Under Her Skin

Chapter 5

Police Officer: How would you describe Selena and Sunny's relationship?

Me: Lyssa is so against them being friends and I don't blame her. They're intimate strangers. Opposite poles on a magnet. In my mind, one word: trouble.

***

"Are you sure you don't want me to go in with you?" Said Lyssa, in a high-pitched worried voice.

"Mom, come on. I'm almost fifteen."

"Okay, okay. You're right. Call me at lunch."

"Okay."

"Oh, my sunshine is all grown up." Lyssa kissed her again, this time looking almost teary-eyed as if it was the last goodbye or something. If there was an award for exceptional sentiment, Sunny wouldn't be surprised if she got first prize.

Sunny faced the school. It was like a large rectangle, with endless windows that covered the sides. The polished grey brick gave it a particular scholarly and intellectual vibe to it, like the headquarters of a prestigious technology company. Sunny could tell that the school was too modern to have much history. She walked through three boxed front doors and into another world.

Almost instantly, Sunny was distracted by the muffled chatter of high school students who were much taller than her previous classmates. They had gone through the change that they'd all go through over the summer, only twice as dramatic. Somehow, the thought of middle school seemed so cute, like an old memory that was done and over with. She was in high-school now.

Sunny sat down in the first row at 8:53. She was a whole seven minutes early, partly because she liked to be punctual and make great first impressions, and partly because she didn't have anyone to chat with in the halls. She couldn't help but feel different. 

Still, she was hopeful about the semester. Though, it seemed that the unfamiliar faces around her weren't. They came in slowly, each one radiating boredom and hostility. They walked in, wrapped in rags, all lumpy and dull. They eyed the ground, frowned. Few scowled.

Minutes later, a chubby teacher with a double chin dropping low walked in, set down her Starbucks, and started with attendance. In the open notebook in front of her, Sunny took notes frantically while the others rolled their eyes as if they were confined in a cage, force-fed some concepts they didn't care about. The round-as-a-blueberry teacher seemed to have trouble breathing, stopping every so often to cough into her fist. The inept teacher before them would be the target of their resentment for four whole years.

"Math clubs after school—" Mrs. Lennie's sentence was cut off by the rough barge-in of a boy. He dragged himself to an empty seat in the classroom. The seat right before Sunny's eyes.

"Cole Baker... you made it." He leaned forward and his back came off from the chair. His movements immediately brought Sunny's attention to his sweater. Cole was dressed in a black hoodie that read: football captain. Of course, she didn't know what that meant at the time. What it really meant. Cole, because he looked like a Calvin Klein model, got away with murder.

He was a dangerous boy. The class responded with unison laughter, some people making gestures of imitation. And Sunny, expecting some sort of lecture on punctuality, was shocked when Mrs. Lennie smiled and patted him on the back as if he had just won the Oscar. Such a handsome boy.

Mrs. Lennie gave extremely preferential treatment to the football boys. Apparently, they reminded her of her handsome son. They got out of class anytime for any reason. No homework on their game nights. And when they would barge-in late, she would gather around them at their little desk for a spicy conversation about the new girls they were doing. All the other boys in class would complain about not receiving the same treatment. She dealt with it by giving it by handing out C's like Halloween candy and writing some shitty report about their inappropriate and unacceptable behavioral issues. So, if you don't look like Tom Cruise, this class was not an easy A.