Wallflower

by Cookie O'Gorman

  After taking Hemione for a walk, I cleaned out some of the cages, re-filled water and food bowls, took a few more of the dogs out before saying goodbye to my boss and heading home. My work at the animal shelter was voluntary, but I knew it was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I loved animals, particularly dogs. My family didn't have any pets of our own. Mom was allergic to cats, and Dad was always on the go with the team, so usually it was just me at home. That was okay, though, because I got to spend time with the animals at the shelter, who'd just been dealt a bad hand. They were the misfits, loners just like me, and it was the highlight of my day taking care of them.

  When I got home, the skies were a gorgeous mix of twilight purple, pink, orange and blue. I went immediately to shower—there were cats at the shelter, so this was my normal routine. Mom's allergies would flair up at the smallest sign of cat dander, so most days I took two showers, one in the morning, one at night. No big deal. It was necessary, and besides, the water relaxed me. Standing under the warm spray, I imagined the embarrassment of the day washing right off my skin and going down the drain.

  Mom was in the kitchen when I came out dressed in my pjs.

  "Hey," I said.

  "Viola," she said, coming and enveloping me in a big hug. "How was your day? Anything interesting happen?"

  I confessed my love to a boy—and it was a total disaster.

  "Eh, not really," I said. "What about you?"

  Mom smiled then led me to the table where dinner was already set up. Pizza. Yum.

  "Well, I wrote a couple freelance articles that are due next week, got to edit some freshman papers in English 101 for grammar and formatting. It's always a party when you're an adjunct professor," she laughed.

  I shrugged, pulling a slice onto my plate. "Were any of them good?"

  "Yes actually, this one kid, Anton, wrote about Harry Potter and how Harry's life was drastically altered by his family dynamic with the Dursleys," she said. "His theory was that Harry might've never been the wizard we all know and love were it not for their cruelty toward him. If they'd treated him better, he wrote, Harry may have never wanted to go back to the wizarding world."

  I thought it over. "Hmm, interesting idea, but I disagree."

  "Ooh, I knew you'd have some thoughts about this." She raised her brows. "Go on."

  "If they'd been nice to him," I said, "Harry still would've wanted to know the truth about his parents. He still would've insisted on finding out the truth about himself and the prophecy with Voldemort. Plus, what about the whole magical wizarding world? Can you honestly say that, even with a nice family, you'd be able to turn down the chance to go if your letter from Hogwarts came in the mail?"

  Mom brought her hand up to her chin. "By owl express, you mean…"

  We both shook our heads at the same time.

  "See Mom," I said. "Harry Potter would've always been Harry Potter no matter what."

  "Good point." Mom smiled and put her forehead to mine. "Have I told you lately that you're my favorite muggle?"

  "I love you, too," I said.

  Dad came in then and crossed his arms. He was still wearing his Durham High soccer shirt with the little soccer ball and "Coach Kent" emblazoned over his left chest.

  "What's this?" he said with a frown, though I could see the twinkle in his eyes. The question was addressed to Mom. "If she's your favorite muggle, then what am I?"

  Mom sighed. "Becks, we've talked about this. Viola is my favorite muggle. You're my Huckleberry. Always have been."

  "And you're my girl, Sal. My heart. Always," he said simply, taking Mom's hand and kissing it.

  I grimaced, but secretly loved when they were like this.

  "So I guess it's okay that I'm no one's favorite muggle," he said, taking a seat between the two of us. "Even though I'm the most muggle-est person ever. I don't even understand half the things you two talk about most days."

  "You're my favorite muggle, Dad."

  Mom shot me a faux wounded look, but I just held out my hand.

  "What?" I said. "Just look at him."

  Mom chuckled under her breath. "Okay, I see your point."

  Dad eyed the two of us. "I think I've just been insulted."

  Mom patted his hand, loading pizza onto both of their plates as Dad grumped. It was kind of funny actually.

  "But I'll let it slide since I'm starving, and there's pizza," he said and then proceeded to eat a whole slice in seven seconds flat.

  "And because we're you're two favorite girls," I put in.

  After swallowing, he smiled. "That you are. I love you both—even when you're being smart alecks. Speaking of which, you excited for school, Viola?"

  I shrugged, taking another bite of pizza to stall for time, thinking back to what had happened with Tyson. Ugh. I didn't know which was worse, the fact that I'd confessed at all, that I'd gotten things so wrong…or that he wasn't moving.

  Definitely the last part, I thought. My hope for confessing with zero repercussions was suddenly out the window. I just hoped it wouldn't be too weird seeing him in the halls… Ugh.

  "Ah come on," Dad went on. "You must be looking forward to seeing your friends again."

  "What friends?" I murmured then took a long drink of my water.

  Dad's brow furrowed. "Vi, it's your last year of high school. This is a special time. You want to take it all in, enjoy every moment. What about homecoming, prom? I know you have to be excited about something."

  I smiled brightly. "I can't wait to see you kick some butt on the soccer field."

  "You don't even come to the games." Dad tilted his head. "This is just you trying to change the subject. Don't think I can't see that."

  "Yes, but is it working?"

  He'd opened his mouth when Mom said, "How is the team doing this year?"

  I looked to her, grateful for the assist.

  "They’re amazing." Dad sighed. "I think we've got a real shot at the championship. These boys can go head to head with anyone. And Dare Frost? God, I love that kid. He's a natural, and he's got a competitive drive that's unmatched. I've never seen anything like it."

  It was the truth. Dare Frost may have been one of the most annoying people on the planet, but I had to admit, if half of what people said was true, he was talented. Crazy talented. My dad and he both understood that competitive spirit, probably why Dad was so smitten with him.

  Mom's eyes shined as she smiled at my father. "I have. I've seen talent just like that—and better. That young man and all of those boys are lucky to have you as their coach," she said, which made him blush. Dad rarely got flustered, but Mom could do it to him every time. His expression caused a laugh to escape my lips.

  Dad cleared his throat.

  "Don't think I've forgotten our discussion, Vi," he said. "I still want you to have an awesome year. Step out of your comfort zone, have fun, make friends. If you'd just open up, I know they'd love you. It's not that hard."

  "Not hard for you," I said softly.

  "What do you mean?" he said.

  "Dad, come on." I scoffed. "You're the Becks Kent. You were popular in high school, a total jock. Everyone loved you."

  "Not everyone," he said.

  "You were the freaking prom king, for goodness sakes. I've never even been to a school dance."

  He blinked. "You haven't?"

  I shook my head, gesturing to myself. "Who would ask me?"

  "What's that supposed to mean? Viola, you're beautiful, inside and out," Dad said.

  Mom nodded then added, "The most beautiful girl in the whole world."

  Yeah, right, I thought. I loved my parents. Truly, I did. But those rose-colored glasses they were wearing must've been pretty thick.

  "And who says you need anyone to ask you?" Mom said. "You could always go by yourself."

  "I could," I said, "but honestly, dancing in public's not my thing. With or without a guy."

  "Any guy would be lucky to have you on his arm," Dad insisted. "Now, don't get mad, but ma
ybe if you spent a little less time at the shelter and more time, I don't know, hanging out with your classmates, you'd get a chance to know them. And they'd get to know you."

  "I've told you before, Dad. I prefer dogs over people. I mean, think about it: They're kinder than humans. They're more sympathetic. They're great listeners. They give affection without expecting anything in return, and they make life better for everyone. Dogs over people, one hundred percent."

  My parents seemed to sigh as one.

  In a small voice, Mom said, "But you might find someone you like."

  "Doubtful," I said.

  "Maybe even a boyfriend," Mom laughed as my dad blanched.

  "Now, wait a minute," Dad said. "Who said anything about boyfriends? I'm actually glad she doesn't have one of those. I'd like you to keep it that way, Viola, until you're thirty or so if you can manage it. For my sanity."

  "Oh no worries," I said. There hadn't been any guys in the past, and after today's debacle—which was a level of awkward for the record books—I didn't see that changing any time soon.

  "You know," Dad said, "your mother wasn't popular in high school. She liked a lot of the same things you do, loved to read. And she had a great senior year."

  Mom shrugged. "Yeah…but I had you."

  "That you did."

  His eyes softened as he looked at her.

  "And we were best friends before it turned into anything more," she added.

  Dad shook his head. "We were always more."

  "You guys are too cute," I said, watching as he placed a kiss behind her ear. Mom seemed to shiver in response. "Unfortunately, I don't have a guy best friend. Darn."

  "Honestly, I don't see why not," Dad said. "You're great, Vi. I'm surprised I haven't had to fight off the guys at Durham High with a stick."

  I hated to burst his bubble, but… "Dad, the guys at school call me 'Dog Girl' behind my back."

  "They what?!?"

  I nodded.

  "Who?" he said, sounding angry now. "I want their names, Vi. It better not be anyone on the team. They know my anti-bullying policy. Those little jerks."

  "It's not, Dad." Surprisingly, this wasn't a lie. It was more the football players, who in addition to the nickname, thought it was the funniest thing to bark at me in the halls. Someone (my bet was on Whitney) had leaked the info about me working at the shelter, and posted very unflattering pictures on the school website. In one, I'd been covered in poop because one of our pups had had an accident. The dog treats I carried around in my pockets and forgot to take out at school probably didn't help. They'd been barking since freshman year. Not that I would tell my father. He looked upset enough already. "And I'm not giving you any of their names. I just want you to understand."

  "But Vi—"

  "I'm a loner, Dad. I don't have friends, and I'm okay with that." For the most part, I mentally added. "I'm just going to try and get through senior year with as little fuss as possible. That's my goal."

  Dad still looked concerned, but before he could say anything, I stood, placed my plate in the sink and began walking to my room.

  "I'll see you guys in the morning," I murmured. That was definitely enough truth for one day. "Love you."

  "Okay, love you," Mom said.

  "Hey Vi, I wanted to talk to you," Dad called. "I have kind of a big favor to ask."

  I raised a hand as I neared my room.

  "Whatever it is," I said over my shoulder, "I'll do it."

  "It's a pretty big favor," he repeated.

  "You're my favorite muggle, remember? Love you, Dad."

  "Love you, too, Vi," he said softly. "Thanks, and your senior year is going to be great. I just know it."

  Yeah, I thought. Too bad I'd already screwed that up by making a fool of myself in front of my secret crush—who it turns out I hadn't really known at all. And now that little convo with my parents had reminded me just how friendless and alone I really was.

  Oh well, at least I'd gotten all the awkwardness out of my system.

  There was no way it could get worse than that, right?

  CHAPTER 3

  You know that dream where you can't wake up?

  The one where you know it's a dream, not quite reality, because something is off. But you can't figure out what? That was kind of how I felt when I woke up on Monday. The only difference was that the moment I stepped out my front door, I knew exactly what was wrong.

  I got ready for school in a flash, grabbed a banana, thermos of milk, and pack of peanut butter crackers (aka the breakfast of champions and people who hate being late) then rushed out the door…only to freeze on the porch.

  I blinked.

  Blinked again.

  But the scene before me didn't change.

  A pinch to the arm didn't work either.

  Why wasn't I waking up?

  This had to be a dream, I thought. Either that or a hallucination.

  Standing in our driveway, leaning back against my little Honda, hands in his pockets like he was Jake Ryan from Sixteen Candles or something, was a guy who knew he looked good even in sweats and a hoodie.

  Dare Frost.

  His six-foot-three frame dwarfed my car. Dare was the last person I expected to see waiting outside my house on my last first day of high school. I was so surprised it took me a second to find my voice.

  But Dare just cocked his head.

  "Morning flower," he said. "Better hurry or we'll be late."

  I shook myself out of it. "Are you lost?"

  "Nope, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

  "What are you even doing here?" I asked.

  "Isn't it obvious?" He held his hands out, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm here to bum a ride to school. Speaking of, could you pop the locks?" Dare rubbed his hands together. "It's a little chilly out here."

  I laughed, couldn't help it. "Are you crazy? Dare, I'm not taking you to school."

  "Yes, you are."

  "No. I'm not."

  Dare shrugged. "Coach said you would."

  My jaw dropped. "He did what? When? Why?"

  "That's a lot of questions," he said. "But yeah, your dad and I talked the other day after practice. He said you'd give me a ride because we live so close to each other. Said it would be no problem. I run by your house every morning anyway. Plus, my car's in the shop for repairs."

  "Didn't you just get that car?" I asked.

  The question made Dare smile for some reason. "You keeping tabs on me, Vi?"

  I choked. "What? No!"

  "Hey, no worries," he said. "I'm not mad about it. A lot of girls do it. Just wasn't aware you were one of them."

  "I'm not," I said, taking a deep breath for patience. "It's just hard not to notice when one of your classmates wrecks three luxury vehicles in the space of a three year period."

  "Ah, so you have been keeping track."

  I really wasn't. Dare Frost was just one of those people who was hard to ignore.

  "And my father offered for me to take you to school?" I repeated.

  "Yeah. He said he talked to you about it."

  I wracked my brain but knew there was no way I'd forget that conversation.

  "But wha—"

  My phone rang, and seeing my dad's name, I picked up immediately.

  "Hi Viola," he said. "I wanted to catch you before school. Have you left yet?"

  "Not yet," I said. "Dad, why is Dare Frost here saying that you told him I'd drive him to school?"

  "Yeah, I meant to bring it up again but didn't have the chance." My father chuckled self-consciously. "Remember that favor we talked about?"

  My eyes closed. "Dad, please tell me you didn't."

  "He's a good kid, Vi. I just thought we could help him out."

  Turning away, I lowered my voice. "We? We aren't doing anything. This is just me, playing chauffer to one of your star athletes. I can't believe you tricked me into this."

  "Tricked? Come on, sweetheart. I love you, but you agreed without hearing any of the deta
ils."

  He had me there, but—"Can't someone else do it? He has so many friends, Dad. Or for that matter, can't he take the bus?"

  Dare scoffed behind me, but I didn't turn.

  "The bus doesn't stop in his neighborhood. You know that Vi."

  I did. My family and I lived in a little suburb called Piper's Glen, but Dare's family was from the subdivision behind ours called Royal Oaks Estates. Those Richie Rich people lived in McMansions, got their kids brand-spanking-new cars at 16, usually expensive ones—sometimes multiple cars as was the case of the guy behind me—and they definitely wouldn't want a cheese wagon rolling through their streets. It might remind them that there were real, lower-middle class people, who didn't make six figures a year.

  "And as for his friends," Dad added, "they didn't want to step up, drive out of their way every morning and bring him to school."

  "Hmph," I said.

  "Also, did you know Dare couldn't find a ride, so he ran to practice every day last week? That's a few miles at least."

  I shrugged. "Aren't you always encouraging the team to run more?"

  "Viola."

  "What? It sounds like a good workout."

  "Oh, Vi." Dad's disappointment was clear, and it hit me right in the chest. "I expected better from you."

  I swallowed. "Couldn't you take him?"

  "If I didn't have to get here an hour before all of the students arrived, I would," he said. "Can't you just do this, Vi? For me? Your favorite muggle?"

  Annnd in addition to the guilt trip, he just had to bust out the big guns by using our Harry Potter-inspired way of saying I love you. With a sigh, I said, "Sure, okay."

  Dad whooped. "Yeah, thank you!"