Left Behind(11)

***

My face is buried in a book when Aunt Claire comes in carrying groceries a few hours later.

“How did you sleep?” she asks, as I follow her out to the car to help her get the rest of the bags.

I shrug. “Okay, I guess.” Why worry her that I tossed and turned half the night.

Aunt Claire smiles cautiously. “It will get easier. I promise. I always have trouble sleeping in a new place.” Together, we begin to unpack the groceries. “I was thinking…how about we go get a new outfit for your first day of school Monday?”

I look down. “What’s wrong with my clothes?” My voice comes out a bit defensively.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s just…my mother always bought us a new outfit for the first day of school. It was sort of a tradition.” She smiles. “I always looked forward to it.” Her smile falters a bit, her voice dipping lower and softer. “So did your mom. I thought maybe you would too.” I find myself wondering what it would be like to go shopping with my sister. I really want to ask more questions, but it’s too soon to risk poking around and making Aunt Claire suspicious of my intentions.

I agree to go shopping, although I’m not really sure I’ll be sticking around long enough to create any traditions here.

By the end of the day, the new school outfit had exploded into three outfits, new exercise clothes, earbuds, a backpack and school supplies. At times, I actually had fun shopping with Aunt Claire.

***

Saturday morning, sporting new shorts, a tank top, and purple earbuds in my ears, I stand outside the front door and stretch my calves. I haven’t exercised in almost a month, and the burn as I pull my foot back behind me to stretch my hamstring is a pain I welcome.

“Are you sure you remember the directions I gave you?” Aunt Claire comes outside and asks for the third time. She’s worried I’ll get lost on my run.

Smiling at her nervousness, I pull one ear bud from my ear. “Straight four blocks to Main, left two blocks to Arnold Ave, right on Front Street…that takes me to the high school track.”

She looks relieved, a little bit at least. “You have your phone?”

I nod.

“Watch out for cars. Run with only one ear bud in so you can hear things around you.”

“Always do. I’ll be fine.” I start off on my run, yelling back over my shoulder with a smile, “Give me an hour before you send out the helicopter search party, okay?”

***

I’ve never been a sports kid. Running is the only physical activity that I’ve ever participated in. Ashley liked to tease me that I was into running because it’s one of the few sports where you don’t have to be on a team. She wasn’t entirely wrong. Running makes me feel in control, yet free at the same time. It clears my head, makes everything seem less complicated. Simpler.

Entering the track, I’m surprised to find it almost empty. Saturday morning is usually prime time for the jocks to get in their run. Then again, the grey clouds that were starting to roll in when I left the house twenty minutes ago are only starting to clear.

I take the first lap at a steady pace, preferring to alternate between sprinting and jogging, rather than the monotony of staying even paced for five full miles. A boy about my age is a half lap ahead of me the entire time I make my way around the cushioned track. Arriving at the point I started at again, I change gears, shifting from jogging to sprinting, quickly catching up— and passing— him.

Lap two quickly behind me, I slow my pace back to a jog as I take on lap three. The boy catches up to and passes me. I smile as he sprints by and wonder if we’re doing the same patterned running, only on opposite schedules.

We continue on, taking turns passing each other for the next few laps, neither of us saying a word, but we catch each other stealing glances as we pass. He’s cute. Really cute. Tall, muscular but lean, sandy blonde hair, a strong jaw— almost a touch too beautiful for my taste, but Ashley would definitely call him hot. I can’t imagine many girls wouldn’t.

My last lap is a sprinting lap. Only this time, as soon as I pass Hot Boy, he speeds up…and passes me, even though he’s not at the point where he is due to switch gears. Keeping a few long strides ahead of me, he maintains his lead for several seconds, until I push myself harder, taking the lead back from him, although not easily. But my position at the front doesn’t last long. Hot Boy speeds up and regains the lead. My last lap becomes two laps. Together we run neck and neck, each taking turns edging out the other slightly. Without a doubt it has to be the fastest lap time I’ve ever run.

Crossing over the finish line, Hot Boy a horse hair before me, we both collapse, struggling to catch our breath. A few minutes later, my breathing finally leveling out, a large hand extends down to help me up. I take it, finally getting a good look at my opponent as he pulls me to my feet. Sparkling blue eyes, a perfectly straight nose and full lips that twitch up on one side steal my barely recovered breath away.

A lopsided, boyish grin forms across his lips and his eyes sweep across my heaving chest. I smile back and, as fast as it came, his smile vanishes. Without a word, he raises a hand, signaling goodbye, turns and takes off, running away from the track.

The entire jog back, I wonder what made his smile disappear so fast.





Chapter 14



Nikki—


Monday


English has always been my favorite subject. After six periods of fidgeting in my chair and being introduced as the new girl, I’m relieved when Mr. Davis just tells me to take a seat and listen. Since it’s Honor’s English, the class has been grouped together for the last two years while they were sophomores and juniors. It means everyone knows each other very well and I’m truly the new girl. Great.

Mr. Davis reviews the syllabus and holds up our first novel— The Fault in Our Stars. I’m excited since it’s a novel I’ve wanted to read. But my excitement is short lived when he tells us the book comes with a group project. The groups are going to be the same as last year, with one exception. Me.

As the bell rings, Mr. Davis yells for me and a student named Allison to stay after class.

“Allison, I thought it might be a good idea for Nikki to join your team for this project. After all, you’re down a team member right now since…” he trails off, his voice softer when he continues, “well, you’re down a team member right now, Allison.”

Allison looks from me to Mr. Davis, and quickly says, “I’m sure he’ll be here tomorrow. I thought he’d be here today.” She pauses, her voice breaking as she continues, “and I think it might be easier if everything was exactly the same when he comes back. Please,” she begs.

Mr. Davis’ tone changes from uncomfortable to somber when he replies. “Things aren’t going to be the same, Allison.”

The two of them stare for a moment. “Fine.” Allison finally relents.

I interrupt, “I’ll be fine on any team, Mr. Davis. I’ve read all John Green’s other books, so I bet another group would be happy to have me.” I definitely don’t want to be part of a group where I’m not wanted before we even start.

Mr. Davis and Allison both stare at me with puzzled looks.

“You’ve read all John Green’s other books?” Mr. Davis asks with a furrowed brow.

“Do you think people don’t read books in Texas?” Insulted, I reply indignantly.

A smile dawns upon Allison’s face as I feel my own redden with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, Nikki. This wasn’t about you, or Texas, or even the project. You can be on our team. I welcome the chance to work with someone else who’s read all John Green’s novels. It’s just that Za..,” she stops mid-word, shaking her head as if to force her fleeing thought away. “You should be on our team, Nikki. Welcome.”

Mr. Davis, satisfied, tells us to run off to lunch before we have no time left to eat.

As we exit Mr. Davis’ classroom, Allison says, “Sit at my table for lunch, and we can talk about the project. I’m Allie Parker, by the way.”

***

The cafeteria is five times the size of the one at my last school, and a hell of a lot nicer too. Looking around, I start to dread the thought of Allison Parker dragging me to a table of people I don’t know. I can already imagine the snotty, too-pretty-for-their-own-good girls eating tofu and celery sticks so they can fit into their tight, super-short shorts. I spent the first half of this morning in a glass fishbowl office near the front entrance of the school with Aunt Claire and my new guidance counselor. While they talked, and went over my multiple school transcripts, I watched dozens of blonde, heavily made-up, over-dressed girls enter the building. It looked as if a crazy scientist obsessed with Taylor Swift had perfected human cloning and delivered them all to Long Beach High School.

“I usually sit over here.” Allie motions to a table that only has a few nerdy looking boys.

I contain my surprise, and give Allie a thorough once over. Her broad smile and pretty face had tricked me into thinking she was a Taylorette. But as I take a closer look, I can see she’s a far cry from a clone. Her sweet smile sits on a makeup-free face. True, she has that flawless California tan and great skin, but she’s naturally pretty, not primped and polished like the girls I saw this morning. Her clothes are also distinct from those of the clones. Wearing a pair of gray leggings and a long, loose white shirt, she stands apart without clothing clinging to every inch of her body.