Downcast - Cait Reynolds Page 0,2

was putting up her notepad and mirror in her locker as I came up.

"Hey," I said.

She turned and grinned at me. "Hey back. Did you see Jordan Laughlin's hair?"

"No, why?"

"She cut it totally short and went blonde."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"How does it look?"

Helen rolled her eyes, and I giggled. She looked at my long, shapeless, linen dress.

"Eileen Fisher have a sale again?" she asked wryly.

"Yeah. Mom wanted to 'celebrate' my senior year."

Helen snorted delicately. She suffered from almost the exact opposite style of parenting from mine. Her parents barely noticed her. Her father was a doctor who preferred the hospital to the hospitality of his own home, and her mother liked gin. Helen took most of the responsibility for her little brother, who was a surly sixth-grader.

In a lot of ways, she was my exact opposite. She had curly white-blonde hair and china-doll blue eyes, but she was as tough and practical as they came. I had brown hair and drab, hazel eyes, and I tended to lose myself in my thoughts.

"Oh," Helen exclaimed. "I forgot to mention. New students. Two brothers."

"Really?"

"Both seniors, I think."

"How's that?"

"Twins, maybe?"

"Huh. Kinda interesting."

The only people who ever transferred in to Darbyfield were either expelled from another high school or had to move out here because of their parents taking a job. Nobody really wanted to go here.

"Must be tough for them, transferring during their senior year," Helen mused.

Just then, the first bell rang, and we split up to go to our respective classes. Helen was going heavy on the sciences, taking every honors math and science class she could. She wasn't sure what she was going to do with it all, but she preferred biology and bugs to history and literature.

At least we would have Honors English together. As far as academics were concerned, I was actually looking forward to my schedule. I had packed it with literature, social studies, and history courses.

As I thought about Helen's schedule, I realized for all that my mother fanatically tried to manage every other aspect of my life, she didn't give a crap about my grades. She never looked at my report card and barely remembered what classes I took every semester. Why hadn't I noticed before? It was hard not to wonder what else I hadn't noticed in my life.

Pondering this, I made my way to Ms. Collins' classroom on the second floor and got myself ready for European History. I took a “safe seat” in the middle. I was too good a student to hang out in the back, but I refused to completely live up to my nerdy reputation and sit in the front.

Pulling out my multi-subject notebook and pen, I marked the date on the page, then stared off into space as the rest of the students came in. Finally, I glanced around to see exactly who was in my class.

I was just thrilled to see Jordan Laughlin seat herself near the front. Rob Furlong, the senior quarterback for our football team and my junior year unrequited crush, came in and sat down next to her. I hoped Jordan would ignore me. Even though I was pretty much over my crush on Rob, I still didn't relish the idea of being humiliated in front of him, especially by her.

I studied Jordan for a moment. Last year, her hair had been shoulder-length, bushy and ashy brown. Now, it was cut in an odd, bushy pageboy that came to her chin and was cheap-yellow-mustard blonde. It did nothing for her snub nose, but her teeth were as big and white as ever as she smiled at Rob, like a queen smiling at her doting king.

A guy took the desk on my right. I glanced at him and guessed he must be one of the new brothers, given this was a class for seniors, and he was the only person I didn't know in the room.

It wasn't polite to stare, and I felt bad for the guy, knowing that everyone else in the classroom would be staring at him. I resolutely looked down at my notebook and started doodling in the margins.

"Hey."

The low, gravelly voice startled me, as it seemed to be directed at me. I ignored it, not wanting to look stupid and hopeful that someone was actually talking to me.

"Um, hey."

This time, the guy had turned toward me and was actually leaning in my direction a little.

He really was talking to me. Huh. Go figure.

Warily, I looked up at him. He was really, really good-looking. I mean