Be the Girl(11)

“Have a great first day at Eastmonte. Cassie, come inside when you’re finished up here.” With that, he ducks into his class.

“You good, Cassie?” Emmett asks.

“Yes.” She nods to emphasize.

“Don’t show anyone your code,” he warns, pointing to the push button combination padlock.

“Okay, Emmett!”

“All right.” He turns to walk down the hall. He’s patient with his little sister’s peculiarities and outbursts. I guess he’s used to them.

“See you later, Cassie,” I say.

“At three forty-six. Right here.” She points at her locker.

“Yes.” I guess I need to be more specific.

“Okay. Bye.” She turns her attention back to her locker.

I rush to catch up with Emmett. “So, what’s that class Cassie is taking?”

“It’s a community class. They do life and social skills learning. Eason is amazing with her.”

“Does she not take any regular classes?”

“She takes a couple that are special for kids like her, on the spectrum. Hey, man! How was your summer?” We stall as Emmett shares a few words with a shorter, stocky blond guy who steals several glances my way but never says hi. I’m sure if Cassie were here, I would have already received an introduction.

“Do you think she’ll go to college after?”

He frowns. “Who, Cassie? No, she’ll be here until she’s twenty-one.”

I cringe at the thought of being in high school for that long.

He nods in greeting to a passing guy, and laughs at another. Walking through the halls is probably not the best time to try to carry on a conversation—about anything—with him.

“This is me.” I point at locker number 698.

“That was my buddy Zach’s locker last year. I’m just down there.” He points haphazardly and keeps going.

I split my time between unloading my lunch bag and blank notebooks from my backpack and watching Emmett stroll down the hall, his gait casual, returning smiles and greetings from at least a dozen people. It’s obvious he’s well known. And well liked.

He hooks his combination lock into his locker just as a blonde in a flirty black skirt and wedge heels barrels into him from behind, her arms looping around his waist. In the light of the hallway, I can see how perfect Holly truly is, with her sculpted cheekbones, expressive blue eyes, and wide, pouty lips.

I groan.

“You okay?”

I turn to find a round-faced girl with owlish eyes and an upturned nose at the locker next to me, and realize she’s talking to me.

“I’m fine. Just … life. It’s so predictable.”

“Tell me about it.” She snorts, pushing her frizzy auburn hair off her freckled face. She’s at least five inches taller than me and on the heavy side, with broad shoulders and a slightly hunched posture. The corners of her mouth are naturally curved downward, making it look like she wears a perpetual frown. “I’m Jen. Or Jenny, if you want. Just not Jennifer. You’re Aria, right?”

“Uh … yeah?”

“Mr. Keen assigned me to you,” she explains, and that downturned mouth curves into a reassuring smile. “The buddy system?”

“Oh. Right. I forgot.” He did mention something about a student being assigned to me, to help me adjust. And this student happens to be wearing a beige shirt with a yellow #2 pencil print.

“So, I have a locker beside you.” She points at it. “Plus we have first period and lunch together. I’m here to show you around, answer any questions you have, that sort of thing. Anything you need. I’m in my last year so I know the school pretty well.”

“That’s great. Thank you.” At least now I know three people here, not including the teachers and janitorial staff Cassie introduced me to.

“Where are you from?”

“Out west. Calgary area.”

“Cool. Why’d you move here?” She says that like there’s something wrong with Eastmonte, and I guess maybe to some people, there is. It’s a sleepy town surrounded by a lot of corn and hay. When Mom and I drove along the main street at night, I half expected a zombie to meander out, it was so dead. There’s one Tim Hortons, two grocery stores, and a restored two-screen movie theater. As far as excitement goes, there’s none.

But it’s only an hour’s drive to downtown Toronto, a city we haven’t had a chance to venture into yet but I’m excited to see.

And so the questions begin. “My uncle is getting older and he lost his wife. My mom wanted to be closer to him.” I practiced that line in the mirror last night, and it comes out smoothly now.

The first bell rings.

“Cool.” Jen shuts her locker door with a slam. I can’t tell if she was interested in knowing that or just being polite. “Our class is right here.” She points to the open door across from us, where a short, plump teacher with a black bob stands, greeting students.

I steal a glance down the hall in time to see Emmett and Holly approaching, Holly burrowed against Emmett’s side, his arm slung over her shoulder.

I feel a pull in my gut. I hate being envious of other people. But I’m human as Dr. C. liked to remind me, and feeling a range of emotions along a wide spectrum is normal. Envy is normal.