Life On Hold Page 3

  The girl at the table was reading a paperback book. She ignored my entrance, which gave me a chance to look at her. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a French braid, and she was wearing what my grandmother would describe as a blouse, with a beige cable-knit sweater vest over it, and a pair of black pants with a crease down the front of each leg. The perfect look for a job interview. Not so good for high school.

  I put my backpack on the floor, pulled up a chair, and sat down, tucking my legs underneath. There was a moment of awkward silence—awkward for me, but not for her, since she didn’t even seem to notice my existence. I debated joking about me being invisible or trying something lame like, “That must be a really good book,” but I finally settled on a traditional greeting. “Hi,” I said. “I’m Rae.”

  She lifted her head from the pages. Her eyes were an odd shade of green; I immediately thought colored contact lenses. Her hair was an inky black, but not dyed like the goth girls. Based on her eyebrows I thought it was pretty close to her natural coloring. She sighed and then turned toward me. “Are we starting already? Because I thought I had until Smedley got here.”

  “What’s this all about?” I shifted in my seat. No one had comfort in mind when these chairs were designed. They were clearly meant for people who’d violated the rules and had come to this office to find out their punishment. “Why are we here?”

  “I’m new, you’re not. You’re going to show me around the school and tell me what’s what.” She sounded bored.

  “But who are you?” It was hard not to sound irritated. Showing someone around was supposed to be a voluntary activity. Let the girls from the Key Club do it—they lived for this crap. Not to mention the fact that I was new this year myself. I barely knew my own way around. If it weren’t for the fact that I’d talked to Kylie in current events back on my first day, I’d still be eating lunch alone. Good old always-friendly Kylie, the complete opposite of this girl, who now stared at me blankly. I tried again and said, “I don’t think I caught your name.” Mentally I came up with a few of my own: French Braid Girl, Fake Eye Color Girl, or maybe Stuck-Up Bitch Girl.

  As it turned out, none of my guesses were right. “My name is Allison,” she said, closing her book just as Mr. Smedley walked into the room.

  “Good morning!” he said brightly, hanging his jacket on a hook on the back of the door. “Both of you girls were so early, you made me look bad.” He laughed like he’d made a joke. I gave him a pity smile, but Allison didn’t react at all.

  He turned to us and clasped his hands together. “I assume you’ve had a chance to talk?”

  “Not really,” I said. “I told her my name, she told me hers.”

  “I said I was new.” Allison flipped her braid around so it hung over one shoulder. Again she sounded bored, disinterested.

  “That’s a start,” the Smedster said, sitting down on the chair next to me. “What it comes down to is this: we have recently devised a program for integrating new students into our curriculum, Rae. It’s brand-new, sort of a pilot program if you will, and you’ve been chosen to play an important role in implementing it here at Whitman High School.”

  He smiled like this was good news, like I was getting some sort of award or recognition instead of getting dumped on. My heart took a dive. I didn’t want to play an important role, didn’t want to take part in their pilot program. All I wanted was to keep doing what I’d always done—go to school, blend in, go home, do my homework, talk to Gina, check off another day in my notebook, and go to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat, over and over again until I was eighteen and could put it all behind me and start living my own life.

  Mr. Smedley said, “So what do you think of that, Rae? You’ll get to be Allison’s introduction to Whitman High, and be in on the ground floor of a brand-new program. If it works out, all the other high schools in the area will follow suit.”

  “I don’t know if I’m the best person for this pilot program,” I said, mentally scrambling for a way to get out of this. “I’m new here myself, and don’t know that much about the school.” I leaned toward him and looked him right in the eye. It was a trick I’d learned from Gina. “It’s not that I don’t want to help out. It’s just that I don’t think having me as a guide would be giving Allison the best introduction to Whitman. I’m sure there are lots of students who could do a better job. I wouldn’t want to shortchange Allison.” I sat back, satisfied. I’d given a calm, convincing argument and phrased it in such a way that I sounded more concerned for the welfare of others than for myself. “One of the members of the Key Club, perhaps?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, Rae. I see your point, but I feel very confident in saying that you are just the person to be Allison’s guide. You were chosen for very specific reasons.” He began to tick off the reasons on his fingers. “You’re taking the same classes Allison needs to take this semester. Your teachers all rave about your work—they say you’re very mature for your age. As a new student yourself, you’ve assimilated beautifully. You’re respected by your peers. I could go on and on, but the long and short of it is that it’s already set up.” He leaned over and looked me straight in the eye. Damn! He knew Gina’s trick too. “I know I’m throwing this at you without much notice, but on behalf of the administration here, we do appreciate it.”

  I knew when I’d lost a battle. “What exactly do I have to do?” I looked at Allison. Her face didn’t give anything away. I was betting she wasn’t any more thrilled about this program than I was.

  Mr. Smedley’s face took on a triumphant look. “This is going to be so easy. Just do what you usually do, but include Allison. Follow your schedule, show her around the school, introduce her to your friends. Maybe find a place for her at your lunch table. This isn’t rocket science, Rae. It’s just one human being helping another human being. That’s the beauty of the program. Who knows, maybe we’ll wind up naming this program after you—The Rae Maddox Integration Program.” He laughed merrily.

  “That’s okay. No need for that.” There was no way I wanted my name connected to this. Generations of kids would hate me by association.

  Allison spoke up. “So I have the exact same schedule as Rae?” Maybe it was my imagination, but she looked relieved.

  “All except for third hour when you have different math classes.” He got up, pulled a sheet of paper off his desk, and handed it to Allison. “But don’t worry, you’re just across the hall from her, so you can still walk together.” As if he’d timed it, the first bell rang then. “There’s your cue, girls. I better let you go, so you won’t be late.”

  We all stood up at the same time, our chairs scraping against the linoleum. As we walked out of his office, he said, “Thanks, Rae. And Allison?” She stopped to look back. “Don’t forget my offer. If you need anything, my door is always open.”

  Chapter 6

  Relatively Rude

  That morning was excruciatingly long. Allison stayed by my side like a dog trained to heel. She moved right along next to me, so close our elbows were almost touching, but that wasn’t the annoying part. The annoying part was that she wouldn’t answer any of my questions. In fact, most of the time she seemed to be ignoring me. I tried to make small talk, honestly I did.

  Our conversations in the hallway went like this:

  Me: Just our luck we get picked for this pilot program, huh?

  Her: (complete silence, a slight nod)

  Me: So, did you move here, or are you just transferring schools?

  Her: I’m new.

  Me: I can’t believe Mr. Smedley said his door is always open to you. When I started at the beginning of the school year, I got my schedule like everyone else and they just set me loose. They’re really giving you the special treatment. What’s that all about?

  Her: Hmmm.

  I introduced her to our teachers, which seemed to startle them. They weren’t expecting a new student, much less one dressed like a librarian. Allison didn’t have a backpack or any school supplies, just a pu
rse, a large patent leather purse so shiny you could see your face in it.

  In each class we stood at the front of the room while the other students found their seats. Allison mutely pulled her schedule out of her purse to prove to the teacher she was supposed to be there, and let me do the talking. I felt like I was one of those assistants who follow the special ed kids from class to class. Being in charge of someone else was exhausting. Not to mention that it put me in the spotlight, something I’d tried to avoid my entire life. Frankly, Allison was a drag.

  And the worst part of it was that she seemed to resent me, or look down on me or something. Like she was embarrassed to be seen with me, which was odd because she was the one who didn’t fit in. Me, I blended, I really did. In fact, I blended so well I doubt if many sophomores besides Mason and Kylie even knew my name.

  Third hour Allison had geometry and I had algebra, so we had to part ways. Thank God. I wondered how many days before I could cut her loose, say I was going to my locker and I’d meet up with her later. It would be hard, given that our schedules had the same flight pattern, but maybe I could work something out. Best-case scenario: Allison makes friends with the student council clan, and I’m off the hook completely. I made a mental note to stop by Mr. Smedley’s office after school to find out how long I was obligated to do this. There had to be some limit.

  By lunchtime I felt like I did when I’d babysat one too many hours. Allison seemed oblivious to my feelings and kept pace with me down the hallway as I headed to the cafeteria. Her silence made me nervous, and I found myself chattering as we walked. I pointed out the bathrooms to avoid and the hallway that led to nowhere but a locked closet. I also explained the layout of the school, how the classrooms were numbered odd and even on alternating sides of the hallway. Through all of it she said nothing. She didn’t even acknowledge she heard me, which was kind of rude. At least, though, I could tell Mr. Smedley I’d done my part. No one could say I hadn’t shown her around.

  At the doorway of the cafeteria I said, “I’m not buying food. I always bring my lunch.” I held up my backpack to indicate I had it with me. “If you want to go ahead…” I gestured toward the line.

  “No thanks, I’ll go with you.” It was the longest string of words I’d heard from her since we’d left the principal’s office.

  “Okay, have it your way.”

  We crossed the room to my usual table, Allison matching me step for step, like an escort at a prison. Kylie looked up to scan the room for me and Mason, and I saw her look of confusion when she realized Allison was with me.

  I said, “Kylie, meet Allison. She’s new. Allison, this is Kylie.”

  Kylie’s face lit up. She loved meeting people. “Hey, Allison, great to meet you.”

  I sat down opposite Kylie. Allison parked herself next to me just as Mason plunked his bag down across from us. “Hey, a new recruit,” he said, smiling at Allison. “Glad to meet you. I’m Mason, by the way.” He leaned over the table and held out his hand. Mason could be kind of a geek sometimes.

  I watched Allison to see if she’d give him the rude act I’d been getting all morning, but something about Mason must have gotten to her. She shook his hand and even smiled a little when he pumped it up and down.

  “This is Allison. She’s new.” I couldn’t wait for tomorrow so she wouldn’t be new anymore. “Mr. Smedley asked me to show her around.”

  “Are you serious?” Mason said, letting go of her hand and sitting down next to Kylie.

  “Dead serious,” I said. “Allison and I are part of a pilot program for new student integration.” I raised my eyebrows to show what I thought of that.

  “Get out,” Kylie said, taking a sandwich and a packet of fruit snacks out of a brown paper bag.

  “Nope, it’s true,” I said. “Right, Allison?” I looked over for confirmation, but she had turned back into the girl with the stone face. “Mr. Smedley said I was chosen because I’m respected by my peers.”

  “Well, that’s certainly true. I respect the hell out of you,” Mason said.

  “Don’t you have a lunch, Allison?” Kylie asked. Always thinking of other people, that was Kylie.

  “I’m not hungry,” Allison said.

  “Neither am I,” Kylie said. She put half her turkey sandwich on a napkin and pushed it across the table. “If you want it, it would save me from throwing it out.” It looked pretty good. I could see a layer of lettuce and tomato, and I was betting there was some mayonnaise involved. If Allison didn’t want it, I was tempted to take it myself.

  Allison reached out and reluctantly pulled the napkin toward her. “Thank you.”

  “I brought a water, but I was thinking I’d rather have a soda,” Mason said, pulling a bottle of Ice Mountain out of his bag. “Why don’t you take this?”

  “Oh no, that’s okay,” Allison said, but Mason was already up and heading for the lunch line. He had a kind of springy way of walking, all happy.

  “So, Allison, where did you go to school before this?” Kylie asked.

  “She’s new,” I said, to be funny, but Allison looked uncomfortable, not amused.

  She bent her head to screw the cap off the bottle of water. “I just moved here. I used to live about two hours away. In a really small town.” She reached around and played with the end of her braid. “My circumstances changed, so I’m here now.”

  Her circumstances changed? What was she, thirty years old? No high school student talked like that. I tried to catch Kylie’s eye, to see if she was getting a weird feeling off Allison, but she didn’t look my way. Instead she started telling Allison about Whitman. She pointed out tables in the lunchroom and gave her the rundown on who was okay and who to avoid. Kylie even threw in some trivia about one of the freshmen—turned out she was the daughter of one of the math teachers. I didn’t even know that. By the time Mason came back with his Dr Pepper, Kylie was talking about the jock table. “They’re okay,” she said, “as long as you don’t get in their way. Rae here made a huge mistake yesterday when she laughed at their leader, Blake Daly. He’s the one in the Packer jersey.”

  “I couldn’t help it. It was hysterical.” I held up one of my carrot sticks. “First he was walking like this.” I made the carrot bob up and down in an arrogant way. “And suddenly he’s down on his ass, with his apple flying high and a slice of pizza on his leg.” I made the carrot take a dive. “Mason caught the apple by whipping his arm out like this.” I demonstrated. “I tried not to laugh, but the whole thing was too funny. I said I was sorry, but Blake’s such a dickweed he didn’t go for it. No sense of humor.”

  Allison listened politely while Mason joined Kylie in telling about the school—the football game coming up on Friday night, the assemblies that were lame except when the pompons squad performed, because they were pretty awesome. They asked about her classes, and Allison got her schedule out of her purse so they could look it over. Mason had three older brothers. All of them had gone to Whitman, so he knew all the teachers and could fill her in. I sat quietly eating my salami sandwich and carrot sticks, and watched. They hadn’t given me this kind of info when I’d started out at the beginning of the school year.

  By the time the bell rang, I was fully informed about Whitman High School. We all gathered up our things while Allison clutched her purse to her chest. When I went to stand up, I saw Blake Daly heading straight for me. He had a determined look on his face, and all I could think was that he was still pissed off from before. I couldn’t believe he was going to make a big deal out of it. Yes, I laughed when he fell down, but I said I was sorry. I needed a comeback if he started up with me. Get over it—that’s what I would say. Short and to the point. Get over it. He came up alongside our table, and I almost spoke the words before he even opened his mouth. Good thing I didn’t because he wasn’t coming to talk to me, he was there to talk to Allison. “Be in front of the school at two thirty.” He spoke out of the corner of his mouth like he didn’t want other people to see him talking to her.

&
nbsp; She nodded.

  “I mean it,” he said. “Watch for my car. I’m not waiting if you’re late.” Then he disappeared into the crowd of students heading out the side doors.

  I exchanged a look with Mason, who raised one eyebrow and mouthed WTF?

  “You know Blake Daly?” Kylie asked.

  Allison stood up. “He’s my cousin.”

  Chapter 7

  Flight Risk

  The best thing about current events, my last class of the day, was that Kylie was in it too. She took over Allison duty, introducing her to the teacher and finding her an empty seat. I took my place on the opposite corner of the room and admired how smoothly Kylie handled the whole thing.

  Kylie’s a wonder. After you get over how short she is, the next thing you notice is her big smile and her amazing hair. She has this wonderful wavy golden hair, which actually glistens in the sunlight. It’s soft like bunny fur. She says it’s so soft because she uses a ton of conditioner to keep it from frizzing up, but I’m not sure I believe that. I’ve tried doing the same thing, and my hair just ends up looking flat and limp.

  Allison sat in a desk behind Kylie’s, and at one point I saw her reach out and touch Kylie’s hair with one finger. When she saw me watching, she pulled her hand away, embarrassed.

  She didn’t look anything like Blake, so finding out that she was his cousin was a shock, especially since we’d just gotten through telling her the story about him falling down, and she hadn’t said a word. And me with my big mouth, I’d called him a dickweed too. Or was it an asswipe? I couldn’t remember. It wasn’t nice talk, anyway. I hoped it wouldn’t get back to him. That would be all I needed.