“Allie?” Celia said. “J.P. wants to say something to—”
“Hey,” J.P. interrupted. “What’s Allie short for?”
She didn’t look up. “Allison,” she said in a toneless voice that made it clear that she wasn’t interested in conversation.
“Really?” J.P. said. “Oh, well, I just wanted you to know that I totally did not mean to hit you with that whipped cream. You see, that girl over there, Liz, is my arch-enemy, and this morning she put whipped cream all over my books, and I was just trying to get her back…so I saw some blonde come into the bathroom, and, well…you know, I didn’t even know there was a new kid in school today… and I’m really sorry. You are way too good-looking to get creamed like that.”
Allie turned a page of Intermediate Algebra.
“So…” J.P. fumbled for a moment. “Uh…well…you want to go out with me?”
Allie’s expression didn’t change, although George thought he saw her lips curl upward, slightly.
Celia immediately started dragging J.P. away, calling back to Allie. “I’m really sorry! He’s the worst student in the whole school! He only got in because of his mom!”
“I did not!” J.P. protested while being dragged. “I got in on my good looks! Ow! Don’t pinch!”
George was left standing in front of the new girl. Not knowing what else to do, he sat down across from her.
He was still holding his brown paper lunch bag, and awkwardly started taking out his lunch. The girl’s eyes flickered upwards at the sight of the food, but otherwise she made no sign that she had even noticed he was there.
George unwrapped his ham sandwich and pushed half of it towards her. “Here. Did you forget your lunch?”
She looked at it; but shook her head. “No thanks. I’m not eating lunch today.”
“Really? Aren’t you hungry?”
She turned another page of the textbook. “Nah.”
George shook his head in amazement. What is it with girls and not eating? He left the sandwich half on the table, between them, just in case she changed her mind; then he opened his bottle of orange juice and took a swig. “My name’s George,” he said. “In case you didn’t catch it.”
She didn’t even look up. “Yeah, I caught it.” She raised one hand, her eyes still glued to the book. “I’m Allie.”
Nice to meet you too, George thought. “So,” he said doggedly, “How did you end up here?”
She looked up and stared at him, as if wondering if he was worth talking to. “It’s a long story,” she said finally.
“Well, I’m really sorry that this place is so disorganized,” George said.
She shrugged. “It’s not your fault.”
George tried again. “Why are you reading that textbook, anyway?”
“Because I’m bored. Look,” She sighed. “I’m sorry I’m not…more friendly. I’m just… just…”
“You’re just getting used to the place,” George finished for her. “So am I.”
“Really?”
George smiled. “Yeah, really. I used to go to St. Lucy’s until this year, and this is way different.”
“Yeah, but at least St. Lucy’s was, you know, a Catholic school,” she said. “I went to Sparrow Hills until last week.”
“You miss it?”
“Well…” she considered it for a moment. “Right now…yeah, I kinda do. Sort of.”
“Oh,” George said, not knowing whether to feel defensive about John Paul 2 High, or honored to be in her confidence. “Well…” he said, finally. “It’s not so bad.”
“So far I’m not too impressed,” she said.
“Why’d you come here?” George asked.
Allie shrugged. “I don’t know. It was my mom’s idea.” Her voice sounded edgy, and George saw she looked a little pale.
They sat in silence for a while. Then, absent-mindedly, Allie picked up the half of George’s sandwich that still lay in front of her, and took a bite.
“Fo,” she said with her mouth half-full. “Wafoo miffamos—” She swallowed. “Sorry,” she said. “I guess I am hungry, after all.”
“That’s okay,” George said, acutely aware that there was a stupid grin on his face. “What was that?”
“What do you miss the most about St. Lucy’s?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” George said, trying to stop grinning and sound more casual. “Wrestling, I guess. I was on the wrestling team there, you know, and I miss it a lot.”
“Oh!” She sounded suddenly interested. “You were a wrestler?”
“Well, uh…yeah,” George said, running a hand through his hair. “Actually, I like to think that I still am…”
“That’s really funny!” Allie said. “I’m dating a guy on the Sparrow Hills wrestling team.”
George felt a slight deflating in his chest. “Really?” he said, keeping his voice nonchalant. “Oh, then you must know all about wrestling already. Cool.”
“Not that much, actually,” Allie mused. “I can’t stand it.”
“Oh.” George said, and suddenly found himself at a loss for words. He compensated by taking an extra-large bite of his sandwich.
English class was next. George cringed as he walked down the hallway with Celia and Brian. They had been going through Romeo and Juliet. Love poetry. Just what he needed right now.
He chanced a glance backward. Allie Weaver was walking alone ten feet behind them. She looked more tense than a girl that gorgeous should be, facing a weenie school like John Paul 2 High. Something’s bothering her.
Celia noticed him looking backward. “So,” she whispered. “How’s Allie doing? I saw that you sat with her. That was very nice of you.”
“No big deal. We really didn’t talk much.”
“She used to go to Sparrow Hills, right?” Brian said. “I wonder what she’s doing here?”
“I dunno.”
Brian glanced back at Allie. “Well, I think it’s pretty neat to have a public school kid here. I don’t like it when everybody’s got the same background; it’s not very interesting.”
George didn’t reply. He was a little surprised at Brian’s words; it just wasn’t what he expected from a homeschooler.
“Afternoon!” Mr. Costain greeted them from in front of the class. “I hope everyone had a lovely lunch. Now, we’ll be going back into the Bard’s masterpiece of young, tragic love. As you recall, we were on Act I, Scene IV last Friday…”
Allie yawned again. How many more classes are there, anyway? She had already read Romeo and Juliet in her freshman English class, and she hadn’t liked it then, either.
She happened to be sitting next to that freshman girl… what was her name again? Liz. “Hey!” she whispered.
Liz glanced up. “What?” she hissed.
“What’s the next class?” Allie whispered
“You got Science with my mom! Mrs. Simonelli!” Liz muttered back, pretending to write some notes.
Oh, Allie thought. Another teacher’s kid. “Is it interesting at all?”
The other girl gave her a pitying look. “Are you kidding? My mom’s the worst!”
She sure was right, Allie thought glumly. Mrs. Simonelli’s classroom was on the other side of the school, near the girls’ bathroom, in a long, narrow classroom that seemed to suit long, narrow Mrs. Simonelli herself.
“Are we all here?” she said in a high-pitched, singsong voice. “It’s so good to have a few more children in my classroom. James, Allison, here are your textbooks…”
Children? Allie thought as she took a dog-eared Elementary Biology from the teacher.
“Let’s start with Chapter 4,” Mrs. Simonelli began. “Cell Division and Mitosis…”
She began to lecture and write on the board, and Allie’s mind started to wander. She had never liked Science class at the best of times, and this one was particularly boring. She propped her chin on her hand and pretended to listen.
But the other classes…some of them hadn’t been so boring. Especially tha
t history class. What was up with that? Reading poetry in history? She pictured the Truth Nerd following her around—it was too weird, that poem…
Flashes of memories hit her like bullets: being grabbed from behind by a dark hooded figure, the short, guttural heh-heh-heh laugh; the flash from the muzzle…
Her elbow slipped and hit the textbook. It slid to the floor with a bang. She nearly screamed. Everyone—Celia, George, James and Mrs. Simonelli—turned to look at her. “Sorry,” she muttered.
Fifteen excruciating minutes later, the school bell rang. No one got their things together faster than Allie Weaver. She shoved her textbook and notebook into her book-bag, and said to George and Celia. “It was nice meeting you guys. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Where are you going?” George said.
“Home,” Allie said, a wonderful feeling of relief coming over her. But it dwindled when she saw their faces. “What, isn’t this the last class?”
“Yeah,” George said. “But…”
“She doesn’t know,” Celia said. “After class is over, we pray a Divine Mercy Chaplet. It only takes about ten minutes.”
“A divine mercy chapel?” Allie said, surprised. “I didn't know you guys had a chapel. Where is it?”
“No, no,” Celia said, and Allie noticed with annoyance that she was suppressing a smile. “A chaplet. It's a sort of prayer. We say it on the rosary.”
“Oh,” Allie said, thinking about those beads. They had to pray again?
As they walked back to the homeroom, George pressed a rosary into her hand. It was made of wooden beads strung together on brown twine. “Here,” he said. “You can use mine this time.”
George glanced over at Allie as everyone took their seats for the rosary. Her face had the expression of a girl who was too cool to pray: a faintly bored, skeptical look. She’s probably having a religion overload, he thought. I bet she’s starting to hate Christianity or something because we’re so strict…
Still, he had to admit she was cute, even if she did have a boyfriend. He wondered if he knew the guy she was dating. He had been at meets with Sparrow Hills High before. Stop it, he said to himself. I’m praying now.
When the chaplet ended, she handed over the beads with a slight smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw James lumber out the door, and felt a sense of relief.
“Well, I gotta go,” Allie said. “Do you want to meet my boyfriend? He’s probably waiting outside right now; I told him to pick me up at 2:30.”
George felt that deflated sensation in his chest again, but he quickly suppressed it. “Sure,” he shrugged.
By the time they reached the parking lot, James’ car was gone, but a new yellow car was parked in its place. Allie yelled and ran happily over to the dark-haired guy with big muscular arms standing outside it.
“Tyler!” Allie wrapped her arms around the guy, and glanced over her shoulder as he nuzzled her. “Hey, George! Come over here!”
“Hey there,” Tyler said, giving George a toothy smile and keeping an arm around Allie’s shoulders. He looked to be a year or two older than George. “Haven’t I seen you before?”
“George Peterson,” George said, “Wrestled for St. Lucy’s last year.”
Tyler nodded. “I saw you at States.” His eyes fell on the rundown building behind them. “So what kind of a team do you have at this school?”
“The kind that doesn’t exist,” George said, a bit irritated by Tyler’s broad grin. “Why?”
“You want to try out for our team?”
George was startled. “But I’m not from your school,” he said suspiciously.
Tyler shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve even had homeschoolers try out before. I’m team captain, and the coach told me he needs more guys to fill out the roster this year. Why don’t you come up tomorrow after school for tryouts?”
“Okay. Thanks.” George recognized Tyler Getz now, but hadn’t remembered him being this nice.
Tyler grinned widely. “Don’t sweat it. At least I know you’ll be better than the freshmen losers we usually get. Ready, babe?”
“Yeah,” Allie was already in the car and putting on her seat belt. “See ya, George.”
“See ya,” George said, but his mind was elsewhere as their car pulled away. Wrestling for Sparrow Hills… wrestling again, period! He felt his face warm up. Yes, God, I could handle going to John Paul 2 High if I could wrestle again—and wrestling on a public school team! Better equipment, better coaches…he would be in a bigger pool of wrestlers, but that was okay, he could handle the competition… assuming he made the tryouts. He’d have to get back in shape. He’d have to talk to his mom about rides…
“Who was that?” Brian Burke had come out of the school.
“Allie’s boyfriend. He’s captain of the Sparrow Hills squad—I mean, the Sparrow Hills wrestling team,” George answered absently.
“Really?” Brian said with interest. “I was thinking of going out for wrestling.”
Snapping out of his plans, George stared at the slight boy. “You were?”
“Homeschoolers can play on public school teams, and my dad was all for me trying out for a team this year…but it’s sort of intimidating. I won’t know anyone,” Brian said.
George didn’t want to answer. He thought of going to tryouts with the thin, nerdy kid in glasses tagging along. That would really be… not so hot…
He shook his head, impatient with himself. Come on, George. This isn’t junior high anymore. Bringing along a kid who’s slightly ‘uncool’ is not going to kill me.
He swallowed. “Well, I’m going to try out for the team tomorrow. At least, I hope I can. I have to talk to my mom.” But he knew his mom would say yes. She’d be happy that he had something to do.
“Really? Maybe I’ll come with you. That would be great!” Brian sounded so appreciative that George felt better. His conscience settled, he grabbed his bike.
“Great! See you then.”
Allie felt guilty about going to Sparrow Hills without telling her mom. It’s after school, it’ll be safe enough, she thought. Weird guys, please stay home.
Still, she wished that she had gotten Tyler to pick her up instead of going with the John Paul 2 High kids. George and Brian were trying out for the wrestling team, and Celia was going along to cheer for them. They had gotten a ride up to school with Mrs. Burke, Brian’s mom, who drove a shiny white van as big as a bread truck, and who seemed to have more kids than a typical daycare center.
Allie winced as she squeezed between two car seats—a drooling baby in one, and and a toddler who wanted to grab everything in sight, including Allie’s hair and sunglasses, in the other.
“Sorry about Augustine,” said a preteen girl with tightly curled brown hair and light brown skin. “He’s such a pain.”
“Uh,” Allie said, not wanting to agree too quickly with the girl. This was totally not a cool way to show up in front of her old friends. She half-thought of asking Mrs. Burke to drop her off at the corner.
Mrs. Burke, a blond lady in sunglasses and a calico jumper, said, “Melissa! Faustina dropped her pacifier. Find it for her. George, where am I going?”
“Up this road, I think,” George said, glancing back at Allie from the shotgun seat.
“Yeah, it’s up on the right,” Allie said, speaking over two more kids in the seat in front of her who were arguing over an I Spy book. Get me out of here!
Mrs. Burke adjusted her sunglasses, not seeming to realize how much they clashed with her flowered jumper. “Do you know anything about this wrestling team, George? What sort of character do the boys on this team have? Are they good kids?”
Allie felt sorry for George, who looked only a little less uncomfortable than she was. “I met the team captain, and he seemed all right. It’ll probably be a pretty big team, though. My squad at St. Lucy’s only had about fifteen wrestlers, but some of the public school teams have thirty to forty kids. It’ll pro
bably be a big mix.”
“I’m sure that if you and Brian stick together, you can stand up to any bad influences those kids might have, right?”
“Uh, sure, Mrs. Burke.”
Allie pursed her lips. What? Are public school kids contaminated or something?
“I’m just used to knowing everyone Brian socializes with. I’ll be glad when John Paul 2 High is big enough to have its own sports teams.”
George turned slightly red, and Allie knew what he was thinking. Yeah, right, like John Paul 2 High will ever get that big.
“Mrs. Burke?” She waved a hand. “Why don’t you turn this way? The gym doors are closer.” And my friends won’t see me getting out of your homeschool bus either.
Once on the sidewalk, she tried to put as much distance between herself and the car as possible without seeming rude, and wished she had brought normal clothes to change into.
“The gym’s right over there,” she said over her shoulder to George and Celia as the Burke van pulled away. Then she saw her best friend Nikki standing in the parking lot, talking to some boys. “See you guys,” Allie said, and took off running.
George had been more than a little nervous about making his public school wrestling debut in front of Allie Weaver, but realized he had probably been worried over nothing.
“I guess she must really miss her friends,” Celia said after Allie had abandoned them without a backwards glance. “Maybe she’ll catch up with us later.”
“Maybe,” George said skeptically, and turned away. Yeah right. She hates wrestling. She told me so yesterday.
As they walked down the sidewalk, Brian said to George, “What’s in the gym bag?”
“My gear,” George said, pushing Allie Weaver out of his mind. He decided to do a really good job in prepping Brian for the tryouts. “My singlet—that’s the outfit that wrestlers wear—and headgear and knee pads. You’re going to need some of this stuff too, you know. But don’t worry,” he said as Brian’s face fell. “They should lend you some gear for the tryouts. Did you bring a change of clothes like I said? Shorts and a t-shirt?”
Catholic, Reluctantly (The John Paul 2 High Series) Page 4