I saw a few kids along the way and snuck little peeks at them out the window. I really hoped they were in high school, because they all seemed cool and old. One girl in particular caught my eye. She had long, glistening raven hair and this perfect tanned skin, and she was wearing black yoga pants and a tight, blue T-shirt. She had to be at least in tenth grade.
I was not looking forward to meeting that girl in high school.
We pulled into our new school a few minutes later: Riverfield Public School. It was an old, one-storey structure of sun-blasted red bricks and black metal doors. Colourful cut-outs and pictures dotted the windows in the kindergarten section.
It looked like a happy place.
“Better than the old school?” Tom asked.
I paused. “Possibly.”
My mom piled out of the van and pulled open Tom’s door. She never helped him get out though. He liked to do it himself. He usually used his walking stick whenever we went somewhere new, but he didn’t want to bring it today. He told me he liked people to try and guess if he was blind first. He has a strange sense of humour.
“School doesn’t start for five or ten minutes,” my mom said. “I’m going to take Tom to meet his Educational Assistant. You can just go around back to the yard. Have fun, honey.”
“Yeah,” I said skeptically. I hugged my brother. “See you later, Bat Boy.”
“Go get ’em, Giant Girl,” Tom said, squeezing my arm.
With that they were gone, and I was on my own in a strange new school in a strange new town with a purple shirt that was desperately trying to escape my body.
This should be good.
I wandered around to the yard and saw that a fair number of kids had already gathered outside, waiting for the bell. The older ones were standing in scattered groups. Some of them looked at me with raised eyebrows, but no one laughed or said anything derogatory. That was a good start. I tried to look as natural as possible as I shuffled along the brick wall, heading for the door. When I was eight years old, I made five rules for bullied people and stuck them on my bedroom wall to remind me. They were:
1. NEVER bring attention to yourself.
2. Boys are mean…girls are evil. Avoid them.
3. Smaller lunches are better. Fewer fat jokes.
4. Don’t react to insults. It only makes it worse.
5. Remember that no one bullies you at home.
Not the most inspirational, I guess. But they made sense at the time, and I’d sort of followed them ever since. I figured it was probably best to use the same rules here.
I was just settling into what I figured was an inconspicuous location when I noticed two other girls standing by themselves near a portable. They looked a little nervous. There was something about the way they were standing right against the steps and cautiously glancing around that told me they weren’t overly popular. One had long auburn hair that was tied back in a nicely braided ponytail, light freckles, and she was wearing a jacket over a white shirt and snug jeans. The other was a skinny, short girl with caramel skin and shoulder-length black hair. She was dressed a bit more plainly with a black sweater and loose-fitting khakis.
I briefly made eye contact with the auburn-haired girl and then stood awkwardly against the wall for a moment, wondering if it was time to abandon my rules. I wasn’t very popular at my old school. And by that I mean I didn’t have any friends. Like none. I was sort of reclusive, since I always assumed everyone was making fun of me, and because my rules forbid me from going near boys or girls, my options were pretty limited. But it was a new school and a new town. Why not try something new?
It took another few minutes to muster up the courage. My stomach was doing backflips as I snuck glances at the two girls and debated if I could actually do it.
But I knew if I didn’t talk to them on the first day, I wouldn’t do it, period.
And so I walked right over to them. They looked confused as I approached.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m new here. Just thought I’d say hello. Laura, by the way.”
The two girls looked at each other.
“Uh, Shal,” the girl with the auburn hair said. She had big hazel eyes and a nice smile. “Well, Michelle, but people call me Shal. And this is Mia.” The short girl waved shyly.
“Hi,” I said, nodding at her. “Do you mind if I hang out until the bell?”
I fully expected them to tell me to go away. I was already preparing myself for it and trying to justify that I was at least proud I had tried something new.
Shal shrugged. “Sure.”
“Really?” I asked. “I mean, thanks. I like your hair, by the way.”
She immediately touched her hair. I recognized the instinct. It was from someone who was worried about how they looked. “Really? I’ve never worn it like this before.”
“You should,” I said. “It looks really good.”
“Thanks,” Shal replied, blushing. “I like you already.”
This was easy. I already liked Riverfield way more than Newcastle.
“No problem. So whereabouts do you guys live—” I stopped.
They were both staring behind me, their eyes wide. I slowly turned around.
There, walking around the school in her yoga pants and blue shirt, was the girl from the street, flanked by three well-manicured minions. Her dark eyes immediately flicked toward me, and a smile split her lips. I knew that smile. It was the same one that Portia had worn every day she saw me. It was the smile of evil.
I slumped. “Perfect.”
Chapter Five
