Anywhere But Here (2 page)

I hobbled up the stairs to see if Aunt Franki had ordered that pizza yet.  I wanted to eat, shower
, and relax for the rest of the evening before starting a new life in the morning.

Chapter Two

Driving
to Dunewood High School the next morning, my mind wandered back to my old school. I wondered if any of my friends or acquaintances would notice I was no longer there.  I seriously doubted it as I hadn’t made much of an effort to renew friendships when school had started last August. Nor had I uttered a single word either in person or online of my big move that would happen before the holiday break ended.

Today was the first day back for both schools
and I was determined to start with a fresh, clean slate.  My less than wonderful grades from last term wouldn’t matter here – at least in my eyes.  I was a decent student – I could pull off the honor roll – I just hadn’t had the desire this year. 

Maybe that would change once I stepped inside the hallowed halls of Dunewood High.  Maybe the small school and friendly people would change my mind and my attitude.  Maybe they’d welcome me with open arms and heal my aching heart.  Maybe they’d chase away the anger-demon that
had perched on my shoulder 24/7 since July.

“And maybe I
am
a pathetic loser,” I snorted as I yanked my Honda to the back of the glistening building in order to find a place to park.

I watched the laughing students cross the pa
rking lot in packs and pairs as a twitter began in my heart.  I wanted to blame Jared for my being here – wanted to really blame him – but it had ultimately been my decision.  Jared had just nudged me a bit.

As I got out of my car and slung my backpack over my shoulder, I glanced at the building, grateful that there weren’t any reminders that Christmas had come and gone.  I didn’t want to drudge up dreadful memories of the farce of a family gathering that had taken place in the House Where Gloom Lived.

I tugged the collar of my heavy winter coat up to my chin, not only protecting my skin from the biting wind but attempting to hide from the curious faces that suddenly noticed I didn’t belong.

Quickening my pace, I
yanked open the door, immediately noticing the signs pointing to the office.  I followed them, ignoring the joyous shouts of friends reunited after a long, two week vacation and pushed through a group of jock-looking guys crowding the mouth of the hall.

“Excuse us,
sweetheart
,” a tall, curly-haired boy said with a smirk and a lifted brow.

“No problem,” I
replied as I stalked toward the brightly lit office.  I didn’t want to flirt and I sure didn’t want to be flirted with.

“Whoa,” Curly-Haired Dude’s friend said with a chortle.  “Watch out for that one – she’s a tiger.”

Curly-Haired Dude grunted and I heard his caustic remark before the office door closed behind me.  “More like a canine – a female canine if you know what I mean.”

I smiled in smug satisfaction.

“Can I help you, dear?” the aging receptionist asked as she shoved a pencil behind her ear, causing three others to tumble down her back.  “Are you new?”

“Rena Hamilton,” I replied.  “My aunt registered me already.”

“Of course,” she said as she shuffled through a stack of papers on her cluttered desk.  She retrieved the pencil from behind her ear and tossed it carelessly aside as she finally located a stapled set of papers.  “Here you go.  Here’s your schedule and a map and some other information.  Now, if you need someone to show you around, I can get a Student Council member…”

“That won’t be necessary,” I butted in quickly.  “I can figure it out.”  The last thing I needed was some nerd trying to be my friend while showing me around the school.  I wasn’t entirely stupid – I could read a map.

“Well, if you have any problems, come see me,” she said with an encouraging smile.

“Sure, thanks,” I muttered, eyes on my schedule.  It was basically the same as home: Creative Writing, US History, Calculus, American Lit, Chem II, Spanish, and Study Hall.  I’d already met my other credit requirements back home – even though I don’t know how I’d managed my first grading period.  I hardly remembered it.

“Your locker number and combination is on the top of your schedule.  Since you’re a senior, your locker is located on the first floor.  Would you like me to help you find it?”

“I can manage,” I said, uttering the same words I’d muttered faithfully at least three times a day for the past five and a half months.  “Um, better go now.”

I quickly located my locker and spun the combination lock before carefully landing on each number.
  When it didn't open on the first try, I kicked the bottom of the door and, ignoring the startled looks and the snickering behind me, tried again.  When the handle finally gave, I ripped the door open so I could deposit my coat.  The anger-demon decided to stick around to check out the school and who was I to argue?

I consulted my schedul
e, groaning when I realized that I had Calculus first.  I should have opted out of math at the beginning of the year - I wasn't hell bent on attending college anyway.

"Dude, look - it's Franki's niece of the orange room," called a voice I recognized as 'Rad' Boy – I couldn’t remember his name.
With a wince, I tried to desperately blend in with the walls but to no avail.  "Hang on."

I sighed while the anger-demon on my shoulder jumped up and down in glee.
  I didn't turn to face ‘Rad’ Boy or give him an encouraging smile - just stood there and allowed him to catch up with me.

"Hey, how's your first day?" he asked.

I craned my neck to glance at him – I hadn’t paid much attention to his height when I’d first met him - and noticed the merriment in his eyes.  "Seeing as it's just started, I don't really know yet.  How about you ask me when the day is over?"

"Whoa, someone's got a chip on their shoulder," 'Rad' Boy's companion chortled.
  I rolled my eyes.  "Do you suppose it's PMS or something equally gross?"

Spinning on my heel, I
jabbed a finger in his face – it was a tad easier since he wasn’t quite as tall and skinny as ‘Rad’ Boy.  "Just because a girl is in a bad mood doesn't necessarily mean she's on her period, got it skater boy?"

He held up his hands and backed away.
  "Gotcha."

"Listen," 'Rad' Boy said, stepping between me and his companion.
  "We're just trying to make nice with you - you know, like friends."

"I don't need any friends," I grumbled, narrowing my eyes.
  "Not at all."

"So you say now," he said, seriousness flickering through his eyes.
  He was kind of cute in that skater-boy-screw-society way with shoulder length dirty blond hair and captivating green eyes.  Even though he was tall and lanky he had a slight build, unlike his companion who was a head shorter and a little meatier. "We like Franki - she's cool and since you're related we like you, too, even if you are rude.  I'm Damon and he's Shane.  If you need something, give us a holler."  Giving me a final salute, he strolled casually down the hall.

I watched them, a little perplexed, and fought a smile while the anger-demon fumed at not being able to control the situation.
  I shrugged, nearly knocking him loose, and began searching for my first hour classroom.

Many heads turned as I approached the teacher's desk, Mr. Herman Mayer, and introduced myself.
  He was an older man with a receding hairline and a friendly enough smile.  I stood stoically as he explained where we were in the book and that I would be excused from the quiz at the end of the week.  I nodded, took the textbook, and sat at the desk he'd indicated near the back of the room.

Although I had only attended one high school prior to Dunewood, I had once been a typical teenager and met quite a few people online so I was very much aware how high schools were similar - especially in the clique department.
  Of course, there weren't many representatives of the various cliques in my Calculus class since it was a little more difficult, but I was certain that by the time lunch rolled around, I'd have them all pegged.  It was a very small town and an even smaller school.

I jotted a few notes, browsed the textbook
, and watched two girls pass notes back and forth as if they didn’t have cell phones or the capability to text.  Maybe they were old fashioned.  I crossed my fingers that they’d get caught.

When the bell rang, I hurried off to my next class and pretty much endured the same thing.  I didn’t pay much attention to the people sharing my classes, nor did I notice if they were in any of my previous ones.  I was far too busy doing the best I could to fade into the background.  Tough task in a small school when you’re the new person.

Lunch did perk me up a little, however.  I was hungry, for one, but I was also sort of anxious to figure out the caste system – even if I wasn’t particularly eager to join society. 

Selecting a few items from the lunch buffet, I
carried my tray to a dark corner and plopped down at an empty table.  I opened my bottle of juice, nibbled on a French fry, and watched the ensuing show.

I was expecting
High School Musical
without the cheesy soundtrack, but I was sadly disappointed.  Sure, people congregated in little groups but it didn’t look as though there was a particular ‘in crowd’. 

I ducked over my tray
with a shrug, concentrating only on finishing my food and finishing the day. 

“Rude Girl,” Damon, the ‘rad’ boy, said as he dropped his tray on
the table right across from me.  “You have the whole school buzzing about you.  They’re saying you’re rude and unfriendly.”

“Dude, he’s right,” Shane, Damon’s buddy
, agreed as he parked next to Damon.  “It’s scandalous.”

“It’s kind of hilarious, too,” Damon said with a slow smile.  He offered me a pickle spear.  “Here – the token olive branch of peace.  Or truce, whatever.”

His easy-going, laid-back smile sort of reminded me of Jared, my big brother, and I had a hard time resisting.  I grabbed the pickle and took a large bite.  “Thanks.  Guess I am being sort of rude, huh?”

“That’s all right – they’re jealous of you anyway,” said a short girl with a black beanie crammed over her light brown hair.  “The fake girls think you’re prettier than they are and they can’t stand it.”

I jumped and gawked at the girl as she dropped to the seat next to me.  I lifted a brow as I appraised her.  She wore baggy jeans, a t-shirt with some sort of intricate design, and no makeup whatsoever.  She was cute in a tomboy sort of way.  “And you are?”

“That’s Reg,” Damon said, shaking a French fry at the other girl.  “She hangs with us.”

“Reg?” I asked.

“
Regina,” the girl said as she crammed her hamburger in her face.  “I hate it. I mean, who the hell names their kid Regina these days? I prefer Reg.”

“I don’t blame you, I guess,” I said as I pushed my tray away.  I drained my juice, not really sure what to say.  I knew Aunt Franki wanted me to make friends but I just didn’t want people prodding in
to my life.  Friends wanted to know everything about you and when they found out your deepest secrets or horrendous heartbreaks, they either smothered you with sympathy or ran for the hills.

“So, Gina and her friends are a little threatened by you,” Reg continued, absolutely beside herself.  “I heard them talking about it in the bathroom.  They think you’re pretty and are afraid the guys will think you’re prettier than they are.”

I set my juice bottle carefully on the table so I could roll my eyes properly.  I picked at the label glued to the glass and ignored Reg’s comment.  Sure, once upon a time, I’d had my fair share of male admiration.  Of course, back then, I'd dressed carefully every morning and worked on my hair endlessly.  Now, though, I grabbed a pair of jeans and whatever shirt was clean before throwing my hair in a ponytail. 

Shane grunted.  “She is,” he said.  His eyes grew as his cheeks pinked.

Damon shot Reg an amused look and the two of them shared a chuckle.  I pretended as if nothing happened.

“What do you have after lunch?” Damon asked, once he rid the chuckles from his system.

“Creative Writing,” I muttered as I managed to liberate a corner of the label off the glass and tore a thin strip.  “Then a free period.”

“She must take all the smart classes,” Reg grumbled as she mashed the rest of her burger before shoving it in her face.

“Not really,” I said.  Eager to remove attention from me, I nodded at a group of girls laughing at a table in the middle of the cafeteria.  “Who are they?”

“Gina, Grace, Dayna
, and Shannon,” Reg said.  “They’re the ones that are afraid you might become some sort of beauty queen of the school.”

“How pathetic,” I said as I watched one of the blondes apply a liberal amount of gloss to her lips.  My
mouth fell into a frown.  Just a year ago I had been exactly like that – center of attention, lip gloss wearing, giggly and flirty. I had had a group of pretty friends who dated handsome jocks.  Idiotic, really. “Like I give a crap what people think.”