Chapter 2: Not the Bad Boy

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Compared to our school in Seattle, this one is small. Only one story and a few buildings make up its entirety. Toria and I stand outside on the sidewalk; she's talking into her phone - most likely Derek - and I'm gawking with my mouth slightly open.

"Only thing you're going to get is flies."

I snap my mouth shut and glance at my sister. She's got her hand over the mouthpiece, her eyes trained on me. "Straighten up, shoulders back and chest out."

As I try my best to attempt what she's directing me to do, two boys roughly my age walk by. They're too busy arguing to notice me, which is good because I probably look like a total weirdo. One is taller than me by almost half a foot; he has brown hair that's made to look disheveled. His eyes are a greenish grey, and he has a thin face. Actually, almost everything about his thin. Or maybe that's just his baggy clothes.

His friend looks a lot like him with the same color hair, though his is lightly faded on the sides with much of what is on top and in front tufted up into a semi-wave and he lacks his friend's height by a few inches. Their noses and chins are similar, too - maybe their brothers. Then again, that could mean nothing considering how different Toria and I look.

I notice myself staring in an almost creeper way when the shorter one catches my gaze. I suck in my breath; his eyes are the palest blue I've ever seen. Shimmery in the morning sunlight, they resemble the ocean. One of my favorite places.

"Ok, let me look at you."

The short boy isn't looking my way anymore as I tear my gaze from him. Good thing, too. Toria precedes to groom me like a mom. Wiping off the tops of my shoulders, straightening the hang of my teal scarf and making sure the hood of my royal purple jacket is right-side-out. I should probably feel embarrassed.

"Well?" My voice quivers when I speak, betraying that I am more than a bit nervous.

"Couldn't have dressed you better myself," she smiles, takes a step toward the small high school, and then stops. "Oh wait, I did."

I roll my eyes.

As we make our way to the entrance, Toria waves to a girl in a baby blue tank top and light blue jean capris on the lawn beside the sign. Most likely one of the many people she friended via social media in preparation for the move. She never urged me to do the same. She thought my 'nobodiness' at our current high school would taint each message I sent.

"You good," she asks as she's already breaking away from my side.

"Uh, yeah, sure." I'm nodding if only to convince myself that the 'yeah' was a 'yes' and the 'sure' was an 'of course.'

"Great! Keep your guidelines in mind, start assignment one asap and I'll see you after sixth period."

And like that I'm standing alone in the middle of the walkway. Hitching my binder and books up on my hip (Toria says backpacks are for geeks and those days are behind me), I look around. No one is staring like my self-consciousness fears.

I take a deep breath and nod inwardly.

Since I already have my schedule, I track down my first classroom. U.S. History with Mr. Herkabe. A few students are milling about outside, but none have gone in. I pause beside the lockers and wrack my brain for what the guidelines had to say about this scenario. My mind comes up blank.

Good, this will give me a chance to work on my latest fantasy story starring my wood elf, Rowan. My little secret, of course. Toria would flip if she found out I was still writing my stories - especially in public. But I can't give it up just like that. They're part of who I am.

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