A couple girls walked into the aisle across from us—the same ones standing in the hallway with Kari at lunch. The blonde gave me a fleeting glance, but focused on Naomi. She was tall and big-boned with jowly cheeks and thin lips. She slid out of her tight jeans, showing off a satin thong. Her skinny friend wore one of those lace bras I saw in my mom’s Victoria Secret catalogs.
I wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Roger tried to make a move on me at lunch,” Naomi said, slamming her locker shut. “You’re definitely coming with me next time.”
I pulled the gray sweats underneath my skirt. The scratchy material made my legs itch. “Why do we have to hang out with him at all?”
“Because he’s got a car and he’ll smoke us out.” She wrinkled her nose at me as I slipped the T-shirt over my tank top. “Kessler usually makes us run a mile the first day.”
“That’s okay.” I stuffed my skirt inside the locker and reluctantly put my lunch box inside. I never had much luck convincing PE teachers that I could run and play sports while carrying it.
“Someone should put biohazard tape over her locker,” the blond girl across the aisle said loudly. She elbowed her friend and giggled at Naomi.
Naomi rolled her eyes at me. “Bitches.”
The big-boned girl straightened and walked toward Naomi. God, she was at least six feet tall. “Did you say something?”
Naomi’s shoulders tensed. “Nope.”
The girl leaned within inches of her face. “You sure?”
Naomi pressed her back into the lockers, her hands curling into fists. “I didn’t know, Casey. And I already apologized to her. What else do you want from me?”
Casey glanced down at Naomi’s shaking hands and smirked. She slammed her large fist into the lockers, missing Naomi’s head by a couple inches. The thud echoed around the room like a firecracker, making me cover my ears. “Call me bitch again and I’ll aim for your face next time.”
“You got one minute!” Mrs. Kessler called from the front. “Let’s go, ladies!”
Casey backed away and disappeared around the corner with her friend.
Naomi squeezed her eyes shut and let out a deep breath. “I totally forgot she’d be in regular PE this year.”
“She looks like a football player,” I said.
“No shit. She got kicked off the soccer team last year for sending a chick to the hospital.”
“Why is she so mad at you?” I asked as we headed out of the locker room.
“Shhh.” Naomi’s eyes darted around the seemingly empty rows around us. She moved closer to me and leaned into my ear. “Because Kari will never be done getting back at me. Casey is, like, her personal fucking bodyguard.”
“But that guy isn’t even her boyfriend anymore, right?”
“It’s not about that. I broke the girl code, you know?”
I nodded, but I didn’t really
I nearly bumped into Justin when I found my sixth-period film class. He opened the door for me, but he didn’t make eye contact.
I headed for the back row again—the seat closest to the window. Justin didn’t follow me this time. In fact, he sat on the other side of the room near the front. I should’ve felt relief, but my chest felt heavy, and I slumped in my seat.
Our bald teacher fiddled around with a seventeen-inch laptop at his desk. Every now and then, he’d look up and smile at the students wandering in. The bell rang, and I glanced around at the half-empty class. The two boys Naomi called Dumb and Dumber were sitting in the back row whispering to each other. Casey passed a cell phone to some guy with spiky hair behind her, and the pierced girl who’d complimented me on my skirt wrote in a journal. Justin drummed his fingers against the desk, gazing at the ceiling.
“Okay, guys.” The teacher stood. He had buggy eyes and a lanky body, kind of like Gumby. “I’m Mr. Diaz, and obviously I’m new to Samish High.…”
He launched into a speech about teaching film at UCLA, and I stared out the window, tuning him out. Puffy clouds hovered over the dark blue bay, making my stomach growl. When I was little, I thought they were cotton candy.
“Why’d you come up
“I like Bellingham.” Mr. Diaz grinned at him. “Anyway, if you’re hoping this will be a breeze, you might want to find another elective. I’m not going to expect any less from you guys than I did from my college students.” He leaned against his desk and scanned the room. “How many of you like to watch movies?” When we all raised our hands, he continued. “Okay, how many of you like to see blockbusters at the big theaters?”
Justin, the pierced girl, and I were the only people who didn’t raise our hands. I didn’t like the crowds, the smell of the popcorn, or the stiff seats. Plus, the movies were always predictable.
Mr. Diaz nodded at Justin. “Why don’t you like them, Mr. Nike?”
A small laugh escaped my mouth, and Justin glanced over at me before answering. “They lack originality ninety-nine percent of the time.”
The teacher pursed his lips. “But hasn’t every story been done before?”
