by A. R. Breck
Once I'm dressed and ready, I head out to the kitchen and make a bee line for the coffee pot. After pouring myself a cup in a to-go mug, I turn around and look at Aunt Jenna who is already sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper in front of her, her hair in disarray from her night of sleep.
She glances up at me, looking apologetic. "Sorry dear, I'm not much of a breakfast person in the mornings. I did pick up some cereal for you if you would like to eat something."
"No, that's okay. I probably don't have time anyway. I'm just going to take my coffee to go and hit the road." I say, snapping the lid on my cup.
"Okay. Good luck on your first day of school. The guidance counselor, Mrs. Roule, is expecting you first thing this morning. Make sure to head there right when you arrive." she says with a smile.
"I will. See you later. Oh, and don't forget, I am going to go downtown and look for a few jobs after school."
"No problem. I will have dinner ready for when you get home, dear." She gives me a wave goodbye before going back to reading her paper.
I give her a wave and head out the door. Once I'm inside of the car, I connect my phone to the car and turn on Bob Dylan for my ride to school. My taste in music is pretty electric. I can listen to mostly anything and get lost in it.
Pulling down the visor, I give myself a once over one more time before slapping the visor back in place. Putting the car in reverse, I pull out of her driveway and head off towards the direction of my new school. I pulled up the directions on my phone last night and found out that it is about a twenty-minute drive to school.
Driving through the mountains is a little nerve wrecking. You don't realize how steep some of the cliffs are until you take that sharp turn and feel like you are about to plunge to your death. I'm gripping the steering wheel in a vise grip as I'm making the twists and turns from Winter Park to Granby. The closer I get to school, the higher my anxiety climbs. Maybe I could just pretend I'm not feeling well and go back to Aunt Jenna's? Or I could just say fuck this and drive back to California? I'm sure my friend Nell wouldn't mind me crashing on her couch for a while.
Ugh. Screw it.
Shaking those thoughts free, I keep driving towards the school. I'm not going to turn into a walking mat or let my anxiety take over and control me.
I never had bad anxiety until my mom got sick. Now it seems that even the smallest things can set me off and send me into an attack. My saving grace throughout this whole emotional ordeal has been my cigarettes. I try not to smoke often, only when my nerves get the best of me.
Like now.
Pulling out my Marlboro Red 100s, I light one up and instantly inhale my stress relief for the day. I close my eyes and let the nicotine roll through my system. I know it's a nasty habit, and I know that after everything with my mom this should be the last thing I turn towards. But it's this or pot, and I haven't had the chance to score any bud yet. Maybe if I see that Brock kid, I could ask if he's got anything.
Putting the cigarette out in the ash tray in the car, I take the last turn into the school area. Wow, what a view. The whole school is surrounded by mountains. We didn't have a view like this in California, that's for sure. Once I park, I sit in the car for a few minutes looking at the other students. Some are briskly walking towards the school, ready to start their studies. Other students are lingering around with their friends, leaning up against cars and waving their hands around. I'm sure they're telling stories about all of the interesting things they did throughout the summer.
My story is sure not that interesting.
Taking a deep breath, I prepare for the onslaught of looks I know I will be receiving. I grab my things, toss my hair over my shoulder, and exit the car. I keep my head up and walk straight towards the entrance, noting others turning around to look at me. Some of the girls lean in to their friends and whisper, pointing towards me and giving me odd looks. I don't show that I am affected by their petty gossip, continuing to walk until I'm inside the front doors of the school.
I walk straight into the office and go up to the front desk, "I'm here to see Mrs. Roule." I say to the woman sitting behind the desk with a name tag that says Kathy on her shirt. She's a heavy-set woman with short, tight curls surrounding her head. Her glasses are tipped towards the edge of her nose as she looks at me over the tops of the thin rims.
"Name?" She says in a nasally voice.
"Callie Bradley."
She looks down at a piece of paper lying in front of her and picks up her phone, "Allison, Miss Bradley is here to see you." She listens for a moment then hangs up the phone and looks over at me. "Mrs. Roule will be right out. Please, take a seat."
I sit down and put my bag in my lap, fiddling with the zipper. Glancing out into the hall, I see the other students chatting with their friends and walking towards their classrooms. It's such an odd thing, watching people you don't know go about their lives when yours has been turned upside down in the blink of an eye. They're flitting around in an eccentric pace, going from friend to friend, trying to cram three months of storytelling into a four-minute period. I sigh, turning back around. Only twelve months left.
"Callie Bradley?" I look up to see who I assume is Mrs. Roule. She's a tall, thin woman with her medium brown hair pulled in a tight up-do at the base of her skull. She looks up from the file she has in her hands and towards me, a kind smile on her face. "Please, come on in to my office. Let's have a quick chat before class begins."
I pick up my things and follow her into her office, sitting down in the chair in front of her desk. I look around, noting pictures of her family on her wall, and what looks like to be art from grandchildren, with mini handprints and sloppy handwriting that says We Love Grandma written in paints. She also has a small bookshelf off to the side with more psychology books than necessary. A tiny paper weight sits on her desk, along with a stress ball and a pencil cup filled with pens and pencils.
My file hits the desk, snapping me out of my observation of her organization skills. I start fiddling with the zipper on my bag again. She is making me damn nervous.
"Callie, first off I want to give my condolences for your mother. I can't imagine how you must be feeling, and to have to move across the country after that. I'm so sorry. I'm here if you need anything." Mrs. Roule says kindly.
"Thank you." I say, looking down and picking at my fingernail. The exhaustion that I feel from hearing everyone giving their condolences is starting to weigh me down. It's like every time I come up for air, someone feels the need to yank me back down to the ocean floor.
"Next off, I wanted to go over your schedule with you. I spoke with your Aunt a bit to try and get you set up in your courses. It looks like you have maintained a solid 3.5 GPA throughout school, except last year. I am assuming it was the sickness of your mom that made you fall behind so much?" I nod my head "Okay, well, considering your grades were good before that, you aren't at risk for falling behind a year, but I do think it would be a good idea to pick up some extra credit when possible. Is that something that you think you can handle?"
"I'm sure that won't be a problem." I mumble.
"Great. What is it that you're thinking about doing after graduation? Any ideas on what colleges you would like to attend?" She poises her pencil above a notepad, ready to take notes. She is about to be sorely disappointed.
"I'm not going to college. I'm moving back home when I graduate and going to get a job." I mutter.
Mrs. Roule drops her pencil before narrowing her eyes. Well, she apparently means business. "Callie, with your academics you could really go somewhere if you applied yourself. Just because you had a bump in the road, it doesn't mean your life needs to stay at a standstill. The world is your oyster."
Oh, God. Here we go.
"Just… think about it, okay? We can re-discuss this in a couple weeks. Here is your schedule. I have you down for math, history, and then art. After that is lunch hour and then you will finish the day off with science and a study hall. How does th
at sound?"
"Fine, sure. Are we done here? I really need to get to class." I pick up my bag, ready for this day to be over already.
I'm irritated. Really fucking irritated. People really need to not tell me what is best for me. After everything in my life, I'm pretty sure I know what is best for me.
Mrs. Rouse sighs and rubs her eyes in irritation. She rises from her chair, coming up to shake my hand. "Sure. If you need anything, you know where to find me. I will see you in a couple weeks."
I'm already halfway out the door by the time she is done talking, lifting my hand in a wave. I keep my head down as I'm exiting the office, not wanting to talk to anyone else right now. I'm walking so fast I barely notice the massive body standing right in the doorway as I plow into him and fall right on my ass.
"Ouch, shit!" I shout in frustration. It seriously feels like I just ran into a steel door. I look up, ready to curse out the idiot standing in the door way when any words leave me on a gasp.
Oh, my Jesus.
This is the hottest boy I have ever seen. Wait no, not a boy. Definitely not a boy. A man. His strong thighs in his black slacks lead up to a flat stomach, which I now know is hard as a brick wall, covered up by a light blue button up. When I get up to his face, I see a closely trimmed beard and brown hair that is pulled back into a small bun in the back of his head. Looking down at me is the most striking green eyes I have ever laid eyes on. I glance back down to his pouty lips which are moving at a fast pace -
"Hello, can you hear me? Are you injured? I'm so sorry. Here, let me help you up." He extends his hand in my direction, and his arm looks so masculine with his thick veins running up the inside of his forearm. My hand shakes as I reach up to grab for his. The moment that our hands connect, it's like a shock of electricity runs from the tips of my fingers all the way down to my toes.
I gasp, feeling heat creep up my neck and into my cheeks. His eyes go wide as if he is feeling the same connection I am. His thumb brushes over the inside of my wrist in an intimate gesture. Suddenly, he snaps out of his trance because he yanks me up and then drops my hand like a hot potato, stepping away from me like I am some wild animal.
"Again, I'm so, so sorry. Are you really okay?" His voice, husky and powerful, commanding attention of everyone around him. I shiver, his voice making me want to record it, so I can put it on repeat with my playlist and listen his gravely tone all day long.
"I-I'm okay." Oh, for fuck's sake. Really, Callie? Stuttering right now? I internally groan at myself for acting like a dumbass and bend down to gather my things that fell out of my bag when I fell.
He bends over to help me pick up my last couple books, "Oh really, you don't have to do that." I say, trying to hurry and get the fuck out of here and away from him. I really want this day to be over already. Apparently, all I can do is act like a fool in front of – of course – the most handsome man I've ever seen.
He hands me the two books he has in his hands. "If you're sure. I'm sorry, but I'm running a bit behind and have to get going." He says, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb.
"Oh, sure, sure. Thanks for helping me pick up my stuff. I better get going too." I tuck my hair behind my ear and shrug my backpack on over my shoulder. He is really so good looking that it's almost too much to look at.
"Alright, have a good day." He says with a wave and is off as quickly as he came.
I reach into my backpack's side pocket and pull out my schedule again, searching for my locker. Once I get there and put my stuff away, I notice that almost everyone is already in their classrooms, only a few stragglers still lingering in the hall. I hurry up and grab my things before slamming my locker shut and hurrying off to math class.
I hope that my day can go smoother than it started. The last thing I need this year is to draw attention to myself. And falling on my ass is definitely going to get attention drawn to me. I just want to go by unnoticed and graduate on time.
I want to get the hell out of here.
THREE
Once I walk into math class, I sit down in the back towards the window. At least if the lecture gets boring, I can stare outside and look at the view. Unpacking my supplies, I glance up as two girls come in together. One has blonde hair in a side braid and the other has a top knot with her hair dyed pastel blue. These are the type of people I would hang out with back at home. They look chill. They also look nearly identical. Hmm, must be twins.
The blonde one looks around the room and catches my eye, smirking at me and giving me a little wave. She whispers to the blue haired one and they both walk over to where I'm sitting, taking a seat in the last couple empty desks near me.
"Hi, I'm Mya." Says the blue haired one.
"And I'm Leah." Says the blonde.
Mya has a little bit more of a rock and roll look, with an ear piercing and a band tee. Whereas Leah has more of a girl next door look to her. They are both tall – taller than me and are pretty thin, although Mya has a few more curves than Leah does.
"Callie." I say, giving a genuine smile. This is the first time that I have seen people that I could actually get along with. They seem down to earth. Maybe I found someone that I can hang with besides Aunt Jenna.
"You must not be from around here, with that tan and all." Leah chuckles, twirling her finger in a circular motion in front of me.
I laugh too. "Nope. I'm from California. Born and raised."
"Lucky! We've never been. What made you come to Middle Park?" Leah says, excitement growing in her eyes.
"Ahh, I just moved in with my Aunt. I will be staying with her until I graduate." I keep it short, not wanting to delve into the depressing dead parent story.
Leah gets the picture. "Cool. Well you should definitely let us show you around town."
Mya leans forward on her desk, splaying her hands out in an excited gesture. "Yaass! You need to let us show you around. There are so many things to do around here. Have you been downtown yet?" She is nearly bouncing in her seat.
I chuckle. "Yeah, I was down there the other day actually. We could probably get together -"
"Attention! Attention, everyone. My name is Mr. Lennington, I will be your math teacher for this semester. If we can all please quiet down and pull out our syllabuses, we can get started." The math teacher, Mr. Lennington, hollers, looking directly at the three of us with his eyes narrowed. He's a tall, round man with a receding hair line. His glasses are a bit too big for his face and he has to keep using his pointer finger to shove them back up the bridge of his nose. He is also dressed like he belongs in the 80's but hey, whatever, I guess.
"Meet up with us at lunch, okay? We can talk more then." Leah whispers, pulling her math book out and getting to work.
I nod my head to them in agreement, then pull out my own notebook and pen to get to work.
Well, maybe this year won't be so bad after all.
* * * *
The bell rings, signaling the end of first period. Mya, Leah and I all get up and walk out together, reaffirming our plans to meet up at lunch. I wave goodbye to the both of them and head down the opposite hallway, pulling my schedule out to look at my next class. History class with Mr. Cooper. I hate history class. Hopefully this teacher is nicer than Mr. Lennington. It definitely seems like he is going to be riding our asses this semester.
With a sigh, I head to my locker to switch out my textbooks before heading to second period.
Once I arrive though, I am pleased to see a familiar face.
"Callie! Hey! Come take a seat over by me." Brock, a/k/a skatepark boy says, patting the desk next to him with a smirk on his face.
I roll my eyes at his enthusiasm and make my way over to the desk next to him. "Hi Brock." I say softly. I look around and a few other students are giving us curious looks. I notice some of Brock's friends from the skatepark are here and giving each other sly smirks.
Brock is cute enough, with his shaggy blonde hair a little more tamed today, dark jeans, and a dark hoodie. He always seems to be
in a good mood too. Maybe he can share some of the positivity with me.
Positivity, as in marijuana.
I snort, then try to cover it up with a cough. Brock gives me a funny look, tilting his head to the side. "You okay there, Sunshine?"
"I'm good." I run my hand through my hair, blushing slightly when he continues giving me that curious stare. Why do people find the need to stare at you at the most awkward times?
He starts tapping his fingers on the desk in some sort of a beat. "So, how are you liking it so far in Colorado?"
"It's alright, I guess. The mountains are outrageous, but nothing beats Pac."
"Pac?" He questions, eyebrows furrowed.
"Pac. The Pacific Ocean? Nothing compares to the beach. The waves crashing onto shore. Surfing during the sunrise. Nothing, and I mean nothing is better than that." My heart squeezes just thinking about being away from the beach for so long.
I am so used to being around the ocean all the time that I have basically become addicted to it. Every day, or at least every other day, you would see me down on the beach - surfing, tanning, just hanging out, whatever. I have a feeling that I am going to start having some withdrawals any day now.
"Just wait until it snows. Do you snowboard or ski? The mountains are a sight when they have got snow covering them. It picks up a lot around here too. A lot of tourism in the winter."
"Ugh, I hate the cold. So, no. I don't ski or snowboard. I don't do winter at all." I groan. I don't even want to think about bundling up with winter gear every day.
"Awe, Sunshine is a freeze baby?" Brock chuckles.
"I'll keep you warm this summer." One of his friends mumbles under his breath, prompting the other one to burst out laughing.
"Hey idiot, shut the hell up." Brock leans over and socks his friend in the arm. "Don't listen to these two. They were dropped on their head too many times as a baby. This is Shawn," he points to the douche bag who hit on me, "And this is Lane." He points to the guy sitting next to Shawn.