True Colors

True Colors

Chapter 1 – Jessica Montez

It was just another day: had to go to school, had an everyday, six hour long practice, came home and did homework, and then went to bed. It was the same thing every single day.

I strolled out of my thoughts and snapped back into reality. I sat quietly next to my classmate—Janessa Hansen—as she furiously wrote in her notebook for the afternoon reflection. It was the end of class and everyone but her was ready to leave; the bell rang in at least three minutes and she was still sitting there, caught up in her work.

“If you write any harder, you’re going to put a hole in your notebook dude,” I spoke.

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied. “As long as I get my work done.”

I rolled my eyes, “Geez, someone work up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

She rolled her eyes back at me and looked back down at her work.

“You do know there’s only two more minutes left right?” I asked, pointing slightly to the clock.

She shrugged her shoulders and continued writing, “I’m a straight A student, Jessica, I would like to keep it that way, so shut your trap and leave me alone.”

“Uh, okay.” I replied; looking back up at the clock.

I picked up my backpack and pushed my chair in, lining up with the rest of the class. When the bell rang I bolted out of the classroom and walked into the student parking lot to meet up with my Colorguard coach—Jessica Jones. She picked me up from school every day and took me to practice. Jessica was pretty cool; she was twenty years old and graduated from Liberty High School—our rival school—only two years ago. Now she was spending her time helping out the Colorguard team and the marching band.

I obviously don’t go to Liberty—hence the use of the words ‘rival school’—I go to Heritage High School, the number one academic school Brentwood has to offer; it also tops in sports (mainly football).

I pulled the car door open and smiled, “Hey Jessica,” she smiled back at me. “What’s new?”

She shrugged her shoulders and started her Mustang, the engine roared as I closed the door, “Not much really, this jerk almost bumped into the back of my car.” She rolled her eyes and pulled out of the parking space.

“He sounds nice,” I replied, sarcasm lingering in my voice.

He scoffed and started heading down Balfour road, “Yeah, you’re telling me.” She stuck her tongue out at me and then sighed, “Did you memorize the routine for Forget You?”

I nodded, “Yeah, it took me a while to get it down, but I remember it.”

“So you’ll be good today to start practicing all of the marching sets?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the road. She took a sharp turn, heading towards Liberty.

I cleared my throat, “Yeah, I should be fine.”

“That doesn’t sound so reassuring to me,” she said, glancing over at me.

“Chill,” I said. “Everything will be fine.”

She slumped in her seat as we stopped at a red light, “I don’t know, Jess.” She paused. “Only two girls showed up for class today, and if the other girls don’t show up, they won’t be able to learn the sets on the field in time.”

Jessica Jones always had this thing with over reacting; she felt like if something didn’t get one day that another day it will not be perfected. I feel bad for her sometimes.