slides by I get a few looks and hear a some whispers, but not much more than I'm normally used to from always being the new kid.
I was a little surprised when Mom told me where we'd be moving this time. She usually picks a place that just borders on being a big city; a town barely large enough so our existence won't be noticed. But the town of Canton is more than just shy of being a big city, hell they don't even have a Walmart.
Initially it concerned me that I'd stand out more in the smaller school. But I needn't have worried, because my hard-earned invisibility works better than I'd expected.
Lunch always sucks for the first few days, the days before I've sussed out the best places to eat my bagged PB&J in peace while I read whatever book has my attention for the day. Today is no different.
They split lunch into two groups: A and B. I got the former, so as my fourth hour lets out I meander out slowly, taking my time collecting my pencils and newly assigned book from my desk. After clearing the door, I head to the most obvious choice for all the book nerds worldwide: the library.
Unfortunately, there's a signed posted which reads ‘closed for lunch periods,’ so I turn on my heel and head back the way I came. Maybe I can just go to my locker and camp out on the floor. An idea strikes as I make my way up the corridor. The lunchroom needs to be avoided at all costs, so I need to think of a new place to eat lunch. I pass a few classes still in session, but mostly my walk is uninterrupted. When I look past the bank of lockers that hold mine, I see the empty stairwell. A small smile lifts my lips when I peer down to the landing that separates the two flights of stairs. If I sit on one of the first few steps, I'll easily be able to notice anyone coming from the hall or the stairs below.
With my back to the wall I munch slowly on my sandwich while it's still half in the sandwich bag, and flip through my book to find whatever scrap of paper I've tucked into the pages to mark my spot.
Luckily I was able to finish my lunch with no interruptions, and I'm just gathering my things when I hear voices coming from below. I start working faster to tuck my stuff away when a soft voice reaches my ears. I can't make out what she says, but it’s quickly followed by a deep chuckle.
Great, I've wandered into someone's make out spot. Before I can cram my brown sack into my book bag, heavy steps land on the stairs.
I barely manage to sling my bag over my shoulder when a dark head appears on the landing and I drop my eyes to the steps below me. I'm already facing down, and I think passing him would be easier than rushing back up to my locker at this point, so I wedge myself as near to the right wall as possible and begin to descend the stairs.
As he looks up, I recognize the moment he notices me. His steps falter, if only briefly, before resuming his unhurried pace. When we pass, his head turns and follows me. I never look up, pretending not to notice him. His musky cologne lingers in the passageway as I round the landing.
Standing at the base of the stairs is a blonde girl peering up at me. My eyes dart to the ground quickly and she takes a breath like she might speak to me when my foot hits the last step, but I keep walking. As I turn down the next hallway, I catch a glimpse of her still watching me before I move out of sight, her eyes narrowed in speculation.
Everything is fine until fifth hour, which is when it happens. I've settled into a peaceful acceptance that I might just make it through the day without any teachers prompting me to spill why or how I ended up in their school. But then it does.
Mrs. Yarro, a youngish teacher with an easy smile, moves to the front of her desk and leans her rump against it, crossing her ankles. “So, guys, I'm sure you've noticed we have a new classmate today. I hope all of you are making her feel welcome.”