Harmonic Feedback (7 page)

“Aren’t we supposed to stay on campus at lunch?” I asked.

Roger pulled my lunch box into his lap and inspected it.

I snatched it from him. “Don’t touch that!” They wouldn’t understand my reaction. How could I explain the box was part of me—my space. I wanted to grab my stuff and run into the nearest bathroom stall. It was the only place at school that allowed me to lock people out. Sometimes it felt like the only place I could breathe.

Roger yanked on one of Naomi’s purple pigtails. “Where’d you find this chick?”

She scrunched her nose at me and bit her lip. “I’m gonna split. But I’ll see you in PE, okay?”

“Sure,” I said, feeling Justin’s eyes burning into me.

“Later,” Naomi said, ruffling my red curls.

As Naomi disappeared into the crowd, I wondered why she’d want to spend so much time hanging out with a guy she didn’t even seem to like.

“What a tool,” Justin commented.

“Roger?”

“Who else?” He gave me a little nudge. “Naomi seems cool, though.”

“Yeah, she’s the first person who… never mind.”

“Tell me.” He leaned close enough for me to inhale a musky scent. Kind of like rain in a forest. It made my stomach tickle.

I counted the cracks in the pavement below my dangling feet. “She’s really friendly—most people aren’t.”

“Maybe because you aren’t very friendly to them.”

I met his gaze. His eyes matched the cloudy sky. “What does that mean?”

“Well”—he glanced down at his long fingers—“you weren’t exactly Miss Sunshine to me this morning.”

“I’m sorry. Was I supposed to do a cheer for you?”

He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “No, but looking at me would’ve been nice.”

“If I’m so horrible, why are you sitting here?”

“Because I think you’re interesting.”

Since when did guys like him find
me
interesting? “How can you say that? You don’t even know me.”

A smile edged at his lips, showing off a dimple on his left cheek. “I’m good at reading people.”

I crumpled up my paper bag and shifted away from him. “Shouldn’t you be hanging out with people more like you, then?”

“And who would that be?”

“Kari.”

“How did you come to the conclusion that I’m like Kari?”

“Usually guys like you—”

“Guys like me? Spit it out, Drea. What little box have you stuck me in?”

His questions made my stomach shrivel, and my mind was at its limit. I couldn’t even think. Nobody ever confronted me like this before. Usually I’d say a few sentences and they’d never talk to me again. Simple.

“I have to go.” I snatched my backpack and headed toward the school building, tossing my bag in the trash.

“It’s been a pleasure,” he called after me.

My chest felt tight as I walked down the hallway in search of the restrooms. The never-ending rows of lockers bowed in and out, and my boots squeaked on the green tile floor. A group of girls stared at me as I passed them, their whispers like needles poking at my skin. Kari was one of them.

“Hey, Drea,” she said with a half smile. Her dark eyes focused on the box swinging in my hand.

I muttered hi under my breath. A flutter of laughter followed me down the hallway.

“She looks like Raggedy Ann,” one of the girls hissed. Another voice shushed her, and they went silent. I pictured their eyes on my back, analyzing everything from the way I walked to the size of my butt. Mom always did that. Compared herself to other women or criticized their outfits. When I’d hide in a bathroom stall, girls would stand in front of the mirror complimenting each other and insulting their absent friends. Always with lowered voices and soft giggles. Hatred and friendship seemed to go hand in hand.

The bell signifying the end of lunch break rang about five minutes later. My shoulders sagged as soon as I glanced at my schedule—PE. I’d purposely
forgotten
to bring a T-shirt and a pair of sweats, hoping this school wouldn’t have a uniform. It wasn’t like they could make me run around a field in a skirt.

I scanned the crowd for Naomi as I neared the brick gym building but found Kari instead. She had her hand on Justin’s arm, and he was leaning toward her and laughing. I’d once read some lame magazine in a doctor’s office that said casual touches and leaning toward each other were signs of romantic interest.

Kari’s voice rose as she backed away from him. “See you in the parking lot, then?”

Justin gave her another dimpled smile. “You got Mrs. Baker for sixth period, right?”

She nodded, looking over at me. I realized I was gaping at them like an idiot.

“I’ll meet you there after class.” Justin turned and glanced at me. I opened my mouth to say hi, but he’d looked away and brushed past me before a sound escaped my lips. Nice.

“How’s it going, Drea?” Kari asked, still staring at me from the entrance of the gym.

“Fine,” I muttered to the ground.

“What?”

“It’s fine,” I said as I walked toward her. Where the hell was Naomi?

“Come on. I’ll show you where the locker room is,” she said, opening the graffiti-covered door.

Great—just what I needed. A guided tour of the locker room by a girl who hated my only friend here. “Thanks.”

She led me down a hallway with a shiny wood floor and walls lined with trophy cases. “Did Naomi tell you we used to be best friends?” she asked.

“No.”

“Didn’t think so.”

The smell of sweat and cheap perfume emanated from a blue set of double doors ahead, making me queasy.

“You’ll have to see Mrs. Kessler to get your uniform first.” She yanked open the heavy door.

Perfect, I thought.

The locker room was like every other I’d endured. Stained cement floors with matching walls, long skinny benches, and girls in various stages of undress. Some were hunched over, quickly yanking shirts over their heads. Others paraded around in nothing but fancy bras and underwear. The muggy air and high-pitched chatter made me dizzy.

Kari brought me to an office where a brunette woman sat. She looked nearly as small as I was—definitely not the norm for PE teachers.

“Newbie here, Mrs. Kessler.” She jabbed her thumb at me.

“Thanks, Kari.”

Kari shot me a quick grin and left me alone. Mrs. Kessler handed me a uniform, went over the usual rules, and sent me on my way. She didn’t even ask if I had questions.

Naomi stood outside the office, biting her lower lip. Her eyes looked glazed and sleepy. “Let’s go find lockers.” She grabbed my elbow and led me toward the back row. We scanned for a pair without locks and found a couple at the very top.

Naomi ripped off her black T-shirt and nodded at me. “Kessler is loads of fun, isn’t she?”

“Sure…” I folded my arms over my stomach. I’d changed in the bathroom stalls at every other school. The other girls would smirk when I’d come out clutching my clothes. But it was better than standing around a bunch of half-naked strangers.

Naomi crinkled her brow at me. “Better get changed. Kessler is a real hard-ass about tardiness.”

“Right.” I stood up and backed away, pressing the clothing against my chest.

“Where you going?”

“Bathroom.”

She unzipped her baggy jeans and let them fall to the floor. “Are you changing in the stall?” Her half smile told me she found that amusing. After all, she thought I’d had my share of boyfriends—surely it wasn’t the first time anyone saw me undressed.

“I have to pee. But I guess I can change first.”

“Whatever.” She grinned and folded her jeans.

I glanced at the blue underwear riding low across her hips. The material was silky and thin. Nothing like the white pair that went up to my waist.

A couple girls walked into the aisle across from us—the same ones standing in the hallway with Kari at lunch. The blonde gave me a fleeting glance, but focused on Naomi. She was tall and big-boned with jowly cheeks and thin lips. She slid out of her tight jeans, showing off a satin thong. Her skinny friend wore one of those lace bras I saw in my mom’s Victoria Secret catalogs.

I wasn’t wearing a bra.

“Roger tried to make a move on me at lunch,” Naomi said, slamming her locker shut. “You’re definitely coming with me next time.”

I pulled the gray sweats underneath my skirt. The scratchy material made my legs itch. “Why do we have to hang out with him at all?”

“Because he’s got a car and he’ll smoke us out.” She wrinkled her nose at me as I slipped the T-shirt over my tank top. “Kessler usually makes us run a mile the first day.”

“That’s okay.” I stuffed my skirt inside the locker and reluctantly put my lunch box inside. I never had much luck convincing PE teachers that I could run and play sports while carrying it.

“Someone should put biohazard tape over her locker,” the blond girl across the aisle said loudly. She elbowed her friend and giggled at Naomi.

Naomi rolled her eyes at me. “Bitches.”

The big-boned girl straightened and walked toward Naomi. God, she was at least six feet tall. “Did you say something?”

Naomi’s shoulders tensed. “Nope.”

The girl leaned within inches of her face. “You sure?”

Naomi pressed her back into the lockers, her hands curling into fists. “I didn’t know, Casey. And I already apologized to her. What else do you want from me?”

Casey glanced down at Naomi’s shaking hands and smirked. She slammed her large fist into the lockers, missing Naomi’s head by a couple inches. The thud echoed around the room like a firecracker, making me cover my ears. “Call me bitch again and I’ll aim for your face next time.”

“You got one minute!” Mrs. Kessler called from the front. “Let’s go, ladies!”

Casey backed away and disappeared around the corner with her friend.

Naomi squeezed her eyes shut and let out a deep breath. “I totally forgot she’d be in regular PE this year.”

“She looks like a football player,” I said.

“No shit. She got kicked off the soccer team last year for sending a chick to the hospital.”

“Why is she so mad at you?” I asked as we headed out of the locker room.

“Shhh.” Naomi’s eyes darted around the seemingly empty rows around us. She moved closer to me and leaned into my ear. “Because Kari will never be done getting back at me. Casey is, like, her personal fucking bodyguard.”

“But that guy isn’t even her boyfriend anymore, right?”

“It’s not about that. I broke the girl code, you know?”

I nodded, but I didn’t really
know
. Too bad there wasn’t a dictionary for sixteen-year-old girl talk.

I nearly bumped into Justin when I found my sixth-period film class. He opened the door for me, but he didn’t make eye contact.

I headed for the back row again—the seat closest to the window. Justin didn’t follow me this time. In fact, he sat on the other side of the room near the front. I should’ve felt relief, but my chest felt heavy, and I slumped in my seat.

Our bald teacher fiddled around with a seventeen-inch laptop at his desk. Every now and then, he’d look up and smile at the students wandering in. The bell rang, and I glanced around at the half-empty class. The two boys Naomi called Dumb and Dumber were sitting in the back row whispering to each other. Casey passed a cell phone to some guy with spiky hair behind her, and the pierced girl who’d complimented me on my skirt wrote in a journal. Justin drummed his fingers against the desk, gazing at the ceiling.

“Okay, guys.” The teacher stood. He had buggy eyes and a lanky body, kind of like Gumby. “I’m Mr. Diaz, and obviously I’m new to Samish High.…”

He launched into a speech about teaching film at UCLA, and I stared out the window, tuning him out. Puffy clouds hovered over the dark blue bay, making my stomach growl. When I was little, I thought they were cotton candy.

“Why’d you come up
here
?” a nasal voice snapped me out of my trance. It came from the blond emo boy Naomi hooked up with.

“I like Bellingham.” Mr. Diaz grinned at him. “Anyway, if you’re hoping this will be a breeze, you might want to find another elective. I’m not going to expect any less from you guys than I did from my college students.” He leaned against his desk and scanned the room. “How many of you like to watch movies?” When we all raised our hands, he continued. “Okay, how many of you like to see blockbusters at the big theaters?”

Justin, the pierced girl, and I were the only people who didn’t raise our hands. I didn’t like the crowds, the smell of the popcorn, or the stiff seats. Plus, the movies were always predictable.

Mr. Diaz nodded at Justin. “Why don’t you like them, Mr. Nike?”

A small laugh escaped my mouth, and Justin glanced over at me before answering. “They lack originality ninety-nine percent of the time.”

The teacher pursed his lips. “But hasn’t every story been done before?”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t be told in a different way.”

“Do you agree with him, Lilith?” Mr. Diaz motioned in my direction.

“My name is Drea,” I answered.

He leaned forward. “Didn’t hear you.”

“Drea—my name is Drea!” The class snickered, telling me I’d said it way too loud. Justin was the only person not looking in my direction.

The teacher’s eyes widened. “Fair enough. Do you agree?”

I looked back over at Justin, but he kept his eyes forward like I didn’t exist. I hated him for it. “Yes, but I think it’s kind of strange coming from someone wearing a Nike T-shirt.”

“Why do you think he called you Lilith?” Justin asked. “Because you’re so unique?”

“I don’t know.” I slumped farther in my seat.

“I suddenly feel like I’m in detention with Anthony Michael Hall,” Mr. Diaz said. “Interestingly enough,
The Breakfast Club
is one of the first films we’re going to watch.”

Yet another movie I remembered hearing about but couldn’t place. Several of the other students expressed their delight through muffled
yeah
s and hoots.

“Why do
you
think I called her that?” Mr. Diaz asked Justin.

“The black clothing, the pouting.” Justin turned to look at me. “Back row. Corner desk. Anti–brand name. Sounds like the stereotypical Goth to me.”

Laughter filtered throughout the room. A guy mumbled something about being
owned
.