setting two papers before us. “Okay, here you go.”

  Glancing down, I did a quick scan, before looking up. “Sorry, I’ve already taken computer classes through advanced placement courses.”

  “Oh,” she turned back to her computer. “I am sorry I missed that. Well, Cassie, you need another elective credit and the only other open elective we have is Auto Tech . . . I’m going to have to put you in that.”

  “You don’t have any art classes, do you?” I asked.

  “No, we do have an art club, after school though. From a look at your transcripts, all you’ve taken is art classes, best to try something new. We do have theater arts, but that elective is completely full in all periods.” She smiled up. “Good luck, and come to the office if you need anything.”

  I nodded and said, “Thanks,” even though what I really wanted to say was, ‘damn it, make me an art department, woman!’

  “Now you two. . .” she pointed between us, then put a finger to her lips. “All right, go on.”

  “Later, Culter,” Misty said as we headed away from the desk.

  “Can I see that?” Culter asked, reaching for my schedule.

  Resignedly, I handed him over my new list of classes. Looking at it was making me depressed anyway. I had core classes, physical education, Spanish four and auto. Never had a schedule looked so much like a prison sentence.

  “Now I’m in computers without you. Maybe I’ll see if I can’t have her switch me to auto too,” he remarked, sounding a little annoyed.

  “Oops,” I said, “Sorry.”

  I wasn’t sorry. Not even at all.

  “Well, we have five out of seven together, that’s pretty good.” He handed me back my schedule.

  “Yeah, but we also just guaranteed that we’re going to become horribly sick of each other. Hanging out all day and living together? I think you’re going to regret this.” I held up my schedule.

  He just shook his head, slowly, like my comment wasn’t worth responding to. “Let’s head this way, my friends and I usually grab lockers over there.”

  Nope. That was where I drew the line. I would not nab a locker in his friends’ zone. That would mean that every single time I needed anything, I’d have to go make nice with all of his friends. Slipping by unnoticed plan enacts now.

  Chapter Nine

  Culter opened the door for me into a hallway crowded with students walking in clusters. He gestured down the hallway. “Our English class is in the same direction as the lockers.”

  Walking next to him, I turned slightly and decided to just come out with it, “Culter, I’m not going to get a locker over there.”

  “Why?” he raised his eyebrows at me as if I said I was going to go eat paint chips.

  “Because . . .” I trailed off, trying to think of a good explanation, but nothing popped into my head. I could come out and say, so I can avoid you and your friends for a few precious moments every day, but then I would be a total asshole.

  A big body smacked into Culter, but both stayed vertical as a guy in a letterman jacket threw an arm over his shoulders.

  “Culter,” the guy said, drawing out the word.

  “Hey Spencer,” Culter said, a huge grin crossing over his face.

  “I thought you died. Where the hell have you been?” Spencer clapped a hand over his heart. “I was so worried,” he said the last part in a high-pitched voice. “I had to care for all of those ladies all by myself. It was hard, hard work.”

  It only took me one quick glance to determine that Spencer was incredibly hot. He stood a little taller than Culter, but they both had that athletic build that was obvious even under their jackets. If I was to paint Spencer, I’d use a burnt umber for his complexion, a dark rich yellow brown. His gray blue eyes were a startling contrast from his skin tone. Standing together, I couldn’t decide whose eyes were more captivating, Spencer’s or Culter’s. God sure made Colorado boys pretty.

  “And who are you?” Spencer said as if he just noticed me, his grin widened on his very beautiful face.

  “I’m Cassie, it’s my first day,” I said, with a wave.

  “Cassie,” he tasted the name more than said it. “I’m Spencer.”

  “Spencer,” I said back, attempting to put the same inflection as he did on mine.

  The smile remained, but his eyelids narrowed at me. “Where did you come from?”

  I leaned in toward him. “Outer space.”

  Then, I put a finger to my lips. I realized I might have been flirting a little bit, and it kind of shocked me for a second. I mean, I love to flirt with a cute boy, it was one of my favorite things to do, but it seemed a little soon after my mom.

  “She’s from L.A.,” Culter said.

  “Oh,” Spencer tapped Culter’s chest. “You’re not his stepsister from L.A.?”

  I nodded. “Guilty.”

  “Well, L.A. Cassie,” he let go of Culter and immediately wrapped me in a hug, “welcome to the family.”

  “Um . . . thanks,” I was so startled, I just sort of stood there. On the upside, he smelled good, like a light misting of cologne.

  He pulled away from me, grinning. “You’re going to have to teach us how to party like you Los Angeles ladies do.”

  “Who’s this? And why are we hugging her?” another guy asked, stepping up next to Spencer. Both his hair and complexion matched in a light sandy color. The words big, beefy blond came to mind when looking at him. He was muscular, even more than the other guys, with one of those muscled necks guys got when they lifted weights all the time.

  “Cassie, Culter’s hot Los Angeles stepsister,” Spencer said.

  “Yeah, I want a hug. Can I have a hug too?” Beefy asked.

  Obviously my going unnoticed plan was already dying a quick death.

  “Fine . . . I’ll hug you. But you’re the last hug,” I said.

  “Welcome to Bulvin, hot Cassie,” Beefy said as I hugged him.

  “Wait a minute, I didn’t get a hug back,” Spencer said.

  I held up a hand. “Last hug . . . all day.”

  “So tomorrow,” Spencer said, eyes twinkling.

  I rolled my eyes, knowing that my cheeks were probably red as hell. “We’ll see, I guess.”

  “What you got first?” Beefy asked, leaning in toward Culter and Spencer.

  They began exchanging schedules, huddling together.

  Finding the group of them distracted for a moment, I snuck off to the side where a row of empty lockers stood. I grabbed one at random, committing its number to memory. Shrugging off my jacket, because I was getting too hot, I hung it up. Taking my padlock from my pack, I dialed in the combination and unhooked it before hanging it on the locker.

  I was safe. I’d entrenched myself, and it wouldn’t be weird for me to say I’d just keep the locker I’d set my stuff in.

  As I slowly pulled out my binder and pen
cils from my backpack, the three guys walked over, still talking about their schedules. To my utter dismay, Culter opened the locker next to mine, shrugged off his jacket and hung it up. Next to him, Spencer did the same and so did Beefy, all grabbing lockers in a row.

  They just kept chatting as they took out their belongings and set in their locks.

  “Hey y’all,” another guy with a thick drawl and a letterman jacket said, as a girl walked up with him.

  The girl smiled over at me, leaning past the letterman jacket as she too shrugged off her jacket.

  “I’m Isabella, are you new?” Isabella probably stood just short of five foot. She was so tiny. In contrast, the guy she walked up with was taller than Spencer and just as wide. If they were a couple, the height difference would be pretty cute.

  I waved over to her. “Yeah, I’m new today. My name is Cassie.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said as she piled her stuff into her locker.

  Did I seriously pick a locker at random and it happened to be in their friend zone? What were the fucking chances? Nothing I could do now. If I went to find another locker, I’d look like a real asshole at this point. I took my lock out so I could close my brand new friend zone locker up and relock it.

  “We’re moving to different lockers?” asked a girl who bore a striking resemblance to Snow white, beautiful, but one of my least favorite princesses. The girl took a locker two down from my other side as three other girls filed in beside her. Snow White’s bright green eyes looked straight past me to the group behind me.

  “No one told us we were switching spots.” Though a smile crossed her dark red lips, it couldn’t hide the annoyance on her beautiful, pale face.

  “Just kind of happened,” Spencer said as he came around me. “How are my beautiful ladies?” He tried to hug all four of the girls, making them giggle and shriek.

  “Spencer,” Snow White said, laughing and smacking him.

  Seeing Spencer hugging all the girls, I felt a little relief. Obviously the reason that I’d automatically started flirting with that boy was because he was the type of boy it was impossible not to flirt with. I’m pretty sure every school has one. The reason I felt relieved was because if my mom was looking down and seeing me flirting so soon after she died, she would understand and tell me there’s no defense against that kind of flirting power, you just have to go with it. Actually, if my mom was looking down, she’d be applauding me flirting with anyone, happy as shit.

  I turned back to my closed locker, feeling a sudden prickling in my eyes. My mood swings struck again.

  As Spencer’s group untangled, I noticed Misty from the front office was one of the girls with Snow White.

  Snow White looked past me, again. “Shouldn’t someone text everyone else?”

  “Do it if you want, Lily,” Culter said from behind me, in a voice I hadn’t heard from him since we were kids, almost bored and annoyed.

  “Hey,” said yet another guy, who walked up right in the middle of everyone, taking the locker on my other side. “We changed spots?” he said while hanging up his jacket in the locker next to mine.

  “Looks like we did,” Culter said, his voice flipping from annoyed to amused in a heartbeat. “I was about to call you.”

  “Sure you were. Trying to ditch the junior, huh?” the guy said, sounding amused but distracted. Weirdly, this new guy looked familiar, though I knew I’d never met him before. It was in his chiseled facial features, sandy complexion, dark hair and lean build, something familiar I couldn’t place.

  As he turned my direction, he stared over at me, seeming startled, “Who are you?”

  I paused for a second, and then said, “Cassie.”

  “Cassie Michaels, Frank’s daughter?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  A huge grin broke over his face, and his dimpled grin looked a bit like Culter’s. “Hell yeah!” He threw his arms around me, pulling me into yet another surprising hug. “I’m Tyler, your step-cousin.”

  I always thought of myself as a rather assertive person, but right at this moment I didn’t feel that way at all. My locker was smack dab in the middle of all of Culter’s friends. And even though Bulvin High was likely very different from my old high school, I was going to take a stab in the dark and say that the huge group of gorgeous people that Culter surrounded himself was Bulvin High’s popular crowd. So, I was now going to have to walk straight up in the middle of assumedly the most cliquish group in the school every time I wanted anything from my locker.

  And, to top all that off, I had a schedule full of Culter, and likely his friends too, if the group that headed off with us to first period was anything to go by.

  Culter took the seat to one side of me, Spencer took the seat behind me, and Beefy across from Spencer, caddy corner to me. A bunch of other people that knew those guys crowded in around them.

  As everyone around me talked, I situated my stuff on my desk, making sure that nothing would slide off.

  “Hey,” a girl called over from the seat beside me with a faint Latino accent. She leaned into the aisle, toward me. The way she was leaning, I got a view of her black hair braided intricately back to either side of her head. Her round face looked more cute than beautiful, pretty in that sweet girl-next-door kind of way.

  “Hello,” I said back.

  She grinned, wide, showing a flash of green gum in her white smile. “You’re new here, right?”

  “Yeah, just started today.”

  “Nice. Where are you from?” Her brows rose.

  “Los Angeles.”

  “No way. . .” She drew out the words, “I’m going to LMU next year, film department.”

  “Wow, neat. Have you seen the campus yet?” I asked.

  “Oh my God,” she said, rolling her eyes up like she was overwhelmed with ecstasy at the memory.

  I couldn’t blame her. I’d been there only once for a graduation for one of Daisy’s friends. The view there made me feel like I was an angel looking down on Los Angeles, ready for flight.

  “Wow. You must be really good at making films,” I said.

  “I mostly do student documentaries, social issues, stuff like that,” she said with a modest shrug.

  I was going to ask more about her films, but the teacher called the class’ attention forward.

  “All right, my second semester seniors. . .” he then looked up to the ceiling, “Why me?”

  A few people snickered.

  His head came down and he smiled at us. “No, I guess I’m happy to see you back here. So many familiar faces . . . and a new face.” He nodded, gaze on me, gaining me the attention of everyone in the room for a second. Then, he continued, “All right, for the one person here that doesn’t know me, I am Mr. Davis.” He wrote it on the board as he said it. “And all of you are in British and World Literature. If that’s not where you’re supposed to be, now is the time to exit.” When no one left, Mr. Davis said, “Anyone? Okay, you must be my group of victims,” he shook his head, “I mean students. All right guys, I have a fun activity to break the ice in here, and then we’re going to get to the syllabus.” He held up a stack of papers. “Take one and pass it around.”

  After he doled out stacks to the people in the front seats, everyone passed them down the row.

  I took one off the stack, passing the rest back to Spencer, who grinned and winked at me. The paper held a series of simple questions, starting with, “What is your name?” and continuing with a couple others.

  I moved my pen to start filling it out, when Mr. Davis called, “Wait. Pencils up. Don’t write anything yet.” He held up one of the pieces of paper. “This is an interview I want you guys to do. Pair up and ask each other the questions on here and write down the answers. When the interview is finished, I’m going to ask each of you to stand up and introduce your partner and tell us a little about them.” He pointed around the classroom, “Just school appropriate answers, please. And, please interview someone you don’t talk to everyday. Swit
ch desks if you have to.”

  The film school girl next to me immediately turned and said, “Want to be my partner?”

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Hey, Cassie,” Culter called from behind me. A tap came on my arm, and I turned to find Culter smiling at me, dimples and all. “Be my partner,” he said.

  “She can’t be your partner,” Spencer said, sounding truly affronted. “Mr. Davis said someone you don’t talk to everyday, which rules out your stepsister.” He turned to me. “Cassie, I’ll be your partner.”

  “Sorry guys, I have a partner.” I pointed over to the girl sitting next to me.

  Spencer leaned back to look at her. “What the hell, Zoe?”

  “Snooze you lose,” Zoe said, eyebrows raised in challenge but fighting a grin.

  “Well, damn. Fine, but you have to be my partner next time, Cassie. It’s only fair,” Spencer said.

  I exhaled an almost laugh. “Sure.” And then I leaned back toward Zoe, who I was kind of insta-liking. “So, your name’s Zoe, Z-O-E?”

  “Yep, and you’re Casey?”

  “Close, Cassie, with an I-E at the end.”

  “Cassie,” she said as she wrote. “I have a feeling you are going to be big news around here but it hasn’t reached my circle yet.”

  “God, I hope not,” I muttered, as I read over the rest of the questions.

  “You’re Culter Fuller’s stepsister?” she asked, glancing over to him.

  “Yeah.”

  “And from L.A. Sorry, you’re guaranteed to be big news,” she stated it with sympathy in her voice.

  “Great . . . I guess we should get on this. What’s your favorite food?” I read.

  “Cheeseburgers. Yours?”

  “Fish tacos with mahi-mahi in them,” I said.

  She guffawed. “Don’t eat them around here. Well, I can make a mean fish taco, but the fish in the restaurants in Bulvin are iffy. Okay. Anyway, what are your plans for next year?”

  “Still deciding between art school in L.A. and going to Bulvin University.”

  She looked up, eyelids going wide. “You’re an artist?”

  “Yeah . . . mostly graphic art, but I can draw and paint too.”