Denial (Goblin's Kiss Series Book One) (2 page)

“
Fine!” I gave
knowing the mention of my eyes meant they were darker than the norm
and no longer matched with what I was wearing anyway. She always
said the same thing and I always yielded to her determination.
“Let
’
s go before we are late.”

I sprayed the
last of the dollar hairspray to volumize the blonde highlights in
my dull brown flat-ironed hair. Shoulder blade length and hard to
keep decent, steam was needed for the Tennessee humidity. Yes,
it
’
s
November. No, it
’
s not deathly hot. Yes,
it
’
s
still a solid eighty-five degrees.

Tonya grumbled throwing her own
auburn brown highlighted hair over her shoulder and locked into it
into a quick ponytail. I grabbed the one man who would never let me
down—Earl Grey--and we managed out the door.

My
stepfather
’
s young stockbroker friend,
Randor waved at us. He moved in a few years back and took to
chatting often with my stepparents. He was really cute and always
checking on me. We waved back and headed for the
driveway.

They
weren
’
t really my stepparents. I was adopted. But I
couldn
’
t make myself wall them that. It made me feel even more
unwanted. Phil and Randor were always hard at work talking about
money and my stepmother was always just...busy.

We jumped into
my maroon red
’
89 Ford Mustang hatchback and
zipped up Highway 20 to Horne Drive. Into the senior parking we
went with our heads in a happy bubble of smug as a rug fog. The
parking attendant looked at my windshield sticker and nodded under
the downward bill of his hat. I carefully turned the wheel into the
slanted number twenty-four space after the guard checked the
sticker number matching beside my rearview mirror. He
didn’t
really check. He
knew me and my car.

No car alarm to
arm, we headed into the front main doors of our senior year that
would lead me into the planned life I had laid out away from here.
You see, I wanted to get a better job, get an apartment, go to the
local junior college, take the basics, end up at UT, and get a
degree in ??? I didn
’
t have any idea, but I knew
that
’
s what I was going to do. Hands down.

Until today.

The front left door swung open
banging metal on metal as the various teachers greeted the tail end
of the first day stragglers into the building. That included little
ole me.

I followed Tonya in single file as
we squeezed down the tapered hallway to our first semester class,
Advanced Reading 101. Together, we would take the senior year by
storm starting with Shakespeare, William Faulkner, and Emile
Bronte.

We shuffled up
the main stairs and around to A Hall. We wound the next corner
heading up the next set of stairs that led up to the second floor
right into Miss Cauldron
’
s class of thirteen students. We
were two of them.

Her class was
always awesome. We
’
d study most of my favorites and
a few of my hates. Yes, I hate some writers. A sort of love/hate
relationship. I don
’
t hate their expert writing
abilities, but rather their ability to make the words jump right
off the page and consume me as if it were pulling me into the pages
of the book I was reading. You see, one of my lifelong dreams is to
have good ole Arnold Schwarzenegger invent a page turner time
machine straight into my favorite page of each and every book I
ever got lost in. Hence, I hate them since they can make me want to
go there. I knew them all and they knew me.

“...and
let
’
s get started with the first novel comparison of the
semester. Nick Carraway in Gatzby vs. Romeo. Can they even compare?
Let
’
s find out.”

Ring!
The bell went off before too long and each of us
gathered our things. Next up was Advanced Creative Writing 101 for
seniors. Hoo-yeah!

This day
couldn
’
t get any better.

Tonya headed in a different
direction and I grappled with my tea cup in my mouth regarding the
room number on my schedule. Once found, I was off.

I took the steps
one at a time wanting to slow down for just a few seconds and
relish in the air of knowing the rundown of my day, but not ignore
those who might be in need. I knew others, mainly freshmen, were
full of nerves and lost beyond belief. I looked around to see if
there were any wayward downcast faces to send in the right
direction. I was there once. A sophomore boy named Joe sent me down
the wrong trail to English 101 with Mr. Whitmore the Bore making me
walk in five minutes late that fateful day to a full-of-himself boy
named Rick. I didn
’
t know then that Rick was
destined to change my life forever. He was your stereotypical jock
who was arrogant and loud, an ever present rule breaker. He never
changed.

When I reached
the bottom of the last step I accepted that no one needed my
assistance and slid through the closing door that another someone
held open for me. A word of thanks and into the main hallway I went
back as if in reverse from arrival. I eased through the thinning
crowd wishing I had Tonya here in my sudden loneliness, but she
didn
’
t take this class with me. She needed another
science.

Mrs. Ryman, the nice older lady
who always helped tutor students in ancient literature made her way
to me.

“Good morning, Emma.
”

“Good morning Mrs. Ryman. I do not
have any students to send to you yet.”

“I know dear. Just checking on the
future leaders of our world.” She smiled and patted my shoulder.
Sometimes she just seemed otherworldly.

I said goodbye
to her and journeyed on to my dreadfully, normal day with the
exception of the first two classes. I didn
’
t want this next class to
end.

“Hi-ya Emma,”
Jay beamed his own laser blue eyes my way staring a little too long
at my own odd hues. It never ceased. I smiled quickly accepting
what I couldn
’
t change. He
’
d been
“
my friend
” for a long time, but he wanted more. I just
didn
’
t like him that way.

“Hey Jay. Where are you headed?” I
sipped a bittersweet length of my tea from my lidded “coffee” cup.
Why was it called that anyway if one drank something other than
coffee? Even cups get stereotyped.

Jay searched for
his schedule out of friendliness. I knew he didn
’
t have any of my
classes. I knew this because Jay took shop and agriculture and was
in the FFA. His path in life differed altogether from mine, but
that didn
’
t mean we weren
’
t friends. Well, talk-to-ya
friends. The kind you see and greet, then never meet.
We
’
d
never spoken outside of school unless our different circle of
friends happen to end up at the local hangouts
.

“Um, Biology
102. I managed to escape until now. Guess I
’
m the dope who
should
’
ve have listened to the counselor when she said to take care
of undergrad courses before senior year.”

I laughed
because that
’
s what he wanted me to do. We
knuckled bumped like always and I headed off after a fast wave and
said a see.ya.later. He
’
d have that class with Tonya.
Good luck.

Tonya was a
bit...sarcastic. Well, a lot. That
’
s what most people liked about
her though. She didn
’
t take anyone
’
s
crap.

I bound around the corner faster
now knowing my time was running low on the gap between classes.
With less than two minutes till second period started, I was now
going to have to run.

I quickened my
steps to a patterned clip clop even with the black soft padded
boots I chose for the first day marathon across the campus. I heard
giggling and a few cackles up ahead and discarded the noise as the
cheerleaders. They were somewhat my friends since we been on squad
together for all of two months before I called it quits. Too much
demanding this and demanding that. My life was my own, not a
collective group who defined me. And besides, my anger sometimes
made me do
things
. Bad things.

The giggling
increased as I neared B Hall and the turn I had to make. A group
was gathered around one person in the center of the hall and I
couldn
’
t help but worry that some poor freshman was being harassed.
So I nosed my way up in hopes of charming them away from the poor
soul. They still acknowledged me, the bookwormish working girl. So
I still acknowledged them, the spoiled brattiness never worked a
day in their lives, former friends of the disastrous junior year
phase called cheerleading.

I eyed Christina Fowler and
sauntered up to her. At the same time I checked my bangle watch
that had bounced on the wrong side of my wrist. One minute and
twenty four seconds to go. Great!

“Christina, are
you torturing some poor freshmen into going into the
girl
’
s locker room again?” I remembered that fiasco that she never
got blamed for.

I parted the sea and scooted in
next to her. With the giggling even louder, I rolled my oddly
colored eyes as I often did to survive the drama I was surrounded
with on a daily basis. I stepped right onto the hard steel-toed
boot of definitely.not.a.freshmen.

Light green eyes
the shade of faded money stood a foot taller than me and bore
straight into my very soul as I stood like a moron and dropped my
mouth two inches wide. They matched my own in the weirdness factor.
The eyes, that is. They said things to me. He was as sure of
himself as he appeared. Everything else in my view showed a
mocking, arrogant smirk with some hidden purpose I
didn
’
t want to know about. But I couldn
’
t look
away.

I showed my
clutzy side by running into his feet and had to grab onto him to
avoid falling sprawled eagle in front of him. Feeling warmer than
the temperature outside all of the sudden, I let go immediately not
liking what my brain was shouting inside. A second later, I swear I
felt his fear. But how could I
feel
fear?

“I see you found
our new meat,” Christina giggled like the rest of the skirted hens.
“He is in need of someone to get him to his next class, but none of
us have it with him and he refuses to be a bother on us, or so he
says. I don
’
t even know where a Creative
Writing class would be held in this school.”

He looked me up
and down, so I did the same. I was no coward... as long as the pain
didn
’
t last long. And not against guys. If they had the audacity
to make me feel uncomfortable, then I could do it right back.
I
’
d
had enough of their sexist comments last year and not one of them
was good enough to consider now.

Then my brain caught up with what
Christina just said.

Uh oh! On one plane of my
existence I heard her say he needed help getting to class. On the
other time warp plane of my so-called life I was stuck in a sudden
black hole. Two of them. An endless set of eyes that seemed to say
things and never speak at all.

Christina nudged
me, “Ah, Emma. Earth to Emma. Ames here needs your wordy nerdy
assistance, not a stare down. Can you hike him to class already?”
She leaned into him now and pressed herself against him right here
in front of me. Her cheer skirt rode a little high and I almost
gagged at the picture before me. I couldn
’
t believe I thought cheer
was ever cool.

He let her press and she pushed
the envelope even farther, but when her fingers grazed the side of
his bare-armed very toned biceps, I cringed and heard a soft
whimper leave my lips.

As if
he
’
d
heard my reaction, he pulled his body back taking his foot from
under mine with the rest of him. What made me do that? Why would I
be upset at this girl ogling and pawing all over a strange
green-eyed guy I
’
d never met?

He bit back a
small smile, but my sleuthy self caught it. His gaze never leaving
mine, he nodded to Christina and held out a muscled arm in my
direction.
Me?