'Did you see the new kid?'
'I heard she's actually living with the Harfield's!'
'Ask her if she can introduce us to Jay!'
The reaction to my enterring into the school was making just about as much sense to me as Jay Harfield's obvious popularity; Have these kids never seen a new student before? There goes my intention of blending into the background.
When I woke up this morning, dangerously early to what I was used to, I told the reflection in the mirror sternly, 'You are here to learn and to buck up your Grades. What's left of them, anyway. Keep quiet and go with the flow.' She nodded along with me in agreement, tendrils of brunette hair hanging past her shoulders. She could pass off as pretty if the frown positioned on her face would lift. But, dressed in a smart white shirt, blue/white printed tie and a short skirt, could you honestly blame her? Kill. Me. Now. Then I decided to stop talking to myself - might give off the wrong impression.
Apparently, driving to the school in the same car as Jay was my first mistake. Crowds of female spectators glared daggers all aimed in the back seat, where we both sat. Although it didn't take a genius to figure out who their target was. Jay seemed not to notice, or he didn't care. His eye-contact stopped barely once, on the form of the only boy, leaning against a tree in the yard, that was staring at the car - well, in fact, it wasn't a stare; it was similar to that of the several women's faces. A glare, except more intensified and dark. Despite him concentrating on Jay, not me, goosebumps raised on my forearms and the heat in my chest grew.
It's alright ... nothing to worry about, I assured it. How quickly I relaxed did suprise me - barely a year ago, even the slightest sense of alarm or anger would trigger the transformation and send me running. Curoisity still remained though.
"Who's that?" I asked. Jay didn't respond at first; just continued looking out of the window, until he answered, "Some guy I know. Not the best of friends, as you can see. Where's your homeroom again?" Reaching over, he plucked the folded piece of paper from my fingers.
"Ah, lucky you, you've got Mr Newbower, like me. And you have fourth and fifth with me. Grab your shit and let's go!" He opened the door with a loud 'oomph', walking quick-paced, while I hurriedly slung my bag strap across my shoulder, leaving me to catch up.
Damn his long legs.