Pinched-face girl is still looking at me. I smile tentatively and wait to see her reaction. Her lips turn up at the edges.
“You said you’re new, right?” she asks quietly. The rest of the class is talking in low voices so I lean forward to answer.
“Yeah. I’m Derry.”
“I’m Nicole. Sorry I was rude, I just…I hate the first day, you know?” she says, dropping her eyes.
I feel my heart twist in sympathy. “Yeah, I do. This is my first day of school. Ever,” I admit, feeling a little foolish.
Nicole raises her eyebrows. “Ever? What does that mean?”
I lower my voice, not really wanting anyone else to hear. “I was homeschooled. I’ve never been to school.”
Her eyes widen as she looks me over. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed. You look so…normal.” She grimaces. “Sorry, that sounded bad. I just meant…”
“You meant that I don’t dress like I’m in a cult or have weird hair. It’s ok.” Nicole blushes and I find myself warming to her. At least she says what she means. “I kind of figured people might think that.”
“Yeah, well. Um, do you want to…” she breaks off as the tone sounds, signaling the end of class. Chairs scrape as students jump to their feet, and I stuff my book in my bag. Phillip steps up next to me and smiles, turning his back on Nicole, almost as if on purpose.
“Ready to go?” he asks. I glance over at Nicole, wondering what she was about to ask.
“See you later,” she mumbles and hurries away, holding her book close to her chest. She reminds me of a frightened rabbit, always looking around for the next attack.
I shake my head and turn back to Phillip, realizing that once again, I heard what he really said the first time around. A light hum whispers under my skin. There’s no doubting that there’s something different about Phillip. It’s like my talent goes haywire around him.
“Yeah. Thanks for doing this,” I say, fighting the urge shake all the confusion out of my head. He smiles, teeth flashing, and leads the way out of the room.
“So what class do you have next?”
I glance over my schedule again. “Biology with Mr. Keckley.”
“Oh, I had him last semester. He can be a little…off-putting. Just don’t sit too close to the front. He tends to spit,” Phillip informs me conspiratorially.
“Oh. Thanks.” My throat seems to be closing over. I’m not sure if my reaction to Phillip has something to do with my ability or if it’s just because he’s really cute. I decide to go with the latter for my own peace of mind.
“So where are you from?”
“Williamsburg, Virginia. I grew up there,” I say, glad to get on solid ground.
“Oh, I’ve been there, when I was a kid. It’s near Busch Gardens, right?”
I laugh. You can tell someone’s age by how they identify Williamsburg. It’s either the colonial town or that place near the amusement park. “Yeah, that’s the place.”
“That’s nice,” he says and we lapse into silence. In my mind, I am this great conversationalist, bubbly and vibrant, drawing people to me just by the sound of my voice. In reality, my tongue seems to have swollen up to twice its size and my brain is sputtering like a stalled engine.
We round a corner and Phillip points to a door. “Well, that’s Mr. Keckley’s room. Remember, stay in the back,” he reminds me jokingly.
“Thanks for…um.”
“No problem. Do you know how to get to the cafeteria from here?”
I wonder if I’ve really come off as that dense. “Yes.”
“Good. Well, it was nice meeting you. If you need somewhere to sit at lunch, just look for me.”
“Oh, thanks. I will.” I scratch my arm, electricity surging beneath my skin.
“Ok. Good luck,” Phillip says, tossing another brilliant smile over his shoulder. As he merges into the quickly moving mass of students my skin quiets, the buzzing dissipating until I’m not sure it was there to begin with. I square my shoulders and head into the room.
Mr. Keckley doesn’t offer me any help or ask if I want to be introduced to the class. He signs my paper with a grunt and gestures broadly at the room. I take a desk near the back, following Phillip’s advice. The last students to come in grumble as they take the front row seats. No one speaks to me. I barely rate a glance from the people sitting next to me.
This period moves slowly. Once Mr. Keckley is finished droning on about how his class is run, he puts in a mind-numbing National Geographic film about photosynthesis. Halfway through the movie I’m blinking rapidly to stay awake, letting the half-truths the narrator utters pass through my ears without really listening.
Someone taps me on the shoulder. Startled, I glance around and catch the eye of the girl behind me. She is holding out a folded piece of notebook paper to me with a bored expression on her face.
“I stole a hundred dollars from my brother,” she whispers impatiently, shoving the paper into my hand. I close my fist around it and open my mouth to say something, but the girl stares studiously at the TV screen, obviously not interested in striking up an acquaintance.
I peer anxiously at Mr. Keckley, but he is looking at something on his computer and doesn’t seem to notice that anything has happened. With a thrill of anticipation, I open the folded paper and read the note.
“You don’t belong here. You’re going to be miserable.”
Tears sting my eyes as I stare down at the paper. The words flicker and reform into what the author meant me to see.
“Welcome to Harpers Ferry. You’re going to have fun here.”
I glance around, wondering who wrote the note. My eyes meet those of a girl two rows over. She winks at me and tosses gleaming blond hair over her shoulder. If I didn’t know her true intention, I would think she was being friendly.
I smile weakly and return to the movie, biting my lower lip to keep from crying. This was a mistake.
Chapter 2
I stand at the entrance to the cafeteria, gripping the strap to my messenger bag so tightly my fingers are numb. My eyes dart around the room, searching for Phillip, since he is the only person to offer me a seat at lunch, but I don’t see him right away. The cafeteria is larger than I’d expected, with round tables that seat eight crowded all the way to the windows at the back. I am amazed anyone ever finds a place to sit here and debate just finding a corner somewhere quiet to eat. I saw students sitting in groups on the floor outside the gym as I walked from class, and they seemed perfectly happy.
“I’m so tired of being alone,” a familiar voice says behind me.
Unsure of what she said, I just smile hesitantly. “Oh…uh…I’m just looking for somewhere to sit.”
Nicole shifts on her feet and glances around. “Well, you can sit with me if you want,” she offers in a rush, looking regretful almost instantly.
“That would be great, if you don’t mind,” I reply honestly. She nods and motions for me to follow her. We end up sitting in a nook created by an entrance to a lecture room across from the gym, silently chewing on our respective lunches. I am glad I packed mine this morning. The thought of getting a tray and searching the cafeteria for a friendly spot is daunting. Everyone who is sitting out here in the hall is eating a packed lunch. I take stock of the students around us and decide that this must be where all the outcasts sit. So now I’ve identified myself as one too.
We finish eating and Nicole watches me apprehensively, once again reminding me of a rabbit quivering in the presence of a deadly predator. I suppress an impulse to laugh at this image of myself as dangerous. I spend so much of my time shielding myself from everyone around me and the never-ending onslaught of truth, that I’ve never viewed myself as anything but a victim. My opinion changes now as I look at Nicole. She screams victim with every breath.
“I want a friend so badly,” Nicole says.
“Sorry, what?” I ask, turning my attention back to her.
“I said, where are you from? Do you have a hearing problem
or something?”
I smile bitterly. “In a manner of speaking.”
Nicole flushes and bites her lower lip. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…I was just kidding, I didn’t really think…” she stutters, looking mortified. I hasten to reassure her.
“Don’t worry about it. I just have trouble focusing sometimes,” I explain vaguely, hoping she doesn’t ask any more questions.
“I get it. Sorry,” she mumbles. I can guess at her thoughts. Based on everything she’s accidently revealed to me, I know her social circle is pretty limited, probably to the point of nonexistent, so there’s no doubt she is kicking herself for insulting a potential friend. I find myself warming to Nicole, the only person apart from Phillip who has shown any interest in me at all.
“Seriously, forget about it. Thanks for letting me sit with you,” I say, trying to change the subject. She studies me sharply before she relaxes and answers.
“You’re welcome. Not that it will do much for your status. I’m pretty much persona non grata around here,” she says, shrugging offhandedly with long practice at looking unconcerned. I decide right now that whatever else happens here, even if I end up quitting by the end of the week, I will befriend this girl. I don’t know what has caused her to be so lonely, but the long isolation that her slumped posture and downcast eyes speak of calls to me, to that secret self that I keep tucked away, even from my mother. The part of me that knows I’m a freak, some weird abomination that should never have existed.
“Oddly enough, that sounds pretty appealing right now,” I finally say, giving Nicole a weak smile. Her eyes brighten before she looks away. After this, we seem to grow easier around each other. I tell her about Williamsburg and my mom’s antique store, how we moved because keeping a shop in the historic district had become too expensive, and mom’s old high school friend had told her how much cheaper it was to live in West Virginia. Nicole tells me she’s an only child and she’s lived in Harpers Ferry her whole life. Since I’ve only been on a basic tour of the town and pretty much just gone back and forth between home and the store since arriving, she tentatively offers to show me around.
“That would be great. I’ve been up and down the street with all the shops, but that’s about it.”
“How long have you been in town?”
“Around two months.”
She looks puzzled. “You didn’t come to school last semester?”
I shake my head. “No, I didn’t want to start at the end of a semester. Technically I already qualify for graduation. I just wanted to see what high school was like before it was too late,” I say, a little too truthfully.
“Oh wow. That’s the opposite of me. All I want is to get out of here.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never been to school, remember? And at least this way, if it sucks completely, I’m only in it for a few months.”
“A few months can be a long time here, trust me,” she says cryptically. I frown at her and she shrugs. “You may have noticed that I’m not surrounded by a group of adoring fans.”
“Yeah, but...” I break off, not sure what to say.
“Look you’ll hear about it soon enough. I used to be fairly popular and everything, but something…happened, and the people I thought were friends ganged up on me. They were pretty cruel.” Nicole’s voice wavers and the shine of tears threatens to spill over.
“I’m really sorry.” She just nods and we don’t speak for a moment. “I’ve never had a friend,” I say quietly, feeling like an idiot.
“Never?” she asks, her eyebrows creasing in pity. I shake my head. “I’m sorry, that’s got to be hard. Look, not to get all after-school special on you, but I could use a friend right now…you know, if you’re interested.”
I give her a brilliant smile, touched by how difficult it must be for her to offer.
“Definitely.”
Before we can say more, the tone sounds and we get to our feet.
“What classes do you have this afternoon?” Nicole asks as she swings her over-laden backpack over her shoulder and brushes a hank of dark brown hair back from her face.
“I’ve got English Lit next, and then Journalism.”
“I’ve got calculus and gym. How did you get out of taking P.E. anyway? It’s required.”
I grin and pull my bag over my head. “Mom argued against it. She said since I was only going to be here for a semester, she wanted me to have all academics. The principal didn’t really seem to care,” I tell her, hiding part of the truth. The main reason was because my mom didn’t think I could handle working in teams and playing sports with so many people. There wouldn’t be enough full conversations, just people yelling things out randomly, and I would be too distracted. I had to agree with her on that one.
“Lucky,” Nicole mutters and I laugh. For a fleeting moment, she grins unselfconsciously before her face closes down again and I feel like I’ve won a small victory.
“Do you know where your class is?”
I have an idea, but I figure it won’t hurt to let Nicole show me. She seems determined to embrace the friend concept. “Kind of, but I could use an escort if you don’t mind.”
“No problem,” she says and leads me into the teeming mess of students pouring out of the cafeteria. We head up a dilapidated-looking set of stairs to the second floor, and I try not to trip on the worn linoleum. We emerge into a hallway I haven’t been down before and I almost walk past it before I halt and stare in surprise.
“What is this?” I ask, pointing to a locker that’s covered in fake flowers and permanent marker with notes that say ‘I’ll miss you’ and ‘Be at peace’ all over it. A picture of a smiling, pretty redhead is glued in the center.
Nicole’s face shuts down completely and it takes her a moment to answer. “That’s Miranda. She…died at the end of October. They’ve practically made a shrine to her,” she says quietly. I glance over at Nicole and am startled by the fierce glow in her eyes. “They didn’t even know her.”
“And you did?” I ask, understanding.
She nods. “She was my best friend, since we were kids. Then she started dating Phillip and everything changed. He did something to her; I know he did. Someone doesn’t just one-eighty their personality like that for no reason.”
I am tempted to push for more, but Nicole turns away abruptly and I have no choice but to follow. We turn the corner and she pauses in front of a classroom door. “This is your stop,” she says and then shifts on her feet awkwardly. I know she is trying to decide something, so I wait, giving her a moment to figure it out.
“Look, people might say stuff to you about me. It’s not true, okay?”
I frown in confusion but nod. I’ll know if someone is lying anyway. “Ok. Is your offer to show me around town still open?”
She is surprised for a moment and then smiles cautiously. “Yeah.”
“Tomorrow after school?” I ask.
“Ok. I have a car, so if you want to catch a ride with me, we can leave from here,” she says precisely, as though measuring every word.
“Sounds good. Let me give you my number.” I program the number in her cell. “See you tomorrow.” I wave goodbye and enter the room. Glancing back over my shoulder, I see she is smiling to herself, an incredulous expression on her face before she turns and walks away.
My English class goes smoothly. After my initial flash of sympathy at learning that the teacher, Ms. Harris, has breast cancer, I am able to relax and enjoy her lecture about Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. I read the passage over and over again in my text, letting the words slide through my mind like water on a parched throat. No hidden truths for me to decipher, just beautiful words and a tragic story of loss. By the time the period ends, I am sad to leave. I have had over an hour of peace, and I begin to rethink my earlier fear that coming to school is a mistake.
I find my way to the Journalism room without any help for the last class of the day. Shockey looks up and beams at me as I enter. I dread what I will hear him say
.
Instead, he gestures for me to go to the smaller room at the back of the class. I hesitate and then go in, finding a small lab with six computers and a sliding door leading to an attached darkroom. I am the only one here, so I take a seat and wait, disliking the slight trembling in my hands. After a few moments, several students wander in, whispering quietly to one another. They break off when they see me and exchange unreadable looks before sitting down and continuing their discussion.
Shut out again.
I hear raised voices coming from the main classroom and the students across the room flinch and look at each other in confusion. One, a short, pixyish girl with shoulder-length blond hair, jumps up and hurries over to the door, ignoring my presence completely. I watch her raise her eyebrows and glance back over to her friend.
“I love watching other people be miserable,” she says in a muted voice. The boy gasps. Another girl walks in, her eyes wide.
“Cathy, what’s going on?” the pixie girl asks her.
“I am in love with Jake,” the girl named Cathy whispers. The boy who remained seated now hops up and joins the girls, all of whom are oblivious to me listening in. I nearly growl in frustration, knowing I am missing half of the conversation.
“What did he say?” asks pixie.
“I have no idea,” Cathy answers. “Shockey just called him up and said something and Jake completely freaked out.”
“I want to bang the new girl,” the boy says and the girls giggle. I jerk in my seat, aware no one else heard him say this, but feeling like a huge spotlight has been thrown on me nonetheless.
“Oh, whatever Shane, you know Jake would never quit. He thinks he’s the boss here. Besides, Shockey knows that Jake would print a story about finding him downloading porn last year if he ever really pisses him off.”
“Yeah, but look at him. His face is all red,” Shane says and darts a look over at me. His glance is appraising and he grins widely. I smile back weakly, pretty sure that I’m not going to like him. “Guys, we’re being rude. Hi, there. I haven’t seen you before, are you new?” he asks me, perfectly affable. I swallow my initial discomfort and try to answer normally.
Instinct Page 3