The Club

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Today was . . . interesting. I usually go by every day with the same routine. I wake up, force breakfast down my throat and drive to school. I have a steady silent streak going, and I don’t see it ending soon. Sometimes I literally make it the whole seven hours without opening my mouth. I just monotonously wander the halls to where I need to be, sit in the classrooms, listen to the teachers, and go home when it’s all over to finish the day, sleep and do it tall again. Today, though. Today was different. One for the books. One I know I won’t forget. Ever. 

It goes a little something like this:

When the bell dismisses the students into the hallways, I remain in my seat to finish the problem I’m working on. After third hour comes break, where everyone buys snacks and mingles for a twenty minutes before we have to get back to the school day. Not having anyone to talk to, I know I wouldn’t be late for anything if I just stayed a few minutes to get my homework done. And then a clattering noise takes my attention from my work. 

At first, my pencil freezes, and I remain still. I thought everyone was gone by now, but when I lift my head, I see the tight jean shorts and blue tank top that belong to a girl the perfect tanned body all the other girls long for, the just below shoulder length wavy brunette hair. She turns around at the noise of my calculator falling from my desk and flashes me a smile. 

I don’t return it. 

But she returns my calculator. Bends down and grabs it, still in a kneeling position when she places it back onto my desk. And now our eyes are locked together. A grin forms on her face, and for some odd reason it looks genuine. But it doesn’t belong. Not to her face. 

Not to the face of Vanessa Anderson. 

I think I spoke to her once in third grade. Maybe. I never thought she knew I existed. Maybe she’s just feeling extremely generous. Either way, I’m baffled out of my mind. 

“Why so serious?” she taunts me with a friendly smile, standing up and forcing my neck to crane upward, following her as she reaches her full height. 

She doesn’t give me time to reply before her backpack flops to the ground and she slouches into the chair next to mine, sitting at a sideways angle to face me. I just stare and my mind remains blank. I’m waiting for her to grow bored of my stoic reaction and leave. But she doesn’t And she doesn’t. And she still doesn’t. 

“It’s break,” she says simply, as if reminding me. As if expecting me to say, “Oh, you’re right! I completely forgot! Thanks!” But I don’t. And I don’t. And I still don’t. 

“I know,” I say finally, almost feeling guilty, but keeping my guard up. Someone of her standards talking to someone of mine. Can this be real? I almost pinch myself to see if it’s a dream, but I figure she would judge me. 

“Why aren’t you out in the hall? Don’t you have any friends to talk to?” She still has that stupid smile on her face, but it’s so pretty and I can see her beautiful white teeth peeking through her pink lips, just barely visible. My palms start to sweat. I can smell her now, like vanilla. Strong. Attractive. It makes me feel relaxed and nauseous at the same time. After about twenty seconds of an awkward silence, I realize she asked me a question. I shake my head from left to right. 

“No,” I say finally. “I don’t have any friends.” 

I instantly feel so insanely stupid. Why in the world would I say that? I sound like one of those pathetic middle school students, trying to make people feel bad for them by always talking about their lack of friends. I feel like I’ve turned from a seventeen year old guy to a thirteen year old girl. And it had to be in front of Vanessa Anderson.