Moonglass (13 page)

“Oh! So how much trouble were you in for the other night? You should have seen your dad when he got there. It was so scary. I thought I was gonna get arrested for bringing the champagne. And then later when Tyler swam in,
he
was all freaked out about it, and—” As she said it, I saw Tyler heading in our direction, and I immediately whipped up my schedule.

“Hey, Ash. Do you have lip gloss?”

She glanced at Tyler, immediately getting it, and handed me the tube. Then she tilted her head in, whispering, “So, what happened between you guys out at that rock? He seemed superworried when he came in.

Like, maybe he-kinda-likes-you worried.” She smiled and nudged me with her shoulder.

I took another quick glance as he came our way, looking beyond us like he wasn’t gonna stop. “No,” I said definitively. “He doesn’t like me. He’s just scared to death of my dad, that’s all.”

Tyler approached us, not bothering to hide the smirk that now played across his face. “Little Ryan…. Whitmore. Glad to see you’re both alive and well .” He nodded to each of us.

That greeting reiterated what I had just told Ashley, though I hadn’t really believed it when I’d said it. I was immediately annoyed.

“Morning!” Ashley practically sang.

I shifted my weight and smiled thinly. “Hey.” Nothing else came to mind. Nothing that I could say out loud, at least. I had only ever seen Tyler in his trunks on the beach, and he had looked like every other lifeguard around. And like that, there had been a possibility between us. Here at school it was obvious that he probably came from the same kind of money as everyone else. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a T-shirt and flip-flops of his own, but the giveaway was in the way he carried himself. totally relaxed and sure. Like he belonged here.

The bell rang, and Ashley squeezed my arm. “Hey! I gotta go. I have dance yoga first period.” Tyler was looking at her with an amused expression, and I had to smile. “Meet me out here at lunch, okay?” she continued. “We don’t want to have to do the whole new-girl/walk-the-quad-and-try-to-figure-out-where-to-sit thing.” I opened my mouth to respond, but didn’t get the chance. She eyed Tyler for a second. “Unless you have other plans already.” I jumped in quickly this time, trying to avoid an awkward moment. “No. I’ll meet you.”

“Okay, good! I brought you lunch too, so you don’t have to eat the cafeteria food before practice today.” She started to bounce away, then turned around.

“Good luck!”

“Thanks.”

Tyler took a step closer. My cheeks burned as I fought the urge to take a step backward. He smelled so good. “You’ve got quite the little caretaker there.” He glanced down at my schedule. “Where you headed first?”

I looked at the now crinkled paper in my hand, which was ridiculous, because I had my schedule memorized at this point. “Math, in 101. Mr. Strickland?” He raised his eyebrows and smirked. “Oh, you’re in for a real treat. The guy’s a total hard-ass. Fails half his class every year, which is why I won’t be the only senior in there.”

“You’re in there too?” I asked, trying to sound only mildly interested. “First?”

“Yeah. We better get going. He’s gonna make an example of somebody today, and you don’t want it to be you.” Upstairs we filed into room 101 with a line of other students who chattered and compared schedules. A short man in a cowboy hat stood with his back to the class, writing frenetically on the whiteboard. I looked around for an empty seat, preferably near the back. Tyler had already found a desk a couple of rows over and had his hand on the one behind it. He motioned to me to hurry up, so I weaved my way over and slid into the chair behind him. Right on cue with the final bell , Mr. Strickland turned around and leveled his eyes on a girl who was still leaning on her desk, rummaging through her purse.

“Does your mama let you sit in your mashed potatoes at home?” he bell owed through a thick mustache. The girl looked confused, but then plunked down in her chair and looked at her lap.

Mr. Strickland scanned the room for another victim. I scanned the walls behind his desk, which were covered with different notes and drawings tacked up haphazardly. A wooden paddle with holes drilled into it hung above them all, the handle emblazoned with a carved silhouette that resembled Yosemite Sam and Mr. Strickland at the same time. He saw me looking and turned his attention on me. “You must be Joe Ryan’s daughter.” I flinched, then shifted in my seat, getting ready for whatever saying he was going to spit at me, but it didn’t come. “Smart guy, your old man. Hopefully he passed it on.” I nodded once, silent. He looked down his roll sheet until he found me. “Louanna Ryan.” Tyler cleared his throat loudly and shifted in his seat in front of me.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes or kick his desk. “Just Anna, please.”

Mr. Strickland looked at me a quick second, then fixed his eyes on Tyler. “Evans! You sick or something? I am. Sick of you already.” Tyler shrugged, but didn’t say anything. Mr. Strickland looked back at me, a little softer. “Well, Ms. Ryan, the thing you need to know about this class, as lots of people in here can tell you from previous experience, is that God helps those who help themselves, so if you don’t get it, get off your lazy you-know-what and help yourself.” We were all silent, and I waited for a translation, explanation, something.

“I’m in here every morning, six a.m. if you need help, so no one has any excuse not to pass my class.” I looked around at the other glazed-looking faces and wondered how many of them were repeaters. “Now get out your books. Let’s get started. First test is next Friday.” Tyler leaned back in his desk and turned his head just enough for me to see the smirk that had now become familiar. “Told you … Louanna.”

“Yeah, he seems like a real fan of yours,” I whispered, leaning forward.

Strickland stopped writing and turned slowly from the whiteboard. “Evans. Didn’t your mama teach you it’s not polite to talk while I’m giving you the most important formula you’ll need in this class?”

I looked at the board studiously, then back at my paper, trying not to crack a smile. Instruction resumed, and in front of me Tyler shook his head.

The rest of the day until lunch went by uneventfully. My other teachers were young and enthusiastic. All assured us that this year what we were going to learn would be exciting and relevant to our lives. All were happy to make a little note on their rollsheet to call me Anna. And none of them had known either one of my parents. By the time I got to lunch, I was feeling a tiny bit optimistic that school here might not be so bad. I was even starting to feel thankful that I had somewhere to go during the day, away from the beach and all of the things I didn’t want to think about there.

As soon as the lunch bell rang, my phone vibrated with a text from Ashley. “Lunch on south green. Lots 2 tell u!” I looked at the map on the back of my schedule and headed down a steep path that overlooked the small upscale-artsy town and the ocean beyond. On the sides of the path were stone tables sheltered by umbrellas. Ashley sat at a sunny one, arranging an array of small plastic containers. Then she folded her hands and looked around, barely able to hold still . When she saw me, she waved excitedly.

“Hey! Come, sit!” I made my way over and set my bag down, eyeing the lunch spread, which looked like it had come from a gourmet deli. “Grab a sandwich and some fruit. That’s your best bet for before practice today. I just read it in
Runner’s World
. You know, slow-release energy, because I talked to Coach Martin and you guys have a long run today.”

I reached for the paper-wrapped sandwich. “Thanks. So, what, you’re his assistant now or something?” She handed me a bottle of water and opened up one for herself, then turned to face me. “Sort of. Anyway, what do you think so far? How’s your first day?” I swallowed a mouthful of sandwich and nodded, trying to match her enthusiasm. “It’s good. My first-period teacher is a little old-school, and seems to have it out for Tyler, but other than that it’s good.”

“Tyler’s in first with you?” Her eyes widened. “That’s great, right? Maybe he can ‘tutor’ you.” She notched quotation marks in the air.

I took a swig of water. “I don’t think so. It’s his second time in there. And anyway, he’s not interested. I can tell .” Ashley’s hand flew to her mouth, and I thought she had bit her tongue or something. “That’s even better! You could tutor him! It’s perfect!” She clapped her hands together, and when she did, I noticed she had had her nails done pink with tiny flowers painted on them to match her outfit.

“I don’t think I’m his type. He’s probably got a zil ion girls here after him.”

Ashley looked at me very matter-of-factly. “Oh, he does. He’s Tyler Evans. But …” She leaned in close and lowered her voice, despite the fact that there was no one else around. “That’s what I had to tell you! Everybody is talking about you. And him. They’re saying you two left everyone else in the water and hooked up out there. They’re also saying you were drunk and naked.” She took a dainty bite of her sandwich.

I choked on a gulp at the back of my throat. “What? None of that is true. You were there …”

“I know, I know. Whoever started that last one was jealous. Because you supposedly hooked up with the most sought-after senior, which is what these two girls in my first-period class told me Tyler is. They saw us all standing together this morning and were totally asking me about you. Not in a bitchy way or anything, though, don’t worry.” I shook my head, slightly amazed that Jillian had nailed it so well .

“Anyway,” Ashley was saying, “I know I was the one who talked you into running, but would you
hate
me if I quit? The girls I met in first said that if I do dance, it counts for PE, and I never really liked getting all sweaty running. Plus, dance clothes are way more flattering on me than running clothes.” I gave her an are-you-kidding-me look, but really I didn’t mind too much. She hadn’t actually run at the last few practices anyway, and I’d felt like I should hang out with her even though I would have liked to talk to Jillian more. “That’s fine, Ash. I think I’m gonna stick with it, though. I kinda like getting all sweaty.”

“I know. I could tell that about you when we met. Hey,” she said, suddenly serious, “it doesn’t mean we’ll stop hanging out or anything.”

“No, no, of course not.” I smiled at her. Most likely we’d find our own circles of people we fit in with. That was just the way it worked. But she’d grown on me, and I already considered her a friend.

She looked at her watch and pushed a small, dense lump that resembled a cookie at me. “Eat this right after seventh. It’s a little energy nugget. I saw the recipe in some health food book and gave it to our chef. Hopefully it’s edible.” I took the nugget. “Thanks. And thanks for lunch, Ash.” I slipped my backpack over my shoulders, and she grabbed up her giant black bag. “I appreciate it

—everything, I mean.”

She tilted her head and smiled, then gave me a quick hug. “It’s what I do.” And then she was bouncing off again. I checked the room number for my seventh-period class and headed toward the three-hundred building.

The tardy bell rang, and I slid into my seat, grateful that last period had finally arrived. Despite the fact that there was no teacher in the front of the room, the chatter that came in from the hall way had dwindled to a whisper here and there as everyone looked around for some direction. I saw a blond girl from my math class, but when we made eye contact, she looked away quickly without acknowledging me. Someone cleared their throat from the back of the room, and the distinct clack of heels slowly made its way up one of the rows.

“Well, good afternoon. Aren’t you all just a bundle of energy today.” Everyone else turned back to look, but I recognized her voice from the beach immediately and kept my eyes straight ahead, focused hard on the whiteboard. This had to be a joke. No wonder she could quote poetry. Her heels clacked up the aisle in slow, measured steps, and I wondered if her feet ached after a summer of barefoot walks on the beach. I snuck a look once she passed my row. With her hair pulled back into a bun and her tailored dress, I might not have even recognized her at first. The only hint of the Joy from the beach was the tanned skin that crinkled around her eyes as she turned around and smiled warmly at us. I looked down immediately.

“Welcome,” she said. Nobody said anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few heads nod. “Well ”—she straightened up—”I’m sure you’ve spent the day listening to everyone’s class rules and plans, and that you probably didn’t
really
listen to any of it. It’s your first day back, I know. Mine too. I’m Ms. Lewis.”
Joy Lewis,
I thought. Who knew my mother, and too much about me to be my teacher.
Perfect
.

She spoke in a calm but firm voice. “My rules are simple. I expect you to act like responsible people.” She paused, and I looked out the window, which framed blue sky and the barely discernable horizon of the ocean. “And I expect you to think.” I glanced up. She was at the front of the classroom, scanning our faces for some flicker of something. I watched her eyes look up and down the rows, until they stopped at me, and this time I didn’t look away. There was a visible shift in her expression and a noticeable beat before she spoke again, like she had lost the thread of her speech. She smiled vaguely and nodded before continuing.

“Since this is World Literature, we’ll be starting at the beginning, with a favorite topic of mine. Mythology.”
Of course
. I looked down at my desk, but I could feel her eyes still on me. “Now, I don’t mean your standard Greek mythology. You guys did that in seventh grade. This quarter we’re gonna take a look at some lesser-known myths. Some that have found their way into our movies and books and music without us even realizing what they are.” She looked around, and we sat in silence. I focused hard on the letters carved into the corner of the desk. Thick layers of blue and black ink speled out a four-letter word that echoed my general sentiment at the moment.

She chuckled softly. “You guys are a tough audience, this first day of school, last class of the day. I get it. I’d rather be out there too, to tell you the truth.” She motioned to the window and finally won a few murmurs of agreement. “How about this. Anyone have an idea about why we have myths in the first place?”