“Hey girls. We made it.” Katy flipped her voluminous hair once again. “Now everyone act cool.”
Whatever. Katy Mulligan, the self-appointed ringleader of our threesome, thought herself more important than she actually was. Michelle and I had followed her around since seventh grade, supporting her queen bee identity, but it got tiresome. Not that I didn’t like her—I did—but I lacked the backbone to combat her bossy behavior.
The bell rang, and we split up to find our classes. Math came first. I found the classroom without much trouble and slid into a seat in the middle row. I didn’t recognize one face. The tardy bell chimed and the teacher didn’t move us into assigned seats. Maybe they were actually going to treat us like adults in high school.
A cute guy sat near the front with feathered hair a few shades darker than mine. He turned around, laughing at something his friend said, and his sapphire eyes caught mine. With lightening speed, I diverted my attention to my backpack and pulled out a notebook and a pen.
The morning passed in a blur. I sat next to Michelle in history, followed by twenty minutes of free time deemed a nutrition break before Katy and I headed to gym for third period. Fourth, I was on my own, and then came lunch.
Michelle and I shared the same lunch break. We bought meals in the space-aged cafeteria and sat on the steps by the lawn (another bonus—we could eat anywhere we wanted on campus).
“How you making out?” I took a bite of my hot dog.
“Pretty good, except I’ve already received fifty pounds of books and the day’s only half over.” She caught her turkey sandwich as her tray wobbled off her lap and clattered to the pavement. “Crap!”
I reached over and fetched her milk carton, handing it over. “At least we’ve got history together. Did you see that guy who sits near the door?”
“Me and every other girl in class. Total fox!”
“There are tons of cute guys here.” I admired several in the vicinity, as students milled about the courtyard, cement steps where we sat and expansive lawn behind us. “You should see the one in my first period. He’s the best so far. His eyes are amazing. And only half the day’s over. There are bound to be more.”
“Hello slopmores!” a voice rang out behind us.
I swiveled. Two girls loomed over us.
“You’re sitting on the senior steps. Move!” said the sandy haired one, hands on her hips.
“What does it matter?” I said. “We can’t sit here?”
“Only if you want us to stuff you in a garbage can.”
“You have got to be joking.”
“Nope. It’s what we do to lowly slopmores who don’t know their place.” Both of them laughed.
Michelle and I begrudgingly stood. How ridiculous. We grabbed our belongings and walked across the breezeway to sit on the concrete wall.
“Bye-bye,” they called out, waving us away.
“That was hella uncool,” I muttered.
“Bitches,” Michelle said.
Anthony wandered past, snickering with his pals, Brent and Todd. They all wore the same uniform: jeans and rugby shirts. “You’re making friends already, I see.”
“And I see you guys phoned each other this morning to decide what to wear,” I answered.
Todd stared. He gave me the creeps.
I glowered. “What are you looking at?”
“Something mighty fine.”
Anthony elbowed him in the ribs and I shook my head. Geeks.
The lunch bell sounded, and the rest of the day passed uneventfully. Some of my classes were going to be tough judging by the thick textbooks and instructions doled out. At least I’d found my locker in the 40 Building and classes without hassle.
§§
My father kissed my mother on the cheek, loosened the knot in his tie, tossed his suit jacket onto a chair and made his daily cocktail. He packed a highball glass with ice, poured a liberal shot of gin, added fizzing tonic water and chucked in a slice of lime. He stirred the whole shebang with his index finger, licking it afterward. My mother bustled around the kitchen finishing up supper, her maroon dress protected by an apron advertising Kiss the Cook.
My parents asked to hear about my first day, and I obliged them.
“I think I’ll like most of my classes. In PE, I can pick whatever sport I want from a bunch of options. It’s unheard-of, getting choices.” And the guys! So many choices!
My father squinted. “Gym, huh? How about your real subjects?”
“English is usually easy, and my math teacher seems cool. Art will be a piece of cake. The verdict is still out on the rest.”
Mom wiped her hands on a hand towel. “Did you find everything okay? Was Anthony helpful?”
I shot her a look. “Are you kidding? He shoved me out of the way and told me to pretend we weren’t related.”
My mother shook her head. “I wish you two would get along better.”
“Don’t hold your breath, Diane.” Ice clinked against the glass as my father drained his drink. “If they don’t like each other yet, it may never happen.”
“Alphonso Trapani,” she chided. “Don’t encourage it.” She trotted out our full names when frustrated or angry, not that it happened often. The lamb to my father’s lion, there was no mistaking who wore the pants in our family.
“He’s right, Mom. Ant’s a jerk and there’s no use denying it. The best kid in this house is sitting right here in front of you.”
She swiped her blonde hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand. “Did you make any new friends?”
“She got kicked off the senior steps,” Anthony said, laughing as he entered the kitchen. “God, I’m starved, Mom…when’s dinner?” He picked some melted cheese from the lasagna resting on the counter.
“Keep your mitts out of there, and don’t take the Lord’s name
