First days of school were practically always the same. You reach school and you immediately find friends hugging, guys clapping each other's shoulders, and some tears were usually shed.
(Don't forget the squealing.)
But for the superb trio, it was quite the opposite. Okay, I may have exaggerated when I said the 'superb trio'. Honestly. It just consisted of Amber, Tymon, and myself. When I reached school, I found Amber and Tymon arguing for the sake of arguing, and I was not the least bit surprised. I was used to it; we all were. But for some reason, it was always the same on the first days of school.
Come to think of it, it was always the same. Amber and Tymon never agreed on anything and it was usually I who broke up the (quite consistent) arguments. It was very amusing, really. And for us, we never hugged and squealed and cried and held on to one another for dear life.
I would greet them. They would ignore me and continue bickering.
That was it.
"Amber, Tymon! Hey!" I beamed, waving at them.
"Listen here, you little weirdo," Amber growled. "I don't care about your stupid pet Lenny and I sure as heck don't care about that stupid video game of yours! Stop annoying me!"
"You know," Tymon started, rocking back and forth. He clutched his bag with both hands and looked far from angry. "You are very hard-headed. You need to cool down. I promise you'd feel much better."
Amber's nostrils flared and her eye twitched. She then closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and turned to me. "Hi, Aubrey."
"I'm glad you finally decided to acknowledge me," I smiled, raising an eyebrow. "How are you on this lovely day?"
"Don't provoke me, Aubrey. I will kill you."
I laughed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "That's the Amber I know and love."
The bell then rang. Amber didn't have first period with me, but Tymon did. After parting our ways (and a few curses thrown at Tymon), we made out to our first class – English. When we got there, a few people had settled in – people I did not associate with.
To be quite frank, the only two people I actually talked to were Amber and Tymon. I was very much okay with that. I was comfortable with them, so that meant I didn't have to make a complete fool of myself in front of them. But even if I did, it wouldn't matter. On the other hand, if I were uncomfortable with a person or so, I would basically be everything but normal.
(Like my encounter with the dude who slammed the door in my face yesterday.)
It wasn't them, really – it was myself. I simply didn't know how to properly communicate with people.
(Again, the dude who slammed the door in my face.)
(In my defense, he didn't know how to properly communicate, either.)
I sighed and settled on a desk at the far end of the classroom. I did not like being in the front – I never did. I would feel very much exposed. I aimlessly drummed my fingers against the desk and waited for the teacher to come in. As if on cue, the year's English teacher walked in with some students behind. When the class was settled, the teacher placed his hands on his hips and heaved a sigh. "Good morning, class. I'm Professor Clark. I'm going to be your English teacher for this year. I hope you all enjoyed your summer," he said. "I also hope you won't take my class lightly and slack off. It's a very crucial subject and far from simple. This year, we're going to be going over—"
Professor Clark was cut off midway through his sentence when the classroom door opened. It was funny. All of us students were very curious, in a way. If something small happened, such as a door opening, everyone would turn his or her heads to see. It was as if we expected the president to walk in.
Unfortunately, the president didn't walk in.
A black-haired stranger did.
A very familiar-looking stranger he was indeed.
My eye twitched. It can't be, I thought. Oh, but it was. You know, fate had a strange way of doing things. I was never expecting myself to be looking at the dude who slammed the door in my face. I didn't think he did, either. His eyes caught mine and even while sitting at the back of the classroom, I could see that he wanted to run out of there. He raised an eyebrow. Did his jaw clench?
I clenched my fists.
If anything, I wanted to run away from there. It felt strange knowing a complete stranger wanted to leave the classroom because of me. Now, I might have been jumping to conclusions but the look on his face had said otherwise. I unclenched my fists and remained calm. I tried to look as normal as possible. The black-haired stranger looked away.
"Oh, good morning," Professor Clark said, eyeing the guy carefully. "And your name is?"
His hands stayed in his jacket's pockets. "Dylan. Dylan Seether."
Dylan.
His name was Dylan.
"I presume you're new here," the teacher said, checking his clipboard. "Well, welcome to Marino High, Dylan. I'm Professor Clark, your English teacher. Would you like to introduce yourself to the class?"
Dylan stayed silent for just a brief second before replying with a simple, "No." Then, he sat at the only free desk there was, and I was glad it wasn't near me.
Professor Clark cleared his throat. "Well, then. I suppose that's fine. At least tell us where you were before Marino High."
"New York."
The teacher nodded. "Interesting. Well, Dylan, I was just telling the class that English is not simple at all. In fact, it's a lot of work. This year, we're going to be exploring various themes in Literature. We're also going to be reading and analyzing The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger, published in 1951. It is a fascinating novel. Has anyone read it before? Have you, Dylan?"
"Yes."
I realized Dylan wasn't much of a talker. He didn't seem to appreciate Professor Clark asking him questions.
"Good, good," he smiled. He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair, cleared his throat and continued to lecture the class about English as a whole subject and what we should be looking forward to this year. Dylan remained silent throughout the whole period. I observed the class and I wasn't surprised to find half of the girls staring at him. It was quite cliché, really.
The bell then rang and students began filing out as Professor Clark yelled out, "Please have your novels with you for next time!"
I had already read The Catcher in the Rye before and I have to say, it was such a fascinating novel indeed. I made my way over to my assigned locker and found Amber leaning against the one near it. "How was math class?" I grinned, dialing in my locker combination and opening it.
Amber groaned. "Painful. It was painful. It was painfully boring. Aubrey, this is insane. It's not even ten o'clock in the morning and I already want to murder half our class." She thought for a moment. "And set the school on fire."
"You've always wanted to set the school on fire," I commented, shoving the next two periods' books in my bag.
She nodded in agreement and then sighed. "How was English? Anything new?"
"It was pretty good," I said. "And not really."
My mind flashed to Dylan. I pictured him sitting at a table in the cafeteria, being surrounded by the whole population of jocks and cheerleaders. I had accomplished embarrassing myself in front of half of these popular teenagers.
"You haven't heard?" she asked. "There's this new kid, apparently. Very hot kid they keep saying. I forgot his name, though."
"Dylan is so attractive," a passing girl squealed.
"Kate, you have a boyfriend," the girl next to her retorted. "But I can't argue."
"Oh, that's right," Amber exclaimed. "Dylan. That's his name. Dylan Setter or something like that."
"Yeah," I nodded. "I heard about him. He was in my English class."
She slapped my arm. "And you tell me there was nothing new! Anyway, I need to get to Chemistry. Why do I have the worst schedule? It's the first day of school, for Gosh sake. Spare me!" She shook her head. "See you at lunch, Aubrey."
I exhaled half a laugh and walked to my next class. We had Drama.
I hated Drama.
Well, I only hated it when we had to act out our feelings and 'express our inner emotions'. I absolutely detested that. I figured since it was the first day of school, we wouldn't do any of that. I was relieved and quite content about that.
When I got to class, the door was closed and I worried about being late. I peered in and found that half of the class was empty. I wet my lips and entered the classroom and soon, students began to pile in.
"Good morning!" our teacher beamed. She taught us last year and she was always smiling and sending out compliments. I liked her. "I hope you're all doing fine! It's a beautiful day – no one should be upset! Before we have some nice discussions, just let me take attendance. When you hear your name, notify me!"
The teacher scanned her clipboard and began calling out names. "Jake Abernathy, Veronica Clare, Aubrey Dawson..."
A series of "Here!" erupted from students as she called on them. I shifted in my seat and crossed my arms, sinking in my seat a little. "Dylan Seether – Sarah L– Dylan Seether?" she called out again, regarding the fact he hadn't notified her. I looked around the tiny classroom.
He wasn't there.
"Not present? All right, then," she scribbled something down and continued taking attendance.
"Where do you suppose he is?" I heard whispers.
"Who? Dylan? Probably making out with some cheerleader or something."
"He's so hot, don't you think so?"
I resisted the urge not to groan and hoped the period would speed up a bit. It wasn't any different when it did, though. Dylan was what most girls were gossiping about and I wasn't surprised in any way. I wasn't kidding when I said girls would be drooling all over him. Third period ended quicker than Drama had and I was thankful. After getting the books for the following periods, I walked to the cafeteria. It wasn't that hard spotting Amber and Tymon and when I did find them, I plopped down from across them and pulled out a chocolate bar.
"I already have a headache, Tymon," Amber spoke as calmly as she could. "Please do not annoy me. Please do not talk to me. Don't even breathe next to me."
I laughed.
"Yo! Dylan! Come sit with us!" one of the jocks yelled. I craned my neck and saw Dylan handing money to the lunch lady.
"Dylan! Over here!" a cheerleader squealed.
Dylan was popular and lunch hadn't even finished yet. He was already the talk of the school. I was tremendously amazed.
But I wondered.
I wondered why he didn't seem to care. I wondered why he didn't bother to glance at any of the people that called him over to their tables. I wondered why he kept to himself and I wondered where he left off to when he exited the cafeteria. In our school, getting called to sit with popular kids was a privilege. I found it quite odd, actually.
I frowned and spent the rest of the break pondering.
"I'll catch up with you guys later!" I waved goodbye to Amber and Tymon and began walking home. The school wasn't far from the neighborhood I lived in which was quite an advantage. I turned my attention to The Catcher in the Rye. I decided to skip ahead and start reading the book. It was then that I heard footsteps behind me. Almost nobody from my school lived in my neighborhood. Amber and Tymon's houses were not in the least bit near mine. I craned my neck to see who was behind me.
Of course he'd be behind me, I thought once I got a good look at the person. Dylan continued tapping on his phone, not bothering to look up. I whirled around, only to suddenly trip over absolutely nothing and fall.
And right into a trashcan.
"Are you honestly kidding me right now?" I exclaimed. I felt my cheeks redden and I was very much glad that the trashcan was completely empty.
I heard the footsteps come closer and for a brief second, they came to a halt. Was he actually going to help me up? He seemed very secluded back at school and I wondered if our last encounter was just a one-time thing. Maybe he was just in a bad mood? He didn't look happy when he had opened the door.
"You should watch where you're going," he patronized in a low and taunting voice and I almost wished I had the courage to slap him right across the face.
"Says the guy who was tapping away on his phone without even bothering to pay attention to where he's going!" I fought back.
"Yeah, but I'm not the one who fell in a trashcan," he exhaled half a sarcastic laugh and tapped the side of the trashcan twice.
And then he kept walking.
He was not going to help me up and he most definitely wasn't in a bad mood yesterday.
He was just obnoxious and aggravating.
"Mom! Dad! I'm home!" I said, closing the door behind me. I shrugged off my bag and jacket and entered the kitchen, smiling.
"How was your day, sweetie?" Mom asked, pulling out plates from the cabinet.
"It was fine."
"Anything new?" Dad asked, warmly smiling at me.
I insulted our new neighbor's son yesterday, he goes to the same school, and I fell into a trashcan.
"Not at all."
"Aubrey, could you please go over to our new neighbors and hand them this pan of casserole?" Mom asked.
I froze. "Why?"
Mom furrowed her eyebrows. "Well, I did tell you I wanted to welcome them to the neighborhood. Don't you remember? Anyway, Molly is still trying to settle in – unpacking and all. I figured she wouldn't have time to cook, so this casserole is here to help. She's quite tired, too. She's still out grocery shopping. Boy, it's hard settling in. Now, take it."
"Do I have to?"
She raised an eyebrow and gave me the look. All mothers had that look.
"Fine," I groaned, taking the pan from her. "Are you sure you want me to sacrifice this pan of heaven? Of utter bliss? Are you sure you want to take that risk, Mother?"
"You're very dramatic, Aubrey. Now go. I made two pans of heaven," she winked.
I gritted my teeth once I stepped outside of the house. Insulting him and arguing was not necessary right now. I plastered on a fake smile and rang the doorbell once I had reached the porch.
Be nice, Aubrey, I thought to myself. Stay calm, cool, and collected.
The door opened.
Dylan raised an eyebrow. He glanced at the tin-foiled pan I held in my hands and then back at me. "Yes?" He had taken off his jacket, exposing his tattoos. Wait till you see how the girls would react to that. I heard him heave a sigh, which shook me out of my trance. "You zone out a lot."
"Sorry!" I squealed, blushing. Shaking my head, I gestured for him to take the casserole. "Here. My mother cooked this as a welcome gift to the neighborhood. So, welcome to the neighborhood."
Dylan took the casserole and gave me a curt nod.
I ran my tongue over my teeth. "Yeah, well, you're welcome!"
My sarcasm didn't faze him. "Goodbye," he exhaled half a sarcastic laugh and looked down at my Beatles shirt before turning to look at me again. "Beatles girl."
He closed the door.
Beatles girl.
I blinked.
"Did you deliver the casserole, Aubrey?" Mom asked once I got back home.
I grabbed an apple. "No, Mom. I ate it on the way."
She shook her head and approached me, brushing a few strands of hair away from my face. "Your food's upstairs."
I nodded and thanked her.
"Oh, Aubrey! One more thing; we're having dinner with Molly and her son tomorrow!"
Oooooof course we were.
