The school bus arrived at its final drop off—the high school. I was the last person to get off the bus. When I reached the ground I pulled my backpack close to me, careful not to get it caught in the doors. The bus driver was a man in his seventies. He could barely hear anything and always was in a hurry. Many mornings last year he caught my bag in the doors and the teacher on bus duty had to flag him down.
Students were surrounding the school, waiting for the bell to ring so the day would officially begin. Russellville High School was likely other typical high school. It was a single-storied building filled with the core classes every student had to take. There were also elective classes, such as art, cosmetology, drama, Spanish, welding, band, etc. Just outside one end of the building was the gym, and the cafeteria was located at the other end. The history building was the odd one and it completely stood out, especially because history was a core subject; the classes were in a small hallway attached to the back of the auditorium, which was beside the Fine Arts building on the other side of campus.
Freshmen were gathered in clusters that scattered around the sidewalks. Some were excited—their voices carried over the hushed tones of the older crowds. Others were shaking from first day jitters. I remembered the first day of my freshman year. I was extremely nervous. During the previous summer I begged my parents to hold me back in eighth grade. Yes, I had been to new schools before, but this time was different. It would be the last school I went to as a minor, and after four more year's I'd be an adult. There were stories, too, about how the upperclassmen often bullied the new kids or got them caught in sticky situations because they were in a little over their heads'. I wasn't able to repeat eighth grade, obviously, and I soon realized that none of the rumors were true. Everyone got along despite their differences, and if their were any miscommunications amongst anyone, those people avoided each other.
As I neared the main building my circle of friends came into view. They weren't really friends, just acquaintances. Friends were people you saw frequently and talked to each other hundreds of times a day either through text messages or in person. Acquaintances, on the other hand, were people you just happened to see because of a scheduled routine. I just saw them here, nowhere else. No phone calls or text messages or emails; no invites and o parties; no indication of any kind of friendship. There were a few reasons why, the main being that I could hardly stand being around any of them because of their bad habits—cussing, smoking, fighting. Who knew what else? Of course, not all of them were that way.
Hailey Brooks and Ashleigh Brooks were twins. They were like Yin and Yang. Hailey was everything that Ashleigh was not. Hailey was a straight A student—top in our class, extremely athletic, and had almost every guy at her beck and call. Whereas Ashleigh slid through each class with a C, ditched P.E., and could care less if anyone looked in her direction.
Kiera Reeves was one of the worst influences in our school's history. She's pretty and flirtatious yet made you wonder what exactly was in her stainless-steel Yet cup. Sometimes it was either tea or caffeinated coffee. On others, it was probably mocha with a tint of whiskey to give it a new flavor. Both ISS and alternative school had become frequent visits for her.
Fiona Rockwell and Trinity Ashby were considered one of the outcast couples. They had been together for two years, hiding their relationship behind the other set of weird—Elliot Maslow and Benji Cooke. They'd acted as the girls' "partners" over the years. But the guys' never understood the secrecy of the girls' relationship. The charade ended two weeks before summer when Elliot showed up wearing a wig and makeup and his sister's clothes. He made a short announcement before kissing Benji in front of a crowd of spectators—mostly jocks and cheerleaders who booed at their display of affection.
Dawn Peterman was the most normal of them all. She had been my best friend for so long and, unlike everyone else, we spent as much time together as possible. My parents were peculiar about the people I hung out with so, naturally, they'd never met her. They had never met anyone I associated with mainly because of the stories I told about them over the years. But if I was a parent hearing that kind of information, I wouldn't want my child to associate with those kinds of people, either.
