Sunshine (3 page)

Chapter 3
A Is For Accident
“For me to take your word I had to steal it.”-Tori Amos

I was sleeping.
Not so much a dream, but not quite a nightmare either.

I was having a memory.
This happens a lot. I have trouble remembering things. Sometimes I have a hard time forgetting things. But my dreams, they remember everything.
It didn’t take me long to realize that this memory was of Jack.
The beginning. It always starts out nice. He bought me flowers, held my hand. All of that sentimental trash girls are supposed to love. And I did. And it was nice to love. And the sun is always nice before it betrays you by giving you sunburn or making you go blind.
The memory flashes forward to his birthday party. It was my freshman year of high school and he was a senior. I thought it was cool to be invited to a party so soon. He kept giving me drinks, which I thought was nice of him; serving me drinks at his own party. But they tasted kind of odd. I thought for a split second that there could have been something in them that wasn‘t supposed to be in there, something that made the room sway, my stomach turn. Then I thought, no.
Jack loves me.
I’m just being nervous like I always get at parties where there are a lot of people.
Flash.
Me getting sick, throwing up, and then leaving. Jack was nowhere to be found.
Flash.
Calling him the next day and breaking it off.
He showed up at my house a few days later begging for me to listen to him. I did. He gave me flowers and explained how he didn’t know what had gotten into my drink that made me sick but that he had nothing to do with it. I fell for it because I thought he cared.
Because I thought he loved me.
Because I was stupid and wanted to love him back.
Love is a monster; a Cyclops that can only see things with half the sight of the next person, a zombie that searches blindly for the all important “braiiins.” And it will never be satisfied, no matter how many people it devours. It’s a disease that creeps into your bloodstream, infecting and then destroying until there is nothing left.
The memory flashes forward again to us making plans to go to the movies that weekend. But first, we had to meet his brother in an abandoned parking lot.
I was very dumb.
Back then, I just wanted people to like me. I never thought for one second that Jack was lying. I kept asking him where his brother was.
“He’ll be here, relax.” His stubble scraped at my chin, his grey eyes searching for something I didn’t have. Iron Maiden’s “Fear of The Dark” played on the radio. He was kissing me. Then he was touching me. A little too much. I don’t exactly believe in waiting until you’re married before you have sex, but c’mon. We had only been going out for two months, and it just felt…wrong.
I tried to stop him and tell him that I wasn’t ready for that kind of thing. But he kept moving everywhere. He kept telling me that he loved me.
Love doesn’t exist, you see. It’s just another shadowy figure that goes bump in the night.
The memory flashes one last time.
I’m washing my hands in the bathroom at Lucky High.
Then everything turns white.
It’s time to wake up now, before the memory turns into a nightmare.
Leena is jumping up and down on my bed. “Wake up, Sophie Sunshine!” she is singing very loudly. The glowing green numbers on my alarm clock read 4:45. I was supposed to wake up at four.
“No. No sunshine, no school.” I try to shake the last bits of the memories like moldy confetti from my head.
“Wake up! It's the first day of school!” Leena yells.
I can’t be mad at her; she’s the cutest five-year old in the world.
Shrugging off the covers, I stumble over to my closet. Leena dangles her legs over the side of my bed. Now I can see why she’s so damn hyper. A lollipop half the size of her head is wedged in her mouth.
“What should I wear?” I ask hoarsely. Leena runs to my closet and pulls back a pink tutu that I wore for a Halloween costume once. “I don’t think so.” I laugh.
“Fine,” she says, a tiny bit disappointed. “Then wear dish,” she says around the lollipop as she whips some clothes at me.
It’s a plain black, short sleeved button down shirt. Soon after, a pair of dark blue jeans are thrown at my feet. “Much better.”
“Sheee?” She makes another smacking sound.
I go into the bathroom to get dressed.
Mom comes in as I’m adjusting a small silver ring in my left nostril. “You need to give Laura a ride,” she tells me. She is wearing a putridly pink sweat suit with her perfectly blonde hair is swept up in a bun.
“Why, don’t you usually do that?” I inspect the ends of my not putridly pink but awesomely magenta hair before smearing industrial strength sun block onto my face.
“I’m going shopping for a new dress. Adam’s boss is having a party!” Her eyes light up when she says this. Like she’s opening presents on Christmas.
“You have to get a fancy dress?” I swipe some spf 100 under my cheeks and begin to rub it in.
“Yes!”
“At five in the morning?”
Her smile fades into a scowl and it looks like we’re heading into pissed off territory.
Mayday, Mayday.
“Just do it,” she snaps before leaving.
I park in my usual spot under this huge oak tree when we get to school. Laura hops out of the car, her shiny blond strands swaying down her back. “Don’t you dare tell anyone you drove me to school.” She adjusts her white halter top and walks away.
People are beginning to funnel into the building. I recognize some of them as Laura’s friends. “See you at home, beloved sister!” I shout out the window.
Boo and Trei are in my homeroom, which is awesome. Barbie is also in my homeroom, which is beyond horrible. Barbie Swain is the closest thing to a my-size Barbie doll. I mean, I know her name is Barbie and everything, but I'll never understand why she feels the need to live up to it with her sickly tube-orange-tan, and fried yellow hair.
This is the person that makes almost everyone’s life miserable every year. Mine especially, since she is now going out with my ex-boyfriend. I honestly don’t get why girls do this. Why is it that after you break up with a guy and want nothing to do with him, his new girlfriend has to make your life a living hell?
On top of that, she sits there all during homeroom in her skanky miniskirt and tank top that she managed to get past the dress code, showing everyone pictures of her and Jack at the beach. She keeps yapping about her totally awesome summer, and the only way I can keep myself busy is by singing that song by the band Aqua in my head:
I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world.
“And this is us at the pier!” Barbie’s voice interrupts.
It’s fantastic, I’m in plastic.
Then the bell rings. Thank you, school.

The rest of my day is pretty uneventful until fifth period art. I don’t know anyone in this class and I sit in the only available seat I can find, next to this fat kid with orange curly hair who smells like BO and crayons. The kid to my left is hunched over, turned away from me, probably drawing something on the desk.
I take out my sketch pad that Jade bought me as a back to school gift.
Lefty jerks his head up.
I notice who he is when he looks at me.
He’s got dark brown hair and freakishly awesome blue eyes.
Crap.
Of all the schools in this town, he has to go to mine. Out of all the art periods in the day he has to have mine.
Ignore him.
Make something up. He’s just like every other kid in this school that takes art. This class was already full of stoners who don’t take it seriously. This kid is no different.
I can see through my peripheral vision that he’s still staring at me, despite the fact that I’m doing a really good job at ignoring him. Most people would have gotten the point by now.
“Hey,” he says quietly. He must be new here. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t be trying so hard to talk to the weird pale girl. Also, I think I would have noticed that skin that's even paler than mine and those clear blue eyes. His face is soft, only a few angles poking out at his jaw and cheekbones, and he has this little dimple at the edge of his smile when I stare back at him.
Damn it. I’m supposed to be ignoring him.
I go back to drawing.
“What, no sunglasses today?” he says in the same quiet voice. He doesn’t look at me for more than half a second before turning back to his desk, staring at the wood grain or something.
I know people think I’m weird, but I don’t think I’ve ever made someone afraid of me. A new record.
Maybe he's just shy. Maybe talking to people makes him sick. Still, I know what they can do. I can’t let him think I'm being nice. He has to know that I want nothing to do with him. It’s better that way. But I give him a small answer. “Nope.”
“I like your tattoos.”
I whip my head in his direction. Is he seriously pointing to the jack o’ lantern near my elbow? The expression on my face causes him to turn back towards the front of the room and I do the same.
Hopefully he’s gotten the point that I’m not one of the best people to make friends with.
We spend the rest of the class on line drawings and I don’t look up until the bell rings.
As I’m tossing my crap in my bag, the kid that I thought gave up on talking to me stands in front of my desk. “My name’s Myles, by the way.” He smiles and sticks out his hand to shake.
For real? I stare at his hand, I don’t say anything back.
He retracts his arm awkwardly before he turns and leaves.
Next is lunch. Boo and Trei share this with me too. I also notice that someone else has the same lunch as us, but only after Boo says, “See that kid over there?”
We sit down with our lunch sludge and I shift my eyes over to where he’s pointing. There I see him, the same kid—Myles—from art.
“He’s new here,” Trei adds.
Boo and Trei have their attention on me, waiting for me to contribute to the conversation. “He’s in my art class,” I offer, “I hear his name is Myles.”
I push the tray completely aside and dig out a box of animal crackers that have been in my bag. Probably from the last time Leena and I went to the zoo.
“Oh he’s gorgeous, isn’t he Sophie?” Boo says out of nowhere.
Blatantly ignoring him, I bite all the heads off the animals, arranging their bodies on my binder.
“He’s in my drama class,” Boo continues, ignoring my lack of enthusiasm.
“Really?” Trei asks.
“They put him in there instead of giving him an English class. I showed him to the guidance office so he could change his schedule. Poor thing. Poor beautiful thing.”
There it is again. “God, just ask him out then,” I say.
“I
would
, but I don’t think he’s into boys.” He actually pouts.
I glance over to where Myles is sitting all alone, which is pretty strange. Nothing ever happens at Lucky, so when a new student comes, usually everyone is trying to talk to them.
“It must be hard coming to a new school and not knowing anyone,” Trei says.
“We should be friends,” Boo declares.
By now I’m too distracted by my animal crackers. I have them all headless and laid biggest to smallest. I don’t notice that Boo gets up to sit down at Myles’ table until Trei finishes her lunch and says, “I hope Boo knows that he can’t
make
someone gay.”
I follow Trei's gaze to where Boo and Myles are chatting it up. The new guy wears a smirk on his face and Boo is explaining something that is probably not funny unless he is explaining it.
“Maybe he thinks his charm and good looks will win him over,” I bite into one of my animal bodies.
The bell rings.

I don’t have to take gym because of the whole sun issue. Lucky thinks they’ll get sued if they let me participate in anything physical education related, so regardless of whether the class is going outside or not, no gym for me. Damn.
Sitting at the same table I did last year in the back of the library, I’m ready for a period of undivided nothingness. I’m reading a book about the circus that I got from a random shelf. Leena has given me requests as to what to draw during my study hall period this year. She already has the whole zoo hanging up in her room, so she's moved on to the circus.
I find a picture of this woman who was only known as Voo Doo; she was a snake charmer in Germany in the twenties. I immediately fall in love with her and have to draw her. I set the book down for a second so I can get something out of my bag to hold the pages open.
I jump when I see—surprise—Myles sitting across from me.
So much for ignoring him. Now I’ll have to be mean. “What are you doing?”
He looks unsure of himself as he answers me. “I’m sorry,” he says in a soft voice. “It’s just that I recognize you from my art class, and a friend of yours sat with me at lunch and when he saw that I had study hall this period, he said I would find you here. Your name’s Sophie, right?”
I can’t believe it. The first day of school and Boo is already trying to set me up with some random guy. I turn my attention back to my drawing, ignoring Myles. It’s not as hard this time because I’m busy plotting a way to get back at Boo. Maybe I’ll put a frog in his panty drawer or something.
The new kid might say something else, but I’m not really paying attention.
I’m still pissed at what he tried to pull with Myles, but at the end of the day I have help Boo with his locker. And by help him, I mean abandon any hope of ever using his dented locker and sharing mine instead. After we pile his books in, I head for the bathroom; I’m not feeling too good. Not throw up sick, just hot and sweaty. Maybe it's some left over pain killers in my system. Besides, I’m not staying long. And I
never
go into the stalls.
Splashing water on my face makes me feel somewhat better. Rather than just leave, I stand in front of the mirror to fix my makeup. I don’t know what possesses me to do this. I avoid mirrors whenever possible. I always think I look horrible. I flash back to that one night so long ago freshman year.
Coming out of the bathroom stall to look into the mirror. My hair disheveled, my red lipstick smeared all over my face. My brand new dress wrinkled and ripped. Scrapes and bruises on my arms and legs.
I shake the memory from my mind the way I have so many times before, the way I do with so many different things. I’m about to leave when Barbie walks in.
I freeze, stupidly telling myself that if I stand as still as I possibly can, she won’t be able to see me. “Sophie Jean,” she says in her high pitched voice.
I smooth out my shirt. I don’t feel like fighting, I just want to go home. “Barbie,” I say evenly.
She pops her gum loudly. “Good summer?”
“Okay.”
“Hope you didn’t get too much sun.”
I’ve had enough of Barbie for one day. I try to walk toward the door, but she gets in front of me. “You know,” she starts, “Jack can’t stop talking about you.”
I try not to vomit on her carrot-like tanned skin.
Then Barbie smiles the widest smile in my face. She smells like bubble gum and cheap perfume. “Not really!” She flips her hair. “He’s like, too busy with me. He doesn’t like sluts.”
Too bad I’m too overcome with the urge to blow chunks that I can’t speak, I’d settle for at least puking in front of her to gross her out, but she’s gone before I have the chance.