Gi answered as she led me through the school, to the gym that was across the football field and to the back of the grounds.
‘An attempt to try and get kids to stop ditching,’ Gi said. ‘Plus, NRHS is trying really hard to get into the championships with football and baseball, so the after-school practices are still on, but they added a period once a week as an extra practice for the varsity teams. It worked well last year so they’re continuing the strategy this year, too.’
‘Huh,’ was all I had to say since I wasn’t big on sports and the extra gym hour in the middle of the school day wasn’t likely to affect me considering my legless state and all.
We parted ways in the changing rooms where she left to put on her kit. It was a minute before the coach came in and spotted me standing there, looking like a lemon.
‘Who are you?’ The coach bellowed rather than spoke. And with each bellow, she blew coffee smelling breaths into my face. I physically stepped back a pace.
‘Liv Morgan,’ I said. ‘Olivia,’ I corrected for a moment as her mind didn’t seem to connect the name to anyone from her classes.
‘Ah. Yes. One of the new kids.’
How many new kids looked like they had a few rounds with a tiger and lost?
‘Your accident was all over the local news,’ she said.
‘Really?’ I enquired.
I hoped that it had been a slow news day and that “kid falls off her bike” wasn’t what classed as a top story here. Small town gossip and everyone being involved in everyone else’s business was literally the worst for people like me. At least the news segment explained all the whisperings I’d been experiencing in the hallway as everyone appeared to know all the details of my accident.
This wasn’t the first time I’d featured in the news. Knowing my luck, I knew it wasn’t likely to be my last, either. But there was a difference between my name popping up in connection with a larger crime or story, and the whole feature being about me.
What had the story said? Simply that a young rider had crashed and been hospitalised? Or had they delved a little into my past. It would make for a more interesting story if they dug into the trial I’d been involved in at sixteen. The last thing I needed was everything with Christian being brought up here. I’d had to leave my old group foster home to live with Brianna because that part of my past wouldn’t let me go and had made it impossible to go to school.
As soon as the coach stopped hovering over me, I was checking that story out for myself. I needed to be prepared.
Coach nodded to herself for a moment, then shouted: ‘Ladies! Get your asses out of the changing room and onto the field now. Now, now!’
I hobbled out with her. The athletics track was positioned between the football and baseball fields, curving round the side towards the locker rooms. The girls warmed up on the empty space between the two athletic temples, Coach standing with me whilst the girls warmed up. She asked how long I’d be in my cast. I gave her the same rough estimate the doctors had given me. A conversation then ensued, one sided on her half, about how I would be able to participate in gym class. She was going to call Maybelle and figure something out. Small town high schools really employed teachers who were involved in their kids’ education, didn’t they?
Finally, she left and I was able to pull out my phone and switch on my 3G. I leaned up against the barrier of the baseball field, resting my arms above the wall, my back turned on the girls’ class. Since no one would be spectating from this side, they didn’t have the shields like they did for the bleachers on the other side of the field.
I Googled my name and my current location. A short one-liner story about the crash popped up – an enquiry for anyone having any information, whether they’d spotted the figure who appeared on the road to call in. But that was it. No delving into my history. Thank God for small miracles. I turned off my phone before the morbid curiosity took over and I ended up reading the articles from almost a couple years ago now. There were always new comments added. I’d not looked up on them for a year now. I wanted to keep it that way.
Gi and the rest of the girls were running around the track by the time I turned around. As much as I enjoyed the sight of boobs jumping up and down as the next straight girl, I had to take a pass and find something more entertaining to watch to pass the hour. I walked the length of the far-side of the baseball field, our coach not paying any attention to me now. The sound of the baseball being hit could be heard despite the large distance between the running track and where the bases were.
I stopped as I neared the entrance to the bleachers and began walking back. My eyes caught the guys playing. Baseball was quite possibly my least favourite sport, but it was better than watching the endless cycle of teenage girls running laps. From the posters I’d seen up around the school, apparently their baseball team was a big deal – as big as football.
I stopped on the edge of the field, as the next guy stepped up to the mark, bat in hand. He was too far away to see any specific features, but I could make out that he was wearing loose grey tracksuit pants and a white t-shirt. Not exactly baseball attire. He had brown hair, that was falling just on the side of too-long for the style he was wearing. Kind of like Troy from High School Musical… only not as floppy and with more volume.
Though there was nothing special about him, nothing that should make me glance twice at him, I was unnaturally focused on his movements. I couldn’t pinpoint what about him made me drawn to him, but there was just something. I’d never believed in auras or energies, but a Brontë quote came to me in that moment:
“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
If you would like to believe that quote was romantic, I’ll leave you to your misconception. But I’d read the book. Toxic co-dependency followed by my old friend, Death, did not make for a Disney ending.
Alas, that was the one thought that came to me as I watched the boy swing his bat and felt drawn to him like I had no other person in my life. I should have realised then the bad omen it had predicted. Afterall, I was a girl whose energy was clogged to the pores with death, disaster and bad luck.
I was all too focused on the guy himself that I didn’t notice the ball heading straight for my head. Unlike the stands, there wasn’t anything to shield me if I got hit – since no one assumed the ball would reach this far out and if it did, who would be watching the game from the running track?
At the speed it was going, if it hit my nose, it was likely I would be dead. People could simply die that way – from their nose pushing into their brain. I’d seen it happen once when I was seven in my first group home.
But, last minute, Death had a different plan for me. My hand snapped forward and caught the ball on a reflex. I’d never had good reflexes before. My noticeable lack of reflexes had caused the odd few accidents as a child. Whilst I’d gotten better over time, enough that I felt comfortable owning a motorbike, I wasn’t catch-a-ball-at-70mph better.
The heat from the ball hitting the bat had hardly the time to cool as I held the ball away from my face. Whoever that boy was he sure as hell knew how to hit. And apparently, I now knew how to catch…
He ran around the bases leisurely, like he knew he had all the time in the world as the boys on the field looked in vain for their missing ball.
Not liking the guy to get too cocky (especially since he could have killed me had I not caught the ball) I aimed for the closest fielder to me and threw with all my might.
I didn’t expect the ball to go far – it wasn’t like my arm had the same power a bat did. I thought it would maybe travel several meters then roll to the right fielder and he’d notice it enough to run towards it. But for the second time that day I was surprised. The ball left my hand at almost the same speed it had come, straight past the outer fielders… and hit the second baseman right in his stomach.
He doubled over in pain, the ball rolling away.
The batter stopped strolling and ran. Not to make a homerun, but back
on himself to see if the guy was okay. Not all the guys on the team were that concerned for him. Most of them seemed to be shouting at the batter to keep on going and get the run. A few were looking my way – as if to see where the ball had bounced back from.
I ducked down, hiding myself beneath the perimeter wall. The attention was soon taken off me as I heard feet slapping from the direction of the track and a girl vaulted over the wall onto the baseball field.
‘Jenny McLaren get your ass back over here!’ Coach yelled at the blonde girl who had deviated from the track right into the middle of the boys’ baseball practice to see if the second baseman was alright.
I took that opportunity to quickly make my way back to the left side of the baseball field, where the running track began, and Coach expected me to be waiting. When I got there, I turned my attention back to the baseball field. A few of the guys looked Jenny over appreciatively. She was unnaturally tall, almost six foot, with long blonde hair tied in a high ponytail and side swooping bangs.
The second baseman had accepted the batter’s help up and gave Jenny a kiss and cheeky ass squeeze, probably to tell his girlfriend that he was okay. She hit him on the arm just as Gi ran over to join them, too.
‘Coach Stevens, are you planning on controlling your girls any time soon?’ the male coach requested.
‘Gi! Jenny! Back here now!’
It took another few minutes for the girls to leave the guy at second base. Especially when the rest of the team decided to screw the game off and figure out what had happened and how the second baseman had been hit like that. No one seemed to consider me as a culprit, except the batter. As he talked to his coach and the team, his head kept tilting towards where I stood, like he had seen me before I’d ducked.
I pretended to be disinterested, turning my back on them and messing around on my phone. Eventually, the girls went back to running track and the boys resumed their practice. But I was certain I could still feel the batter’s eyes on me occasionally, like he was in on my secret.
It was the last period before lunch when Lawrence, the designated tour guide around school for transfers, eventually caught up with me.
‘I didn’t know you started today!’ he exclaimed, hiking his ginormous backpack up his shoulder.
I didn’t bother to reply. What exactly was I supposed to say: yeah, you can see that from my presence standing in front of you? He wasn’t put off by my silence.
‘I was totally ready to give you the full tour at the beginning of the school year, but then you never showed and then everyone was talking about how you were in a motorcycling accident and you might not even pull through-’
‘It was a few scratches and scrapes. I was hardly at Death’s door,’ I said. I’d had worse. Death had merely given me a brief hug this time and let me go.
Lawrence’s eye drifted down to my CAM boot, the only visible sign of my injuries. He laughed, like I was making some insanely funny joke. His backpack slid off his shoulder again.
‘So! Let me give you the guided tour,’ Lawrence said.
‘I’ve actually got-’ I looked down at my schedule. Study hall. Not exactly a great excuse to ditch him since I hadn’t gotten any homework or curriculum for most of my class.
‘I know,’ he grinned. ‘Me too! So, we’re free for a guided tour. Even got Mrs Witkowski to write us both passes. Sorry I didn’t catch up to you sooner. I didn’t even know you’d started until Gi told Jenny who told Nick who told-’
‘You?’ I interrupted.
‘No, Matt who told Fran who then told me,’ Lawrence finished.
‘Wow,’ I said. He didn’t notice the sarcasm. ‘Do you want to stop by your locker before we begin this magical wonder tour?’ His bag had slipped again.
‘No,’ he smiled. ‘I’m good.’
‘Amazing,’ I said.
Lawrence led me around the main high school building, pointing out the features of each floor – where the science labs were, the English classrooms, the languages halls, etcetera, etcetera. Occasionally when we’d pass a place, he’d tell me some anecdote about how this person was seen with this person here, or that was the famed hall of that amazing senior prank.
The words just washed right through my mind. I was never going to be that type of student who got involved with the school. Learning about its history didn’t aid my time here in any way. He was walking past the sports fields when he started to move on to high school gossip and drilling me with questions.
‘You’re not with the other new guys, are you?’ Lawrence asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know, like with them with them.’
‘Be a little clearer with your words.’
He huffed. ‘This year we had four new transfers. You, and the Sons. Charlotte Bryson and Grayson are dating, and the other Son is like their BFF. We were all wondering how you fit into it.’
‘I don’t.’
‘You didn’t move here with them?’
‘No.’
‘Well, the Sons are this school’s new celebrities,’ Lawrence told me, now that he was open to a new avenue of gossip – even if I hadn’t helped fuel the rumour train myself by belonging to this weird “Sons” clique.
‘They’re insanely smart, extremely good looking – according to the girls, I wouldn’t comment on that,’ he added hurriedly. ‘-And they’re one hundred percent going to win us every sports game. Grayson’s into football and in his try out he totally dominated. Charlotte’s joined the cheers and Emerson does everything. I think he might focus on-’
‘Sports aren’t really my thing.’
‘No? What is? German Club? Debate? Philosophy Club? Chess? Band? Art Club? Honour’s Society? Drama Club? Dance? Cheer?’
‘I’m not the school pep, extra-curricular queen,’ I told him.
‘Cool, cool,’ he said, nodding his head. ‘A bit of an outsider. A lone wolf.’ I cringed as he tried to placate me.
We made our way back from the sports fields. The cheer team were practising in their autumn uniforms. Lawrence noticed my gaze.
‘Like every school, the Cheers rule. You do not want to get on their bad side,’ Lawrence said.
‘I couldn’t give a shit who I get on the wrong side of,’ I said.
‘Oh, believe me. You’d care if you’d get on the wrong side of Emma.’
‘Who’s Emma?’ I asked.
Lawrence pointed at the girl who was clearly the head cheerleader. She was platinum blonde with her hair pulled up into a high ponytail, the school colours proudly displayed with her scrunchie. She was shouting at someone from her team for missing a step or something.
‘If you want my advice, just keep well out of her way. The last thing you want is for her to notice you. This one time-’
Lawrence was interrupted. Too late, he hadn’t realised Emma had spotted him pointing her out of the crowd. I had. I just couldn’t give a damn. Especially when I saw her walking over here all swag and hips swaying like she was a queen or something.
‘What are you doing interrupting my practice, Newman?’ Emma demanded, looking down her nose at him.
‘No-nothing,’ he stuttered. ‘I’m just showing Olivia around.’
‘Which is it?’ she asked. ‘Nothing or showing the new kid around?’
‘The second,’ he said. The dude had literally turned to a pile of mush. God help me if I didn’t feel sorry for the pathetic little limp biscuit.
‘He was just saying how amazing the cheer team is at this school,’ I said. ‘I’m guessing you’re the captain responsible?’
‘I am,’ Emma said, mildly warmer than her sharp tone before. ‘Don’t ogle my girls,’ she ordered Lawrence.
‘I wasn’t. I won’t.’
‘Olivia…’ she said, looking me up and down to see whether I’d be a problem for her.
Considering we were the exact opposites, I didn’t think she’d see me as a threat to her crown, but every newbie was an uncertain variable to kids like her. My black on
black fashion, pale ass skin and injuries clearly told her all she needed to know.
‘I’ll see you round,’ she smirked, making her way back to the practice.
‘Holy freaking hell,’ Lawrence said once she’d disappeared and we’d made our retreat to the school. ‘You just totally-’
‘Acted like a normal human being instead of a blubbering idiot? Little advice, Lawrence. I’ve been to hundreds of schools. The popular athletic crowd are always the same. If they get to be the ones to dictate what “getting on the wrong side” means you’re in for a heck of time in high school. Decide not to give a shit and they can do eff all to you.’
I started to walk off.
‘Do you not want me to give you a tour of the cafeteria?! It’s almost lunch!’
‘Not into the zoo-life!’ I shouted back. ‘Thanks for the tour. See you round!’
I followed the route Lawrence had taken to get to the library and settled into the seats at the far end of the stacks, pulling out my Kindle to read for the lunch period. Whatever painkillers I was on meant the breakfast bar in my school bag – oh, yes, had I forgot to mention I was carrying a messenger bag along with all those sheets of paper and still no one had offered to help – was enough to tide me over until I got back to Maybelle’s.
I read for an hour before the alarm I’d set on my phone buzzed telling me I had to make my way to my next class. I dodged the crowded halls and made it to my science class last period before even the teacher had turned up. Apparently, whatever amazing things happened in the cafeteria meant everyone was always late to class. Or perhaps being ten minutes early was a little too eager. It had taken me a lot less time to get here then I’d expected.
I settled into the desk at the back and pulled out my Kindle once again. I’d finished the book I’d been reading before in the library, so I downloaded Brideshead Revisited for the seventh time; needing the arcadian joy an innocent Sebastian provided before the fall of the aristocracy and Catholicism truly took hold after the Second World War.
The slam of the classroom door jolted me out of Oxford, England. Students began to pile their way in through the entrance and I shoved my Kindle back into my bag, pulling out my pen and notebook.
Twice Bitten Page 3