two heads or a weird accent, waiting for her to define herself for them.
Today felt like that.
She crossed the quad in front of the school through a sea of familiar faces, but most of them glanced away quickly. No one spoke to her. Several people whose groups she’d floated in and out of over the years smiled or nodded to her, but no one came over to talk. Had she done that to herself? Alienated them? Or were they just keeping clear so they wouldn’t be infected by the humiliation she’d suffered in the caf the day before?
Sammi threw her backpack over one shoulder and held her head high. The notes of her song “Summer Girl” were playing in her head, and she sang a few lines softly to herself and hummed a little as she made her way into the school. The corridors rang with voices and slamming lockers, and she found odd comfort in the familiarity. The rest of the world might be falling down around her—her parents’ marriage, her friendships—but at least she could rely on the routine of high school.
She didn’t look for the girls, but she watched out for them warily. It would take time for her to adjust to the way they’d defriended her, but the more she thought about it, the more confident Sammi felt that she’d been wronged. Should she have been honest with them right up front? Yeah. But trying not to hurt anyone’s feelings shouldn’t be grounds for just cutting someone off.
Whoever they were, they obviously weren’t the girls she’d thought they were. It hurt. God, it hurt. But she’d survive this. And she cruised the corridors that morning cautiously anticipating the moment of first contact. Sammi needed that, needed to know she had the strength to ignore them. She had no doubt that they wouldn’t be speaking to her—their bumping her from their IM friends lists had made that clear. But she had no interest in trying to talk to them, either.
She’d miss what they had all shared, but she had always been a floater. She would adjust.
“Morning, Sammi,” a voice said.
She turned around to find Kyrie McIntosh falling into step beside her. “What’s happening?”
Sammi smiled. “Nada. Getting back into the rhythm, y’know?”
The dark-haired sophomore had a retro-goth look that suited her. Short and petite, Kyrie seemed much younger than her age until you looked into her eyes and saw the intelligence and wisdom there. She was part of the theater crowd.
“I know. Nice not being a freshman anymore. Feels like I can exhale.”
“What show are you guys doing this fall?” Sammi asked.
Kyrie rolled her eyes. “It’s a big debate. I’m fighting for Sweeney Todd, but the dweebs want to do High School Musical. ”
Sammi shuddered in sympathy. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. And if I win the debate, you better audition.”
Kyrie was always telling her to audition. Sammi’s response never wavered. She always just said, “We’ll see.”
But not today. “I might just do that.”
They reached a T-junction and split up. Kyrie waved and said goodbye and Sammi made a beeline for her locker. She half-expected to find rude graffiti scratched on the door or painted in lipstick. The way the girls had been behaving, it wouldn’t have surprised her. But it didn’t appear that anyone had disturbed her locker. In some ways that was worse. They’d forgotten about her, just like that.
Maybe that’s best.
She slid her backpack to the floor between her feet and spun through her combination, then popped open her locker. As she dug out her books, Sammi glanced up and saw Ken Nguyen coming down the corridor with a couple of the other guys on the basketball team.
“Hey, Ken.”
He glanced her way and smiled, then broke off from the other players to join her at her locker.
“Sammi, what’s goin’ on? I haven’t seen you once since school started.”
The towering senior’s laid-back manner set her at ease. She slid her backpack into her locker. “Since June, really. I don’t think we’ve seen
Today felt like that.
She crossed the quad in front of the school through a sea of familiar faces, but most of them glanced away quickly. No one spoke to her. Several people whose groups she’d floated in and out of over the years smiled or nodded to her, but no one came over to talk. Had she done that to herself? Alienated them? Or were they just keeping clear so they wouldn’t be infected by the humiliation she’d suffered in the caf the day before?
Sammi threw her backpack over one shoulder and held her head high. The notes of her song “Summer Girl” were playing in her head, and she sang a few lines softly to herself and hummed a little as she made her way into the school. The corridors rang with voices and slamming lockers, and she found odd comfort in the familiarity. The rest of the world might be falling down around her—her parents’ marriage, her friendships—but at least she could rely on the routine of high school.
She didn’t look for the girls, but she watched out for them warily. It would take time for her to adjust to the way they’d defriended her, but the more she thought about it, the more confident Sammi felt that she’d been wronged. Should she have been honest with them right up front? Yeah. But trying not to hurt anyone’s feelings shouldn’t be grounds for just cutting someone off.
Whoever they were, they obviously weren’t the girls she’d thought they were. It hurt. God, it hurt. But she’d survive this. And she cruised the corridors that morning cautiously anticipating the moment of first contact. Sammi needed that, needed to know she had the strength to ignore them. She had no doubt that they wouldn’t be speaking to her—their bumping her from their IM friends lists had made that clear. But she had no interest in trying to talk to them, either.
She’d miss what they had all shared, but she had always been a floater. She would adjust.
“Morning, Sammi,” a voice said.
She turned around to find Kyrie McIntosh falling into step beside her. “What’s happening?”
Sammi smiled. “Nada. Getting back into the rhythm, y’know?”
The dark-haired sophomore had a retro-goth look that suited her. Short and petite, Kyrie seemed much younger than her age until you looked into her eyes and saw the intelligence and wisdom there. She was part of the theater crowd.
“I know. Nice not being a freshman anymore. Feels like I can exhale.”
“What show are you guys doing this fall?” Sammi asked.
Kyrie rolled her eyes. “It’s a big debate. I’m fighting for Sweeney Todd, but the dweebs want to do High School Musical. ”
Sammi shuddered in sympathy. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. And if I win the debate, you better audition.”
Kyrie was always telling her to audition. Sammi’s response never wavered. She always just said, “We’ll see.”
But not today. “I might just do that.”
They reached a T-junction and split up. Kyrie waved and said goodbye and Sammi made a beeline for her locker. She half-expected to find rude graffiti scratched on the door or painted in lipstick. The way the girls had been behaving, it wouldn’t have surprised her. But it didn’t appear that anyone had disturbed her locker. In some ways that was worse. They’d forgotten about her, just like that.
Maybe that’s best.
She slid her backpack to the floor between her feet and spun through her combination, then popped open her locker. As she dug out her books, Sammi glanced up and saw Ken Nguyen coming down the corridor with a couple of the other guys on the basketball team.
“Hey, Ken.”
He glanced her way and smiled, then broke off from the other players to join her at her locker.
“Sammi, what’s goin’ on? I haven’t seen you once since school started.”
The towering senior’s laid-back manner set her at ease. She slid her backpack into her locker. “Since June, really. I don’t think we’ve seen
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