Mixed Bags

by Melody Carlson

  Rhiannon and Casey sat silently in the backseat, and DJ sat next to her grandmother, wondering what school would be like this year. Feeling nervous, she fidgeted with the handle of her Hermès bag. Of course, this only reminded her of that embarrassing moment at the beach when Taylor had used the contents in the purse to humiliate her. Still, it seemed that DJ and Conner had made it past that. It seemed that he had really liked her. And she knew she liked him. They’d even gone out since then. And after that, it seemed that their relationship had begun to unravel.

  Still, she couldn’t put her finger on what had gone wrong between them last night. Maybe she would never know. On one hand, she told herself that it might be for the best. After all, she had just invited Jesus into her heart. Perhaps that was what she needed to focus on for the time being. And yet, she couldn’t deny that she still really liked Conner. And she still wanted him to like her. She tried to block the disturbing image of him and Taylor dancing together last night. Or Taylor’s superior expression this morning. Like she’d won. And she reminded herself that Conner had kissed her—before he’d said what sounded like a final good-bye. None of it made much sense. And thinking about it just frustrated her more.

  DJ suddenly remembered what Rhiannon had told her before they’d gone to bed last night. “If you’re stressing about something, just pray. There’s actually a verse in the Bible that says to do this.”

  Well, DJ wasn’t sure she really knew how to pray, but she was definitely stressing over Conner. And for that reason, as Mrs. Carter turned down the road to the school, DJ made a feeble attempt to pray. Naturally, she did this silently. No way was she going to start praying out loud with her critical grandmother and Casey, the rebel girl, listening in. She said the words silently inside her head. She just hoped that God could hear her, and that he was listening. And, by the time Mrs. Carter pulled in front of the school, DJ felt amazingly calm. Maybe this prayer thing really did work.

  “Will you pick us up afterward?” asked DJ.

  Her grandmother nodded. “At three?”

  “That’s about right,” said DJ. “Although I have volleyball after school. And Kriti said she might try out too. In that case, everyone would fit in Eliza’s car.”

  “Wouldn’t that be delightful?!” Mrs. Carter seemed relieved now, and DJ suspected she was calculating how much afternoon naptime she was willing to sacrifice for the sake of the girls. “How about if you give me a call when you know for sure, Desiree?”

  “Okay.”

  Mrs. Carter smiled and waved. “Have a nice day, girls.”

  Rhiannon politely thanked her, and DJ grabbed her gym bag and waved, but Casey just grunted as if this prospect of having a good day was highly unlikely.

  Unfortunately, that would probably be the case with Casey. Going to Crescent Cove High dressed like Goth Girl meets Punk Rocker might not go over too well. Just this morning, DJ had tried to warn Casey of this, but the stubborn girl was not ready to listen to anyone. Still, it seemed a little unfair that DJ and Rhiannon were stuck walking into the building with Casey. It was her choice to stand out like a loser, but why did she have to subject them to it as well? Then, when DJ imagined what the three of them must look like together, she almost laughed. Almost. She just hoped, as they headed for the school’s entrance, that others would have as much self-control. What a whacky threesome.

  DJ, thanks to her grandmother’s and Eliza’s fashion intervention, looked fairly stylish. Although, according to Casey, DJ had simply been transformed into “an Eliza clone.” Casey, in total contrast, with her safety-pin-pierced brows and skull T-shirt and black lace-up boots, looked freaky weird. This was aside from the fact that her hair—cut in a short Mohawk and dyed jet black with an electric-blue stripe down the middle—was a real show stopper. Then there was Rhiannon, who DJ thought actually looked sort of cool in her own unique design of “recycled” retro clothes and funky-junky jewelry. Unfortunately this was also a style that some of the snobby mean girls would be glad to take turns slamming. Yes, they were making quite an entrance.

  “Hey, DJ,” called Eliza from behind them.

  DJ paused at the top of the steps and then turned to see Eliza, Taylor, and Kriti crossing the street from the student parking lot and casually strolling toward them. DJ waved and waited, but Casey just kept on walking into the school as if she was resolved to get this over with ASAP—not unlike a convicted murderer on her way to the electric chair. DJ actually called out, but Casey just kept on going, didn’t even look back. Whatever.

  “Here we go, girls,” said Eliza with a smile. “Are we ready?”

  DJ could feel them being watched as they entered the school. Even so, she held her head up high. Okay, maybe she was imitating Eliza now, but if it worked, what difference did it make? All DJ knew was that she didn’t want to take the same abuse she’d suffered last spring.

  “Where’s the security?” asked Taylor.

  “What?” said Rhiannon.

  “You know, X-ray machines, gates, uniforms…What’s the deal?”

  “We don’t have them,” said DJ.

  “We’re such a small town,” explained Rhiannon. “I guess they don’t think we need all that.”

  “That’s one thing I won’t miss,” said Taylor as they continued down the hallway.

  “I’m supposed to pick up my registration packet in the office,” said Eliza. “Where is that?”

  “Right this way,” said DJ. “I have to pick up mine too.”

  As it turned out, they had all registered online, so they all needed to go to the office. Several of the kids from last night’s party greeted the girls and, as they continued to the office, DJ began to relax a little. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all. She tried not to worry about Casey, although she did feel concerned. But perhaps this was just something Casey needed to work through on her own—like a rite of passage. Not that DJ would wish that on anyone.

  At the office, Mrs. Seibert, the counselor, welcomed them. Apparently she’d already heard about the Carter House girls and seemed curious as to how it was going. DJ gave her a quick summary, trying to play down the circus element of their living arrangements, and Mrs. Seibert handed them their registration packets. “We’re a little short on lockers again this year. Do you girls mind doubling up?”

  “Not at all,” said Eliza. She turned quickly to DJ now. “Want to be locker partners?”

  DJ could feel Taylor glaring at her as she nodded and muttered a meek, “Sure.”

  “And the rest of you?” asked Mrs. Seibert.

  “I don’t mind sharing,” said Kriti.

  “I’ll share with her,” offered Taylor without enthusiasm.

  “I can share with Casey,” said Rhiannon.

  “Who’s Casey?”

  “Casey Atwood,” offered DJ. “She’s new too.”

  “Another Carter House girl?” asked Mrs. Seibert with raised brows.

  “Yes.”

  Mrs. Seibert nodded. “Interesting.”

  “Yes,” said Eliza. “It has been.”

  “So, do you girls need anyone besides Rhiannon to show you around the school?” asked Mrs. Seibert. “We do have some student guides.”

  “That’s okay,” said DJ. “I was actually here for a few weeks last year, so between the two of us, I think we can handle it.”

  “Well, I hope you’ll all have a wonderful year at CCH.”

  “Thank you,” said Eliza politely. “It seems like a very nice school.”

  Of course, this evoked a snide remark from Taylor. They were barely out of the office when she said something about the espresso shade of Eliza’s nose. But Eliza just shrugged it off. “It never hurts to be nice, Taylor. Someday you may even figure that out for yourself.”

  Then Eliza sided up to DJ. “Looks like we have first period together, as well as some other classes. Want to show me around?”

  “Sure.”

  Rhiannon fell into step with Taylor now. “I noticed we have some classes toge
ther too, Taylor. You need any directions?”

  “I suppose that would be helpful,” said Taylor in a bored and I’m-so-much-better-than-you tone.

  “And we have our maps,” said Kriti as she slipped a paper out of the folder. “I think I can find my way to the science department on my own. I have chemistry first period.”

  “Chemistry,” said Taylor with a disgusted expression. “Why on earth would you intentionally subject yourself to that?”

  “It’s called education,” said Kriti.

  “It’s called boring,” said Taylor.

  “Let’s find our lockers first,” suggested DJ.

  “Like I’m going to use a locker,” said Taylor with disgust.

  “You mean you’re going to carry everything around with you?” asked Rhiannon.

  Taylor held up her oversized Burberry bag. “Why not?”

  “What about when it’s winter and you have coats and scarves and mittens and things?” persisted Rhiannon. “You’re going to haul all that around with you too?”

  Taylor seemed to consider this. “Maybe I’ll look into the locker…”

  They quickly found their lockers. After several failed attempts at the combination lock, DJ finally let Eliza take a turn at opening the locker. Naturally, it opened on the first try. Eliza just laughed. “I guess I have the touch.”

  DJ threw her gym bag in and slammed the door shut.

  “See you later,” called Kriti. “I don’t want to be late to chem class.”

  Taylor turned to Rhiannon now. “Lead me to the music department.”

  Rhiannon did a fake salute. “Yes, sir.” And they took off.

  “And the English department is this way,” said DJ, pointing in the opposite direction.

  “This is fun,” said Eliza as they navigated through the crowded hallway.

  “Fun?” echoed DJ.

  “Sure…all these new people, new challenges. Don’t you think it’s fun?”

  DJ considered this. “Yeah, maybe. I guess I just hadn’t looked at it like that before.”

  “Hey, there’s Conner and Harry up ahead.” Eliza waved and DJ cringed. She just wasn’t ready for this yet. Still, there seemed no choice but to paste on a happy face and act as if all was well.

  2

  “WeLCOme TO CCH,” SaID Harry as he slipped an arm around Eliza’s waist, “home of the Mighty Maroons.”

  “Maroons?” echoed Eliza. “As in the color maroon?”

  “Well, it is our school color,” said Harry. “But there’s actually a story behind the word maroon.”

  “A story I don’t have time to hear,” said Conner. “Excuse me, ladies.” Then he sort of nodded and dashed off.

  “Conner doesn’t want to be late on his first day of school,” said Harry in a teasing tone. “Which way you girls heading anyway?”

  “English,” said DJ calmly. She was trying to act perfectly natural, as if Conner’s quick departure wasn’t really a rejection, as if it had nothing to do with her, and as if it hadn’t hurt her feelings.

  “So am I,” said Harry happily.

  “So what is the maroon story?” asked Eliza as the three of them continued toward the English department together.

  “Well, maroon is for marooned, as in passengers who are dumped off a ship—apparently this used to happen with illegally gotten slaves. If the ship was being pursued by the law, the captain would dump the slaves on an island.”

  “And that’s our mascot?” Eliza was clearly confused. “Like we’re slaves who’ve been dumped here? Not too flattering.”

  “That’s not the whole story. The marooned people turned out to be really feisty, and they fought for their freedom when the ship came back to get them.”

  “I guess that makes a little sense.” Although Eliza didn’t look fully convinced as they paused by Room 233.

  Harry grinned. “Hey, I don’t make this stuff up.”

  Eliza patted Harry on the cheek now. “Well, you are an awfully smart boy. I think I might like to keep you around.”

  Then he leaned over and gave her a little peck on the forehead. “Later.” And he continued on down the hall.

  “English lit, I presume?” asked Eliza as DJ headed into the classroom.

  DJ nodded, pointing to a couple of seats in the back.

  “No.” Eliza put her hand on DJ’s arm to stop her. Then, pointing to a pair of seats closer to the front, she leaned over and whispered. “Back-row seats are for losers or snoozers, dear.”

  DJ wasn’t sure that she totally agreed with Eliza’s little rhyme, but she followed her anyway. Who knew, maybe Eliza really had this all figured out. And maybe there were a few tricks that DJ could learn from this rather sophisticated girl. For starters, DJ would like to ask Eliza how one is supposed to deal with certain boys—the kind who liked you one day but not the next. Especially those particularly mysterious ones like Conner. Maybe she would ask her about this later.

  DJ tried to pay attention as Mrs. Devin, a teacher who looked like she should’ve retired in the last millennium, droned on about what their lucky class would study this semester. It sounded like a fairly boring overview of the literary works of people who had been dead and buried for centuries. DJ couldn’t even remember why she’d chosen this class in the first place—probably just to knock off one of her English requirements and make sure that she could still have PE for seventh period (since that always made it easier for after-school sports). But if today was any sign of what was to come, DJ probably would’ve been better off in the back row because she really did feel like snoozing right now.

  Instead, she began to daydream about Conner. But her daydreams were more tormented than enjoyable. And because she felt seriously worried that everything was over between them, she decided to pray. It wasn’t as if she thought she had God in her back pocket now, but she figured that he might be able to help her out some. At least she hoped so.

  The morning continued uneventfully. In a way that was something to be grateful for. Last spring, DJ had desperately wished for uneventful. She had longed to simply disappear into the woodwork, but instead she had seemed to stand out like she had a flashing neon sign strapped to her chest that said, “Pick on the new girl.” For some reason—maybe it was due to her makeover or Eliza’s friendship—that no longer seemed to be the case.

  Unfortunately for Casey, the mean girls still needed a target. DJ hadn’t actually witnessed this yet, but right before fourth period, Taylor gave Eliza a detailed report. “You should’ve seen Casey’s face,” she told DJ, “when those girls—the self-appointed fashion police—started tearing into her about her wardrobe choices. Talk about brutal. I wasn’t sure if Casey was going to give it back to them or run. As it turned out, she just stood there and took it.” Naturally, DJ felt horrible for Casey, but perhaps the most disturbing thing was how Taylor seemed to enjoy relaying this pathetic little story.

  “She actually got slammed up against the lockers then,” said Taylor. “Hit her head and everything.”

  “That’s terrible,” said Eliza. “I hope she reported this.”

  Taylor laughed. “Yeah, right. Then those girls would probably really tear into her.”

  “Why did they do that?” demanded DJ.

  Taylor rolled her eyes dramatically. “Why do you think they did that?”

  “Because they’re just plain mean,” said Eliza.

  “And because Casey is just plain begging for it,” said Taylor. “You can’t dress and act like that unless you want serious trouble. And she is definitely getting it.”

  “Poor Casey,” said Eliza. “I wish we could do an intervention.”

  “A fashion intervention,” said Taylor as the three of them went into US History together.

  They’d barely sat down when Mr. Myers began taking roll. DJ tried not to worry about Casey, but Taylor’s awful story of Casey slammed up against the lockers kept replaying through her mind. Despite the abuse DJ took last year, nothing like that had ever happened to her. As
ide from the fact that it must be completely humiliating to be treated like that, what if this bullying continued or got worse? What if Casey got seriously hurt? Finally, DJ took Rhiannon’s advice again. Instead of worrying obsessively about Casey, DJ prayed for her. She prayed that God would do an intervention. Maybe something like what had happened to her just last night. It was hard to believe that scene on the beach had occurred less than 24 hours ago. But she was thankful for it just the same.

  After history, the girls headed to the commons. “Let’s put our stuff on that table,” instructed Eliza as they entered the commons. “Then we can get some lunch.”

  “If there’s lunch worth getting.” Taylor flopped her bag onto a chair and scowled. “I think I’ll ask Clara to pack me a lunch tomorrow.”

  Then the three of them went over to get in the lunch line. Eliza spotted Kriti coming into the commons and waved to her, pointing out the table that they had just reserved. But just as Kriti was placing her bag on the round table, a couple of girls that DJ remembered from last year approached her. They pointed angrily at the table, and although DJ couldn’t hear them, she could tell they were saying something mean.

  “Look.” DJ nudged Eliza then pointed toward the table. “I think those girls are giving Kriti a hard time.”

  “Why don’t you go rescue our Indian princess,” teased Taylor.

  “Maybe I will,” DJ shot back at her.

  “I’ll save your place,” said Eliza.

  DJ wished that Eliza had offered to accompany her instead, but she headed back to the table anyway.

  “You don’t look old enough to be in high school,” said Madison Dormont to Kriti. This was one of the same girls who had picked on DJ last spring. “What are you, like twelve or something?”

  “Maybe she’s a child genius,” teased the other girl, Tina Clark, another foul-mouthed mean girl.

  “What’s the matter?” said Madison. “No speakee English?”