The Color Of Grace (6 page)

I entered Southeast
High School, feeling as
Hester Prinn from
The Scarlett Letter
 
must’ve felt the first time she had to
go grocery shopping after getting her nifty letter A pinned on. Make that a
frozen Hester Prinn. Everyone had to be staring and thinking I was the lowest
of low. Not that I was wearing a Hillsburg letterman’s jacket or anything—I
didn’t even own one—but I was so certain everyone could see some invisible
V—for Viking, Hillsburg’s mascot—etched on my forehead every time they glanced
my way.

I was such an outsider.

As soon as I stepped into my new life, my guts knotted into
a queasy ball of nausea. The wretched cold froze my extremities, the lack of
sleep left me with a pounding headache, and every nerve in my body spiked out
of control.

I managed a few uneasy grins, but I probably looked more
constipated than I did polite.

Two boys leaning against the wall paused talking to stare at
me. One girl sitting on the floor with a book propped open on her bent knees
even glanced up to momentarily glance my way. It was the most unnerving
sensation. The only people inside the spacious commons area not paying me a
lick of attention were a pair of chatty cheerleaders decked out in their skirts
and leggings as they strolled past.

The dainty, shorter one with her pale
hair pulled up high into a perky ponytail brushed by me so close, her shoulder
caught my book bag I had hanging off the crook of one elbow. As the strap
wrenched my limb around, scraping painfully across the inside of my arm, the
cheerleader paused to whirl back and glare at me.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” she railed.

“Sorry.” I readjusted my bag to hook it more securely over
my shoulder.

I almost missed the number forty-two painted in purple on
her cheek. I faltered and did a double take, catching sight of the two digits
again as she turned away, dismissing me, and continued down the hall with her
friend.

My mouth fell open as I stared after the two girls, watching
the way their pleated purple and white skirts swished back and forth.

Forty-two, my mind kept repeating. Ryder Yates. The only
student from Southeast who’d ever talked to me. And that foul, petite,
beautiful cheerleader sported his jersey number on her cheek. The juices in my
stomach churned so hard my belly actually hurt.

Oh, no.

He had a girlfriend.

My skin suddenly fit all wrong. My scalp prickled and my
cheeks heated. My knees went loose and wobbly. A shock wave reverberated
through my arms and legs.

I wish I could’ve been all blasé and passed off the inner
commotion as anger. The lying, cheating, gorgeous jerk had hit on me barely
three weeks ago, and he’d had a girlfriend the entire time? I should’ve been
fuming.

Instead, I felt more like bawling.

Despite what I’d claimed so fiercely to my friends, I too
had secretly hoped something magical might come from attending Southeast.
Something magical that involved a certain boy who bore the number forty-two on
his stupid basketball jersey.

I told myself I was probably jumping to conclusions. Just because
I’d seen one girl wearing his jersey number on her cheek didn’t mean he was
dating anyone. Maybe they were just friends. I’d have worn Adam’s number if
he’d been in any kind of sport.

Or maybe the cheerleader had a huge crush on him and wanted
to let him know about it. Totally possible, given how dreamy he was. Or maybe,
maybe she was his sister and had to wear his number out of family obligation,
though her small frame, super blond hair and facial features bore no resemblance
at all to Ryder Yates.

Okay, so he more than likely had a girlfriend.

Shake it off.
There was one concern gone. I didn’t have to worry about
whether he was going to try hitting on me again.

The nervous, sick anxiety coiling inside me dissipated only
for an upset, sick disappointment to replace it.

“Oh, get over yourself,” I muttered aloud.

Someone walking past paused to send me
a strange look as if he thought I’d been talking to him. When he realized I
wasn’t, he crinkled his brow and shifted a wide berth around me.

Super. Now I was going to be known as the new girl who
talked to herself.

Ducking my chin into my chest, I started forward until I
realized I had no idea where I was going. Deciding I had to keep my chin up in
order to find the office, I sighed, lifted my eyes, and thankfully latched on
to the sign I needed sticking out from the wall with a finger printed on it,
pointing to a doorway with an opened glass access.

Thank goodness one thing had gone right.

I entered the office with hesitant steps until the woman
behind the desk looked up and smiled at me. Her nameplate read Mrs. Alexander.

Shoulders easing as something else in my day went right, I
smiled back. “Hi. I’m new here. My mom came in and enrolled—”

“You’re Grace, right?”

More relieved air escaped my lungs. “Right.”

Lifting a stack of papers she already had sitting out on her
desk, she issued me my locker and combo, lunch ID, class schedule, school
calendar, and bell schedule. Glancing at my class schedule, I immediately
scanned it over. English, history, chemistry, computer applications…pretty much
the same classes I had at Hillsburg, except—

“This doesn’t show I’m in yearbook,” I said, looking up. “I
know I asked my mom to make sure I could be in yearbook.”

Mrs. Alexander winced. “Right. I’m sorry, but that class was
full.”

Something Mom had totally neglected to tell me. Had she
known and purposely kept it from me? I had a sneaking suspicion she just
might’ve.

I looked down to see what other course I had to take to fill
that spot. Art 1. Deep inside, I groaned. Art was Schy’s forte, not mine. I
couldn’t even draw a straight line without slanting off into a wonky diagonal.

After receiving my pile of papers from the office, Mrs.
Alexander sent me next door to speak to the school counselor.

Mr. Howard seemed rushed as he ushered me inside and had me
take a seat in the chair across from him, but his smile was genuine as he shook
my hand before seating himself.

He glanced over my schedule, nodding as he read, and then
announced I had all the core classes I needed. Folding his hands, he leaned
forward with an amiable smile as next he asked questions of a more personal
nature, making me think he was fishing around to determine if I’d been a
problem student at Hillsburg.

But I must’ve answered everything correctly, because he smiled
and nodded before flipping open a folder—probably my record. “Well, Hillsburg
thought you were an exemplary student. So I must say we’re glad to have you.
And personally, I have no concerns because I knew—”

The first bell rang, making me jump. Oh, no. Was it time to
start already?

Mr. Howard frowned, then glanced at his wristwatch. “Shoot,”
he muttered, surging to his feet. “I have a meeting I need to make.” Glancing
at me, he winced.

My throat dropped into my toes. He was going to abandon me.
Teens streamed past the opened door, heading toward their first hour. I looked
down blindly at my class schedule, trying to read the words and numbers through
the blur of chaos rattling around in my head. Oh, my God. What was my first
class? And
where
? I glanced one more
time at all the strangers zipping past the office opening. No way could I go
out there.

“I, uh.” I sprang to my feet in absolute panic, ready to
throw myself at Mr. Howard’s feet and beg him not to make me leave his office.
“I don’t know where to go,” I said, blundering out the fear.

Wincing again, he held up a finger. “Don’t worry. Just…hold
on a second.” He hurried past me to stick his head out into the hall, looking
one way before he glanced the other and spotted what he’d been searching for.

“Laina!” he called.

The girl sitting not so far away, her nose still buried in a
book, jolted and lifted her head. Her eyes went wide as if she thought she’d
just gotten into trouble. As she scrambled to her feet, stuffing the novel into
her book bag, Mr. Howard glanced back to send me a reassuring smile.

“This is Alaina,” he introduced, stepping aside to motion
toward the girl. “She’s a junior like you. I think she can show you where all
your classes are. Laina, this is Grace. She’s new here and needs to be shown
around to all her classes, if you don’t mind.” He glanced at his watch again.
“I really need to leave.”

I met Laina’s gaze and she quickly glanced away, blushing.
She had a heart-shaped face, straight, light brown hair, and a splash of
freckles that made her appear sweet and personable. Something seemed to click.
She had to be a kindred spirit; I just felt it. Alaina and I were going to
start the Southeast division of the Nerd Herd. At least, I hoped making friends
here would be that easy.

“Hi,” I said with a wide smile,
thrusting my schedule at her. “Please say you can save me and tell me where my
first class is.”

Laina’s eyes blinked once. She stared at my proffered class
schedule before hesitantly reaching out and slipping the sheet from my hand.
After frowning and pulling the piece of paper close to her nose, she began to
talk to herself, saying, “History, Computer Applications, Chemistry. Art. You
have Art first hour.”

Ugh. Swallowing back the groan that continued to reverberate
deep inside me, I asked in a hopeful voice, “Do you take Art too?”

She shook her head. “Not this hour.” Spinning away from me,
she started away with my schedule in hand. Hoping she was leading me instead of
ditching out on me, I hurried after her. The girl wasn’t much of a conversationalist,
but I was determined not to hold that against her.

Rushing a little more so I could ease up to her side as she
trooped along with her head down, I cleared my throat. “Uh…so, do I need to
stop by my locker and drop off my things? At…at my last school, we weren’t
allowed to bring book bags to class.”

It took a second for her to answer, her nose still pointed
toward the ground as if she were some kind of bloodhound sniffing out my class
for me. Finally, she mumbled, “Number.”

Not catching on at first, I opened my mouth to ask what she
meant, and then it struck me. “My
locker
number? Oh! Umm…” I shuffled through my bag for the locker assignment Mrs.
Alexander had given me, then twisted it around until I could read it upright.
“I’m in locker four twelve.”

She continued along for three more steps as if she hadn’t
heard me before she came to an abrupt halt and spun around to gawk at me with
wide eyes. “You have a locker in senior hall? I thought he said you were a
junior.”

“Oh, yeah.” I rolled my eyes. “The secretary told me that
was the only hall with working lockers available.” I shrugged with a rueful
grin as if to add,
What’re you gonna do
?

“Wow.” Laina looked awed.

Happy I’d managed to impress her, I said, “Yeah. I guess.”

Memorizing the route she took, I noted every doorway and
hall we passed, mumbling left and right under my breath when we made a turn.
Finally, Laina jerked to another stop. I glanced at the row of lockers to our
right and spotted the number 408. Realizing I was close, I ticked off a couple
more spaces before I found 412.

“Thanks.” I swung my bag off my shoulder. “I’ll just be a
minute.”

It took me three attempts to work open the combination. For
my first crack at this particular lock, I thought that was rather impressive. I
glanced over my shoulder twice to make sure my guide hadn’t deserted me, and
thank goodness, she continued to hang around, not looking at me but staring longingly
at her book bag, making me think she was tempted to pull out her novel and take
up where she’d left off her on her story while she waited.

After extracting my laptop, a notepad, and pen, I shoved my
bag inside and spun around with a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Technically, I wasn’t ready at all, but if I had to proceed with
this day regardless, I was as ready as I’d ever be.

Laina took off again, without speaking.

We trekked back to the far end of the hallway, then turned
right and moved halfway down that passage before she slowed and finally stopped
walking. Thrusting my schedule in my direction, she said, “Here.”

I took the page, glanced down until I found the class number
for Art, then looked up to discover we’d actually made it. Turning toward
Laina, I grinned gratefully. “Thanks. I really appreciate…”

She’d already left and was halfway down the hall, her hair
gathered around her face as she stared at the ground. I found it amazing she
still knew to dodge to the side and step out of the way of oncoming students
without once looking up.

Shaking my head, I entered Art—ugh—and immediately got into
trouble.

“How many times do I have to repeat, no laptops in class!”

I stopped in my tracks, my face draining of color.
“S-sorry,” I sputtered, already backing toward the exit. “I’m new. I didn’t
know—”