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JACKSON
THE FIRST DAY THEY MET…
“Class, I know it’s the first day back from spring break, but I need y’all to focus. Please,” Ms. Rhodes, our chemistry teacher, pleads with us. “I’ve got something fun planned, but I need butts in seats and mouths zipped if we’re going to get through this.”
Sitting at my desk, I have my arms folded across my chest and watch as everyone around me continues to act like an idiot. This is the one class I actually get to be myself in. No one else on the football team would ever sign up to take AP Chem. This teacher actually expects work to be done, and most of the guys would rather breeze through their classes so they can focus more on training, even in the off season. But me, I love the mental challenge almost as much as the physical. So I enjoy the forty minutes a day where I’m not expected to behave a certain way—and where I’m not Jameson Nash’s little brother.
Glancing over to my left, I look out the window and wait patiently for the rest of the class to settle down. The door handle clicks open, and all the talking around me comes to a complete stop. Looking at the front of the room, I expect to see the principal. She always drops by unexpectedly on the first day back to greet everyone. Only it’s not her.
“Can I help you, honey?” Ms. Rhodes asks the girl currently hovering in the doorway.
The look on her face tells me she’s ready to turn and run at any moment. Her bright green eyes dart anxiously around the room before settling back on the teacher.
“I’m Rory—I mean Aurora—Monroe, the new girl.” She sighs while taking two cautious steps away from the door.
“Oh, yes, of course.” Ms. Rhodes quickly makes her way over to the dark-haired girl and places an arm around her shoulders. “You’re Skip’s daughter.” She smiles down at her. Aurora manages a half smile and nods her head. Ms. Rhodes leads the girl farther into the room and then gently turns her to face us. “Class, this is Aurora Monroe. She and her father have just moved here from Chicago. Her grandfather is none other than Police Chief Monroe.”
At Ms. Rhodes’s words, I notice a slight flash of what appears to be pain shooting across Aurora’s face. She quickly composes herself and puts on a smile that looks fake, at least to me. So this is Chief Monroe’s granddaughter; who would have known? Everyone in Hawk Bend has been talking about her father moving back after living in Chicago for the past twenty years.
“Hey,” Aurora says while nervously tucking her long, curly hair behind one ear.
When none of the class responds to her greeting, Ms. Rhodes’s face hardens, and she protectively pulls Aurora closer.
“I expect all of you to make her feel at home.” Ms. Rhodes gives Aurora’s shoulders one last squeeze as she quickly glances around the room, her eyes finally landing on me. “Jackson, you’ll be Aurora’s lab partner for the rest of the year. I expect you to share your notes and bring her up to speed.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply without missing a beat.
Scooting my chair to the far left of the table, I make room for Aurora to join me. She tosses her book bag onto the floor and takes a seat. Her body is stiff, and she refuses to make eye contact with me. Unapologetically, I continue to stare at her. It’s rare for a town as small as Hawk Bend to have a new kid in school. I’m curious to know more about her. Besides, she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. It’s hard not to look at her.
Nervously, she bounces her leg under the table as Ms. Rhodes explains the experiment she’s about to perform. Her jeans make a rhythmic whooshing sound as her speed increases. I reach into my book bag and pull out my chem notebook. Placing it on the table, I slide it in her direction. She looks over at it and then up at me. Flipping to the tab marked third quarter notes, I tap my finger on the paper.
“Start here. This quarter is almost over, so there is a lot for you to copy.” I smile at her and watch as her emerald-green eyes soften. “I’m Jackson,” I say, almost hypnotized by her stare. Somehow, I manage to pull myself together and extend my hand out to greet her.
“Rory.” She slips her small, tan hand in mine and grips me with a force I didn’t expect. She’s not exactly petite, but she’s definitely stronger than she looks.
For the rest of the period, I pretend to pay attention to Ms. Rhodes, but my mind and eyes keep wandering to this mystery girl sitting next to me. I watch as she furiously copies down my notes, trying to cram six weeks’ worth of work into forty minutes. When the bell rings, she slumps down in her seat and shakes out the cramp in her hand.
“I didn’t finish.” She shrugs. “Do you mind if I borrow them again tomorrow?”
“Take them home with you,” I respond, but she quickly shakes her head.
“Ms. Rhodes just reminded the class about the test tomorrow—”
“I don’t need them,” I interrupt her. “Photographic memory.”
She squints her eyes and gives me a once over. Only now do I notice the faint dusting of freckles along her nose and cheeks. She’s not convinced, but eventually she stacks both of our notebooks on top of one another and places them inside her book bag.
“Thanks. That’s nice of you.”
“It’s nothing,” I say, fully meaning it. I really do have a photographic memory, so studying for a small pop quiz wouldn’t happen even if I had my notes. “So, where’s your next class?” I’m hoping that her schedule is identical to mine, or that it’s at least in the same direction so I can walk with her.
“AP Spanish. It’s in room…” She pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolds it. “118.”
“Damn, really? That’s cool. I barely passed Spanish I.” She’s smart. I like that.
“My mom was from Venezuela, so I’m fluent in Spanish…” Her voice trails off, and the pain there is obvious.
Was. So the little old ladies at church must have been right. Just last week they were talking about how Skip Monroe’s wife had died, and he was moving home under the pretense that he would replace his father as chief of police. The old man is way overdue for retirement. So, the excuse makes sense. The reality is, I can only assume, Skip Monroe needed to move home so he wouldn’t have to raise his teenage daughter alone.
