Jumping to Conclusions
Back when I was living in Texas, I had a bit of a reputation of being a bad ass. Not the traditional meaning of one, either, where the girl has a motorcycle and an equally bad ass boyfriend, and the girl curses all the time, and smokes, and drinks and things alike.
What I mean is, if there was trouble, everyone turned to me. Mom always said I got my temper and will from my dad, but I don’t know. I like to believe I developed that on my own.
So, naturally, attention comes easy to me, along with the effects of attention, such as staring.
But it feels different here.
I walk the hallways alone as I search for my locker, despite them being full and busy. You’d think I would feel suffocated with all these people taking all the oxygen. The staring, whispering, assuming. In contrary, though, the attention made me feel isolated. Like I’m in my own world, and they’re looking in or vice versa.
The funny thing about it is the attention has nothing to do with me. I mean, it kind of does but, at the same time, it doesn’t. It’s about the boy I met earlier today.
His name is Kristian.
I haven’t seen him yet, since the incident this morning. Something about him just… seems too right. And it has nothing to do with him being drop-dead gorgeous. (Okay, maybe a little bit.)
I roll my eyes at the thought. Looking down at the timetable in my hands, I read my next classes. I’ve already been to Chemistry, Gym, English Honors II, and lunch. All I have left is Music, and a study-hall period. I look up with a sigh.
This stupid timetable says my locker is #139. Odd lockers are on the left and even lockers are on the right. I just passed 136. I look to my left—
I crash into someone, and my papers fall to the ground. The person scoffs. “Two times in a day, new girl. I’m starting to think you have a crush on me,” the voice says.
I roll my eyes. “No, I’m just irresistible,” I resort and look up.
It was the same guy I met this morning—the one trying to hit Kristian. My smirk instantly turns into a scowl. “Hey, hey,” he says in mock surprise. “Why the long face?”
I cross my arms and arch an eyebrow. “I don’t really take bullies too kindly.”
“A bully? Me?” He laughs. “That’s just the way things work here, babe.”
“I’m not your—”
“Evan…” a whiney voice says from behind me. “There you are!”
Cue the cliché Mean Girl girlfriend—stage right.
And my exit, stage left.
The bell rings, stopping whatever he—Evan—was going to say. I quickly grab my papers from the floor, reading my next class again. Music, room 212…
A minute later, I’m there. The plaque on the door read Renee Nesmith, so this is it. The chatter inside simmers down a little as I walk in. I head for the nearest open desk in the room—which happens to be next to a window in the back of the classroom.
The seats are set up in pairs all around the room. As I slide into my chosen seat, I survey the room. Ugh, Attention has decided to appear again. My face heats up involuntarily.
I’m pushing my backpack under my chair when Mrs. Nesmith walks in.
“Good afternoon, class,” she says, putting her purse on her desk.
Mrs. Nesmith is gorgeous.
She has dark colored eyes that reminds me of a restless, cloudless day. Her lips were small, pink, and even though I wasn’t close to her, I could tell they were soft. Her hair was neck length—kind of straight and curly at the same time.
She didn’t look much like a teacher, you know. Every teacher that I had in the past wore something professional: dress shirt, belt, ironed jeans, and dress shoes. But Mrs. Nesmith was wearing a graphic novel rock band t-shirt and black cargo pants.
Like I said, gorgeous.
“…student. Would you like to introduce yourself, Adeline May?”
I respond as if I was back home. “No, I’m not really the Care & Share kind of girl.”
A few snickers float around the room. I smile at my new teacher, earning more snickers.
“That makes two of us,” Mrs. Nesmith says, arching an eyebrow. “Welcome to Willow Creek Highschool—”
The door pushes open, slowly, as a creaking sound cuts her off. Kristian winces as he steps into the classroom. I sit up straighter. My movement catches his eyes and now he’s looking at me.
Do you like the main character’s name? What sexuality do you think Adeline is? I betcha won’t guess right…
~xoxo, maya cyns