Bringing Smiles Back

Chapter One: The Warzone

   Highschool is like a warzone. If you dare to step foot into that building, you better hope you remembered to put on your bullet-proof vest, because you're gonna want something to protect your heart. Your enemies are waiting for you around every corner, roaming the halls in their tight skirts and high heels. The only problem is, you're unarmed soldier, so you best be ready to take cover if any attacks come your way. Because otherwise, you can consider yourself utterly defenseless. I myself do what any other good soldier would do. Always pay attention in class in effort to please my ever-so-ridiculing teachers, and most importantly stay out of the enemies way. This way, I am known as the good kid that nobody found enough interest in to bother. But everything changed the day that my dad's car broke down and my parents were forced to carpool. Now suddenly, I'm an unarmed, transferred soldier, who's lost all of her troop.

   "Dang it!" I hear my dad yell out from the garage after several sounds of a car engine revving up and then eventually failing to start. From the kitchen, I hear the clicking of my mom's heels against the hardwood floors, quickly followed by her exasperated voice calling out to Dad from across the garage. "I told you to get that piece of junk taken care of, but no! You just have too big of an ego to take it to the mechanic! Well look what that ego of yours had gotten us now, a broken truck!" "Oh would you just be quiet! I know what I'm doing!" he yelled back with bitterness coating his every word. "Bull carp you know what you're doing, you can't even-" Cutting yet another one of their screaming matches out with the slam of the front door, I run as fast as humanly possible to the bus stop. As if the burning pain in my lungs will block out another one of their stupid arguments that are tearing this family apart.

   I think of that day now as I sit in the guidance councilor's office of this new foreign school. The last day I ever saw my parents. Quickly I push all emotion out of my head before the pain of loosing them once again overcomes me. A lady with a creased black blazer whom I assume to be the guidance councilor struts in. I have to hold back from sighing loudly at the way she is precariously mannered. I watch as she sits down in her shiny, leather office chair and flashes me her white- teethed, award-winning smile. I imagine her in high school, roaming the hallways as one of them. Thinking that she's on top of the world, and that everyone else must be below her. And suddenly the small little room manages to get even smaller. I need to get out of her, now. But completely unaware of how uncomfortable I am, the lady shoots her hand out to greet me. "Mrs. Hadley, and you must be Ellena. Ellena Carmical." she says before I can even get my own name out.I put my hand out slowly and nod, not willing to budge even a tiny half smile. See, that's one thing about me, I don't smile. Not in public anyways. In fact the only time I probably ever do smile is when I'm alone with my guitar. My best-friend. I think of my guitar now, sitting under my bed in my new room at my aunt's house. I decided it would be best to keep it there with my aunt being a crazy, unpredictable drunk. I don't want anything to happen to my baby. I think of my guitar now, longing for the feeling of the strings under my fingers and a pick in my hand. Strumming the chords out to make a beautiful sound fill the air. I wish I could just go back to what is now my home and play it now, but I can't. I have to get through this day, and then I can go home and play my heart out. Forcing myself to come back to reality, I look up to see an unfazed Mrs. Hadley who shakes my hand firmly and then begins shuffling through some papers all with my name neatly printed at the top. "So, Ellena Rose Carmical, twelfth grade, first year here at Wintersville High." she lists off before looking up at me excitedly as if she truly believed that my being here was really that exciting. I just nod again. "Here's your schedule, which has your locker number as well as which lunch you will have and your combination." She says handing me  a light-blue sheet of paper that I'm surprises isn't laminated. Suddenly her award-winning smile disappears and I see something very familiar in her eyes that makes me want to run straight out of this tiny little room even more than before. Pitty. But before I can stop her she's already started on her condolence. "Listen Elleana. if you ever need anything or just want someone to talk to, I'm here. I am so sorry for your loss Ellena." This time, she waits for me to say something. So I just nod, as I have been this entire meeting. Actually, since the day my parents died, that's all I ever seem to do, I just nod.

   The journey to find my locker isn't that difficult since Wintersville High school is about half the size of my old school, Jaminson High. But just as I'm about to reach for my lock, I feel a sudden force push me off of my feet, leaving my schedule and my bag free-flying throughout the hallway. At first I don't move because the fall has knocked all of the air out of my lungs. But when I look up I see a boy looking down on me with a very worried expression painted across his very handsome face. And before I can register what's happening, he grabs me by my waist and lifts me up off of the ground. I've always had my mother's small figure, but he lifted me up as if I weighed no more than a feather. "I'm so sorry!" he says with his hands still on my waist. I look down at them and then back up to him, he quickly retrieves them looking sheepishly down at me. Standing here looking up at him, I am able to get a good look at him. His eyes are a lightning green and his hair is a dirty shade of blonde not too short but not too long. He had it styled so that it is sliding down just above his eyes. His skin is an ivory color and his lips are tinted a light pink. I feel a churning motion in my stomach that surprises me. A steady heat begins to flood up to my cheeks and I know he notices because a small grin begins to form on his lips. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out. So I just nod, once again, probably looking like a complete idiot. He grins even more and then suddenly walks away. I assume he is trying to get away from the freak show that I am making myself out to be. But as I turn to watch him go, I realize that he is heading towards my astray belongings still lying on the hallway floor. He returns with my bag and schedule in hand and holds them out to me. "Sorry about that again. Some people just don't watch where they are going." He says putting his hand out towards me in a much less formal way than Mrs. Hadley and flashed me an extremely dazzling smile. "Garret Carter." I shyly extend my hand out and manage to speak my first words since I stepped into this school. "Ellena Carmical." "Pleased to meet you Ellena." he replies happily while shaking my hand. He pulls back his hand slowly and stares at me for a moment. I don't know what to say so I panick and turn to my locker. Expecting him to eventually just walk away, he surprises me by turning slightly and beginning to open the locker right next to mine. Of course, Carmical, Carter, it's in alphabetical order. He opens his locker on the first try, shoves his bag in, grabs a blue binder, and then turns to me. "Thought you could get rid of me that easily, huh?" I fumble with my lock for the third or fourth time, look over at him, blush profusely, and then immediately look back down. "Do you want some help with that?" he asks, sliding closer to me  before I can even answer. He asks me what my combination is and I hold out my paper. He chuckles at my muteness and takes the paper from me, his fingers brushing against mine. "The locks here were probably used by my grandparents. So some of them have a little trick to em'." he says turning to nob, pushing the lock up, and then quickly pulling it down so that it opens on the first try, "Thank you." I mumble quietly as he pulls the door open for me. "Sure thing. You really are quite shy aren't you?" I'm not really quite sure what to say to that so I just lower my head so that my long brown hair hides my face. "Well," he chuckles, "I'm just going to have to pull you out of your shell, won't I?" I feel the blood rush to my face once again, but when I finally glance up, he's gone. Why in the world would a guy like him want to talk to a girl like me? I guess my plan of staying under the radar and not talking to anybody is going to be more difficult than I thought.

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