Part I
May 7, Freshman Year
Today
Freshman Class Trip
It’s six in the morning and the sun is barely up, but I’m wide awake. Normally I hit snooze four or five times before climbing out of bed. This morning? I didn’t push it once. Today is the annual class field trip, and I am determined to have a real conversation with Jonah.
One day in the cafeteria a few weeks ago, he peeked over my shoulder when I was sketching the main character of the graphic novel I’m writing. He told me he likes comics too, especially Saga. I was too mesmerized by his curly dark hair to respond. But next time? I am totally going to open my mouth and use my words like a real person.
Mom pulls into the school parking lot. I drape my purse strap around my shoulder. “Good luck with your showing today,” I say. She is a real estate agent and just put a historic farmhouse on the market.
Mom lightly kisses my cheek. “Thanks, sweet girl.”
I shiver when I step out of the car. The sun is out, but the air is still brisk and smells of morning dew. I scan the crowd of kids already here and spot my best friend, Max. I jog over to give him a side hug.
“Hey, friend,” he says, bending down to air-kiss my cheeks. He repositions his camera bag over his shoulder, looking my outfit up and down. I paired gray combat boots with a little white flowing tunic dress I hope will grab Jonah’s attention.
“You were right. That dress is hot.”
“Not as hot as this new patch,” I say, checking out his camera bag. In addition to Captain America’s shield, a Corgi, and an astronaut planting a gay pride flag on the moon, he’s added a bright yellow pineapple patch.
“Thanks,” Max replies. “Dad picked it up for me in Miami.” As a pilot, Mr. Davis flies the daily route between Nashville and Miami for American Airlines, and frequently brings us delicious coconut patties from this one store at the airport.
After handing our permission slips to Coach Rice, we climb aboard the bus that’s taking us to Nashville. Max chooses a seat in the fourth row.
“Too close to the teachers,” I say, continuing down the aisle.
He follows me. “Lulu, I don’t want to sit in the back.”
“But that’s where the guys sit.”
Max scrunches his nose. “It always smells like gas.”
We agree to sit in the middle as other kids climb aboard and stake out seats. Max carefully secures his camera bag between his feet on the floor and pulls out his phone. I lean across him to peek out the window. Jonah’s still not here. I sigh dramatically.
Max moves me off his lap. “C’mon now. Don’t act desperate.”
I point out the window at my cousin, who’s already making out with her boyfriend. “I was looking for Grace,” I lie.
“No, you’re desperate,” Max replies, and we laugh together. We’ve been calling each other out on our bullshit since we became best friends in sixth grade.
I watch student after student climb aboard, waiting for Jonah. When Grace spots me, she smiles briefly. With her dark skin and wavy, chestnut-brown hair that she inherited from her mom’s Hawaiian genes, my cousin is one of the most gorgeous people I’ve ever seen.
I straighten up in my seat, hoping she’ll sit beside us, but she chooses a seat a few rows back instead. I sink lower, crossing my arms over my stomach. Her boyfriend passes by like I don’t exist.
Even though I grew up with Grace, this is the first year we’ve gone to the same school. But as the only freshman on the varsity dance team, her circle of friends is in another stratosphere than mine, which basically consists of Max and myself.
I look hopefully toward the front of the bus when I hear someone else climb on, but it’s just Alex Rouvelis, my mortal enemy. He’s wearing a white T-shirt that glows against his olive skin and low-slung jeans full of rips and holes. Chunky black boots complete the hot bad-boy look. His dark hair is cut neatly and sweeps to the side. I wet my lips.
I hate him. I hate him so much.
Alex greets the bus driver, patting him on the shoulder. “Hey, Animal!”
“Animal!” all the other boys yell. I have no idea why they call him that, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He yells, “Animal!” right along with them.
Alex’s baseball teammates choose seats at the very back of the bus.
As Alex passes my row, he glances down at me.
Max gets up on his knees to pull our window down for some fresh air. “It’s so hot in here,” he says through a mouthful of gum. “And it already smells like farts. How is that possible? We’ve only been here for two minutes.”
Coach Rice comes aboard last. He lifts the silver whistle hanging around his neck and toots it. “Sit down, everybody. We can’t leave until you’re all seated.” The bus is in a state of chaos: everybody is talking and horsing around. His whistle screeches for a second time. “If y’all don’t sit right now, you can stay here and spend the day writing me an essay.”
Kids actually listen to that warning and put their butts in seats.
But Jonah’s not here. What if he decided to stay home and play Xbox or something?
God, this is going to be the worst field trip ever. We’re going to a science museum, and I don’t even have my crush to lust after.
With everyone ready to go, Coach Rice gives Animal the signal to start the engine. It roars to life and the bus begins to vibrate.
“Field trip!” Alex calls out, and the boys start whooping.
Animal slowly begins to pull out of the parking lot. “Wait,” Coach Rice says. The bus screeches to a halt and the door squeaks open.
Jonah rushes up the steps, his eyes darting around looking for an open seat.
“What a douchebag,” the baseball players mutter.
I hold my breath as Jonah walks down the aisle toward the empty spot in front of me, but he goes right past. My body slumps in disappointment.
He sits a couple of rows back and to my right. Now how am I supposed to stare at him? It will be totally obvious if I turn around.
Maybe it’s okay to be obvious. Show him I’m interested. It’s not every day a guy talks to me in the cafeteria.
Coach Rice studies his clipboard as the bus begins to move again. He teaches biology, coaches the baseball team, and is one of the youngest teachers at our school. I don’t think he’s much older than my sister in college. “As you know,” he starts, “we’re headed to Nashville to the Cumberland Science Museum, which was named for—”
Laughter bursts out from the back. I whip around to see a stark, white butt hanging over a seat.