I got to my locker and opened it, shoving my bag in and taking out a few clean notebooks, along with my pencil pouch. You weren’t allowed to carry your bags to class. Just one of the many rules in this place. It was something I could understand, though; there were so many shootings in America, you never knew what someone could be hiding.
With my schedule resting on top of my notebooks and my map in my other hand, I started the first day of many I’d spend at Midpark High.
Things did not go how I expected them to.
Chapter Two – Archer
Here I thought today was going to be just another day. Another day when I smiled and pretended that everything was okay. Usually everything was okay, but sometimes it was hard to grin and bear it. I knew that’s what people had to do in life, but every day when I looked around, I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone else was saddled with the same burden I was.
It should’ve been just a normal day, but during homeroom I sat back and watched as a new face walked in and spoke to the teacher.
I leaned back in my seat; I was in the far back since my last name was Vega. Homeroom was basically just our first class extended, which gave time for the morning announcements and for the teacher to take attendance and send it to the office.
She wasn’t a student here, I decided, tapping my pencil on the side of my desk. Most everyone else was caught in conversations, busy talking about what they did over the weekend. Party, party, party. I admit, I went to some sometimes, but only because I was dragged to them. Only because I was paraded around like a trophy.
Right when I decided she wasn’t a student, the teacher strolled over to a cabinet on the far side of the room and got out a new textbook, handing it to the new girl.
So she was a student. A new student? We didn’t often get new students here, mostly because those who didn’t live in the area couldn’t afford to send their kids here, and those who did live around here tended to stick around.
Except for that girl a few years ago, the one everyone made a big fuss about. Celeste. She came and she left. She didn’t stay. She even had a police escort too, for a while. I did my best to steer clear of her, mostly because she had been a senior while I was a freshman. There were just some lines you didn’t cross.
The teacher quieted the room—it was usually chaos until the announcements came on the loudspeakers—and introduced us to her. Jazmine Smith. She was a transfer student who’d be joining us permanently. The teacher told her where to sit, the empty seat beside me, and she kept her head low as she walked through the aisles of seats, well-aware everyone’s eyes were on her.
I couldn’t help but watch her as she approached me, sitting up straighter as she slid into the seat beside mine.
She didn’t look like the typical Midpark student. Her jeans were holey, for one thing. Holes in any clothing here were shunned and looked down upon. She had a bit of eyeliner around her dark eyes, a smoky black look.
Jazmine Smith was pretty, I realized. Thin and slender beneath those torn jeans, with long, thick black hair tumbling halfway down her back. She looked almost too old to be here, like she had an old soul tucked in that heart of hers. A beauty that was timeless and unavoidably alluring.
Wow. Listen to me go on and on about her. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was almost smitten—a bad, bad thing.
I watched her with my peripherals, trying not to outright stare at her. No joke, but I was sure this girl was the prettiest girl I’d ever laid eyes on. She’d attract a lot of attention here, some good, some bad.
“New girl, huh?”
She stopped fiddling with her pencil pouch and stared straight at me. She sat less than two feet away from me, and she stared at me like I’d grown a third eye.
Right. Because I talked. Because that was me, trying to be smooth and suave. Most people probably believed it, even though inside I was pained to act so happy and jovial.
“That’s probably why the teacher introduced me, and included the words transfer student,” she spoke, staring at me with eyes that could pin you in place, her voice deadpan. “But then again, what do I know?”
I grinned, dimples on my cheeks. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.” Anyone who resorted to dry sarcasm was a winner in my book, although she’d probably make more than a few enemies around here if that was how she always responded to everything.
She let out an unimpressed sound. “I’m glad you think so, but I’m not so sure.”
“I’m Archer,” I told her. I’d seen this girl getting out of Oliver Fitzpatrick’s car in the parking lot, and I couldn’t help but wonder what that meant. Was she a relative? Her last name was Smith, but that didn’t mean much when it came to marriage. She did have dark hair like the Fitzpatricks did.
“Not interested” was her curt reply.
I chuckled. “I wasn’t asking you out.”
She side-eyed me for a while, shortly letting out a sigh. “Sorry. It’s just…being new here. Not fun, you know?” I didn’t know, because I’d been with this crowd my whole life—as sucky as it was.
“I can imagine it’s scary, but I think you’re doing fine.”
She chuckled. “It’s not even first period yet. At least give me until lunch to fuck something up.”
Ah, so this girl wasn’t afraid to swear. Couldn’t say why, but I kind of liked that.
The girl puckered her lips as she looked at me, as if, for the first time, noticing my looks. Most girls did eventually, and then they started acting different around me. They started giggling and batting their eyelashes, flirting and all that. Only time would tell if she’d be the same.
“Jaz,” she said. “I don’t like Jazmine.”
Not what I thought she was going to say, but I found myself grinning all the same. “Jaz it is,” I mock whispered. “I’ll be sure to let the whole school know on your behalf—” I paused as I watched her open her mouth, ready to come at me with something, but right then the announcements blared to life over our heads, and the whole room got quiet.
Her dark gaze lingered on me for a minute or two after, and I couldn’t help but let my mind wander. I mean, she was gorgeous. Any guy with eyes could see it. Spunky, too, if our short conversation revealed anything about herself. I knew I immediately liked her more than I should, which was none. Nothing. I shouldn’t like her at all. Liking her would only cause both of us problems later on.
Problems, unfortunately, were something of an Archer Vega specialty.
Chapter Three – Jaz
They actually put me in choir. Choir. It was the period right before lunch, which seemed decent enough because for half of the class we were on our own and able to work on some homework—of which I already had a ton. So much catching up to do. Coming midway through the year, everyone was in the middle of different sections and lessons that my old school wasn’t.
Apparently curriculums were different across state lines, let alone city lines.
But, back to the choir part. I didn’t know if they just needed to fill up my schedule or what, but me and singing did not go hand in hand. I sounded like a dying cat crying out for its last breath, worse than nails on a chalkboard. I couldn’t hold a note to save my life, and reading sheet music? Forget about it.