Twisted Proposal (26 page)

“Excuse me?” someone asked. I lifted my head to meet a pair of dark grey eyes peering at me from under a familiar fro’ of blondish hair.

“You’re new here, right?” he commented.

“Yeah?”

“Wait, weren’t you were at Jackson's party on Friday?” He smiled.

“Yes, and you so kindly showed me to the restroom where Jackson was hooking up with some chick.”
Why was he staring at me like I had two heads?
A few younger girls paused to gawk at him.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” I stood.  We were the same height. I hated being tall.

“I’m Trent, by the way.” He offered his hand, but I avoided it.
I didn’t have time for this. Where was Dean Marshall?

“And you are?” he fished for information, lowering his hand.

              This kid wasn’t leaving until I gave him something. “I’m Addison, remember? Do you know where Dean Marshall is?”

“Addison,” he said my name as if he were tasting a new flavor of ice cream.

I stared past him down the hall at the door opening, but it was just more students.

“Dean Marshall’s probably at Prather Hall, getting ready for an assembly, since its Monday. If you want, I can show you to the auditorium.”

“Yah, like you showed me to the bathroom.” He didn’t answer, and I slid my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll take my chances.” I left him staring after me and followed everyone else inside the large cathedral-like building into a large auditorium. There were more students than I had imagined, and my stomach started doing flip flops.
I could do this.

Unlike my old school, there was an actual stage we were, complete with a podium. A group of very distinguished people gathered off to the far right, one of them Dean Marshall. Behind them on a large projector screen was the school’s mascot, a Devil clad in blue and green plaid, with the words “Week's Agenda” written below. Part of me felt like I should be taking notes or something.

“Cute.” Trent slipped into a seat next to me.

“Where were you going to take me this time?”

“Someplace where you could at least keep your anonymity,” he said sourly.

Dean Marshall strode across the stage to the podium and cleared her throat. Her hair was pulled back and even from where I sat, I could see her stern expression. “Attention, students.” Everyone quieted down.

“Here we go,” Trent said, sitting back.

              “I would like to thank the members of the Student Council for a lovely school dance on Friday.” Then she went on to inform everyone about the week’s upcoming events. Just when I thought it was coming to an end, Dean Marshall scanned the crowd, her gaze locking on to my face. “We have a new student joining us. It gives me great pleasure to welcome Miss Addison McDaniel.”

McDaniel! My last name is Solomon.
I was so going to kill Stuart when I got home. Trent nudged me, and I glared at him.

“Don’t be shy, Miss McDaniel. Please stand so everyone will know who you are.” The Dean beckoned.

I felt my stomach drop. I should have listened to Trent and skipped the assembly. I stood and focused my attention on the schedule of events for the week that hung on the wall behind the Dean.
This was so embarrassing.
I tried to avoid the heat that rushed to my cheeks while everyone gawked at me. After thirty seconds of torture, I was allowed to sit back down.

“Maybe next time you’ll trust me,” Trent added.

              “Don’t bet on it,” I snapped. The bell rang then, and people began filing out of the auditorium to their classes. Trent was one of the first to leave the assembly.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“What was wrong at the assembly?" Dean Marshall inquired as she sat down behind her desk. She folded her hands and studied me. "You looked like you were quite upset.” I went straight to her office just as the second bell sounded. She arrived a few minutes later.

I stared her down. “My name is Addison J. Solomon, not McDaniel.”

              “Your name is whatever Mr. Van Buren wants it to be. He writes the checks. That’s the name that was written on the application. I’m sure it’s just a formality.”

“But my last name is Solomon,” I argued.
And what was Mr. Van Buren doing paying my tuition?

“If you insist on keeping this up, I will call your father and inform him to take you elsewhere.” All the friendliness in her eyes had disappeared.

              “Do what you have to do, but I’m not taking my father’s last name,” I retorted, standing abruptly. “My name is all I have left of my mother, and I intend on keeping it. I’ll wait outside while you call my father.” I turned to leave.
What was wrong with me? I couldn’t walk out on an opportunity like this. Why did I have to be so brash?

“Sit down,” she ordered.

I slid back into my chair.

“You can keep your last name. It’ll be changed by the end of the week. Now, you’re at least three weeks behind, and for your information, the juniors are not happy to be adding another person to their roster.”

              “Why?”

“If you haven’t noticed, this is a very competitive school. That being said, just try to keep your nose clean, and we’ll be fine,”

              “Deal.”

              She wrote something down on a yellow pad of paper and pressed a small button on a speaker box on her desk. “Mrs. Kline, will you send in Kristin?”

The Asian girl from the party walked in with a placid look on her face. She curtsied and greeted me with a smile.

“Addison, this is Kristin. She’ll be showing you around Briarwood. She’s in all of your classes, and if you have any questions, ask her. She’s the top student in the junior class.”

“Thank you, Dean Marshall.” She curtsied again before facing me.
Was she for real?

“It’s very nice to meet you, Addison; I hope you enjoy your time at Briarwood.” She flashed me a bright, cheerleader full-of-white-teeth smile.

              “I hope you two will be good friends,” Dean Marshall said. Then she dismissed us.

              The act disappeared almost as soon as we left Dean Marshall's office. “I can’t believe you ditched Trent. He’s like a God around here, now that Jackson’s graduated,” Kristin said once we were in the hall.

              “News travels fast,” I commented. She made me feel self-conscious.

              “How old are you again? Most juniors are seventeen. However, there are three that are eighteen, but we don’t’ hold it against them.”

              “I’m sure you already know that I’m sixteen.”

“Weren’t you at the party on Friday with Jackson Van Buren? You really pissed Carli off,” she said, ignoring my comment about my age.

              “I don’t see how. They seemed fine when I found them in the bathroom hooking up.”
I was gossiping. What was wrong with me?

“Well, I heard you spent the night with him.”

              “Yeah and…?”  We walked up a flight of stairs. My knees felt weak. This place moved too fast for me.

“Well, what happened?”

“We watched television and passed out talking.”

“Really?” she asked with a confused look on her face.

“What?”

“That’s exactly what he told me. Weird. I never figured him for the kind who likes to talk. He seems like an all or nothing kind of guy.”
Jackson told her the same thing? What was he lying for?

“Come on. We’re going to be late, and I have near-perfect attendance.”

God forbid we ruin that
. I followed her down the hall.

We rushed through the thinning crowds of students down a hall lined with bulletin boards covered with announcements of events and activities. It was so different from my old school; everything was so shiny and clean. As we turned left, Kristin pointed out my locker, which was near a water fountain. My old locker was near the gym, which was on the opposite side of the building. I rarely used it. 

“Just so you know," Kristin said. "Jackson and Carli have dated on and off for the last year or so. I wouldn’t come between that.”

“Thanks for the advice.”
Like I cared.

We stopped at a wooden door with glass windows. I could see a man in a green and blue sweater vest. My first class, European Literature.

“Watch out.  Mr. Morgan’s a stickler,” she said as we walked in.

The classroom was smaller than I anticipated and caught me off guard. Six large tables were used as desks, and twelve sets of eyes stared at me with curiosity. Instead of a chalkboard, there were dry erase boards. A projector hooked up to a computer displayed the lecture notes. It reminded me more of college than high school. The chairs were swivel office chairs with padded seats. Kristen handed the teacher a slip and slid into her chair, leaving me alone in front of the class while the teacher gave me the once-over.

“Take a seat in front, Addison McDaniel.” Mr. Morgan pointed to an open place next to a girl with dark red hair. She rolled her eyes at me and frowned. I nodded and sat down.

“It’s Solomon. They made a mistake,” I corrected.

“Do tell us where did you matriculate from?” Mr. Morgan asked, as he strolled past me.
What was this? Some sort of interrogation?

              “Northern Illinois, near Chicago.” I failed at keeping the attitude out of my voice.

“And please inform us of the last book you read?” he asked, sitting on the edge of his desk. Before I had a chance to answer, he jeered, “Oh, wait. Let me guess.
Twilight Saga
, or was it the latest copy of
Cosmo
or
Seventeen
?” He crossed his arms, and several people snickered.

              I chuckled. “No, uh, that kind of mindless reading doesn’t appeal to me. The last book I read was probably over your head.”

              He stood abruptly. “Nonsense,” he snapped.

              “Does
The Voyage of the Beagle
, by Charles Darwin, ring a bell? But I’m currently reading
The Canterbury Tales,
by Chaucer. The Middle English text, of course.” Truth be told, I wasn’t reading either of those right now, but I had read both in the past year.

              He didn’t say anything for about thirty seconds and then began with the daily discussion, ignoring me completely.  At the end of the class, I was given three weeks of assignments and notes to catch up--all due by the end of the week.

I had the same experience in the next two classes, Urban History and Physics. It was insane, and Kristin didn’t help matters with her snide remarks about Jackson. I could have cared less about him. How was I going to get all of this homework done? There wasn’t enough time in the day or night. I guess I wanted academia, and now I had it. I didn’t see how my mother survived this place.

At least, gym class was next.
Can’t go wrong there, right?
An hour later, drenched in sweat for the second time that day, I learned how wrong I was. I’d spent the entire class taking the most intense fitness tests of my life. My teacher was even worse than Brock.

“What team are you planning on trying out for?” asked a girl in the locker room while I was changing. 

              “Uh, nothing now,” I muttered, pulling on my shirt.             

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked. I faced her. She was as tall as me, but bigger than me by sheer muscle mass. 

“I was told it was too late to join anything right now, but in the future I might like to play soccer, track, lacrosse, or maybe even volleyball.”

              “You don’t look like you’re the type of girl to play any of those. You look like you belong with the cheerleaders or dance team,” she suggested. She didn’t smile, so I knew she wasn’t joking.
Great, I was making friends already.

              “Yeah, my father would probably agree with you.”

              “I’m Lacey Greenhill, captain of the soccer team.” She stuck her hand out for me to shake.

              “Nice to meet you.” Avoiding her extended hand, I pulled on my socks.  She wasn’t being nice to be a friend; she wanted information--like all of them.

“Just so you know. Everyone here has their own little knack for sports.” With a flip of her long hair, she cruised out the door.

I wasn’t going to worry about that now. I hurried to find Kristin, who was waiting for me in the cafeteria. She shut her phone as I approached and smiled.
Did she think I was blind? Better yet, stupid?
              “So you met Lacey. Don’t worry about her. She’s just trying to make sure you’re not going to try out for her precious soccer team.”

“I’m not. What sports team are you on?”

“Cheerleading, of course.”

              So my assessment in Dean Marshall's office was correct. Cheerleader. It figured. “Cool,” I lied. I wanted to know who she was talking to. I’m pretty sure she was discussing me.

“It’s ultimately your choice. But just so you know, I don’t like the girl they’ve selected for the cheerleading team. She’s a know-it-all bitch.” She pointed out the redhead I sat next to in English, as we grabbed our lunch trays. “You’re a vegetarian, right?”

“Is there any anything you don’t know?” I grabbed an apple juice and salad.

“No, not much, and lucky for you, our school has a tasty variety of vegetables.” She showed me how to pay for my lunch and then led me to a table of a few girls who all stared at me as I sat down.

“Everyone, this is Addison. She’s the newest member of the junior class, and she went to a party on Friday with Jackson Van Buren.” As soon as she said that, everyone started talking at once. It appeared that Kirstin was a step down from the super popular kids. As much as she talked about Carli, I had assumed they were best friends. But Carli and Trent were sitting at the table next to us with a group of jocks. Kristin gazed longingly at them and then began trash-talking. It was a little bit of a letdown to find out that this school was no different than the last. I don’t know what I was expecting, but gossiping wasn’t a part of it. By the end of lunch, I decided I was going to ask the Dean if I could take another Study Hall to prevent me the torture of lunch altogether.

Trent insisted on sitting next to me in World Studies class and bugged me the entire time with annoying questions he’d written down on a piece of paper. For some reason, I felt obligated to answer them. After all, he did try to save me from embarrassment this morning.

              “Go out with me this weekend?” he asked after class.

              “I’m grounded.”

              “Why, what’d you do? More importantly, you didn’t say no. Does Jackson know you want to see other guys?” he ventured.

              I stopped. “Just so you know, Jackson and I aren’t dating, and for the record, I don’t date. Rest assured. I’ll let you know if I want something.”

              Three classes later, I arrived at the library for study hall brain-dead. These teachers were heartless to the fact that I had eight classes to catch up on by Friday.  I left Kristin at the front and found an empty table in the back and started to unpack. I placed each textbook on the table with a list of the things that had to be completed. There was so much that had to be done. I fired up my laptop and got to work.

Someone cleared her throat, and I closed my laptop. Carli stared down at me. I waited for her to start talking, but instead she just stood there gawking at me. So I rolled my eyes and started my homework again. I didn’t have time to play games. She cleared her throat again, and I slammed my computer shut. “Is there something you want?”

“I’m Carli, you’re…”

“Addison. Are we finished?”

“Just beginning. Where exactly are you from, Ad-di-son?”

“Illinois. Any other questions I can answer before I get to my work?”

She smiled and sat down, leaning forward. “Yeah, why are you dating my boyfriend?”

“I’m not dating anyone.”

“I saw you with Jackson at the party. You can’t fool me.”

I held my hand up to stop her. “Jackson and I aren’t dating.”

“You’re not?”

“No, we're not.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I thought you….then why did he dump me?”

              I didn’t respond, which bugged her.

              “So how long have you known Jackson?”

              “A few weeks,” I replied, which caught her off guard, and she smiled awkwardly.

              “And you spent the night with him. You don’t waste time, do you?”

              “It wasn’t exactly my idea,” I said. Everyone around me had their heads buried in their homework, but I knew they were listening.