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“Are you new here?” someone asked.
It sounded like a teacher’s voice, so I turned to the left, seeing a woman in a white dress covered in a red apple print. She had an apple on her headband and dangly pencil earrings. Suddenly, I wasn’t the biggest target in the vicinity, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Yes. I’m—”
“April Adams, right?” she asked. At my nod, she smiled. “I met your mom on Monday. She’s a peach.”
Maybe this woman just really liked fruit?
“I’m Birdie Bardot, the guidance counselor here,” she continued. “You can call me Birdie.”
I raised my eyebrows, not used to teachers being so familiar with students. Most of them acted like using their first name was a crime against the natural order of the world. “Nice to meet you,” I said, just in case she hadn’t forgone all social customs.
“Same to you. Come with me; I’ll show you around.”
I readjusted my backpack on my shoulder. “Thanks.”
“This is your schedule.” She passed me a piece of paper and walked to the heavy oak doors all the students were entering through, a sea of navy and light blue much like the ocean looked this morning.
I glanced down at the paper as I followed her over the tile floor. English, math, current events, and physics. All pretty standard. Then my electives were after lunch—art, videography, and personal finance.
“Your mom said you should like these classes,” Birdie said over her shoulder, “but if you get a few days into it and decide you want something different, let me know.”
I studied the page a little closer. “What’s this about Fridays?”
She stopped outside a wooden door with the name Birdie Bardot, Guidance Counselor, on a golden nameplate. “Those are our flex days.” She pushed the door open, leading me into a room with a desk, filing cabinets, and a big white bird in a cage. The bird looked at me curiously.
“That’s Ralphie,” she explained.
I nodded. Animals weren’t really my thing—especially since Heidi had nearly broken my elbow and completely embarrassed me yesterday.
Birdie reached for a pamphlet on her desk and passed it to me. “This year, we’re trying something new. Seniors can choose to volunteer on Friday afternoons, or they can choose a vocational skill to learn.” She tapped on the middle page where there was a bulleted list.
I read down the items—and my eyes widened. “I could really get a CNA?” I’d wanted to get the certification over the summer, but plans fell through with the move.
Birdie nodded. “Is that what you’d like to do?”
I grinned, feeling my chest relax a bit. “That would be great.”
The warning bell rang, and it sounded old, like an actual bell made the sound, not like the stereo beep from my last school.
“I’ll sign you up for CNA classes then.” Using a feather pen, she wrote something on a bright pink sticky note and then said, “Come with me.”
We walked around the building, stopping by the doors to each of my classes as the hallways thinned. When the second bell rang, she led me down the main hallway, stopping by an open classroom door. “Mrs. Morgan,” Birdie said, stepping inside. “This is your new student, April Adams.”
“Welcome!” Mrs. Morgan said. She had on a flowy black skirt, a black top, and seemed way more even-keeled than Birdie. “Introduce yourself to the class.”
Birdie waved goodbye, telling me to come to her office if I needed anything. Hating this part, I turned to face my peers, about to begin my prepared speech...until right in the middle row, I saw my worst nightmare.
That guy from the beach was in my class and staring right at me.
Four
Diego
I leaned backin my chair, taking in the girl from the beach.
April Adams.
