“Oh.” This morning a tunnel of girls was going on about him like a pop star had been snatched from a live stage somewhere only to land in the middle of our high school parking lot. I was too preoccupied with my family drama to pay much attention to what was going on around me. Like usual.
“Have you seen him yet?” She positively squealed.
I plugged a finger in my ear. “Nope. Can’t say that I have.”
“Oh. My. God! Katie, you cannot believe how gorgeous he is!”
She obviously needed some kind of response, but I was less than enthusiastic about some newcomer who would most likely weave himself seamlessly into the CHS social tapestry within a week and then be old hat. This event meant nothing to me and my life, unfortunately.
“Wow. Excitin’ stuff,” I managed, not even remotely sounding like a normal teenager.
“Yeah, I know! All the guys around here are, like, so beyond boring,” she complained with a distinctly Ashley-Leigh twang in there.
“Right.” I was sure everyone’s perspective on the “hot” new guy was most likely completely skewed because they were simply starved for new blood.
“So,” she leaned in conspiratorially, “can you find out?”
“Find out?”
“His schedule.” She said this like it was the most logical thing in the world. “Don’t you, like, have access to all the students’ records?”
“Um . . . we’re not really supposed to do that,” I hedged, sounding like my unlikely hero Saturday night, who ended up giving me a ride home from the pharmacy after all.
“Oh come on, Katie! Please,” she wheedled. “Just this once?”
I switched tactics. “Well if you don’t even know his name, I’d have to sift through all the students alphabetically, and it could take a while. Mrs. Greer will kill me if I don’t get these books done.”
She seemed to notice the stack of books for the first time and gave me a cartoon-worthy frown. “Okay. I just thought it would be fun if I—I mean we, were the first ones to know his name and schedule and stuff.” An Ashley-Leigh disciple if I’d ever seen one. Maybe I could salvage what was left of my time if I could just get her moving. I picked up another book.
“I heard he’s from Roswell—from that military institute there. What’s it called? Somethin’ with lots of Ns and Ms?”
“New Mexico Military Institute,” I provided.
She snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “That’s the one.”
I started tapping in numbers again, only half listening.
“And that he’s living with a relative here now,” Steph mused aloud, not budging from her perch. “Maybe he was kicked out of regular school, and his parents sent him to military school to straighten him out, but he was expelled there, too. So his parents sent him to live with his, ah . . . uncle because nobody can deal with him on account of him being such a badass!” she finished, eyes shining.
Ugh. She was piercing my fortress of solitude with all this talk about military schools and badasses. Brought back the queasy, sinking feeling in my stomach I’d had since Saturday night.
“Uh, Steph, don’t you have to get back to class?” I snatched the forgotten slip from her. “I’ll give this to Mrs. Greer. I didn’t see any boxes this morning, so I’ll have to wait for her to get back from the office before I can ask.”
“Don’tja just love a bad boy?” Like I hadn’t even spoken.
“Yeah, badass . . . ”—I rolled my eyes—“what every girl dreams of.”
“Katie!” She guffawed like a mother does the first time her toddler mimics a naughty word. I stood up to shoo her away and her mouth flew open. “Katie Connelly, are you, like, wearing actual jeans now?”
I looked down, as if having to check. “Yup.”
“Bad ass!” Steph nodded her approval. “You should get contacts next.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” I replied, straightening my replacement glasses.
She laughed. “I’ll catch you up on everything at lunch,” she said before sallying away.
“Okay,” I agreed, already preoccupied. Actually, I was planning a library lunch to email Reese and get more info on that school, since I didn’t have time now. A few minutes later, I was mowing down the second stack of books still ruminating about how to thwart Daddy.
So far, my biggest act of rebellion consisted of wearing jeans to school. But I’d need to arm myself with something more than a new pair of pants. It was information I needed; knowledge was power. Daddy had cut me off from any information about the school, the mentor, what kind of testing Andrew was going to be subjected to. Everything. Despite profusely apologizing and promising not to interfere (with fingers crossed behind my back) I was still getting bupkis from Daddy.
All I knew was that I was picking Andrew up from school today, where he was meeting his “mentor” for the first time. Other than that, I was clueless. Arg! Frustrating. A sick feeling akin to swallowing too many bitter pills overcame me when I thought of a stranger probing around inside my brother’s brain to assess his talents and abilities. It seemed downright invasive, especially knowing how Mama took such pains to hide us from the world. Mikey had never even set foot in public, not even to go for an ice cream, before I enrolled him in preschool.
But I didn’t have time to stress for long, because the bell rang. I had Pre-Cal next. Ugh . . . Guess it’s better to get it over with early. I slipped into the sea of students swimming their way to second-hour, trying not to get eaten by sharks. Pre-Cal was in the same building as the library, so I had time to hit the restroom to wash my dusty hands before class. Pushing through the door, I was instantly accosted by piercing squeals from a huddle of girls in front of the mirrors. Ashley-Leigh stood, front and center, smoothing down her flat-ironed hair and prattling around a sparkling wand of lip gloss.
“Katie!” she gushed, clicking shut the tube before turning around to face me. “Tell me you were able to get his schedule!”
Of course she already knows all about it; it was probably her idea. I shrugged my shoulders. “No such luck.”
“Aw man!” She spun back around to her minions. “Okay, so what do we know so far . . . other than the fact that he’s drool-worthy gorgeous, just moved here, and is a senior?”
“Drea heard he was an army brat,” a minion supplied, hoping to be of service.
“Who moves to a new school their senior year?” a hidden voice wondered behind a stall.
“I heard he got kicked out of his former school for fighting.”
“No way!” Ashley-Leigh argued. “I saw him in the front office this morning—he’s definitely way more of a lover than a fighter type!”
This clever was followed by high-pitched laughter and high-fives. I just backed out the door and headed to class feeling world-weary. It would be nice to get caught up in the excitement of a new boy. I sighed . . . in another life.
I managed to be one of the first students in class and sat near the front. Two seconds after the bell, Ashley-Leigh and her groupies came prancing in after spit-shining themselves up for an appearance from Mr. Wonderful. I had to roll my eyes. They clumped together in the back all jostling for position. I remembered when I was right in the middle of all that; it seemed like a lifetime ago.