In Your Dreams - By Amy Martin Page 0,1

Titusville’s small enough that if someone decides you’re something and can get other people to agree, you’re going to have a tough time changing minds later on. “You know, maybe he likes to cut class and get detention or whatever and he got held back.”

The other girls nod at my theory because it’s just as realistic as Cassie’s, although it’s probably not any more fair. The delinquents around here usually drop out after junior year and go one of two ways: They either get a job at a gas station or fast food place out by the interstate, maybe getting a GED and attending the local community college later on, or they end up cooking meth in one of the junk rental houses or trailers in the north part of town by the abandoned refrigeration plant and wind up in jail at some point. Given those options, being labeled “slow” might not be the end of the world for this guy, whoever he is. “Or maybe his deal is none of our business,” I add aloud, expressing what I hope comes off as disappointment over the fact we’re standing here trashing a total stranger. And I laugh to myself that no one’s even bothered to say anything about the girl.

“Wait—there they are.” Candace Hull points towards the doors from her position next to Marcy, which would allow her to see people entering the school before anyone else in the circle. We all do a lot of not-so-subtle looking at the floor, the ceiling, and the walls as we shift into a semi-circle in order to get a better view of the new kids. By the time they’ve passed through the second set of glass doors and stopped in the entryway underneath the “Titusville Junior/Senior High School. Truth. Honor. Respect.” banner in the school’s navy blue with gold lettering, we’re all stealing quick glances at them before averting our eyes as if we’re interested in something else. I raise my head for a second and notice four other groups besides ours standing around in the entry, all pretending not to care and failing every bit as spectacularly as we are.

“Oh, wow. Check him out,” Cassie hisses, but loudly enough everyone in the group can hear. The siblings are talking to each other about something, and the boy points in the direction of the main office.

“He looks like Brad Pitt,” Candace mumbles, stealing glances at him through a curtain of red hair.

“Brad Pitt?” Marcy somehow manages to shriek and keep her voice at a whisper at the same time. “Brad Pitt’s, like, a million years old.”

“Not Brad Pitt now, stupid. Go rent Fight Club and you’ll totally get what I’m talking about.”

“Well, the girl looks like a nice person, I guess.” I say this as Brad—Wallace, not Pitt—approaches the newbies. Brad’s our Student Body President, football and track team captain, and the type of all-around decent guy who would do his presidential best to welcome the new students. Burying my hands in my coat pockets, I watch as he shakes the girl’s hand first and then her brother’s, engaging them in what I assume is a “Welcome to Titusville Junior/Senior High. Let me know if I can answer any questions for you” sort of conversation. The three hold polite smiles, and there’s a lot of nodding going on. And I notice Brad can’t take his eyes off the girl.

“Well, anyone can look nice,” Cassie points out, probably an automatic reflex after years of “stranger danger” lectures before we got to high school. Sure, the girl could seem normal, but in reality, she’s probably a serial killer looking to make one of us her next victim. “But I guess she is kind of pretty, though,” Cass admits, allowing herself a three-second stare.

As Brad talks to her, the girl fingers the end of a jet-black braid slung over her shoulder, and her eyes—the same deep blue as her ski coat—pop out against her pale skin. Turning my attention to her brother, I decide I have to give it up to Candace, because if you tilt your head just right and squint, the guy kind of does resemble a young Brad Pitt without the tan. His skin is just as pale as his sister’s, and his short hair’s a little darker than Brad Pitt’s, lending some authority to Candace’s Fight Club Brad Pitt description because I think his hair was kind of black in that one. While this guy’s got a similar square jaw line,