Chapter Four

       “No, mom!” I repeated for the billionth time.

       “But, Elizabeth,” she protested, “it’s your first day of school! Please, let me drive you there today! I promise, just this once!”

       “No. I’m taking the bus. I’ve gone through first days so many times before, and they’re not a big deal!” I said, thinking back to all the other times I’ve had to be subjected to being the “New Girl”. It’s an interesting experience… No one knows your limits or has any expectations of you; all they can do is misjudge you based on appearance.

       “Not a big deal? This is your first day of your senior year, and you are willingly wearing a skirt! How can this not be a big deal?” she questioned, referring to my ultra feminine choice of attire. My skirt was a blush color, made out of this thin material, and hung just above my tanned knees. Pink is not my color. I don’t even know how my mom was able get me to agree to her buying it for me…

       I don’t wear skirts. I hate them, and find them extremely uncomfortable and inefficient. The reason for wearing a skirt today, was first impressions. Your first impression on someone is the lasting image that remains in their mind about you for all of eternity. By wearing a skirt, people are more likely to think I’m a more reserved, quiet girl, oppose to who I truly am.

       I asked my mom to help me with what to wear with the skirt, and she suggested a simple white tank top and a slender brown belt; I took her advice, and those clothes somehow found themselves on my body. As much as I would love to wear a pair of sneakers with this ensemble, even I realized it was a bad idea. I took my own intuition, and slipped on a pair of white flats with the outfit. All together, I looked very… girly. Yuck.

       “It’s not; believe me. I’ll walk to the bus, and I’ll see you this afternoon,” I said, tossing my teal backpack over a shoulder.

       “Fine. Call me if you need anything! Oh! Do you have your phone? Do you need money?” she fretted. She always does this. Every time I enter a new school, she freaks. Most people would expect the kid to be nervous, and the parents to be chill, but with me, it’s the opposite.

       “I’m fine. Love you. I’m going. Bye,” I said, thumping down the stairs to the landing.

       “Love you too! Bye sweetie!” she said, as I opened the door, and stepped out, closing it behind me.

       I breathed in the warm morning air of the early September day, and began my way to the bus stop on the corner of our street. Prior to this day, my mother had looked up about a million different routes to get to this one place, so I wouldn’t get lost. It’s on the corner of our freaking street; there’s no way in hell I can get lost.

       As I passed my new house, my feet lightly hit the sidewalk, and I navigated my way over broken twigs and the occasional pebble. My head was looking either way, taking in the scenery I would have to look at for the next ten months of my life. In the winter, this pathway would most likely be covered in a heavy layer of snow, and be close to impassible.

       “Elizabeth!” I heard my name being called. I spun around to view a large, black SUV to my side. Behind the wheel was the same boy who had been the first to welcome me to the neighborhood: Eric.

       “Hi…” I said, smiling at him.

       “Where are you going?” he asked.

       “The bus stop…” I said, restricting my eyeballs from rolling. Logic. Geez. Some people…

       “Need a ride?” he offered, patting on the empty passenger’s seat beside him.

       “No, I’m-” I started to object.

       “You do not want to ride the bus. Believe me. Come on,” he urged.

       “Really, I’m-”

       “It’s not option, get in,” he commanded lightheartedly.

       “You sure?” I asked.

       “If I wasn’t why would I have even stopped?” he contradicted.

       “Got a point,” I sighed.

       “So, you coming with?”

       “Yes,” I said, opening up the door closest to me, and mounting onto the high car. I smoothed out my skirt once I was in and placed my backpack on the tan floor.

       “Wow. I didn’t know that beauty queens woke up this early,” he said, taking me in. I bit my lip, though the appropriate response probably would’ve been to blush. Screw blushing. It’s so… I don’t know what it is, but I know that I’m not the type of girl who blushes. At times, I will admit my face does get red and warm, but that’s from chasing a ball around a court, and is paired with sweat. I don’t blush.

       “How far is school away from here?” I asked, diverting the conversation in another course.

       “About ten minutes,” he replied, starting up his car, and driving off.

       “It’s close?”

       “Yeah.”

       “Why exactly do I not want to take the bus?” I asked.

       “You’re kidding, right?” he said as if the reason was the most obvious one in the world.

       “No, I’m actually not,” I said, fiddling with the hem of my skirt. I wear short shorts all the time, but there’s something about wearing a skirt this length that I can’t stand!

       “You’re a senior, right?” he said.

       “Uh… yeah.”

       “Seniors don’t ride the bus,” he explained.

       “Why not?” I asked.

       “We have cars, and riding the bus is not exactly what one considers to be cool in this town,” he said.

       “Oh,” I said, not commenting on how ridiculous it sounded.

       “So, Elizabeth,” he began.

       “Call me Liz,” I requested.

       “Sure, Liz,” he smirked. “I hope this isn’t too personal of a question, but where did you live before this?”

       “Texas; Dallas actually. My mom works for this big shoe company, and a few years ago she was promoted, and ever since they’ve relocated her to a different place just about every year. We’re here now because its headquarters are in the city, and she wanted me to have a good suburban education or something…” I explained, as we passed a yellow school bus that could very likely have been the one I was supposed to be on.

       “Texas? That’s pretty far out,” he remarked, turning on the radio so it was a faded background sound in the car.

       “Yeah, I guess. Before that we were in L.A. for two years. It was so warm!” I said, recalling the beauty of being able to walk outside in December wearing shorts and T-shirt.

       “Here, it gets pretty cold,” he stated.

       “In Boston too,” I murmured.

       “You lived in Boston?” he asked, his voice seeping with interest.

       “Yup,” I answered.

       “For how long?”

       “Thirteen, fourteen years maybe?” I had left at the end of 8th grade and I think that would’ve made me fourteen. Yeah, sounds about right.

       “Are you originally from Boston?”

       “Yeah,” I said, as he turned down a small road, a large building in the distance appearing.

       “Cool. Now, I hate to cut this conversation short, but we’re here. Welcome to Madison,” he said, driving into a parking lot lined with many cars alike his, and others. He came to a spot, and parked the car.

       I grabbed my bag, and got out, not saying a word. As soon as my feet hit the pavement, I saw people walking by, giving me glares, and sizing me up. Welcome to Madison indeed. This was normal, I had lived through it in the past, and it was no different at the other schools.

       “This is Madison?” I said, as Eric came beside me.

       “That it is,” he said, looking onward at the contemporariness of the structure. From here, it looked fairly new.

       “Okay then. Thank you for the ride. You really didn’t need to do that, and I’ll see you later,” I said, smiling quickly at him, before beginning my journey to the entrance of the school.

       “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Not so fast! I’m so walking you in,” he declared, catching up to me.

       “No, you’ve done enough. It’s the first of day of school- go catch up with your friends, I’ll be fine,” I assured him.

       “Do you need to check in with the office?” he asked, overlooking my remark.

       “Yeah,” I said, as we walked in the direction of the doorway along with a hundred some other eager teens.

       “I’ll walk you there,” he said, “then, if you’re so ready to get rid of me, I’ll leave you alone.”

       “Didn’t you say you were in all AP classes?”

       “Yeah…”

       “So then there’s not way in the world that I could ditch you; myself too being in those classes,” I said, as he opened a large metal door for me. As I stepped in, my eyes buzzed about my new surroundings. It wasn’t much different from my previous schools. There were the cool metal lockers, the speckled tiles varying in color, and bleak white walls lining the borders of the hallways.

       “Huh. Well then, Liz, I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” he said, guiding me away from the halls and classes. We came to a wall with a large window in it, lacking the glass to fill it in. Beyond the wall, I could see there was an office. “This is the front office.”

       “Oh,” I said, noticing in front of us a middle aged lady typing something away on her computer, not paying an ounce of attention to us. She was behind the cream colored barrier, and the expression on her face showed to be less than friendly.

       “Excuse me, Ms. Smith, this is Elizabeth Turner, and she’s a new student here,” Eric said politely to the lady at the desk.

       “Mr. Wilson, I am more than sure that Ms. Turner could’ve introduced herself. Elizabeth, Mr. Hughes will be with you in a moment, Eric, get out of here,” she said, lacking all emotion, and sounding much like a robot.

       “Who’s Mr. Hughes?” I whispered to Eric.

       “Principal,” he answered. “So… I’ll see you later?”

       “Sure,” I nodded, as he smiled warmly at me, and departed, leaving me with one last wave of the hand, indicating a goodbye.

       Something rang, and the lady before me answered a phone, “Hello, Madison High School, how may I- oh, of course. I’ll send her right in,” she put the phone back down, and looked up at me. “Mr. Hughes will see you now, his office is the one on the right.”

       “Okay. Thanks,” I said, walking to the dark door she had pointed out. I hesitantly knocked on the door, and was admitted by the words, “Come in!” As I entered the office, I saw a tall man, too young to be the average principle of a high school, sitting behind a desk: Mr. Hughes. The room was very orderly from the straightness of the pictures on the wall, to the neatly aligned pens on the front of his desk.

       “Take a seat, Ms. Turner,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. I sat down, smoothing my skirt. I dropped my bag to the ground, resulting in a small “thud!” sound. I focused my vision on the wall behind him, not wanting to make direct eye contact.

       “Hi…” I said awkwardly.

       “So, basketball,” he said, not replying to my greeting.

       “What about it?” I asked tentatively.

       “A little birdie told me you play,” he said.

       “I do,” I said truthfully.

       “I wouldn’t have guessed that from your attire,” he said, taking a pen and writing something down on a notepad.

       “Appearances can be deceiving,” I reasoned.

       “That they can. Now, normally, a girl with your athletic capability would be asked to join the school basketball team, you with me so far?” I nodded, unsure of what he was getting at. “Now, with you, Ms. Turner, that’s not the case.”

       “What do you mean?” I asked, not quite understanding his connection.

       “We’ve talked to your previous schools and coaches, and they all said that your ability is utterly outstanding. In our town, we have Westchester University. They have a women’s basketball team. You have been selected to practice, and possibly play with them for the duration of this school year. It would count to your gym credits, and would look excellent on your college applications,” he paused, allowing me to dissect the meaning of his words. “Now, this is fully your choice. You can either play basketball for this school, or with Westchester University.”

       “So, let me get this straight, you’re saying I have the opportunity to play with a college team?” I said in astonishment.

       “Yes,” he affirmed.

       “Okay. Well, I mean, I’m gonna have to choose the college, because no offense, but high school basketball is stupid,” I said, making up my mind. I was going to play basketball with college girls. Wow.

       “Great decision, I would’ve picked that too. I hope I get to you see you play, it would mean a great deal to me. I believe you have your schedule, correct?”

       “Yeah…” I said, pulling it out of the front pocket of my bag.

       “Then I feel confident in sending you off to class,” he said. I stood up, and went over to the door, about to leave, when he regarded me one final time, “Welcome to Madison, Ms. Turner.”

       “Thanks,” I said, escaping from the small office. I got out, and saw students going every which way, talking, laughing, and smiling. Old friends. These people have probably known each other for years, and who am I? The new girl. I don’t like that label. I mean, I’m not a huge fan of labels in general, but something about being called the “New Girl” particularly irks me.

       I looked down at the slightly crinkled piece of paper in my hands, and started my search for room 512. I think I had homeroom first.

       “Yo! Liz!” someone called. I assumed they were talking to someone else, and resumed my quest for room 512. I felt a hand come down on my shoulder, and spun around to view my aggressor.