Prologue
Ivy
The barely-there sun was peeking above the ever-expanding cornfields that laid just below the schoolgrounds, which only intensified the nervous jitters bouncing around my stomach to a point of no return. I’d spent all morning working on my hair, making sure that the waves and bumps were long gone and burnt to a crisp by my straightener.
I’d never really cared how I looked for school, until this year. My mom fussed at me this morning while standing back against the doorway to our upstairs bathroom.
“You’re growing up so fast, Ivy. Seventh grade.”
She held her hand over her heart while her eyes filled up with tears. I groaned and continued to run the straightener through my hair.
“Do my hair, too! Please!”
I groaned again. My little sister, Mia, always wanted to be like me. It didn’t matter what it was. She wanted to do everything I did. It was annoying most of the time, but I still found a little sliver of my big-sisterly love hanging around in the background and braided her hair before my mom loaded us up in the mini-van and ventured toward school on old, curvy back roads.
Those curvy roads did nothing to help my already queasy stomach. Why was the first day of school always so nerve-wracking to me? It wasn’t like I was going to a new school. I’d still see the same ol’ friends that I’d gone to elementary school with. I’d still be able to sit with them at lunch, and I’d still be able to walk to my classes with their arms interlocking with mine.
This year was so different, though. The usual butterflies that I got on the first day of school were flying around my stomach at triple speed. This was the first year I’d be sharing a hallway with the eighth graders.
They were intimidating.
They were bigger than me and they ran the school. I couldn’t wait until next year. Next year, I’d be the one running the school (okay, probably not but I could pretend), and all the seventh graders would be just as nervous as I was, right now.
Or maybe not. Maybe I was just weird.
My friends didn’t seem nearly as nervous as I was.
Casey and Becca were waiting for me outside the side door with their backpacks slung across their backs. They smiled brightly when I opened up the van’s passenger door and hopped down, welcoming the cool morning air.
I took a huge gulp of air and turned around, smiling wearily at my mom.
“Have a great first day, sweetie. Remember to—”
I giggled, interrupting her. “Remember to be nice. Yes, Mom. I know. You’ve been telling me that every day for the last eight years of my life.” I let out an exasperated sigh and waved to my little sister in the backseat.
Mia would be dropped off in a few minutes at the grade school that was only a half a mile from the middle school. She was a few years younger than I was, so it’d be a while before she was in my position.
I adjusted my jeans and brand new purple shirt right before my mom sped off. I walked up to my two best friends with a nervous smile plastered on my face.
“Ready?” Casey asked, pulling the side door to the school open.
“Yep,” I muttered, nerves completely going haywire in my body.
The second we stepped foot into the gym, I scanned my eyes for an open seat. If you arrived at school before the first bell, you automatically had to wait in the gym until it rang. There would usually be a few teachers keeping watch (and by keeping watch, I mean they would be standing huddled together in the middle of the gym, talking aimlessly until the bell rang and then they’d walk to their classrooms).
As soon as I found a seat, closest to the door, a teacher raised her voice.
“Sixth graders down here, seventh in the middle, and eighth closest to the door.” Then she turned around and continued talking to the other teachers.
I sighed. So much for sitting close to the exit.
Becca and Casey both walked ahead of me, their sneakers squeaking on the freshly waxed floor. They quickly found a few open seats on the bottom bleacher. Thank God, I thought. Last time I had to climb the bleachers, I tripped and busted my lip.
As soon as I sat down, I slung my backpack off my shoulders and laid it beside my feet. Casey and Becca were talking about what classes they had this year but I tuned them out. We’d already discussed this a week ago when we got our class schedules. Instead of joining in on the conversation, I looked around the gym, watching and observing.
I’d always been a little quiet and shy compared to my friends. In fact, my mom told me that I was basically a phenomenon because she and my dad were both loud and outgoing. So was my little sister. She had some serious spunk, and then there was me…quiet, ol’ Ivy.
My head swiveled to my right and I noticed the tiny sixth graders biting their nails and sitting like statues along the blue bleachers. I quietly snickered because I was probably just as nervous as they were.
One girl looked over at me, with her small leg wiggling up and down, widening her eyes at the exact time they locked onto mine. Instead of turning my head, I gave her a reassuring smile and her body visibly relaxed. Poor thing.
I then turned my head towards the left, watching in awe as all the eighth graders sat and conversed. The girls were all huddled on the lower bleacher, just a few yards away from me, chatting away. A few of them were applying some kind of lip gloss and smacking their lips together loudly.
My shoulders fell. Maybe next year my mom would officially let me wear make-up. She told me I was too young this year, but after looking at Casey and Becca, I realized that I should have fought her a little harder. They were both sporting glittery eyeshadow and their lips definitely looked like they were shimmering under the gym’s florescent lights.
As soon as I was about to turn my head back to Becca and Casey, my heart
stuttered in my chest.
A few boys walked through the door and every single eighth grade girl stopped what she was doing and stared. A hush fell over the group and my heart picked up speed. It thumped hard against my ribcage as I glanced back and forth between the girls and the small group of guys. I quickly realized that these boys were the “cool” eighth grade boys.
They surely looked cool with their backpacks slung over their shoulders with only one strap, the other hanging loosely by their side. One boy had dark, cut to the scalp hair and he was super, duper tall. The one standing beside him had dirty blonde hair but it was shorter, with just a little bit of bounce on top. Then my eyes fell on the last one of the group, who had brown-shaggy hair that fell gracefully over his forehead. Right when he walked to the bottom steps of the bleachers, he shook it out vigorously. My mouth parted a little as I watched him climb the stairs with fluid steps. He glanced down at the group of girls and he must have said or done something that I couldn’t see because they all giggled and huddled back together.
I watched him for a bit longer. I couldn’t help it. He was fascinating. He looked like a surfer boy, only with brown hair, and I’d never seen someone quite like him before. Maybe he was new. He had a really nice tan, a tan that you couldn’t get around here with our Northern sun. I tried to imagine where he’d come from. California, maybe? He did look like a surfer boy. I could totally see him with a surfboard in tow, crashing along salty waves.
Wait, why am I thinking these things? My entire body broke out into a sweat and a wave of heat flushed over my skin.
“Hello? Earth to Ivy?” I sucked in a breath and looked over at Casey. Her chestnut colored eyes were squinted in my direction.
“Wait, what? Did you say something?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.
“Yeah, why is your face so red?” she questioned, squinting her glittery blue eyeshadowed eyes. I shrugged and then blatantly lied.
“I’m hot.”