Last Train Home (2 page)

“I think I’m going to go register, but I probably won’t start ti
ll the day after.”

“So why’d you guys move here anyway?”
he asked bluntly.

I looked over to
David, wondering how to answer his question when I didn’t even know the answer myself.  Because my mom was a jerk?  Because my mom wanted to destroy my life?  Because God was punishing me for some unknown sin? 

“I don’t know.  I guess my mom just wanted to
now that my parents are divorced,” was what I finally decided on.

“Still, it’s
gotta suck,” David said through a mouth full of chili and I stared at him. “I’m just saying it’s gotta suck moving from Boston to Carver.  This place is a pit.”

“
Is it really that bad?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.

“
Let me put it this way…it’s like a black hole.  Once you’re here, it sucks you in and you’re trapped forever.  Your mom was one of the lucky few to escape.  She’s gotta be crazy to move back.  That’s why Danny joined the army.  It was his only chance.”

As I looked at
David, I knew he was serious.  This place was like flypaper, which I was now stuck to, but vowed to free myself from. 
 

Chapter Two

As I pulled my Jetta into the high school parking lot, I couldn’t help but think it looked sorely out of place.  My shiny new Volkswagen didn’t quite fit in among the sea of old pick-up trucks and hand-me-down sedans.  I chose a spot in the back, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible and then, with a deep breath and a nauseous stomach, I gathered my things and stepped out into the muggy air. 

The parking lot was fairly
empty except for a few other students hanging out by their cars.  I could feel them staring at me as I began the long walk into the old brown brick building, which reminded me disturbingly of Springfield Elementary on The Simpsons.  It was nothing like my old school in Boston, which had been practically brand new.  I told myself to be optimistic.  Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, but as I opened the old rust colored doors, the optimism quickly deflated. 

The school was old, obviously.  It was the same school my mom went to for cripes sake
, and as I looked around, I couldn’t imagine her walking the gray halls as these strangers were doing now.  Faded maroon lockers lined the walls and I stared at the dingy white tile as I quickly went to find my locker. 

When I registered, I didn’t bother looking around.  I just wanted to get in and get out
, so the whole building was new to me.  I glanced to my right and saw the lockers were going up sequentially.  I was only at locker 142.  I still had a ways to go till I reached 376. 

I could feel the stares following
me as I searched for my locker.  I knew I wasn’t imagining it.  This school wasn’t that big and it had to be apparent I was new.  These people had all gone to school together since kindergarten.  They knew everyone who walked the halls and it was obvious I didn’t belong.  I was different than them.  I looked different and after spending the evening with my relatives, I realized I even talked different.  My new classmates appeared more relaxed and laid back than the people at my old school.  I saw lots of old jeans and t-shirts and thought I might be too dressed up in my knit gray dress and black leggings. 

I continued my hurried walk, blocking out the buzzing sounds of my classmates’ voice
s.  I was relieved when I finally reached my locker. I grabbed the crumpled piece of paper I’d written the combination on and began fumbling with the old silver lock. After the third try it popped open.  I put the small brown bag I’d packed my lunch in inside and then slammed the metal door.  I quickly turned around to head to my first period Constitution class, when I felt myself slam into something and a sea of papers flew into the air.  I raised my head and was met with piercing blue eyes that did not look happy.

“Excuse me!  Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” the voice seethed out of a seemingly perfect face. 

She was shorter than me, but for some reason she seemed to tower above me.  Her pale skin looked like porcelain with perfect rosy cheeks.  Her corn silk blonde hair was thick and wavy and hung to the middle of her back.  She was dressed to perfection in a pair of tight jeans and tall black boots.  A tight pink baby doll shirt clung to her body, emphasizing how well-endowed she was.  She flung her hair as she continued to glare at me, along with her two sidekicks, a short redhead and another Barbie Doll blonde. 

“
Omigosh!  I’m so sorry,” I said smiling at the girl apologetically and then bending down to retrieve the papers from the floor.  Once I’d gathered them all, I stood up and handed them back to her.

“Yeah, you should be sorry,” she sneered. “Maybe if you opened your eyes when you walked you wouldn’t go crashing into people
.  Who the hell are you anyway?”

I was noticeably shocked at her reaction.  I’d tried to apologize.  It was an accident after all, but she continued to glare at me and huff annoyingly as she flipped her hair, which now that I looked at it, seemed dry and frizzy.  I knew I should just blow her off.  I was the new kid and I didn’t want any trouble, but my inner Bostonian wouldn’t let me and I responded in a way that
even surprised me.

“Oh, you’re right
,” I began, not bothering to introduce myself as she’d requested. “I don’t know how I missed you with that rat’s nest you’ve got going on on your head,” I said sarcastically and she gasped and stared at me with an expression I could only describe as flabbergasted.

“What’d you say?” she
sneered at me through squinty eyes.

“
Ya know, I’ve got an excellent deep conditioner and a flat-iron that might help with that…situation you’ve got going on,” I said, gesturing to her hair.

An eerie silence settled between us and the air was suddenly heavy, as if we were standing on the surface of Venus.  I never broke my stare and she never broke hers.  I
t was like a scene from a movie, totally overdramatic and unnecessary.

“You just made a
big
mistake,” she threatened and flung her hair as she and her groupies continued down the hall.  I watched as the crowds seemed to part for her.  I guessed it was more out of fear than admiration.  She had completely broken the stereotype that Midwesterners were nice. That girl was an outright bitch. 

“I see you met Adrienne.”

“What?” I asked.

“Adrienne Bennett and her disciples
Dana Daley and Kristen Roberts.”

I turned around to see a friendly face, the complete opposite of what I had just encountered.  She was short and cute with light brown hair that was cut into
a stylish bob.  Wispy bangs draped her forehead and she reached up and brushed them out of her eyes.

“I’m Holly.”

“Hi,” I said as I continued to watch Adrienne and her cronies.

“Don’t worry about her.  She’s a bitch and no one likes her, even though she thinks everyone adores her.”

“Yeah, that was kinda the impression I got,” I said, turning my attention back to Holly.

“You’re new here?”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“It was.
I just didn’t want to assume.”

“You would’ve assu
med right.  I’m Riley.”

“And how did you find your way to
Carver?” she asked and I could tell by her voice that she loved this town about as much as my cousin.

“My mom grew up here and three weeks ago she just decided to up and move home,” I said
, not bothering to tell her the whole story as I adjusted my back pack to my other shoulder.

“And what do you think of our precious to
wn?” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Let’s just say I
miss Boston.”

“Boston?  Now I
really
feel sorry for you.”

“Thanks for making me feel better,” I laughed and I knew Holly was cool.  She might even be friend material.

“Let me take a look at your schedule,” Holly said, reaching out towards me.  I pulled the folded piece of paper from my pocket and handed it her.

“We don’t have any classes together, but we can meet up at lunch if you want,” she said
, handing it back to me.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Okay then.  I’ll see you at lunch.  I usually sit at the table closest to the back door.”

I nodded and smiled as Holly walked away.  I still hated it here, but at least she’d been nice, especially after the enco
unter with Adrienne.  I pulled my cell phone out of my backpack and looked at the clock.  The bell was about to ring, so I headed to my first period class.  It wasn’t hard to find since the school was small with a population of maybe five hundred.  There had been five hundred in my senior class alone in Boston. 

I walked into the half-full classroom and approached the teacher’s desk at the front of the room.  All of the side conversations seemed to stop when I stepped inside and I could feel th
eir eyes staring at me.  The teacher, who according to my schedule was named Mr. Barry, was an old man with white hair and a bushy mustache worse than my Uncle Mike’s.  He was wearing a tweed coat that looked older than I did.  I would’ve bet anything that Mr. Barry had been teaching at Carver High forever and maybe even had my mom in one of his classes.

He looked up from the newspaper he was reading and stared at me
peculiarly.

“Can I help you?” he asked with a rasp
y voice that exuded grumpiness.

“I’m Riley
Regas.  I just transferred here,” I said quietly, handing him my schedule.

He looked it over and then handed it back to me.  He turned around and grabbed a textbook from the shelf behind his desk and pushed it towards me.  I picked up the
tattered book and tucked it under my arm and stared out to the sea of old desks.  Everyone was looking at me curiously and I hesitated, not quite knowing where I should go.

“There’s a
seat over there,” Mr. Barry said, pointing a gnarled finger towards a seat in the corner in front of a chubby boy with bad skin and greasy hair who looked up at me and smiled.  I walked over and draped my backpack over the blue plastic chair before smiling back at the boy and sitting down.  I tried to shrink away in my chair as the classroom began filling up and I was royally annoyed when I saw Adrienne walk in.  She was flinging her hair again.  It was a wonder her wrist didn’t break.  She looked up and must’ve seen me watching her because she glared in my direction and then made her way to her seat in the middle of the classroom. 

The seats around me were soon filled too, first by another blonde girl.  She was about the
bazillionth blonde I’d seen since walking into the building and I was beginning to think they only produced blondes here, except for the few genetic freaks that had managed to sneak in, myself included.  The whole place was so…white, it almost made me uncomfortable not to see a variety of skin tones.  The blonde girl had eyed me as she sat in the seat beside me.  She didn’t look mean, just surprised to see an unfamiliar face.  My suspicions of the blonde majority continued to grow as yet another blonde sat behind the first one.  She also looked at me curiously before cracking a weak smile.  I was almost relieved when another pigmented person walked in.  A cute boy with dark brown hair walked over and sat in the seat behind the second blonde. 

The bell rang a minu
te later and Mr. Barry stood up.  I noticed he was looking in my direction and I began praying he wouldn’t introduce me.  I always felt sorry for the new kids and the spotlight the teacher put on them their first day.  This was only first period and I didn’t want to imagine having to introduce myself six times.  I realized my prayers had gone unanswered though when Mr. Barry opened his mouth.

“We have a new addition this morning,” he said with feigned enthusiasm. “Would you stand up and introduce yourself
, Kiley.”

Was he serious?  Did he just call me Kiley?  Now, not only would I have to introduce myself, but I’d have to correct his error too.

I swear I felt a gust of wind blow past me from the movement of twenty heads all turning at the exact same moment.  I could feel their eyes on me and I reluctantly stood up as my heart started pounding.  My palms started to sweat and my throat was instantaneously parched when it had been fine a second before.  I swallowed hard and was grateful when the moisture returned to my mouth.

“I’m Riley
Regas,” I said, looking out at my classmates, a sea of blondes…dark blondes, light blondes, platinum blondes and strawberry blondes.  There were a few brunettes and even one redhead peppered throughout, but overall, the room reminded me of
Children of the Damned
.

“And where are you joining us from
, Miss Regas?” Mr. Barry asked.

“I just moved here from Boston
, well actually Newton, a suburb of Boston,” I said and I noticed my classmates looking at me with even more curiosity now, as if Boston was on the outer reaches of the solar system rather than on the East Coast. I looked briefly in Adrienne’s direction and she was smirking at me once again. 

“Boston?” Mr. Barry said
, sounding suddenly interested. “Did you live there long?”

“My w
hole life.”

“I’m sure you’ll have a lot to share with us over the course of the semester
, seeing as how you grew up where so much of our young nation’s history took place.”

I nodded and then sat down dreading the thought of having to give some kind of presentation on the Freedom Trail or something.  I prayed I wouldn’t be Mr. Barry’s new class pet….that he wouldn’t somehow try to live vicariously through my Boston heritage since he had spent his whole life stuck in this hellhole of a town, where the only thing of historical significance was the tallest stock of wheat ever grown. 

****

The rest of the morning continued on exactly as first hour had, except my other teachers were a little more welcoming than Mr. Barry had been.  They had seemed genuinely happy to have me in their class, or so I thought…perhaps they were just better at faking it.  In one way they weren’t different from him though
, because they all made me stand up and introduce myself while my classmates all stared up at me with the same glazed expressions.  There were a few people who had more than one class with me and they seemed just as excited about hearing my introduction again as I was in giving it.