Like Mother, Like Daughter

Chapter Three: Suddenly, This Summer

I trekked the hallways of my high school, a bittersweet feeling flowing through me as I considered all the memories that coursed through my mind. Sure, I could've gone to yet another private school, but since I'd had such a negative experience with my middle school, I'd decided to go public for high school. In so doing, I ended up at the same institution as my fellow Gallagher and Milkovich family members had gone to. I laughed as I walked by the unappealing blue lockers, and considered that Pops might've shoved some kids inside them.

"Classic Pops," I muttered to myself.

The notion that I still had a study hall period to do whatever I liked on the final day of school seemed to be a moot point now as I headed outside, towards the track. I'd never been interested in sports, or gym, but had managed to somehow channel the negative energy into these pastimes into a good grade. I looked down, seeing the cheerleaders practicing their cheering for the final football game of the season or something, as well as the team itself running drills. Then there was the track team, running laps, and I rolled my eyes at the very institution of it all as I perched on the edge of the bleachers...

"Don't forget to go under the bleachers."

I raised an eyebrow at Uncle Ian, reaching out and taking his cigarette away from him and puffing on it myself. "The bleachers? Why would I want to go there?"

"It's our spot," Pops replied, sharing a look with Uncle Ian.

I laughed aloud then, quickly disengaging the cigarette from between my lips so as not to waste any of the precious tobacco. "Wait. Are you two fucking with me?"

Uncle Ian shook his head. "No, Iana, we're not fucking with you."

"Go and check for yourself before you're outta that place forever," Pops said, reaching out and taking the cigarette away from me. "Won't hurt to look."

I looked around to make sure nobody was there to tell me not to, or at least advise me against it, before I climbed down from the bleachers and made my way to the end of them. Steel metal bars were surrounding the edges of them, obviously in an attempt to keep students out of there, but I rolled my eyes to the rules. Grabbing ahold of them, I hoisted myself between them and looked around, making my way underneath them completely. I trekked to the center of that place, and saw names scratched into the silver paint in black marker; all of the Gallagher kids had put their names down, and I was pleased to see that Pops' and Uncle Ian's were intertwined, connected forever via their high school spot. I reached into my back pocket then, seeing that my mother had taken it upon herself to put her name down as well, and wrote my name underneath her name, right below where she had put hers, next to Uncle Ian's.

"Guess it's a right of passage or something," I muttered to myself.

Miranda Hayworth had been a senior when I was a sophomore, and had been head cheerleader and senior class president. Suffice it to say, her school record was clean, but when it came right down to it, she was desperate to escape from underneath the white bread spotlight. I was waiting for Franny to finish up track practice one day, just keeping my nose in a book, when Miranda told the fellow cheerleaders that practice was over for the day. I barely noticed; cheerleading was so not my thing.

"Gallagher!"

Given that the surname was infamous in South Side, it was a moniker I went by within the public school system, one that fit me like a glove. Immediately, my hackles came up then as I slammed my book shut, on the offensive, ready and waiting for a fight if one presented itself. I raised my eyebrows slightly when I noticed Miranda standing there, still in her cheerleading uniform, at the base of the bleachers. "How can I help you, Hayworth?" I asked her.