Mom took me shopping for new clothes—it took a while to find a middle ground between the babyish clothes she wanted me to buy and the edgier, “inappropriate” clothes I kept picking up—but we got there in the end.
I smooth down my cropped sweater. It had felt like such a victory at the time. But sitting here, surrounded by my peers in their little cliques, chatting and laughing while I’m on the outside, the win over a stupid piece of clothing now feels as hollow as my on-display belly button.
When Mom finished helping me with my wardrobe, Dad took me to get my school supplies. I had gotten a haircut, we walked the route from home to school a couple times—just in case I forgot the layout of the neighborhood I’ve lived in my entire life—and he introduced me to one of the neighbors who we’d be sharing a carpool with when the weather turns.
We had it all figured out.
Or so I’d thought.
I hadn’t given much thought to the fact I might not make friends in high school. I had friends in elementary school and middle school. I wasn’t the most popular kid in school or anything, but I had my people. Or so I’d thought. Most of my middle school friends had come to this high school, and so far, not a single one of them had acknowledged me.
I press the heel of my hand into my chest, trying to soothe the wound left when my best friend, Malika, left the United States over the summer. Her dad works for some huge oil and gas company that sent them to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. Her name means ‘queen’ and she was the most badass queen I’ve ever known. Another twitch in my chest makes tears prick in my eyes, and I blink over and over to make them go away.
Malika and me? We had plans. We’d go to high school together, then college, and we’d get jobs together. Doing what? It didn’t matter because we’d be together.
I grind again at the dull ache in my rib cage. The time difference between Minnesota and Malaysia makes it hard for us to catch up. I miss her. I run my fingers over the colorful friendship bracelet wrapped around my wrist. I miss her a lot. She’d know what to do right now. She knows how to talk to people.
I push the lumpy mashed potatoes around on my plate, making a mental note to bring a sandwich from home on mashed potato days. I glance up, and…oh, snap!
Two of the hottest boys in school are coming my way carrying trays of their own.
I swallow down a mouthful from my juice box that seems to have turned to honey on my tongue and will the wild flapping in my stomach to stop.
Act cool, Savannah Jane.
Act. Cool.
But I don’t know how.
Justin Ashe is a teenager like me. He’s a normal, human being, like me.
My stomach tightens.
Except he’s nothing like me. He has perfect hair, perfect skin, the perfect smile… I bet he’s freakin’ perfect when he plays hockey, too. And he seems to know everyone in school.
Everyone that is, except me.
And I want him to know who I am. More than anything I want him to smile at me, to sit with me in class, and to make dreamy eyes at me like I’m the only girl in the whole building he ever wants to look at. I spotted him on the first day of school and was instantly a goner for those gorgeous blue eyes. And here he is, standing only a couple feet away.
Pressing my nerves down, I cast the two boys a shaky smile as they approach. “Do you want to sit?”
Justin meets my gaze and offers a soft smile before his friend, Johnny White, comes to a stop a couple feet from where I’m sitting. From what I’ve heard in the girl’s bathroom, Johnny White is some mysterious hockey hotshot who moves around. A lot.
Calista Jones says it’s because his brother is an even bigger hockey whiz than he is.
Aniyah Bowsley says it’s because Johnny has been kicked out of every school he has ever gone to.
Chihiro Daigo says it’s because Johnny’s dad can’t hold down a job because he was recently released from prison. It’s the second week of school and already everyone is talking about him. Or at least all of the girls.
Either way it’s not good.
By all accounts, Johnny White isn’t someone I should be hanging out with. Mom would probably ground me for a week if she knew I was even thinking about talking to him.
He isn’t someone I should want to know my name.
He’s trouble.
But he’s also Justin’s best friend, and if I want to hang out with Justin, maybe I need to get on Johnny’s good side. And I can’t do that if I don’t say “Hi” and introduce myself, right?
