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Chapter Five

On Monday, I had a hard time getting out of bed. It wasn’t just because of the strange dream I had, it was because I had to go to school. I pulled my fluffy purple quilt over my head, and then added the pillow when my father yelled to me from the bottom of the stairs.

Breakfast was a quiet event. Bailey kept fidgeting in his seat, he must have been nervous. “Do you want me to go to the office with you?” I asked Bailey. He was eating Cheerios and my father was eating some store brand junk he picked up at the market. I was eating a banana that was probably grown in town. Where do bananas come from anyway?

“No, I don’t want them thinking I’m a baby.”

A tree! Apples grow from a tree. I don’t like apples much because you can’t eat the whole thing. You can only eat it until you hit the seeds. It feels like a waste when you have to throw it out.

“Bailey, they won’t think you’re a baby. It’s normal to have someone with you.” My father cleared his throat. “Fine, I’ll drop you off in front of the door like all the other big sisters do.”

I smiled and so did he. He seemed more relaxed than before.

My father was the first to leave. Off to Big Records the South Dakota office, that is now his new wife and family. He wished us both good luck at school before he left. I knew his hope was wasted for me anyway, good luck tended to avoid me. When he left, I tried to open that locked room again. No three entrances would budge. Bailey told me to give it a rest and that he wouldn’t like it. Who is this ‘he’ character anyway?

I didn’t want to be early to school, but I had to get Bailey to school first. Which is completely opposite of any other school system that I’ve ever heard of. Normally the older kids go to school before the younger ones. Plus I didn’t want to be in this creepy house anymore.

As I had promised, I left Bailey at the front of the building which was crawling with little kids. He probably wouldn’t have a hard time fitting in.

Finding my school wasn’t difficult it was a half a mile down from the elementary school. This, like most other things, was just off of the main street. It wasn’t that obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it Hazleton High School, made me stop. It looked like an oversized house built with maroon colored bricks. Where was the feel of the institution?

There was only one parking lot for the teachers and students. A lot of the cars where old and by the looks of things they, were falling apart. My Volvo, at my old school would have been the average teenager’s first car, stuck out like a sore thumb. People still say that, right?

I parked in one of the few available spots the farthest away from the school. Stepping out of my car, a cool breeze made me shiver. I wrapped my black sweat shirt around tighter and started for the door. School hadn’t started, yet there was no one in sight. I took a deep breath before opening the door.

Inside, it was brightly lit and only a little warmer. The office was small with one desk with a few padded folding chairs as a waiting area. There were a few cork boards on the wall covered in flyers and awards as a collage. There were a few large plants, they were green and like vines, no flowers. No color.

There was a skinny old woman behind the counter that reminded me of the gum chewer from the lawyer’s office. Do all women in this town grow up like this? Is there no hope for me then? She was wearing a purple knit sweater, something a grandmother would wear.

She looked up and asked, “Can I help you?”

“I’m Genevieve Caine,” I informed her and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. My guess what that Ms. Avery has already filled everyone in on my hospitality.

“Of course,” she said. She dug through her pile documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. “I have your schedule right here and a map of the school.” She handed them to me and went through it with me. The school looked like a giant square. “You only have five classes. Your homeroom is in room seventeen but your class is room twenty. Your gym and art classes switch every other day and are your last period every day. Today you have gym, but I highly doubt Mrs. Stone would make you participate. Your lunch is at twelve sharp.” She laughed at herself and I wondered if she was on any meds. “There is also a free period after lunch for about an hour. Most of the kids either go to some class and study or stay in the cafeteria, which is here.” She pointed to the map.

How does this school even function every day?

I kept my face down as I walked to my homeroom. At Adams High, the school halls were like a spider web and even my sophomore year I had some trouble finding my classes the first day. At Hazleton High there were four hallways that end up joining to a square surrounding a yard with trees and overgrown shrubs.

The classroom was small. There were a few girls sitting in the back of the room, a few on the desks. They stared at me as I walked up to the teacher. He was a middle aged man that was balding a little in the back. He seemed like a nice guy. I handed him a piece of paper for him to sign.

“Ah, yes, Genevieve. I heard that you were coming. Sit wherever you want, its only homeroom. I don’t really care what you do.”

I nodded trying to hide my confusion. I sat down in the back corner, away from the girls, and stared at the clock. How long was homeroom anyway? One of the girls came up to me and tapped my shoulder.

She had long dark brown hair and she wore a skirt that was just a smidge too short for her long tan legs. She was wearing a sweater that she probably only put on so her mother would let her leave the house. Did she know its fall? “I’m Cassandra,” She said in a small voice. She seemed nice enough.

“Genevieve,” I said with a smile.

She sat down in the seat next to me. “Those are my friends, Jessica, Alex, and Onyx.” They each waved when she said their name and they were dressed similar to her, except they were smart and wearing pants. “They are kind of shy,” She said with a nervous laugh. “So, what class do you have next?”

“I have Ms. Avery in room seventeen,” I said with a little confidence that I remembered her name.

Her eyes widened. “Are you a nerd or something?” she asked, rudely. Well that shot her ‘nice enough’ out the window.

My heart sank. Great, I would be known as the freak from the north side of the Dakota. So I quickly made up a lie and I shook my head. “My dad is an overachiever and if I don’t do well then he grounds me. So no, I’m not smart at all.”

She forced a laugh. Did I sound smart? “Is that a really smart class or something?” I asked. I didn’t want her to go, I wanted friends.

“Yeah, Peter Gouin is in that class.” She pointed to a boy that looked like the chess club type. “Now, he is a nerd.” A couple of her friends came over to stand around her and they laughed.

I sat back in my chair and looked at the boy. There were plenty of boys like that at my old school that I never paid attention to. I never laughed at them as if these girls just did. I wonder if he knew they were talking about him. He wasn’t wearing a sweater vest like most ‘nerds,’ but he looked like an average guy with jeans and an old t-shirt.

They all looked at me as if I had five heads, probably because I didn’t laugh. If I don’t laugh, they may not think I’m cool, they might think I’m a nerd like Peter. But if I do laugh, then I would be just like my friend Jessica. Which reminds me…

“I have friend named Jessica from Adams,” I said, looking at the one that waved when Cassandra said her name.

Cassandra didn’t let Jessica reply before she went off about how much better Hazelton is than Adams, like she’s been there. Soon they were back to talking about me and asking me questions about how I was liking Hazelton. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot.

The bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, the girls left the class and wished me good luck with the advanced class. Again, with the luck thing. Peter came up to me then, I panicked inside. He probably wanted to yell at me for not standing up for him.

“You’re Genevieve, aren’t you?” he looked overly helpful then. Not mad and that’s a really really good thing.

“Genna.” I corrected. He seemed like a nice enough guy to use a nickname.

“Ms. Avery told us that you were coming. I could show you the way…” definitely over helpful. “I’m Peter.” He added.

I smiled tentatively. “Thanks.”

Ms. Avery, who I already didn’t like, made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own feet on the way to my seat. Luckily, no one found it hilarious. Maybe all the good luck is actually working, to a point.

After the bell rang again, for lunch since it rang at twelve sharp, I saw Cassandra in the hallway waiting for someone. She saw me and waved me over. Hesitantly, I went to her. The hall was oddly crowded with students of all different ages. We walked to the cafeteria for lunch. She was about the same height as my five foot five inches. I smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. I guess I was in her gym class. I didn’t really try to keep up.

There were several long tables with benches in the cafeteria. We sat at a full table and she introduced me to more people that included boys. I forgot their names as soon as she said them. The boy from homeroom, Peter, sat at a table with a few rocker kids and I wished I could sit over there. They may have more taste in conversation than Cassandra’s mindless chatter.

As I was trying to make conversation with these seven new faces, I saw a boy with long sandy blonde hair enter the cafeteria. I almost gasped realized when I saw him before. He was that boy that was with his friends when I went to the funeral. He was a lot cuter than I remembered.

“What are you looking at?” Cassandra asked.

I blinked a few times before I could reply. “Who is he?” I asked.

She followed my gaze and giggled. “That’s Nigel. And I like your taste in guys, but sweetie, he is taken.”

I sighed a little, “By who?” I asked innocently.

She rolled her eyes at one of the boys who threw a French fry at another boy across from him. “By me.” She said then picked up the French fry and threw it back at him.

Figures. I guess the luck streak has ended. The boy that threw the French fry entered the conversation with, “They have been in love since the he moved here last year.” He exaggerated love a little too much.

Damien walked over to our table and sat on the other side of Cassandra. Today he was wearing a plain grey t-shirt that was tight. He either didn’t realize I was sitting there or he was ignoring me, but he just joined in on the conversation as if he was there the whole time.

Right before the bell rang; he leaned over Cassandra and looked at me, “You’re Genna, right?”

I gulped. “Yeah.”