Twisted Proposal

by M. V. Miles

  Unlike my old school, there was an actual stage we were, complete with a podium. A group of very distinguished people gathered off to the far right, one of them Dean Marshall. Behind them on a large projector screen was the school’s mascot, a Devil clad in blue and green plaid, with the words “Week's Agenda” written below. Part of me felt like I should be taking notes or something.

  “Cute.” Trent slipped into a seat next to me.

  “Where were you going to take me this time?”

  “Someplace where you could at least keep your anonymity,” he said sourly.

  Dean Marshall strode across the stage to the podium and cleared her throat. Her hair was pulled back and even from where I sat, I could see her stern expression. “Attention, students.” Everyone quieted down.

  “Here we go,” Trent said, sitting back.

  “I would like to thank the members of the Student Council for a lovely school dance on Friday.” Then she went on to inform everyone about the week’s upcoming events. Just when I thought it was coming to an end, Dean Marshall scanned the crowd, her gaze locking on to my face. “We have a new student joining us. It gives me great pleasure to welcome Miss Addison McDaniel.”

  McDaniel! My last name is Solomon. I was so going to kill Stuart when I got home. Trent nudged me, and I glared at him.

  “Don’t be shy, Miss McDaniel. Please stand so everyone will know who you are.” The Dean beckoned.

  I felt my stomach drop. I should have listened to Trent and skipped the assembly. I stood and focused my attention on the schedule of events for the week that hung on the wall behind the Dean. This was so embarrassing. I tried to avoid the heat that rushed to my cheeks while everyone gawked at me. After thirty seconds of torture, I was allowed to sit back down.

  “Maybe next time you’ll trust me,” Trent added.

  “Don’t bet on it,” I snapped. The bell rang then, and people began filing out of the auditorium to their classes. Trent was one of the first to leave the assembly.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “What was wrong at the assembly?" Dean Marshall inquired as she sat down behind her desk. She folded her hands and studied me. "You looked like you were quite upset.” I went straight to her office just as the second bell sounded. She arrived a few minutes later.

  I stared her down. “My name is Addison J. Solomon, not McDaniel.”

  “Your name is whatever Mr. Van Buren wants it to be. He writes the checks. That’s the name that was written on the application. I’m sure it’s just a formality.”

  “But my last name is Solomon,” I argued. And what was Mr. Van Buren doing paying my tuition?

  “If you insist on keeping this up, I will call your father and inform him to take you elsewhere.” All the friendliness in her eyes had disappeared.

  “Do what you have to do, but I’m not taking my father’s last name,” I retorted, standing abruptly. “My name is all I have left of my mother, and I intend on keeping it. I’ll wait outside while you call my father.” I turned to leave. What was wrong with me? I couldn’t walk out on an opportunity like this. Why did I have to be so brash?

  “Sit down,” she ordered.

  I slid back into my chair.

  “You can keep your last name. It’ll be changed by the end of the week. Now, you’re at least three weeks behind, and for your information, the juniors are not happy to be adding another person to their roster.”

  “Why?”

  “If you haven’t noticed, this is a very competitive school. That being said, just try to keep your nose clean, and we’ll be fine,”

  “Deal.”

  She wrote something down on a yellow pad of paper and pressed a small button on a speaker box on her desk. “Mrs. Kline, will you send in Kristin?”

  The Asian girl from the party walked in with a placid look on her face. She curtsied and greeted me with a smile.

  “Addison, this is Kristin. She’ll be showing you around Briarwood. She’s in all of your classes, and if you have any questions, ask her. She’s the top student in the junior class.”

  “Thank you, Dean Marshall.” She curtsied again before facing me. Was she for real?

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Addison; I hope you enjoy your time at Briarwood.” She flashed me a bright, cheerleader full-of-white-teeth smile.

  “I hope you two will be good friends,” Dean Marshall said. Then she dismissed us.

  The act disappeared almost as soon as we left Dean Marshall's office. “I can’t believe you ditched Trent. He’s like a God around here, now that Jackson’s graduated,” Kristin said once we were in the hall.

  “News travels fast,” I commented. She made me feel self-conscious.

  “How old are you again? Most juniors are seventeen. However, there are three that are eighteen, but we don’t’ hold it against them.”

  “I’m sure you already know that I’m sixteen.”

  “Weren’t you at the party on Friday with Jackson Van Buren? You really pissed Carli off,” she said, ignoring my comment about my age.

  “I don’t see how. They seemed fine when I found them in the bathroom hooking up.” I was gossiping. What was wrong with me?

  “Well, I heard you spent the night with him.”

  “Yeah and…?” We walked up a flight of stairs. My knees felt weak. This place moved too fast for me.

  “Well, what happened?”

  “We watched television and passed out talking.”

  “Really?” she asked with a confused look on her face.

  “What?”

  “That’s exactly what he told me. Weird. I never figured him for the kind who likes to talk. He seems like an all or nothing kind of guy.” Jackson told her the same thing? What was he lying for?

  “Come on. We’re going to be late, and I have near-perfect attendance.”

  God forbid we ruin that. I followed her down the hall.

  We rushed through the thinning crowds of students down a hall lined with bulletin boards covered with announcements of events and activities. It was so different from my old school; everything was so shiny and clean. As we turned left, Kristin pointed out my locker, which was near a water fountain. My old locker was near the gym, which was on the opposite side of the building. I rarely used it.

  “Just so you know," Kristin said. "Jackson and Carli have dated on and off for the last year or so. I wouldn’t come between that.”

  “Thanks for the advice.” Like I cared.

  We stopped at a wooden door with glass windows. I could see a man in a green and blue sweater vest. My first class, European Literature.

  “Watch out. Mr. Morgan’s a stickler,” she said as we walked in.

  The classroom was smaller than I anticipated and caught me off guard. Six large tables were used as desks, and twelve sets of eyes stared at me with curiosity. Instead of a chalkboard, there were dry erase boards. A projector hooked up to a computer displayed the lecture notes. It reminded me more of college than high school. The chairs were swivel office chairs with padded seats. Kristen handed the teacher a slip and slid into her chair, leaving me alone in front of the class while the teacher gave me the once-over.

  “Take a seat in front, Addison McDaniel.” Mr. Morgan pointed to an open place next to a girl with dark red hair. She rolled her eyes at me and frowned. I nodded and sat down.

  “It’s Solomon. They made a mistake,” I corrected.

  “Do tell us where did you matriculate from?” Mr. Morgan asked, as he strolled past me. What was this? Some sort of interrogation?

  “Northern Illinois, near Chicago.” I failed at keeping the attitude out of my voice.

  “And please inform us of the last book you read?” he asked, sitting on the edge of his desk. Before I had a chance to answer, he jeered, “Oh, wait. Let me guess. Twilight Saga, or was it the latest copy of Cosmo or Seventeen?” He crossed his arms, and several people snickered.

  I chuckled. “No, uh, that kind of mindless reading doesn’t appeal to me. The last book I re
ad was probably over your head.”

  He stood abruptly. “Nonsense,” he snapped.

  “Does The Voyage of the Beagle, by Charles Darwin, ring a bell? But I’m currently reading The Canterbury Tales, by Chaucer. The Middle English text, of course.” Truth be told, I wasn’t reading either of those right now, but I had read both in the past year.

  He didn’t say anything for about thirty seconds and then began with the daily discussion, ignoring me completely. At the end of the class, I was given three weeks of assignments and notes to catch up--all due by the end of the week.

  I had the same experience in the next two classes, Urban History and Physics. It was insane, and Kristin didn’t help matters with her snide remarks about Jackson. I could have cared less about him. How was I going to get all of this homework done? There wasn’t enough time in the day or night. I guess I wanted academia, and now I had it. I didn’t see how my mother survived this place.

  At least, gym class was next. Can’t go wrong there, right? An hour later, drenched in sweat for the second time that day, I learned how wrong I was. I’d spent the entire class taking the most intense fitness tests of my life. My teacher was even worse than Brock.

  “What team are you planning on trying out for?” asked a girl in the locker room while I was changing.

  “Uh, nothing now,” I muttered, pulling on my shirt.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked. I faced her. She was as tall as me, but bigger than me by sheer muscle mass.

  “I was told it was too late to join anything right now, but in the future I might like to play soccer, track, lacrosse, or maybe even volleyball.”

  “You don’t look like you’re the type of girl to play any of those. You look like you belong with the cheerleaders or dance team,” she suggested. She didn’t smile, so I knew she wasn’t joking. Great, I was making friends already.

  “Yeah, my father would probably agree with you.”

  “I’m Lacey Greenhill, captain of the soccer team.” She stuck her hand out for me to shake.

  “Nice to meet you.” Avoiding her extended hand, I pulled on my socks. She wasn’t being nice to be a friend; she wanted information--like all of them.

  “Just so you know. Everyone here has their own little knack for sports.” With a flip of her long hair, she cruised out the door.

  I wasn’t going to worry about that now. I hurried to find Kristin, who was waiting for me in the cafeteria. She shut her phone as I approached and smiled. Did she think I was blind? Better yet, stupid?

  “So you met Lacey. Don’t worry about her. She’s just trying to make sure you’re not going to try out for her precious soccer team.”

  “I’m not. What sports team are you on?”

  “Cheerleading, of course.”

  So my assessment in Dean Marshall's office was correct. Cheerleader. It figured. “Cool,” I lied. I wanted to know who she was talking to. I’m pretty sure she was discussing me.

  “It’s ultimately your choice. But just so you know, I don’t like the girl they’ve selected for the cheerleading team. She’s a know-it-all bitch.” She pointed out the redhead I sat next to in English, as we grabbed our lunch trays. “You’re a vegetarian, right?”

  “Is there any anything you don’t know?” I grabbed an apple juice and salad.

  “No, not much, and lucky for you, our school has a tasty variety of vegetables.” She showed me how to pay for my lunch and then led me to a table of a few girls who all stared at me as I sat down.

  “Everyone, this is Addison. She’s the newest member of the junior class, and she went to a party on Friday with Jackson Van Buren.” As soon as she said that, everyone started talking at once. It appeared that Kirstin was a step down from the super popular kids. As much as she talked about Carli, I had assumed they were best friends. But Carli and Trent were sitting at the table next to us with a group of jocks. Kristin gazed longingly at them and then began trash-talking. It was a little bit of a letdown to find out that this school was no different than the last. I don’t know what I was expecting, but gossiping wasn’t a part of it. By the end of lunch, I decided I was going to ask the Dean if I could take another Study Hall to prevent me the torture of lunch altogether.

  Trent insisted on sitting next to me in World Studies class and bugged me the entire time with annoying questions he’d written down on a piece of paper. For some reason, I felt obligated to answer them. After all, he did try to save me from embarrassment this morning.

  “Go out with me this weekend?” he asked after class.

  “I’m grounded.”

  “Why, what’d you do? More importantly, you didn’t say no. Does Jackson know you want to see other guys?” he ventured.

  I stopped. “Just so you know, Jackson and I aren’t dating, and for the record, I don’t date. Rest assured. I’ll let you know if I want something.”

  Three classes later, I arrived at the library for study hall brain-dead. These teachers were heartless to the fact that I had eight classes to catch up on by Friday. I left Kristin at the front and found an empty table in the back and started to unpack. I placed each textbook on the table with a list of the things that had to be completed. There was so much that had to be done. I fired up my laptop and got to work.

  Someone cleared her throat, and I closed my laptop. Carli stared down at me. I waited for her to start talking, but instead she just stood there gawking at me. So I rolled my eyes and started my homework again. I didn’t have time to play games. She cleared her throat again, and I slammed my computer shut. “Is there something you want?”

  “I’m Carli, you’re…”

  “Addison. Are we finished?”

  “Just beginning. Where exactly are you from, Ad-di-son?”

  “Illinois. Any other questions I can answer before I get to my work?”

  She smiled and sat down, leaning forward. “Yeah, why are you dating my boyfriend?”

  “I’m not dating anyone.”

  “I saw you with Jackson at the party. You can’t fool me.”

  I held my hand up to stop her. “Jackson and I aren’t dating.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No, we're not.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry I thought you….then why did he dump me?”

  I didn’t respond, which bugged her.

  “So how long have you known Jackson?”

  “A few weeks,” I replied, which caught her off guard, and she smiled awkwardly.

  “And you spent the night with him. You don’t waste time, do you?”

  “It wasn’t exactly my idea,” I said. Everyone around me had their heads buried in their homework, but I knew they were listening.

  “I mean…you just got here and …it’s like I don’t even exist,” she said again, more to herself. Maybe if she knew what the Van Burens were all about. I mean she did admit to dating Jackson.

  “So, are we finished?”

  “Let me tell you how things work around here--“

  “I don’t care how things work, because I don’t intend on being a part of it. I want to go to class and go home. That’s it.”

  “Lame.” She got to her feet.

  “Maybe for someone without a plan.”

  She rolled her eyes and joined a table of her friends, which included the girl with the dark red hair. Like I cared what she thought. I would squash her like a bug if I needed to. I returned to my computer.

  Two other guys tried to talk to me, but they disappeared in a matter of seconds. Couldn’t they see I had some serious work to do! Didn’t they get it? I didn’t want friends. When the bell rang, signaling the end of class, I packed up and went to my locker. Thankfully I had typed up all my assignments and organized them for the rest of the week. It made it easier to deal with. I packed my bag; grateful most of the books had online access so I didn’t have to lug them home with me.

  Just as I suspected, no one was there to pick me up. I sat on a bench and waited. After ten minutes, three fourths of the scho
ol had left, and no one offered the new kid a ride home. It wasn’t like I knew my address anyway.

  I went inside and left a message on Stuart’s phone, but 30 more minutes passed, and still no one showed. Since I didn’t have any cash, I decided to walk. Now I was never going to get anything done.

  An hour later, I was tired and sore from my crazy morning workout and gym class. I peeled off my sweater and tied it around my waist. I was going to give Stuart an earful for this. This had totally shot my study time. Where was he? Didn’t he know what kind of school this was? Hell, I wasn’t even sure all this homework was legal.

  He didn’t mention anything about going to court, which why he was usually late getting home. I took a deep breath, wishing I had my phone and picked up my pace, continuing down the long asphalt road. Maybe someone will drive by? Or maybe I would come across a house or another street.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It had to be about almost six when I heard the sound of car approaching. I stuck my thumb out and waited as a familiar dark grey car passed me and then backed up. You have got to be kidding me. What was Mr. Van Buren doing out here? The tinted window lowered, and Mr. Van Buren peered up at me. “Do you need a ride?”

  “Not from you.” I would take my chances on my own. I turned away.

  “Suit yourself, but it’s about 20-plus miles to your house, young lady,” he yelled after me. I stopped. Twenty more miles? There was no way I was going to make it home before morning. A whole night lost. I caved and returned to the passenger window. He opened the door and I eased into the car. My feet were killing me, and my face was dripping sweat.

  “I wanted to apologize for my son hitting you. He’s going to anger management classes to deal with his…outburst.” he started.

  “It’s obviously not working.” I muttered. “Like it matters now. What’s done is done. I don’t know why you ever thought this would be a good idea. I mean, you don’t even know me.”