She raises her hands to her head as the shock takes hold.
“What have I done?”
When she left the auditorium without permission, her life’s course had taken an unforeseen detour. This morning, she’d still been certain of her future, but now ... Now, she has to wait months before she can retake the SATs. Months wasted and for what? Because of a stupid panic attack?
“What am I going to do?” she whispers, her voice thick.
She can’t answer the question.
I can’t stay here. She covers her mouth to stifle a sob and squeezes her eyes shut. There’s no getting away from reality, though. Not this time. This is a minor inconvenience. Rachel sucks air into her lungs and holds her breath a moment before exhaling slowly. I can overcome this. Another deep breath. She opens her eyes and squares her shoulders. If all is well and truly lost then you cry. Resolve forces her to pick up her feet, to move forward. She makes her way out of the auditorium’s lobby and into the courtyard, the afternoon sun glaring as the rays rebound from the grayish pavement.
Students sit outside, eating their lunches, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside her. There’s a giggle, some laughter, a lot of chitchatting. A regular day at Ridge Crest High.
Rachel holds her head high as she walks past the benches.
The news will reach them about her spectacular failure soon enough, so there’s no need for her to have a public breakdown, too.
Rachel enters the cafeteria. Voices rebound from the stark white walls and oversized windows. She hurries to the exit, sidestepping the red and black cafeteria tables, evading the students loitering in front of the open red doors leading into the main building. She hones in on the long, almost deserted hallway. Lockers line both walls, large banners with ‘Go Devils Go!’—painted in the school’s chokeberry-red and charcoal-black—hang across the hallway, and posters targeting teenage-related issues decorate the notice boards.
Rachel stops at a water fountain, both to catch her breath and to rinse her mouth. She takes her time, repeating a single thought all the while: Keep it together. Only when she’s pulled herself together again does she continue her trek down the hallway.
Leaning against the locker beside hers is the other new guy, Cameron Mayer. Her cousin, Dougal Mackay, and Cam Mayer were both enrolled at Ridge Crest at the start of the year, but because Dougal is the more popular new student, Cam became known as the “other new guy.”
Cameron is somewhat rugged, favoring a faded leather jacket, biker boots, and ripped jeans. He doesn’t quite fit into Ridge Crest High, at least not in the traditional sense. Sure, he’s figured out how to navigate his way around the various cliques, but he doesn’t seem to be especially friendly with anyone.
Cam isn’t a bad-looking guy, though. He’s a little rough around the edges, but that’s exactly what Rachel likes in her dating portfolio. Bad boys who are still nice to look at. Yup. That’s her favorite type. With his blond hair and olive complexion, those soulful blue eyes, not to mention the enigmatic air surrounding him, he definitely ticks all the boxes on her list.
One small setback and you’re ready to push the self-destruct button? Shame on you, Rachel Cleary.
She couldn’t, however, overlook the fact that Cameron was always there. He usually lingered in the background, just watching her. Granted, this could’ve been her imagination, some residual paranoia after the Night Weaver had stalked her. Either way, Rachel didn’t know what to make of him.
He turns his attention to her, eyes narrowing.
“We meet again,” he says.
Rachel reaches up to enter the combination code on her locker. “Indeed.” She pulls the red metal door open. In the small mirror fastened to the inside of the door, she sees her eyes are bloodshot, red-rimmed.
“You okay?” Cam asks.
“Everything’s just dandy,” Rachel says. She grabs her SAT revisions from the locker—every binder color-coded and every chapter highlighted for optimum results. She’d squandered her opportunity, though. Choked on the most important day of her life.
Keep it together.
A group of cheerleaders and girls on the homecoming committee make their way past, carrying a large banner between them. Rachel glances their way. On the orange banner, black, bold letters: HALLOWEEN DANCE float among glitter. Obligatory jack-o-lanterns, witches on broomsticks, and silhouetted black cats decorate the announcement. She turns away, focusing on the interior of the locker.
“You going?” Cam asks.
“I never go to dances,” Rachel mumbles.
“Why not?”
She huffs a laugh.
“I’ll see you around.” She shuts the locker door and gives him a half-smile as she takes a step away.
Cam responds with a grin that promises a whole lot of trouble, and pushes his hands into his jean’s pockets. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“I’ll try.” Rachel walks past, glancing back only to find him still watching her. Despite the SAT disaster, in spite of her own chastising, she appreciates the attention.
Rachel turns down another hallway, heading toward the original schoolhouse.
Ridge Crest High started off as a tiny schoolhouse with three classrooms and an outhouse. As Shadow Grove’s population grew, so did the school. First, more classes had been added onto the original building, then an office. Before long, and thanks to the generous donations of alumni, Ridge Crest High had expanded into a U-shaped double-story building which sports an auditorium, cafeteria, Olympic-sized indoor swimming pool, and enough classes to easily fit three-thousand students. Since there aren’t three-thousand high schoolers in town, a lot of space goes unused, falls into disrepair, and quickly becomes forgotten.
The pool, for example, hasn’t been filled once in Rachel’s high school career. There is no swim team, no coach, and certainly no funding for the upkeep.
She repositions her bag on her shoulder as she slips into the least popular girls’ bathroom—unpopular due to its proximity to the abandoned classrooms and because it hasn’t been renovated since the 1960s. There’s nothing wrong with it, of course. All the
