waiting for me to continue.
“You bounce your knee when you’re uncomfortable. Did you know that?”
My leg goes still when I realize he’s right. “I’m not uncomfortable. I just don’t know what else to say.”
“You could tell me about yourself. How you ended up here or what other classes you’re taking this semester.” He sounds genuinely interested in learning more about me. I’ve never met someone as sincere as Grant and I’m not sure why, but I trust him. I want to tell him more about me, and I want to learn more about him.
He’s nice. He’s easy on the eyes. He’s well spoken. He’s also older than me, in college and probably not interested in high school girls. I don’t want to give him the wrong impression but I don’t want to lie to him.
“Maybe another time. I’ll see you in class in a few weeks, right? I’m saving you a seat apparently.”
“I sure hope so.” I stand, waving as I make my way down the steps. “It was nice seeing you again, Madison.”
I smile the entire walk home. Grant’s smile, his outstretched legs, and laid back demeanor are all I can think about. His voice, the way he says my name, echoes in my mind over and over again. This boy, this man, he’s going to get me in trouble. I just need to play it cool until my birthday, then it won’t seem like a big deal if I’m still in high school. At least I hope not.
Chapter 4
I want to fit in, more than anything. Making sure to stop at the mall in Raleigh on my way home from my college visits, I picked up clothes that made more sense, that I thought might help me blend. You can’t tell I’m from California by looking at me. Maybe it’s because I’m not. I wasn’t born there, anyway.
When most people think of girls from California, they think long blonde hair, blue eyes, smooth tan skin, short shorts, and a very small bikini top that leaves little to the imagination. At least, that’s what I though the first time we moved to California. I was wrong. Of course, there are some stereotypical California girls. There are also a ton of other types of girls that live there, with all different body types, hair colors, and sense of style when it comes to clothing.
I look nothing like a California girl. My long, thick black hair that’s always pulled high on my head in a messy bun is in complete contrast to my naturally fair toned skin. I can’t catch a tan to save my life, and if by chance I do, it’s gone in days. My eyes are almost the color of night, a deep shade of brown that they often appear black in the right lighting. Most of the time they’re hidden behind my glasses.
Not today, though. Today I forced myself to take the time to put in my contacts, straighten my hair, and apply a small amount of makeup, something I barely ever wear. I want to make a good first impression. If I’m going to be here the entire year, then I plan on making friends. It’ll be nice to have at least one person that I can talk to and rely on for a change.
The parking lot is packed. Students are gathered in small groups, sitting on open truck tailgates, laughing and having fun. You would never know it’s the first day of school. Me? I’m planning on sitting in my car until the very last moment. I know where my classroom is. I figure I can head straight there and stop at my locker between first and second period.
A knock on my window scares the crap out of me and I jump, screaming bloody murder. I hear a loud, booming laugh coming from my left and look over to find the girl from the thrift store doubled over outside my door. I shake my head, knowing that she’s taking pleasure watching me struggle. Again.
I open my door and step out as she stands up and thrusts her hand toward me, still giggling to herself. She’s wearing a shirt similar to one that I picked up in Raleigh last week. It looks like I’m on the right track as far as fashion goes.
“Libby,” she announces rather loudly.
“Madison,” I
“You bounce your knee when you’re uncomfortable. Did you know that?”
My leg goes still when I realize he’s right. “I’m not uncomfortable. I just don’t know what else to say.”
“You could tell me about yourself. How you ended up here or what other classes you’re taking this semester.” He sounds genuinely interested in learning more about me. I’ve never met someone as sincere as Grant and I’m not sure why, but I trust him. I want to tell him more about me, and I want to learn more about him.
He’s nice. He’s easy on the eyes. He’s well spoken. He’s also older than me, in college and probably not interested in high school girls. I don’t want to give him the wrong impression but I don’t want to lie to him.
“Maybe another time. I’ll see you in class in a few weeks, right? I’m saving you a seat apparently.”
“I sure hope so.” I stand, waving as I make my way down the steps. “It was nice seeing you again, Madison.”
I smile the entire walk home. Grant’s smile, his outstretched legs, and laid back demeanor are all I can think about. His voice, the way he says my name, echoes in my mind over and over again. This boy, this man, he’s going to get me in trouble. I just need to play it cool until my birthday, then it won’t seem like a big deal if I’m still in high school. At least I hope not.
Chapter 4
I want to fit in, more than anything. Making sure to stop at the mall in Raleigh on my way home from my college visits, I picked up clothes that made more sense, that I thought might help me blend. You can’t tell I’m from California by looking at me. Maybe it’s because I’m not. I wasn’t born there, anyway.
When most people think of girls from California, they think long blonde hair, blue eyes, smooth tan skin, short shorts, and a very small bikini top that leaves little to the imagination. At least, that’s what I though the first time we moved to California. I was wrong. Of course, there are some stereotypical California girls. There are also a ton of other types of girls that live there, with all different body types, hair colors, and sense of style when it comes to clothing.
I look nothing like a California girl. My long, thick black hair that’s always pulled high on my head in a messy bun is in complete contrast to my naturally fair toned skin. I can’t catch a tan to save my life, and if by chance I do, it’s gone in days. My eyes are almost the color of night, a deep shade of brown that they often appear black in the right lighting. Most of the time they’re hidden behind my glasses.
Not today, though. Today I forced myself to take the time to put in my contacts, straighten my hair, and apply a small amount of makeup, something I barely ever wear. I want to make a good first impression. If I’m going to be here the entire year, then I plan on making friends. It’ll be nice to have at least one person that I can talk to and rely on for a change.
The parking lot is packed. Students are gathered in small groups, sitting on open truck tailgates, laughing and having fun. You would never know it’s the first day of school. Me? I’m planning on sitting in my car until the very last moment. I know where my classroom is. I figure I can head straight there and stop at my locker between first and second period.
A knock on my window scares the crap out of me and I jump, screaming bloody murder. I hear a loud, booming laugh coming from my left and look over to find the girl from the thrift store doubled over outside my door. I shake my head, knowing that she’s taking pleasure watching me struggle. Again.
I open my door and step out as she stands up and thrusts her hand toward me, still giggling to herself. She’s wearing a shirt similar to one that I picked up in Raleigh last week. It looks like I’m on the right track as far as fashion goes.
“Libby,” she announces rather loudly.
“Madison,” I
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