“So, are you in the fishbowl today!” It wasn’t a question. K.C. bounced up next to me as I put my books away. Her hand gripped the top of the locker door as she peeked around it.
“I’m afraid to ask.” I let out a small sigh without looking at her. It was the first day back, our first day of senior year. I’d had a full morning of Physics, Calculus, and P.E. I grabbed another notebook for French, which was my last class before lunch.
“So you haven’t noticed everyone noticing you today? In a school of about two thousand people, I think you might’ve caught on that almost all of them were talking about you,” she said with a giggle.
“Did I sit in chocolate pudding again? Or maybe a new rumor is circulating that I spent the past year hiding a pregnancy and gave the baby up for adoption.” I slammed my locker door shut then turned to head to French, knowing she’d follow me. I really didn’t want to hear what people were saying, partly because I didn’t care what bullshit they were circulating now and also because it was nothing new. France had been a peaceful respite, but Shelburne Falls was probably the same old, same old. Thanks to Jared, my high school experience had been one long succession of rumors, pranks, tears, and disappointments. I hoped for more this year, but I wasn’t holding my breath either.
“Not even close. And actually, the talk is good. Really good.”
“Oh, yeah?” I absent-mindedly responded, hoping she’d sense the disinterested tone and shut up.
“Apparently, your year in Europe has transformed you from ubergeek to ubercool!” K.C. broadcasted sarcastically, knowing that I had never been ubergeek. Not that I was ever considered ubercool either. My default identity had always been “of those on the outside”, but only because the long arm of Jared Trent had deemed me less than acceptable in most social circles.
I jetted up the stairs to the third floor for class, sidestepping other students as they rushed down to their next destination.
“Tate, did you hear me?” K.C. jogged behind me, trying to catch up. “I mean, look around you! Would you stop for two seconds?” she whisper-yelled, eyes pleading when I glanced back at her.
“What?” Her urgency to pass on the latest gossip was amusing, but all I wanted was to walk into school without wearing my invisible body armor. "What’s the big deal? So what? People think I look nice today. Today! What will they think tomorrow after Jared gets to them?” I hadn’t told her about Jared’s party and what I’d done. If she knew, she wouldn’t be so optimistic about my chances.
“You know, he wasn’t that bad after you left. Maybe we’re worrying about nothing. All I’m saying is that—” K.C. was cut off.
“Hey, Tate.” Ben Jamison came up behind K.C. and reached behind me. “Let me get the door for you.”
I stepped aside, giving him room to swing the door open. Having no choice but to end our conversation, I pursed my lips and waved at an open-mouthed K.C.
“It’s great having you back,” Ben whispered as we walked into class, me first and him close behind. I widened my eyes and had to stifle a nervous laugh. The reality of Ben Jamison engaging me in small talk was too surreal.
He starred on the football and basketball teams and was one of the best looking guys in school. We had been in French I and II together, but he’d never spoken to me.
“Thank you,” I muttered, keeping my eyes downcast. This was out of my comfort zone. I slipped stealthily into a front row seat. Weird!
It was great having me back? Like he ever cared before? This was probably one of Jared’s tricks. I made a mental note to apologize to K.C. for trying to warn me about the unusual attention. Cute guys talking to me equaled unusual.
Madame Lyon, our actual French French teacher, started launching into a full blown lecture right off the bat. Aware of Ben sitting right behind me, I tried to concentrate on the lesson, but even studying Madame’s cute, bobbed haircut couldn’t take my mind off the stares boring into the back of my head. Out of my peripheral vision, I noticed several students around the room glancing my way. I shifted in my seat. What was everyone’s problem?
Thinking back to what K.C. had said when I first got back, I didn’t really think I looked any different. After all, my year abroad hadn’t consisted of any great makeovers or shopping trips. My skin was a little darker, my clothes were new, but my style hadn’t changed.
I wore skinny jeans tucked into mid-calf high black boots with no heels, and a white, flimsy boat neck t-shirt long enough to cover my butt. I loved my style, and no matter what anyone thought, I stuck to it.