Chapter Two: The First Day
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Two weeks later
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-Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep Be-Be-Be-Be-BE-BE-BE-BE-
F***. Tristan rolls out of bed and looks out the window. First day of school - Great.
Picking up the gray t-shirt draping off his chair, he carelessly flings it over his head as he makes his way down the stairs. After 5 minutes of storming around, he drags himself towards the bus stop at the end of the street. There he finds a girl, probably his age, with a floral dress peeking out from under a gray sweatshirt. Her eyes stare at the cracked sidewalk.
"Hey." Tristan's voice echos in the silence, but isn't greeted by another. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he tries again. "...So you obviously put more effort into your outfit than I did." Still not saying a word, the girl eyes his baggy t-shirt and faded jeans, quickly, before making split-second eye contact. She has pretty eyes. Green. Is she gonna talk at all though? "So... I'm Tristan. I just moved in a couple weeks ago. And you are...?"
So he's who Mom was talking about. Christina looks at him again. I guess responding is the polite thing to do...
"I'm Christina." He's got a cute smile. Looks like a jock though.
"Cool. Hey you got a phone?" Christina nods. "Gimme your number. We're gonna be friends now."
Foward much? "Ok." Why is he talking so much? This is so weird...
She cautiously leans over his shoulder as she watches him enter his name: Tristan :P
"An emoji. Seriously?" Wait! Did I just talk?! She doesn't have time to respond before he talks.
"Duh. That way you won't forget I live like... what? 7 houses down? Face it, we're practically 'BFFLS' already." Tristan puts on his best cheerleader girl imitation when he says 'BFFLS', earning a smile from his neighbor. "Here, enter your number."
"Umm... Okay." Christina's fingers are flying, yet paralyzed as she enters the info. "Umm... what emoji should I put?" She feels herself cringe. Seriously, Christina? What kind of question is that? This is why you DON'T socialize.
"Put a heart. You deserve one." Tristan responds.
Christina agrees, but her thoughts are the opposite: A little weirded out, a little confused, and a little scared -
Yet a tiny bit hopeful.
She hands the phone back, and Tristan looks at the screen:
Christina <3
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Christina's dainty foot steps off the bus and she enters a hectic mob of people heading towards the front entrance; she's shocked when the same boy appears next to her, matching her step.
"What's your first class?" Tristan prods. "I have Pre-Calc A with Mr. DeLaddy."
"I... think it's... English Honors with Ms. Parr." She states as she stops in front of one of the many paint-peeled lockers.
"Oh, I see. So you're like... one of the smart kids. Cool. Do you and your smart friends get together to study on Friday nights?" Tristan's smile stretches out like it's a rubber band, but as Christina silently places books and a whiteboard into locker 280, it realizes that this was the wrong question to ask. "Dude, Chris, can I call you that? I'm so sorry. I totally didn't mean to hurt your feelings." The friend-less girl shuts her locker carefully. Her neighbor places his hand on her shoulder. "Besides, we're friends now, aren't we?" And the neighbor smiles again, this time as if he's a little boy asking for candy.
"I... I guess so." A twinkle in her eyes silently agrees.
"Well then, I'll see you at lunch, Friend." He spins on his heels and walks the opposite direction, to Pre-Calc, only glancing back long enough to walk into a giant backpack. A giggle escapes Christina's lips, as she watches as his blonde hair disappears behind the corner. Then, heading in the opposite direction, she walks quickly to English.
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"Yo, dude, at lunch you should eat with me and my gang." Period three, Tristan is wearing baggy gym shorts and shooting lay-ups with Ryan, the Oakfield High sports star. "There are some pretty hot chicks at our table."
"Sure, man, but I already got my eyes on someone."
"Seriously? Who?"
"Her name's Christina."
Mr. Karls' whistle shrills through the gym, a warning that class is almost over. Ryan grabs the basketball and rests it under his arm. His other hand runs through his wavy black hair as he strides to his water bottle. "Which one? The redhead or the freakishly tall one."
"Umm... neither."
"Then, she's not interesting enough." Ryan turns and tosses Tristan's water bottle, which he barely catches. "See you at lunch, it's the table by the vending machines."
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As period 4 ends, Christina walks silently through the crowd, with her head down, like a lone bird flying south for the winter.
Entering the huge cafeteria, all her classmates sit at the tables from the previous year, but she scans the lunch room for the blonde boy she met that morning. Her eyes at last land on the jock table, complete with football players, basketball players and cheerleaders, and Tristan is sitting right at the center, completely at home.
Disappointed, she walks to the opposite side of the lunch room, to the empty table she always eats at. It is the second closest table to the library entrance, making it a shorter walk the room of bookshelves.
Sitting near the wall, she unzips her lunch box and a ham and cheese sandwich emerges. I should of known he would fit in with those jocks. Why would he seriously be friends with me?
Then she eats her lunch.
Five minutes later her lunch box is empty and Christina is contemplating what book to check out next. As she reaches the cafeteria doors, a voice sounds behind her.
"Hey Chris. Where you going?" Surprised she turns and finds Tristan, with yet another smile, standing behind her.
This time she mumbles a single word. "Library."
"Oh, okay. But I forgot to ask this mornin if I can see your schedule. We obviously don't have any morning classes together, but I want to find out if I'll see you this afternoon."
Christina quietly pulls a neatly folded schedule out of her backpack and hands it to him, and Tristan quickly learns that they have period 7 together: History A.
"Cool! I guess we better save each other a seat." And he winks.
Then he walks away, leaving Christina dumbfounded.
Did he just wink?
YOU ARE READING
The Boy Down the Street
Teen FictionChristina Olivers is the shy girl, the book worm. She doesn't talk to anyone, and no one talks to her. That's just the way it's always been. Tristan Mayher is the new boy, the nice kid - to Christina at least. It doesn't make sense that he's a jo...
