Blind Squirrels (2 page)

“Did you go to Center
Middle School?” she asked before I could. 

“Yes,” I answered. 
“I remember seeing you there.”

“My
name is Aurelia Damask.  I started going to Center Middle right before the end
of the year.  Before that, I went to school in New York.”

“Really?  That’s
really cool.”

“It is really
different there.  A lot more people.  My family sent me here to live with my
aunt and uncle.  That’s one of my cousins sitting in front of us.  Millie, turn
around–”

The
girl in front of us had reddish-blond hair that was in an afro.  She turned
around.  I was surprised to find that she was very light skinned, a vast contrast
to Aurelia, and I wasn’t quite sure if Aurelia was teasing me or if this truly
was her cousin.  Millie’s lips were very full, her eyes were the color of
almonds, and she was thin and very beautiful.  She and Aurelia couldn’t have
been more different.  All of a sudden I noticed that Millie had a scowl on her
face.

“Aurelia! 
I have told you not to call me Millie!  My name is Dominique.  Please call me
that!”

“Okay, whatever.  I
just wanted you to meet someone…oh, dear; I forgot to ask your name...”

“My name is Katrina,”
I answered.

Dominique smiled at
last.  It was the same sincere smile Aurelia had.  “Very nice to meet you,
Katrina,” she said.

“Same here, Dominique,”
I answered.

“You know,” Aurelia
whispered, “her real name is
Millie
Dominique Damask.”

We
started having a quiet chat, and I knew that I had just made two friends.  I
learned that Aurelia was almost fourteen, and Dominique had just turned fifteen
in June.  Aurelia revealed that her parents were divorced and her mother
couldn’t afford to keep Aurelia in New York with her.  Aurelia had wanted to
move in with her dad who lived in Pennsylvania, but both of her parents felt
she should come to Foster’s Bank and live with her dad’s brother and his family.

Just then, the bus
came to an abrupt stop.  I looked out the window, and we were in front of a
school, but it wasn’t WMHS.  It was Brown, the school for potential drop-outs
and general no-goods.  Panic set in.  I was on the wrong bus – I couldn’t go to
school here – What was I going to do?  WMHS was bad, but Brown was the worst of
the worst.

No
one moved, except Travis.  He stood up, still wearing the same grimace.  I
sighed with relief as I realized we were only stopping to let Travis off.  He
began walking towards the front of the bus.  My eyes followed his every step,
although I wasn’t sure why.  My brain was in a constant struggle against my
eyes, but my eyes managed to stay on him until he was completely out of sight. 
After Travis reached the other side of the road and I couldn’t see him any longer,
the bus started moving again.  Regaining my composure, I scooted over in my
seat and gave Aurelia some breathing space.

As our conversation
dwindled, I found I couldn’t take my mind off Travis.  His demeanor was
unnerving, yet I felt some kind of connection.  I couldn’t explain why, but I
hadn’t really minded when Travis had sat down beside me.  I ultimately decided
that it was hormones.  Why else would a normal girl be attracted to a guy that
was probably a future serial killer?

Arriving at WMHS
helped me forget Travis.  As I stepped off the bus, my thoughts abruptly
returned to my earlier fears.  Sure, I had made two new friends in about ten
minutes, but they couldn’t be with me always.  I could only hope that I would
meet up with some of my old friends from Center.

Homeroom was a
frightening experience.  I knew absolutely no one.  Katrina Kipling: alone and
afraid.  On one side of me sat a stocky, muscular guy named Kent Klingensmith. 
Yubi Kim, a cute Asian girl, sat in front of me.  A sweet black guy named Harry
Khan sat on the other side.  Harry was the only one who spoke to me.  He would
eventually become my first friend in homeroom. 

My first period class
was French.  I recognized no one as I took a seat near the front.  This class
excited me most, so I wanted to be able to see and hear well.  Then I saw a
familiar face.  Karen Frost, a girl I had known in the sixth grade, quickly
took the empty desk beside me.  Karen was slim and built like a boy – she hadn’t
developed yet.  She had short brown hair and a mass of freckles ran across the
bridge of her nose.  Karen had been one of my best friends in sixth grade, but
we hadn’t seen each other at all since then.  It was good to have her in my
class.

“Kat!  I am so glad
to see you.  So, French together?  We’ll have so much fun, don’t you think?”

So what if I didn’t
share Karen’s eternal peppiness?  We could still be friends.

Our teacher entered
the classroom, and I barely managed to hide a smile and a snicker.  Monsieur
Guest, as he forced us to call him, was the spitting image of Captain Kangaroo
– complete with a bushy mustache and a sweet round chubby face.  I kept
expecting Ping-Pong balls to fall on his head, or Bunny Rabbit to silently
appear from behind his desk.

“Bonjour, classe,” Monsieur
Guest announced.  Several students looked at him as though he were speaking a
foreign language.  The rest of us recited, “Bonjour, Monsieur.”  We knew what
to say because it was written on the chalk board and he pointed to it with his
chalk.

We spent the rest of
the class learning the French pronunciation of our names.  Some of us indulged
in choosing new names, which Monsieur Guest allowed us to do if we would use
them for the whole year.  I became “Antoinette” and Karen chose “Paulette.” I
had always loved the name Antoinette, and Karen just chose a name that seemed
close to mine.  Monsieur Guest seemed pleased with our choices, and, to prove
it, he called us “Mademoiselles Frost and Kipling” for the rest of the year.  No
one, in class or otherwise, would ever actually call me “Antoinette,” but I had
to write it on all my tests and papers.

By second period, I
had begun to feel a little easier about WMHS.  After all, I hadn’t seen the
first rebel flag, nor had I heard about any fights.  Over all, WMHS seemed like
a normal school, differing from Center Middle only in size.  Best of all, no
one had called me a whale – yet.

Second period was
Algebra.  My teacher was Mr. Trent – a middle aged hippie with a ponytail and a
Fu Manchu mustache.  He was always dressed in bellbottom jeans and loud paisley
shirts, but what I remember most is that he had a wonderful sense of humor.  Erma
from my bus stop was in my class.  She had seemed nice enough at the bus stop,
but here in the classroom, she was very loud-mouthed and her personality was
quite abrasive.  I began to think that she was the type that hit first and
asked questions later.

Mr. Trent gave us a
test to see what we knew about algebra.  I was the first one finished – math
was always my strong point – but I was too shy to turn my paper in first.  I
was afraid Mr. Trent might think I finished first because I guessed at the
answers.  A boy named Tim was sitting right next to me.  He finished right
after I did and went to turn his test in, so I followed right behind him.  Mr.
Trent winked at me, and I began to blush.  After I sat back in my seat, I wrote
my friend Laura a note detailing all that had happened so far that morning.

Laura Hawkins had
been my best friend in seventh and eighth grade.  Laura was a large girl.  Tall
and big boned, she looked much older than I did.  Laura had short brown hair,
small blue eyes and a short round nose.  She had a loud voice and a Canadian
accent: her family had lived in Canada until Laura was eight years old.  Laura
was here at WMHS – somewhere.  I hadn’t seen her yet, but I knew we would find
each other.

Just
as I folded the note, the bell rang, dismissing second period.  Shuttling down
the hallway, I caught a glimpse of Aurelia.  We waved, but neither of us had
time to speak.  The tardy bell would be ringing in five minutes.  Just as I was
about to enter my next class, I heard someone call out my name.  I turned
around, and it was Laura.  We both had English for third period!  I was
ecstatic.

Laura and I sat on
the back row, side by side.  I passed her the note I had written, and she
started reading it.  I watched the other students enter, and I moaned when Bill
Fine walked in.  Like Laura, Bill had been in my eighth grade class; however,
Bill was not a friend of mine.  In fact, he had teased Laura and me persistently
the whole year, pulling our hair and calling us names.  I couldn’t believe I
had to put up with him for another year.  Bill was tall, with reddish blond
hair and blue eyes, and he was quite funny when he wasn’t directing barbs at
Laura or me.  I wanted to like Bill, but he made it impossible.  I just wished
he would leave us alone. 

Then it happened.  Jeannie
Molina walked through the door.  She had been my nemesis from Center Middle. 
She was ten times worse than Bill Fine.  She had been in my seventh and eighth
grade classes, much to my chagrin.  Jeannie was Asian with long flowing perfect
black hair, large almond shaped brown eyes, and a voluptuous body.  And
although she was only thirteen, she could have passed for twenty.  She was extremely
beautiful, and I was very intimidated by her confidence and by the way she
looked.  She had always acted superior to me, making fun of me and embarrassing
me whenever possible.  I hated her, and I dreaded spending another year being
tortured by her. 

Laura finished reading
her note.  She was laughing about the way I had described Monsieur Guest.  Laura
had decided to study Spanish instead of French, so she would never envision Monsieur
Guest talking to a Grandfather clock, debating with Mr. Greenjeans, or reading
a story about Rick and his steam shovel.

Mrs. Harris was our
teacher.  She was about as round as she was tall, with short blond hair and
blue eyes.  She was extremely pleasant, and I knew right away that I would
enjoy her class.  Laura and I worried when she announced that she had come up
with a seating chart.  But it turned out that Laura was sitting beside me on
the right.  As my luck would have it, Bill was sitting to my left, and Jeannie
Molina was in front of me.  Behind me was a tiny blond girl.  She reminded me
of a mouse – terribly shy and skittish.  I would learn that her name was Diane
Griffin.

Jeannie made a face
at me as she sat down.  Bill, on the other hand, said in a loud voice, “Here,
Kitty, Kitty Kat.  How are you?”

While I didn’t like
being called Kitty-Kitty, it amazed me that Bill was actually being cordial.  I
smiled at him and spoke.  The girl sitting behind Bill was a blonde with
Coca-Cola bottle glasses.  Her gray eyes were magnified 500 times behind the thick
glass.  Her name was Jill, and she was not very attractive.  I had the sudden
thought that Bill would probably start teasing her as much as he did me, and I
felt sorry for her.

I needn’t have
worried.  Jill leaned over and whispered something to Bill, her gigantic eyes
never leaving my face.  Then she started laughing, and I knew she was making
fun of me in some way.  Just the look on her face told me.  Strangely enough,
Bill didn’t laugh.  He just looked angry as he whispered something back to Jill. 
Jill grew quiet and sat back in her seat.  Bill looked over at me and smiled. 
Then he smiled at Laura and asked her if she’d had a nice summer.  Was it too
much to hope that Bill had really changed?  Only time would tell.

Fourth period was Biology
and lunch.  There were three lunches, and they were during one part or another
of fourth period – making fourth period 1-1/2 hours long.  My lunch break was
during the second thirty minutes, so I had Biology before and after lunch.

My teacher was Mrs.
Danes, a black lady with a bad attitude.  She had a bad reputation, and she
deserved it.  Short, petite, and somewhat attractive, her appearance was
deceiving.  She was recovering from a bad divorce and taking it out on
everyone.  She didn’t seem to like any of her students.  And the feeling was
mutual.

Before
class, I had seen Aurelia and another girl I vaguely knew enter the next door. 
They were in Mrs. Harper’s Home Ec class, and I wished that I was, too.  I did
know someone in my class, however.  Her name was Shelly, and I had known her
since the sixth grade.  We had never really been friends, but I sat close to
her and tried to change that.  Shelly seemed only slightly interested.  She
wasn’t popular, but she wanted to be.  Hanging out with someone like me might ruin
her chances.  Shelly had brown hair with blond highlights, and it always looked
wind-blown.  She had blue eyes, and she wore too much mascara and too much blue
eye shadow.  Her nose was rather large, but she was attractive enough.  I
guessed that one day she would be popular.  She already knew how to stick her
nose up in the air.

Finally,
lunch arrived.  I made it to outside the lunchroom, and then I started looking
for Laura.  I wasn’t sure which lunch she had, but I hoped it was mine.  She
didn’t show up, but Aurelia and Olivia did.  Olivia was the girl I had earlier
seen going into Mrs. Harper’s room.  Olivia was an attractive girl.  She had
shoulder length dark brown wavy hair and a beautiful smile.  She was tall and
chubby with round rosy cheeks and sparkling blue eyes.  She had a great sense
of humor and an outgoing personality.  I suppose Aurelia and I needed someone
outspoken because we were both somewhat shy.  Throughout most of high school, I
remained afraid to say what I was feeling and I allowed some people to walk all
over me.  I didn’t have to worry about that with Aurelia or Olivia.  Neither of
them would have ever tried to take advantage of me.