Still holding the file in midair, Mr. Winters nods robotically.
“You may speak.”
“Th-th-thank you…th-th-thank you for c-coming in. P-please let me know if I can h-h-help you with anything…anything at all…”
“Thank you, kind sir, I’ll be sure to do that. You have a nice day, now. Ta ta,” I sing and exit his office. One look at Ms. Fleming silences her into submission, and she stares at me like a petrified toad.
Somewhere between the dried-up flower beds outside the offices and the cracked sidewalk, Her invading force recedes, allowing me to regain control. But there is no way I’m staying in school for the rest of the day with Her acting up, regardless of the consequences waiting for me at home.
Fighting back tears of frustration, I weave my way through the collection of old pick-up trucks and rusty hand-me-downs populating the student parking lot, my mind a muddled mess. Why is She showing up when it’s not her turn? Nighttime belongs to her, but the day belongs to me. And why is Tatiana forcing me to participate in this ridiculous charade of being a normal teenage girl anyway? Clearly it’s impossible. I am anything but normal and trying to act as if I am is nothing more than a masochistic exercise in futility.
But despite everything I’m feeling at this moment, it’s the helplessness that bothers me the most. Not having control over my own life. Always being at the mercy of others with powers greater than mine.
I am so freaking over it.
“Hi there, Miss…excuse me?” I don’t even notice the lanky guy leaning against the side of a shiny black pickup truck until he calls to me. I want to ignore him and keep moving, but I can’t. His voice is like an invisible lasso pulling me back.
“Yes?” I turn around slowly, wary of the stranger witnessing my mad escape. If he’s one of the school’s security guards, I’m sunk.
He slowly jogs toward me, and I roll my eyes in annoyance. This whole idea of lame, wanna-be- rent-a-cops actually providing us with any sort of ‘security’ is such a joke. All they do is bust students who don’t follow the rules. They’ll never be able to protect anyone from the real dangers lurking right under their noses.
But as he gets closer, I’m relieved to see he’s just a boy. My age. He shouldn’t care that I was ditching. I give a furtive glance around the parking lot. We’re all alone.
“Hi,” he says.
I don’t know who he is, but he’s not from around here, of that I’m certain. His shiny leather boots appear to be new and expensive and his cable-knit sweater straight off a Ralph Lauren model. But it’s the jeans that give him away. All the guys around here wear Levi’s like they’re an assigned uniform. This boy has on designer jeans. He seems out of place at a backwoods high school deep in rural Virginia. He should be strolling around a majestic estate in the English countryside or on a yacht in some ritzy ditzy marina on the coast.
“Hi,” I say, even warier now.
He grins, and his dark blue eyes catch the early morning sunlight. He’s much taller now that he’s standing right in front of me. I tilt my head to meet his amused expression. “Are you a student here?” he asks.
I shrug. “Technically, I guess.” Bring it on, Mr. Fashion Police Wanna-Be.
He chuckles, and brushes his ebony hair away from his face. “Well, then, maybe you can help me. I’m a little turned around. I’m supposed to go to the registration office to enroll for classes, but I’m not sure where it is.”
“You’re gonna start going to school here?” My pulse inexplicably speeds up at my question.
He nods. “Yup. Senior. Sucks having to start over now. Oh well.” He smiles, and I can’t help but think he could have been in a toothpaste commercial with those perfectly straight, white teeth. Definitely not from around here.
“Why would you come here?” Oh, yeah. That was smooth. I should’ve signed up to be the town greeter.
He laughs again. “Sorry?...this is Dove Creek High School, isn’t it? Home of the Fighting Spartans?” His eyes move to the large blue and white sign behind me, but never lose any of their affability.
“Well, yeah…I mean…did you just move to town or something? Like, on purpose?” Wow, am I really one of those girls who turns into a total idiot when talking to a cute guy?
“Yeah, a few weeks ago. I came to live with my uncle. He works out at the Flintridge mines. You seem so surprised. Don’t new people ever move here?”
I actually have to think about this for a moment. “Maybe, I guess. Most people just can’t wait to get out, is all. Small town. Smaller people. Not a lot going on, no reason to be here if you don’t have to be…”