Sworn (3 page)

 She printed Rachel a copy of her schedule and handed it to her across her desk, “Good Luck.”

“Thanks.”

Rachel scurried down the bleach-smelling hallway, towards her locker. She was the only one left in the large, empty hallways and she knew that was a bad sign. She must be late. Very late.

Rachel’s bag was heavy and she needed to empty it before heading to her classroom. As she flew through the halls a calm came over her. The blue tiles on the floor made her feel like she was walking through the ocean, and the lockers were painted a cool yellow color, which eased Rachel’s mind. She glanced at the ascending numbers until she came to locker 74. She reached for the knob, opened it and put all her books in, leaving out one pen and a notebook. She slammed the door shut and put her pad lock through the hole. 36-32-26. Rachel jotted the code onto her hand with her blue Bic pen, then booked it to the room marked 102.

Rachel gulped and pushed the door open. Everyone sat quietly in their desks, facing Mr. Allen as he spoke and turned and stared at her. It was anything but what she wanted on her first day.  She noticed kids in the back begin to whisper as they stared at her in the doorway.

“Ah, Rachel Wood I presume?” said Mr. Allen.

Rachel nodded.

“First day and already tardy,” he continued.

“I’m sorry-- I’m um-- new and I got lost,” Rachel muttered.

Laughter arose from the back of the classroom.

“Don’t let it happen again. That’s your seat,” Mr. Allen said as he pointed to the only empty seat in the room. It was front and center.

As Rachel walked over and sat down, the class was silent. It was an intimidating silent. Mr. Allen looked at Rachel again as if to say,
I’m watching you
, then continued his lesson.

“Where was I?” Mr. Allen continued, “Oh yes. This year we will be learning all sorts of things in social studies, from the pilgrims, to Abraham Lincoln to the Cold War. You will have homework every night and I expect each and every one of you to complete it.”

Rachel sat in her chair and began to tune him out. As Mr. Allen’s abrasive voice grew softer, she wondered, who was this teacher anyway? He couldn’t have been more rude or embarrassing.

Rachel wanted desperately to turn around and look at her new classmates. She resisted, in fear of being accosted by Mr. Allen. She was also nervous to see the twenty-something new faces she would see each morning for the rest of the school year.

Rachel wondered that maybe, if she sat quietly facing forward, this would all disappear. She wouldn’t have to break out of her shell and make new friends.

Rachel felt a tap on her back. She turned around.

“Can you pass this to her?” a pretty girl with blonde hair was pointing to the girl sitting on the other side of Rachel.

“Sure,” Rachel said as she reached out and stealthily took the note. Mr. Allen turned to the board, and Rachel quickly handed the note off.

The girl opened the folded piece of paper and began to read. As she read the note, Rachel could hear her chuckle, and she had put her hands over her mouth to mask the sound. Rachel noticed the girl slyly looking at her while she was still reading the note. Each time she looked over at Rachel, she laughed even more.

Rachel felt so uneasy. All she wanted to do was disappear. She looked down at her shoes, pants, shirt, and bag, and couldn’t imagine what could be so funny.

Rachel figured things couldn’t possibly get any worse and she decided to turn partially around in her chair to see who was sitting around her. She saw a mix of boys and girls. She could tell by the way they dressed that they were different than she was. Did she miss the memo that leggings and tees were not cool for the first day of school?

Rachel looked at their faces, as one after another looked back with cold stares. Rachel wondered if anyone smiled at AHS.

Towards the far corner of the room, Rachel saw an average looking girl with black hair and glasses writing in her notebook. The girl looked up and caught Rachel’s stare. She smiled briefly at Rachel and then went back to her writing.

Rachel felt much better as she sat there. A new wave of confidence filled her body, and for the first time she wondered if maybe this wasn’t going to be terrible.

Rachel peered out of the corner of her eye, and her gaze stopped on a cute boy. He was the stereotypical, all-American, jock type. He had dirty blond hair, green eyes, perfect skin and he was wearing fitted jeans and his football jersey. Number 80. Rachel couldn’t see the back, but was anxious to see his last name.

“Psst.” The girl who had just read the note was trying to get Rachel’s attention. Rachel ignored her.

“Hey you, pass it back.” The girl threw the note onto Rachel’s desk.

Mr. Allen suddenly walked over to Rachel’s desk, picked up the folded piece of paper and held it in his hands.

“What’s this?” he asked, staring at Rachel.

Rachel was silent as she shrugged her shoulders.

“Listen up: you may be new, but I know you know that note passing is not allowed,” Mr. Allen said as he confiscated the note. Rachel then saw him walk over to his attendance book, make a mark in it and then looked back at her.

Rachel looked over at the girl who threw the note on her desk, but she didn’t look back.

RING. The second bell rang.

Rachel heard the sound of notebooks slamming shut and the screech of metal chair legs on the floor. The voices grew louder as she neared the hallway, and as the boy in the football jersey passed by, her hand swiped his large bicep.

The back of his jersey read Greene. Rachel took a mental note.
#80 Greene
. She was going to keep an eye out for him. He was hotter than any guy she’d ever seen in Pennsylvania.

The next few classes were boring compared to what Rachel went through in homeroom. She sat through the typical first day of math, science and literature, and now found herself walking alone into the cafeteria, the four crumpled up dollar bills clenched firmly in her sweaty palm.

She stepped into the large cafeteria, which she felt was the most daunting place in the entire school. Here it was, her first “real” taste of what AHS was really like.

When she got through the two double doors that led her into the large open space, she saw long, blue folding tables, with benches attached to them. There must have been 20 of them spread out through the cafeteria in neat rows. The smell of mass-produced school food infused the already stale air. The chatter of voices rang loudly in her ears as she looked for the hot food line.

Rachel read the menu:

Meatloaf: $7.50

Tuna Sandwich: $5.50

Grilled Cheese: $5.00

Chips: $2.50

Cookie: $1.50

Juice: $2.00

Rachel looked into her palm, at the four, moist dollar bills. She realized they wouldn’t go far in this school, and bypassed the hot food line as her stomach growled.

Rachel reached for a bag of Fritos and a cookie, paid the cashier, and exited through the opposite door.

As she left the lunch line and entered the large cafeteria room again, it had gotten much more crowded. All the tables were full, and everyone was already eating. Apparently it wasn’t cool to buy hot lunch at AHS. Everyone had brought their lunches from home, and she looked at the array of wraps, salads, and freshly made deli sandwiches that spread across each table.

As Rachel looked at all the kids, she couldn’t help but feel like she was part of a cliché teen movie. New girl in the cafeteria, with no friends, having a hard time finding a place to sit and eat.

She continued walking, looking for a table to sit at. She passed a table full of nerdy looking kids, all with their laptops and schoolbooks out.

At another table Rachel saw a group of grungy, punk kids with baggy pants, chain wallets, streaked hair and dark black eyeliner.

At another table sat a group of pretty girls, and Rachel could hear them going over a cheer. Rachel assumed they were cheerleaders. This reminded her of her plan to try out for her old school’s cheerleading team. She took another look at those girls, and felt deflated, and she didn’t feel like she belonged on the same team as them.

At the table next to the pretty girls sat Greene, in his #80 jersey. He was sitting there with about ten other jock types: some in their football jerseys, and others looking sharp in preppy clothing.

Rachel came upon a table behind Greene’s, with a few random people scattered at it. Nobody was talking to each other and they were all looking down, quietly munching away at their lunches. She found an open seat and sat down.

Nobody even looked up to acknowledge that she had joined the table. Rachel felt an overwhelming feeling of solitude, and quickly ate her Fritos lunch. She didn’t want to sit in that cafeteria feeling anonymous and alone any longer than she had to.

As she scarfed down her chips, she couldn’t help but notice how cute Greene was.

“Hey Rob, check this out,” a boy sitting at Greene’s table said, and handed Greene something.

Rob Greene
Rachel thought to herself. Now she knew his first name, too.

Rob was one of the hottest guys she’d ever seen. His wispy blonde hair swept over his green eyes as he brushed it back with his fingertips. Rachel wanted desperately for him to notice her. Her heart started beating faster and she realized she had her first crush at AHS.

Rachel’s mind was racing, and she suddenly remembered her Pennsylvania crush, Alex, who she’d been lusting after for all of 9
th
grade. He was nothing like Rob. Alex had dark brown hair, brown eyes and didn’t dress nearly as well. It was safe to say that Rachel didn’t have a specific “type.” She was attracted to all her crushes for various inexplicable reasons -- not even she could understand it.

Rachel grabbed her cookie and took it with her as she walked out of the cafeteria. She looked at her watch: twelve more minutes until seventh period. She began to roam the halls aimlessly, feeling alone and shy.

She came upon the girls’ gym locker room. On the wall outside the locker room hung a large bulletin board, with news, announcements, a calendar and fliers posted to it. Her eyes drifted to a picture of the AHS varsity cheerleading team. Below the picture read:

Tryouts – September 9
th
@ 3pm in the Gymnasium

Rachel took a flyer and read it closely.

“Only a few spots remain. Do you like football? Do you like dancing?” In pencil someone had written, (Do you like hot boys in uniform?) “Do you have AHS school spirit?

If so, come to tryouts tomorrow!

Coach Glass”

Rachel folded the flyer up and put it into her Filofax. The thought of making the team gave her the chills. She knew she had to go to the tryouts.

Rachel checked her watch again: five more minutes until lunch was over. She paced up and down the empty hallways. She passed by the cafeteria and saw groups of friends chatting and having fun. Rachel wished she had found a friend-- just one.

Rachel passed the office receptionist in the halls.

“You finding everything OK, Dear?” the receptionist asked in a sweet, comforting voice.

“Yup, just heading to the bathroom,” Rachel said, trying to make it seem less obvious that she was pacing the halls alone, with no destination.

Finally, the bell rang and swarms of kids flooded the hallway.

Two more periods and I’m done, Rachel thought to herself. It gave her a sense of relief knowing that the day was winding down.

The remaining two periods went by painfully slowly. She coasted through each class, her mind wandering. She wondered what Dana and all her friends back in Pennsylvania were up to. She imagined them having a fun first day of school and planning their weekends together.

DING DING DING. The loud speaker came on. It was the end of the day announcements.

“Welcome back AHS! We hope you all had a great first day of school and we are so happy to see all of your smiling faces. Don’t forget tryouts tomorrow for all sports at 3pm. Check the bulletin board for tryout location. Have a great rest of the day and don’t forget your homework!”

RING.

The final bell sounded. Rachel was done. She felt a rush of freedom fill her body as she darted out of her classroom and into the hallways. She collected all of her things in her locker and headed outside to her mom’s car.

On her way out, Rachel passed her brother Mark, who was happily walking along with two other guys. When Mark saw her, he waved and then looked around her. Rachel could tell he was wondering why she was walking all alone.

When Rachel got outside, she saw her mom behind the wheel of the Station wagon. She was first in line, parked right out front of the school. Her mom beeped the horn twice, rolled down the windows and started waving to Rachel and Mark. Rachel was mortified.

Rachel hopped into the car with her hand covering her face, hoping that nobody was watching. The car sat there and a few seconds later Mark got in. Rachel’s mom pulled up a few feet to park the car to wait for Sarah to come outside. A few long minutes later, Sarah came out the front doors, smiling and exchanging cell numbers with her new group of friends.

Rachel was flooded with jealousy. Was she the only one that didn’t make a friend?

Sarah opened the car door and said, “I’m gonna grab a bite with the girls. I’ll be back later-- they’ll drop me back home.”

“Ok, Honey, have a great time. So happy you made new friends!” their mom said, as Sarah shut the door and headed back toward her new friends.

Why couldn’t that be me?

Chapter Four

Rachel sat on her bed and looked at the heaping mess that surrounded her, and began to fold her clothes and put them into her tiny closet. She had snuck into Sarah’s room after school to see it, and had been shocked at how much bigger it was: her closet was at least twice the size.