"Kieran! Hurry up!"
Max waits by the coatroom door. I'm next to him, cradling my binder and Sudoku book. Where I go, they go, my tablet, too. Max says we'll need them for Mrs. G's classes.
"I'm coming," Kieran says.
So, why isn't he?
"He takes forever to get organized," Max says.
"I see that."
Kieran wasn't always like this. I remember how he used to be faster than me in getting organized. It was pick up and go. I think he felt bad for me sometimes because he'd purposely wait or shuffle papers around until I was ready.
Who's faster now?
"Better get comfy," Max tells me. "We're there all afternoon."
All afternoon...
My surprise day-one tests. Social studies and English. New classes. New teacher. Better challenges.
...Why I'm here, right?
"You don't need one, by the way," Max says, pointing to my binder. "Everything is on these things." He taps his tablet.
"But, what about notes or worksheets?"
Max ruffles his brows at me. What's that supposed to—
"Okay." Kieran is juggling his tablet and two notebooks. "Ready."
I'll let them lead the way. They know what to do. I'm the newbie. What do I know about next door? I'm not that bright!
Next door is seventh grade with seventh-grade history and English. Talk about moving up in the world. I like Ms. Tudor's primitive space, but a field trip to the Louvre never hurt. I'll accept this change of pace. This room has tables, no nametags. Fake exotic sculptures line the sills, Googled quotes printed out and sticky-tacked on the walls.
Louvre.
"Welcome back, next door. Isn't it exciting?" Mrs. G chirps.
Mrs. G, or "Mrs. Galloway" if you read the welcome sign on the door, is a perky, oily-haired woman who sounds like ten cups of coffee.
"No," some...odd kid replies.
The boy is slumped over his table, arms sprawled out, hands cupping the opposite side. He's got short, matted brown hair, his dress shirt is baggy and halfway unbuttoned. He makes a goofy yawn.
"I see we have someone new." Mrs. G notices me. "You're...?"
"Chase," I answer.
"Chase? Nice to meet you! I'm Mrs. G. You can sit with your friends over at the table there if you want."
Friends? That's an old joke.
It's Kieran, Max and I, then the boy I remember seeing leaving with Max (his brother), and the odd kid. I can't see how this can't go wrong. One spark and the rivalry will plunge into a Fight Night-worthy round, and I've got a first-row ticket to watch.
"Greg, meet Chase," Max says.
"Chase?" Greg studies me in a second and nods. "Nice. Gregory."
Max blatantly pokes brother bear. "Can't outnumber us now."
Greg...ory has a freckle on his neck, bushy brows that make his eyes appear tired. I'm not sure if that's a mark or a bruise under his left eye, but I won't say anything. Of course, he resembles Max, only too mature for a 60s picture-day cut.
YOU ARE READING
Castling: A Novel (NaNoWriMo21)
Teen FictionIt's a slice-of-life centered around "Chase the Ace," who finds himself changing schools against his will mid-year to help make the most of that brain of his. It'll be good for him, they say. He won't be so bored. He'll get to be with an old friend...
