The Start of Something New

Chapter Two

By the time Abi picked me up, I had been ready for half an hour, even after re-ironing my skirt. I hoped the outfit would say: Hey, Finn Wolfhard. I'm actually not a bookstore loner. In fact, have these legs. I checked my schedule no less than twenty times, preoccupied with showing up to the right classes. I went to the wrong class on the first day of eighth grade, and that horrible moment— the sinking realisation as the teacher never called my name—scarred me for life.
"Happy first day of junior year," Abi said flatly, cranking up the volume of the radio as she backed out of the driveway. She wore beat-up jeans and a white linen shirt with colourful embroidery scrawled across the top, possibly from the trip to Mexico with her parents in July. Her hair was still damp at the roots, waves drying in the warm air through the open windows.

We pulled into the junior lot, and it hit me: we're halfway done. Some days, it felt as if we've been in high school our whole lives. Other days, freshman and sophomore year felt like the white lines on the highway—passing blur along a much bigger journey. This time next year, we'd be seniors. The main high school building—outdated by at least twenty years—loomed in front of us and I stared it head on.
"You ready?" Abi removed her sunglasses. I glanced around, sizing up our class mates as they reunited after a whole summer. It was always the same first-day information—who started dating someone new, who changed their hair colour, who's parents bought them a new car? Not me, on any count.
"I guess." My response was followed by the palm of someone's hand, slapping against the window of the passenger's seat. Amber's grinning face followed.
"Hi!" she squealed, giving me a quick hug as we got out of the car. I'd seen Amber almost everyday of the summer holidays, but her excitement made it seem as if we'd been separated for years. As usual, her brunette hair was patted down the middle with burettes holding it in place.
"Amy." Amber said over her shoulder. "They're here. Get off the phone."
Amy, who was leaning on Amber's car a few feet away, kept typing. I smiled at the sight of her bright pink jeans. She's been at camp most of the summer, and I'd missed her boldness—not just her outfits.
"Aren't you guys excited?!" Amber asked, clutching my arm. I nodded to appease her, and Abi shrugged. "It's going to be the most perfect year!"
I smiled, almost tempted to make a correction. "Perfect" is an absolute adjective and can't be modified. Something is or isn't perfect. It can't be more or less perfect.
"I know that look." Amber narrowed her eyes at me. "Go ahead."
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied.
"Yeah right, Grammar Girl." Amber's head pivoted back round. "Amy! Come on!"
"Sorry," Amy said, pocketing her phone. She glanced around at us and smiled, her pink lip gloss catching the morning sun. "Hi, juniors!"
We started walking toward the main building, where a red banner hung across the front doors: OHS—ANOTHER "SUPERIOR" YEAR! I wasn't sure why they were trying to sell us, since attendance was obligatory. Oakhurst High scored well in state rankings every year, mostly every year, mostly because of its location. Settled in our cushy suburb outside of Indianapolis, the school was full of kids who's parents worked downtown and expected excellence. Even the druggies and slackers made grade decent enough for technical school or junior college.
"Another superiorly boring year," Abi grumbled, hiking up her jeans by the belt loops.
Amber gave Abi's sidelong glance. "Those jeans look like they're going to fall off you."
Abi shot her a dark look. "It's not my fault that they don't make cute jeans in my size."
Amy shifted her eyes toward Abi. "Everyone hates you—you know that right."
"You missed me this summer." Abi said, nudging Amy with her elbow.
She grinned back. "I probably would have missed you more if you ever gained a pound from all the junk food you eat."
Amy arrived home earlier that week with a shorter haircut and a girlfriend named Lilia, who lived two towns over. They were together for the last few weeks of camp, and they'd even "fooled around." I wasn't fully clear on what that meant, details-wise, but Amy's face was smug when she told us.
My friends have all had a relationship before—only a few whom have lasted more than a month or two. Abi lost interest in high school guys after her last date at the beginning of the summer. He had apparently listened to techno music in the car and then tried to kiss her in a way that could only be described, according to her, as a reptilian.