CHAPTER
4
Lucky
I woke up as my alarm went on. I'm
kinda excited actually, the same time nervous. I took a bath and had breakfast
earlier than them. I dried my hair then placed my wig on. It’s not that
difficult to pick from my mismatched outfits; I just picked out my white tank
top, navy blue cardigan, black denim shorts and my favorite stilettos. And of
course, I wouldn’t forget to wear my contacts and a touch of blush and lip
gloss.
Wow. I thought to myself. I
never thought that I could amaze myself. And for a second, I actually look...
different. “Hey, I’m Lauren McCartney... I’m sixteen and from Vancouver,” I
murmured to myself as I stare in the mirror. I kept my voice in a low silky
voice, to make sure that no one will hear me. I am quite sure that no one will
hear me, or even try to eavesdrop, but just to be safe.
I look at the green and black clock hanging on the west side of the room
and it’s already six forty-five am. I decided to sneak out already, since Zoey
is still preparing breakfast. I can tell by the sweet aroma of cappuccino and
honey gold syrup of the pancakes. And if I’m not corrected, if I move by the
staircase, I might actually smell the freshly prepared lemon juice that was
just harvested this morning. I remembered helping Troy before on taking a few
lemons for breakfast.
I wanted to sneak out the door, then suddenly realized the best part of
my room. There are two large windows that look out over the backyard. Their
house has a double-decker porch that runs around two sides of the house. Soon
before we moved to Chicago, we discovered that we could crawl out onto the roof
of the second story porch. From this lofty perch we could survey everything
that surrounds their house. But there’s not much that’s near to their house
anyway; it’s the last house in this street, and the farthest from the others.
I reached the school at exactly seven fifteen am. The school was seven
stories high and seemed to stretch for acres. A broad flight of stairs led up,
up, up to enormous double doors.
I stood absolutely still, frozen with sudden fear. What if I don’t fit
in? It’s every new girl’s question to herself. And now, it’s mine too. I headed
to the principal’s office to get my schedule. The secretary was friendly,
though she’s an extrovert. Not that I haven’t been friends with a natural
extrovert, but she kinda creeps me out. Her voice was in a high soprano tone,
which hurts in the ear, like a loud chiming bell with its misplace tone.
I sauntered out as fast as I can just to get away from her. I continued
to stroll, flickering to some bulletin boards and noticing some updates. There
are a lot of clubs that are accepting new members. But as much as I want to
join, I keep reminding myself that I’m only staying for three months.
I watched the other students stream through the double doors, talking,
laughing with their friends, asking about their Christmas vacation, while I was
left stranded alone. I wish I have some friends I can talk to right now, to not
look like I’m out of place, though right now, I am.
I looked at the sheaf of orientation papers I was holding. First thing
first, find my locker. It’s number132. I glance at the nearest locker. Number
128. I took a few more steps until I reached my locker. The wide hallway jammed
by people a few seconds ago was becoming clearer now, since most of the
students are heading to their own perspective classes.
I took two deep breaths, and behind me was a tinkling voice said, “Hey,
haven’t seen you around before.” I turned around to see a girl about my age
with strawberry blonde hair, freckles and chestnut eyes. “I’m Jacque Grimes.
Are you new here?”
“Yah... I’m a transferee from Vancouver,” I flashed a friendly smile.
“Interesting, so, what’s your first class?”
“English,”
“Well then, I’m totally excited to see you on the same class. C’mon,
we’ll be late, and trust me, Mr. Borchetta may look nice and sweet, but he
hates late,” she grinned then put her arm around mine.
She kept talking, throwing comments over her shoulder to me as people
jostled us from every side. “I have no idea on what’s going on with the school
since today. Like, last year, it’s been the school I know for like a few years
already, and when I got off from the school bus this morning, I was like, what
happened? The school totally transformed,”
I followed Jacque into the room as Mr. Borchetta entered after a few
seconds. I handed him the slip that the secretary required me to have all the
teachers to sign.
He gave the slip back to me, and I just grabbed a seat. I stowed my bag
under my chair and scanned the room. If you examined the room carefully, you
will notice the large guys slouching in the back, and look like they’re too old
to be in high school. A cluster of five girls seated in front, busy doing their
makeup. I gaze slightly to the other students�"some geeks reading their books, a
redhead girl flirting with the boy sitting right in front of her, a boy staring
right out the window, and a girl who kept brushing her exaggeratedly straight
auburn hair. My gaze landed on the boy sitting on the front row with his iPod
on; Troy.
The hour passed quickly, by the fourth period, which is chemistry, I
found myself sitting beside Troy. It was the last chair available, unless I
want to see myself in the middle of the jocks.
Normally, if I were really listening to Ms. White’s lecture, I would
probably be so distracted to the girls sitting, gossiping, across the room. Two
of them are part of my second period, which is Spanish. They’re hushing
distractingly which make other students look behind their shoulders. Ms. White
warned them two times and said that they’ll be sent to the principal’s office
if they won’t shut up. And it worked. Now the serenity bothered me. The only
sound I can hear is the clock ticking, and though Ms. White is professionally
discussing, I can barely hear her; not that her voice is low. It’s just that my
mind is flying somewhere else whenever everything around me turns quiet.
I looked to the board instead, before Ms. White sees me not listening.
As much as I want to learn something new, I can’t. Two reasons: first, she’s
boring and second, I didn’t know that Ivy�"my home school chemistry teacher
teaches a super advance lesson even though the last session I had with her was
four months ago.
I doodled at the back of my notebook, pretending to take down notes like
the nerds sitting in front. They’re the only ones who actually listen to the
lesson. I drew some spirals, stars and guitars, and almost write my name�"real name�"until
I heard someone sighed, though as if there’s a chuckle underneath it. I just
ignored it, though I stopped to look to Ms White.
“...tomorrow we’ll have a by-partner activity that will last for a week
or so. I already placed the names of all the girls in this room and the boys
will pick one,” she said, holding an oval-shaped bowl as she shook it lightly.
The bowl was filled with folded white papers.
The boys lined up in front and picked one by one. I listened closely to
find out who picked my name.
Jack, the quarterback player, got Suzanne, one of the nerds in front;
Kris, looks like a simpatico, got Miranda, the head cheerleader. The list went
on and on until the last three guys were left.
I dropped my pen when Troy read my name.
How can my life get any more tragic? C’mon, I’m already living with this
guy, and now I gotta be with him in school?
Troy didn’t bother looking around the room on who’s his partner.
He can probably tell the ‘new girl’
in his English period who Mr. Borchetta enthusiastically introduced.
I rushed out of the room as soon as the bell rang. I can’t believe how
people like I can be so unlucky in my first day of school.
I stood on the line in the cafeteria, hoping lunch would be better. The
cafeteria doesn’t seem like the one I used to have back in Chicago. It seems a
bit warmer in here. The walls were painted with caramel, and it’s covered with
cylinder lights at almost everywhere, and almost all of the tables were
circular.
As I was almost in front of the line, four girls came to my way. They
seemed familiar somehow. It took me a second to realize that they’re the girls
who were given a couple of warnings in chemistry class. They stood in front of
me, as if waiting for the director to say action.
“Lauren, right?” the redhead girl asked. I can tell that she’s the head
of their clique. She put her right hand on her hips, as if informing her
superiority to me. I can sense that she’s one of the mean girls kind of type, and by just looking at her, I know that I
wouldn’t like her.
Or maybe not. She must be a fan of me, base on her outfit. She’s wearing
a magenta long-sleeved tiered dress that is part of my newly released designed
clothes that went out earlier this week.
“Yes?” I kept my voice demure as possible. I’m not Taylor McKenzie right now.
“Can we talk? Just for a minute,” she said as if she’s a professor
having a brief conversation with a failing student.
“Um, just say it right now,” c’mon,
I’m almost in front! Don’t make me go back! I wanted to add.
“You see, we always welcome newbies,” she started, her voice low but
clear enough. “There’s just one rule I have for people like you. Stay away from
Troy. He’s mine. Got it?”
You can have him. I have no plans
of taking that overrated liar from you. “Fine, he’s all yours, who cares
anyway?” the words rushed out from my mouth. At least I didn’t say what I
really wanted to.
“Good to know.” She said, obviously startled on what I just said. She
walked back to their table; the three other girls who didn’t speak a word
followed her. There were about ten of them in the huge table�"probably the
largest one�"with all gaze flat on me.
I sat on the empty table on the seventh row. Their specialties were New York
jerky and a black forest cake. I looked around, still searching for Jacque, and
failed to find her nowhere.
“Hey, you’re Lauren, right?” I looked up to see a brunette girl with a
bob haircut, smiling. I remembered her from my history class; she’s the one
sitting right in front of me. She smiled, showing her charming dimples.
“Hey,” I flashed a smile.
“I’m Mandy. Mandy Lambert... um, is this seat taken?”
“Um no, have a seat...”
“Thanks,” she slid on the chair. “So, what did B***h, I mean Mitch, said
to you?”
“Um, stay away from her guy.” I sipped on my soda.
“Hmmm. Her guy who doesn’t even know he’s hers.” She giggled.
“Interesting,” I said as I had a glimpse of Jacque.
She saw me too, now making her way to our table. “Hey, I’m sorry I’m
late. Mr. Cook dismissed us late,” she muttered taking a sit across me. She
notice Mandy and smiled. “Hey Mandy, haven’t seen you around for a while,”
“That’s probably because you’re always late for school,” Mandy complained,
digging her bag.
“I’m not late today. Right Lauren?”
“Um, I think so,” I sighed. “So you guys know each other for...”
“Since kindergarten. My very first best friend who is now bullying me,”
Jacque protested.
“Oh please...” Mandy laughed, and I joined in.
“Anyways,” she turned to me, “So, how’s the first day?”
“Um, fine. I’m still adjusting,”
“Good. You’ll really like it here, I already love the new look of the
school that I mentioned to you early this morning.”
“No wonder Lauren was just fine on her first day, she got the best tour
from the best babbling mouth,” Mandy sipped on her drink.
When the final bell rang, I waved goodbye to Mandy and Jacque as I took
the bus. Mandy and I share the last period, which is gym, while Jacque and I
shared Spanish. This stay might actually be worthwhile for some reasons.
I got off to the last stop, which was less than a mile from Zoey’s
house. I walked a few more steps, then looked from behind, if someone’s
looking, or a paparazzi behind the bush. Okay, there’s no bush to hide in the
first place, which makes my life kinda easier. The trees maybe huge but it’s
easy to sense if someone’s behind it or not. Thankfully, no one’s around except
for me. I took my wig and cardigan�"just in case Troy was paying attention to Lauren’s outfit�"off as I stepped on the
porch.
“Hey Taylor, where have you been?” Zoey asked, taking her apron off. She
must have stayed in the kitchen for a while now; I can tell by some flour on
her hair.
“Um, visited Stacey, she had a sprain...” I said as convincingly as
possible. I need to have a list of reasons and excuses on why I’ll be gone
every day.
I finished my homework in no time. It’s pretty easy to finish trig with
a little help of the calculator. I climbed down the stairs to see Troy reading
a lot of mails�"two bags to be exact�"with Sarah helping.
“Hey read this one,” Sarah handed a green piece of paper to Troy.
Without any hesitation, Troy took it and laughed loudly. I wonder what’s
so funny. But then again, I change my mind. I have no plans of knowing.
“Hey Tay, didn’t see you there,” Sarah smiled her endearing smile.
“Hey. I’m just gonna get a bottle of water,” I motioned to the kitchen.
“Out of stock. Apparently, somebody drank all of it,” she glared to his
brother.
“Oh,”
“You want to help us read all this mails?” her ambrosial eyes rested on
mine as she grinned.
No, I don’t want to read Troy’s
mails. Mine probably would still be there, unopened. Or he probably threw it
already. Right, that’s it. “Um, sure. But help me on mine too, okay?” okay,
so maybe I can’t say no to a little girl like her. I was once been excited to
letters and stuff like that before; even if it weren’t for me. Which leads us
back to the boy who promised to write back, who made me wait for a very long
time.
“Your letters were delivered here too? Awesome!”
“According to Zoey, my mails arrived this afternoon. My mom probably
sent it.”
It took us to finish my set of mails. Okay, so maybe we hadn’t finished
my set of mails; but c’mon, it’s already twelve when we finish two out of four
bags that I had. Both of them helped, but Troy and I didn’t speak a word at
each other. He just opens it, handed it to Sarah, then hands to me.
I was actually overwhelmed by the letters. I haven’t seen them for like
a month already, which made them pile like this. By the time we were finish by
the two bags, Troy got a lot�"and I mean a lot�"of paper cuts. And not to be
boastful, but Both Sarah and I didn’t. That’s what happens when someone doesn’t
write back from a hundred letters you’d sent him. And I ended up buying a lot
of stack of papers, hoping for him to reply. I know. I wasn’t really such an
earth-friendly kind of girl back in the days.
But I was never bitter to him or anything. Yah, I consider myself not
bitter like what’s going on to my mind right now. That’s not bitterness. But I
just really wonder what happened to the letters I sent him, if he even bothered
to read it all.
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