Going Wild (3 page)

“I already have one friend here,” Andy said smugly. “Met him this morning while you were still sleeping. He lives down the street and is letting me use his old longboard until we can unpack mine.” Andy turned back to his dad. “Your job sounds cool, Dad. I've always wanted to have the whole house to myself. Does my school end before Charlie's? I hope so. Hey . . . what exactly is biology again?”

Charlie sighed and went to her room.

C
harlie's school was in walking distance, but she wasn't sure how to get there yet, so she definitely didn't mind having her dad drive her, especially the first day. She was so nervous she hadn't slept well or eaten much breakfast. As they rode along, she stared out the window, ignoring Andy, who chattered like a chipmunk in the backseat.

Her dad stopped at her school first. When they pulled up to the drop-off spot by the big Summit Junior High School sign, Charlie's hands began sweating. She wiped them on her jeans and picked up her backpack.

Dr. Wilde leaned sideways so he could kiss her on the head like he'd done every day of her entire school career. Charlie stiffened and pretended not to see. She opened the door and put one foot onto the curb. “Bye.”

Her dad blinked, then sat up straight, trying to hide the hurt look on his face. “Are you sure you don't want me to go in with you?”

“Yeah,” Charlie lied. She looked back at Andy. “Good luck, squirt face,” she said. “Don't get in trouble on your first day.”

Andy grinned and slapped the back of her seat. “Don't be annoying on
your
first day.”

Charlie managed a weak smile for his sake. He had to be at least a little nervous too. She got out of the car, then walked slowly to her doom.

When she reached the school steps, she stopped and glanced over her shoulder. Her dad was still sitting there, waiting until she went inside. Charlie felt very alone.

It's not like she
had
to go in without him—but things were different now. She was twelve, not a baby, and this was junior high. Charlie had seen the campus, and she tried telling herself it was no big deal—her sixth-grade class in Chicago was bigger than this entire school. But now she wavered. This was harder than she'd expected it would be. Everybody else knew each other, and she was alone. Kids were looking at her.

She expelled a heavy breath that sent her bangs fluttering in the cool air and tried to focus on something positive, like the upcoming tryouts for the soccer team. Amari, for one, was jealous that Navarro Junction had a spring team. Or at least she pretended to be, which was nice.

But this place felt foreign. Half the kids were wearing shorts—in winter. And the layout of the school was really different from the four-story mammoth brick building on the corner of two busy streets back in Chicago. This campus was central to several quiet neighborhoods, and each of the small, separate school buildings
housed a different subject of learning. So there was a building for math, science, language arts, and so on, as well as an auditorium and a library. And while there were outdoor walkways between, there were no huge maple or oak trees standing tall and uprooting the sidewalk like back home. The few trees lining the property here were scraggly and sparse and looked like they were trying to figure out how to grow leaves.

Charlie held her head high, climbed the steps, and marched inside, wearing the fake face of confidence she'd often put on when dealing with something scary back in the city. “Let's get this over with,” she said under her breath, and forged through the crowded hallway toward the office.

The school looked new inside, and the walls were free of lockers. On their tour, Charlie had seen clusters of them outside, of all places, between buildings. Clearly students really didn't have to worry about the weather here. When Charlie reached the office, she paused for a moment, then squared her shoulders and opened the door.

A man sat behind a counter studying papers and scribbling on them with a green pen that had a fake sunflower attached to it. He wore a bright yellow button-down shirt, with a silver-and-leather bolo tie around his neck. He looked like he could be in a Western movie. Charlie slid her backpack off her shoulders. It thumped to the floor.

“Good morning,” the man drawled in a deep voice. He looked
up from the paper he was writing on.

“Um, hi.” Charlie wasn't sure what say.

“What can I do for you, young lady?”

“I'm— Hi,” she said again, flustered. “It's my first day.” She shifted her feet. “I'm new,” she added, though she thought that was becoming pretty obvious by now.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Of course. One second . . .” The man took off his glasses and put one of the stems between his teeth, then flitted through papers on the desk, looking for something. He dropped the drawl. “Ah yes. Welcome, new student. I am Mr. Anderson. And you are . . .
C
. It's a
C
name, right? We're expecting you, of course.” He grabbed a folder and looked at the sticker in the corner of it. “Charlotte . . . ? Isn't it?”

“Yes. Charlotte Wilde,” she said. “But I go by Charlie.”

The eccentric man clasped his hands together. “Of course, Charlie—avoid the spider and pig jokes at all costs, hmm? I don't blame you. We're so glad to have you here at Summit. So you're an actor?”

Charlie blinked. “Um, what?”

“You like to act? Or are you more of a backstage type? I noticed you're enrolled in my theater class sixth period.”

“Oh—uh, yes, I guess so.” Charlie was confused. The office receptionist was apparently also the theater teacher. She knew this school was a lot smaller than her old one, but this was ridiculous. She started to say that she'd only enrolled in theater class because
she thought it would be easy and her mom figured it was a good way to make friends, but then she realized it would be better not to mention it.

“Great!” Mr. Anderson said, energized. “I've already chosen a cast for the current musical—
Bye Bye Birdie
, my
favorite
!—so you'll have to be assigned to stage crew. All right?”

Charlie smiled weakly. “Sure.”

“Lots of after-school opportunities as well,” he said.

Charlie grew concerned. “But I might have soccer,” she said.

“Don't worry, it's optional.”

“Oh, okay,” said Charlie, relieved.

“One moment,” Mr. Anderson went on. “I'm going to track down your guide for the day.” He rolled his chair sideways to the next station and grabbed the phone.

Guide?
thought Charlie. She didn't know what he was talking about.

When he hung up, he rolled his chair back to his original spot. “Kelly Parker will be right here—you'll love her. She has your identical schedule, so she'll take you around today and have lunch with you and all that jazz.”

Charlie let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. “Okay. That's—that's cool.” It was a relief to know she'd have someone to help her. Everything was so much easier when you had friends. Maybe Kelly would be one.

While she waited, a couple of kids trickled into the office to
drop off notes and pick up papers from Mr. Anderson. He spoke to all of them in his slightly strange manner, but they seemed to like him. He called some of them “minions.” Charlie decided it was probably because he couldn't remember their names. Adults did stuff like that a lot.

When they left, Mr. Anderson smiled sympathetically at Charlie and leaned across the desk. “You know,” he said in a normal, quieter voice, “there's only one thing worse than moving halfway across the country and starting at a new school, and that's moving halfway across the country and starting at a new school in the middle of the school year.”

Charlie dropped her gaze. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,” she said. She wanted to say it stank, but she didn't think that would be polite.

“Give us a fair shake, though. I think you'll like it here. A new adventure at every turn.”

Charlie wasn't sure what that meant, but she nodded anyway. “Yes, sir.”

He studied her folder, slid some papers into it, and handed it to her. “Here you go. Inside you'll find your schedule and a map that shows you where your classes are in case you get separated from Kelly. And I've circled the location of your locker, right outside this building in the covered walkway. Did you bring a padlock, or do you need to rent one from the school?”

Charlie took the folder. “I brought a lock. Thanks.”

“Excellent,” Mr. Anderson said. “I'll see you in class. We'll be doing some set building after school later this week and next week over lunchtime if you'd like to help. Lots of kids chip in. It's not required, but I'm warning you, it's fun.” His eyes twinkled.

“I'll ask my parents.”

Mr. Anderson's gaze tracked to the door behind Charlie as it opened. “Ah, good,” he said. “Here she is.”

Charlie turned. In walked a pretty, athletic-looking girl, a little taller than Charlie. Her blond hair was loosely woven into a French braid around her head. It kind of looked like a crown.

“Kelly,” Mr. Anderson said, “this is Charlie Wilde. She's going to tag along with you today to get the lay of the land.”

Kelly gave Charlie a scrutinizing look. “Hi there,” she said. She had a sunny smile on her face, so bright it almost seemed fake. “It's
so
nice to meet you. I'm glad I get to keep an eye on you today.”

“Me too,” Charlie replied tentatively. “Thanks for showing me around.” She wasn't sure what to think about Kelly's odd smile.
Maybe that's just how she looks
, Charlie thought. She cast a fleeting glance at Mr. Anderson, but he'd put on his glasses and dived into his pile of papers again. So she picked up her backpack and offered Kelly a guarded smile. “Lead the way, I guess,” she said.

“Sure. Follow me.” Kelly pushed the door open with her shoulder and went out into the hallway. “Sooo. Charlie, huh?”

Charlie took long strides behind her to catch up. She wasn't really worried about losing sight of Kelly's crown head in the
crowd, but she didn't want to take any chances. “Yeah. It's short for Charlotte. Named after my dad, Charles.” It was an automatic answer.

“Named after your
dad
? That's weird. Did your parents want a boy or something?”

Charlie blinked. “Um, yeah,” she said, a sinking feeling coming over her. “That's exactly it.” It was going to be a very long day.

C
harlie followed Kelly from building to building making small talk, a smile stuck on her face. She knew it was important to make a good impression with the students and teachers, but inside she was dying a little. She wasn't sure how to act with these kids who all knew each other and had one thing in common: they didn't know her.

Her face hurt from smiling. And from repeating phrases like “Short for Charlotte. Named after my dad, not the spider. No, his name is Charles. Yes, it was a great book. No, I don't mind that Charlotte dies. It's integral to the story.” That last line tended to stop the kids' questions about her name, probably because they didn't know what
integral
meant.

Kelly was nice to everyone—to their faces, at least. Between classes Kelly breezed through the hallways and across the courtyard, speaking cheerily to the students who seemed to go out of their way to say hi to her. But in between pleasantries Kelly kept a running commentary in a low voice to Charlie, explaining who people were and what she liked—or didn't like—about them.

“Hey, Kel,” said a plain-looking girl in a brown dress.

“Oh, hi, Carmelita,” exclaimed Kelly. “Great job finding those stage props.”

“Thanks! I got them at a garage sale,” said Carmelita, beaming.

Kelly gave her the thumbs-up as she whisked away and muttered, “That's probably where she got her clothes, too.”

Charlie frowned. “You never know what you can find,” she said lightly.

Kelly turned to her. “Really?” she asked.

“Well, yeah,” said Charlie as she followed Kelly into another building and down a hallway to the next classroom. “I mean, I'm guessing that when your family has a garage sale, people think they've come across some pretty nice stuff.”

Kelly knit her brow. “My family doesn't do garage sales,” she said, like it was beneath her. “We donate.”

“Oh,” Charlie said. “That's . . . really interesting.” She wasn't sure she wanted to keep discussing it. She was relieved when the teacher walked in so she could report to him and get her seat assignment.

At lunch students waved at Kelly from the back table in the cafeteria and moved to make room for her and Charlie. Kelly introduced Charlie all around, and Charlie felt a little uneasy until she discovered that she didn't have to talk so much within this group of chatty students. It gave her a chance to eat her lunch, and she was starving after her light breakfast. Once Kelly got up to leave, with
Charlie following, the commentary returned.

“Did you notice the girl who sat across from me?” Kelly said in a hushed voice on their way to drop off their lunch trays. “Her brother got arrested last year.” She whispered the last word. “Shoplifting.”

Charlie cringed. She didn't want to know that. But she also didn't want to alienate Kelly by telling her to stop—she was stuck with her for the rest of the day. Charlie had known people like Kelly at her old school, and she'd steered clear. But she couldn't do that now. Kelly was all she had.

With a sinking feeling she started to realize that if Kelly gossiped about other people to her, a complete stranger, she would probably do the same about Charlie. That made Charlie want to be very careful about how she acted. Yet Kelly continued to be outwardly charming to almost everyone, and they all seemed to like her. Maybe they were all too scared to act any other way.

“So who's your best friend?” Charlie asked, thinking the best way to get through the rest of the day was to be the one asking the questions. “Was she there at lunch?”

Kelly's face clouded. “Oh, you know,” she said. “I think having a best friend is kind of babyish, really. Don't you?” She waved to a group of boys walking down the hall the other way, and they all waved or lifted their heads or smiled in acknowledgment.

“Hmm.” Charlie nodded thoughtfully, but totally disagreed. Having Amari as a best friend was not babyish at all. Maybe Kelly
thought that way because she didn't have one.

On their way to sixth period, Kelly kept on with her cheery, outgoing personality, while never failing to follow up with casual, sometimes biting remarks about people once they were out of earshot. Charlie was growing tired of it. She almost stopped Kelly several times, but then remembered that if she did something to make Kelly mad, Kelly might just tell the whole school behind her back—and that was just not something Charlie needed to happen on her first day. Charlie began to dread the time between classes almost as much as she dreaded facing another period where she had no idea what was going on. The entire day was overwhelming.

As Kelly and Charlie walked through the sunny courtyard to the auditorium for sixth-period theater class, a girl with black hair and an athletic build waved. “Three days!” she belted out to Kelly.

“Can't wait,” said Kelly, with a genuine smile this time. Charlie looked on curiously.

“Hiya, Charlie,” the black-haired girl said. “I'm Maria Torres. I'm in your first and second periods, though I'm sure you wouldn't remember me.” She flashed an infectious grin.

Charlie felt herself smiling back. “At this point I can't even remember what my first- and second-period classes are,” she said.

“Math and science,” Maria said with a laugh, and continued walking. “See you around!” she called, and waved at the girls.

Charlie waited cautiously to see what negative thing Kelly would say about Maria, but the girl was silent.

“What's happening in three days?” Charlie asked.

“Soccer team tryouts,” said Kelly.

“Oh, right!” said Charlie, growing excited. “You play soccer? Me too! I'm definitely going to be there.”

“Yep,” said Kelly, who didn't seem nearly as excited. She pushed through the door and narrowed her eyes at Charlie. “Are you any good?”

Charlie was taken aback, and then she struggled over how to answer. If she said yes, would Kelly think she was bragging? If she said no . . . well, that would be silly. Charlie shrugged and tried to look mysterious.

Kelly put on her plastic smile again as theater students surrounded her with questions and shoved fabric for costumes in her face. Soon she was swept away, leaving Charlie standing alone, trying like mad to figure out what Kelly's deal was. But soon Mr. Anderson and his bright-yellow shirt beckoned her backstage and explained what the class was working on to prepare for the big show. He introduced her to Sara, the stage manager, and then assigned her to work with the student props manager, Carmelita, the girl Kelly had talked to in the hallway earlier. Carmelita kept Charlie on the move fetching things.

At first Charlie didn't know the difference between upstage and downstage, and she had stage right confused with stage left, so she wasn't very useful. But Carmelita and the other crew members helped her out, and by the end of the class period she was feeling
more confident. Despite her initial confusion, she really liked the unstructured atmosphere of theater class and the friendly students. The fact that there was no homework wasn't bad either.

Every now and then Charlie glanced at Kelly, who was fully in her element as one of the lead actors in this musical. She rehearsed scenes in the back of the auditorium with fellow actors who often asked her advice on how to deliver their lines. Charlie wondered what sort of mean things Kelly would say after class about them.

When the bell rang, Charlie caught up with Kelly as usual. Walking to their last class, Kelly was preoccupied with texting, even though they weren't supposed to be on their phones during school. They passed two teachers on their trek to the language arts building, but neither of them seemed to care. Maybe Kelly had special powers with teachers, too.

“Is everything okay?” Charlie asked when Kelly stopped outside the classroom door to finish texting.

“Ugh, parents,” said Kelly, not looking up.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” agreed Charlie. “They're the worst.”

“For sure.” Kelly put away her phone and stared at Charlie for a long moment, as if she was going to say something more. But then the warning bell rang, and the look on her face went away. The two dashed into the room and separated, Kelly to her desk and Charlie to get her final seat assignment of the day.

The teacher gave her a seat by the window. As Charlie stared outside at the tops of the barren tree branches, her mind wandered.
She was exhausted from the new faces and questions. All day long, students and teachers had wanted to know why Charlie's family had moved in the middle of the semester, and what kind of jobs her parents had, and how she liked it here. And she'd answered them all, over and over again, to be polite. Now the day was almost over, and Charlie couldn't wait to call Amari and tell her about it.

A wave of homesickness swept through her. She wondered how long it would take her to walk back to Chicago.

“Charlie?” the language arts teacher said, interrupting her thoughts. “Something interesting going on out there?”

Charlie whipped her head around to face the front, her cheeks growing warm “Sorry,” she said. “Just . . . doing a, um, a math problem in my head that I was stuck on in, um, in math class. Earlier, I mean,” she mumbled. She glanced across the room at Kelly for support, but Kelly was whispering something to the boy in front of her. The boy glanced sidelong at Charlie.

Charlie shifted uncomfortably. Was Kelly talking about
her
now? She forced herself to face the whiteboard, where the teacher was pointing to a sentence and talking about direct objects, but her mind swam.

Finally the bell rang at the end of the day, and Charlie couldn't be more ready for it. Flustered and not sure what to say to Kelly, she decided a hasty thank-you would do. She smiled weakly and ran out of the language arts building, reoriented herself to the lockers, and then followed the masses to the pick-up area in the
circle drive. She scanned the line of cars, looking for her dad.

When she finally found him, she walked rapidly toward their car and climbed inside.

“Let's go,” she said, closing the door.

Her dad pulled away from the curb. “How was it?” he asked, his voice guarded. It was like he already knew.

Charlie clipped her seat belt together, then leaned her head against the headrest, closed her stinging eyes, and sighed, exhausted. “I want to go back to Chicago.”