Pebbles: A Collection of Short Stories

First Day Treasure

In the two weeks since we moved to Arcton, I had only met our neighbors. Their daughter, Audrey, was three years younger than me and obsessed with some rumor of a magic tree.

"Put a secret in the big hole, and the next day, you get treasure," Audrey's eyes gleamed as we discussed school starting the next day.

"A tree can't grant wishes nor dispense treasure," I groaned.

"It works," she argued. "I dare you to do it. You have to get your registration packet; do it today." She prodded.

"Fine," I mumbled, to shut her up. Still, when I picked up my school things, I slipped a slip of paper with my secret; I'm lonely.

I shook my bangs over my eyes as I walked into the school the next day. Teens are curious by nature, and I knew I was destined for an abnormal number of curious onlookers, despite being utterly average. My only defense was the shield of hair. Unfortunately, it also obscured my vision, and I nearly walked straight into an open locker door.

"Oh, geez, I'm sorry," a tall, blue-eyed boy apologized as he grasped my elbow to stabilize me.

"No, it was me. I wasn't paying attention," I murmured.

"You must be new; I don't recognize you." His brow furrowed.

"Yeah, um, I'm Heather." As I spoke, I dipped my eyes.

"Hey, I'm Cody." He paused for a moment as if waiting for me to say something, which, of course, I didn't. "Can I help you? This school is tiny, but that's probably because I know my way around. Let me see your schedule."

He had a bubble in his voice and sincerity to his gaze as he plucked my schedule from my hand and inspected it for a moment.

"Oh man, you're a smart lady, Heather, with brown eyes." He was still looking over the paper, missing my blush. "I'm just a dumb jock, so, unfortunately, we have zero classes together, but we have lunch. Come on, Brownie, I'll show you where Mr. Tiderman's classroom is. You want to throw anything in my locker?"

"Um..."

"Here." He grabbed my hand and laid it flat on his before pulling a pen from behind his ear and uncapping it with his teeth. "This is my combo." He scribbled the numbers on my palm. "My locker is better located. Put whatever you want in here, but hands of my cookie," he added with a boyish smile.

"Um..."

"Not a talker," he observed as he let a hand fall to the small of my back. As we walked to my math class, he pointed out my other classrooms and bathrooms while volleying many greetings from classmates. "Okay, so this is the smarty-pants math class. Good luck; I'll save you a seat at lunch."

"You don't have to," I murmured.

"Sorry, Brownie; I almost knocked you out; you're stuck with me," he winked as he backed away from me. "Lunch, see you then."

"Treasure," I whispered to myself.