Now that the first day of school had actually come, Cassie found that she was excited. Of course, she was nervous too, but it wasn't the stark and hopeless dread she'd expected to feel. There was something interesting about beginning school in a new place. It was like starting her life over. Maybe she'd adopt a whole new personality. Back home, her friends would probably describe her as “nice, but shy” or “fun, but kind of quiet.” But no one here knew that. Maybe this year she'd be Cassie the Extrovert or even Cassie the Party Girl. Maybe she'd even be good enough for the girl with the shining hair. Cassie's heart beat more quickly at the thought.
It all depended on first impressions. It was vital she get off to a good start. Cassie pulled on the blue sweater and anxiously checked her reflection again in the mirror.
She wished there were something more to do with her own hair. It was soft and it waved slightly, with pretty highlights, but she wished she could do something more dramatic with it. Like the girl in this ad– she glanced at the magazine open on the dressing table. She'd bought it specially when she'd driven into
town last week so she could see the back-to-school fashions. She'd never gotten the courage to walk up to the yellow Victorian house again, although she'd cruised by it slowly in her grandmother's Volkswagen Rabbit, hoping vainly to bump into the girl “accidentally.”
Yes, tomorrow she'd pull her hair back like the model in the ad, she decided.
Just as she was about to step away, something on the opposite page of the magazine caught her eye. A horoscope column. Her birth sign, Cancer, seemed to be staring out at her. Automatically her eyes followed the words after it.
That daggy insecure feeling has got you again. It's time for positive thinking! If that doesn't work, remember that nothing lasts forever. Try not to make waves in your personal relationships this month. You've got enough to cope with already.
Horoscopes are such garbage, Cassie thought, closing the magazine with a slap. Her mother had always said so, and it was true. “That daggy insecure feeling”-just telling someone they felt insecure was enough to make them feel it! There was nothing supernatural about that.
But if she didn't believe in the supernatural, what was the chalcedony lucky piece doing in the zipper compartment of her backpack? Setting her jaw, she took it out and put it in her jewelry box, then went downstairs to say good-bye.
The school was an impressive three-story red brick building. So impressive that after Cassie had parked the Rabbit, she was almost afraid to go any closer. There were several narrow paths that led up the hill, and she finally nerved herself to take one. At the top her throat closed and she simply stared.
God, it looked like a college or something. Like a historical landmark. The bold stone facing on the front read NEW SALEM HIGH SCHOOL, and below was a sort of crest with the words Town of New Salem, Incorporated 1693. Was that how old this town was? Three hundred years? Back in Reseda, the oldest buildings around had been there for maybe fifty years.
I am not shy, Cassie told herself, forcing herself to walk forward. I am Cassie the Confident.
An incredibly loud roar made her head jerk around, and sheer instinct sent her jumping to the side just in time to avoid being run over. Heart pounding, she stood and gawked at what had almost hit her. It was a motorcycle on the bike path. But even more astonishing was its rider-a girl. She was wearing tight black jeans and a motorcycle jacket, and her trim, athletic body looked tough. But when she turned around after parking the motorcycle by a bike rack, Cassie saw that her face was ravishingly pretty. It was small and feminine, framed by tumbling dark curls, and marred only by a sullen, belligerent expression.
“What are you staring at?” the girl demanded suddenly.
Cassie started. She supposed she had been staring. The girl took a step forward, and Cassie found herself stepping back.
“I'm sorry-I didn't mean to-“ She tried to tear her eyes away, but it was hard. The girl was wearing a skimpy black midriff top under the jacket, and Cassie glimpsed what looked like a small tattoo just above the material. A tattoo of a crescent moon. “I'm sorry,” Cassie said again, helplessly.
“You better be. You keep out of my face, get it?”
You were the one who almost ran me over, Cassie thought. But she nodded hastily, and to her vast relief
the girl turned away.
God, what a horrible way to start the first day of school, Cassie thought, hurrying toward the entrance. What a horrible person to be the first one you spoke to. Well, at least after a beginning like that, things could only get better.
All around her teenagers were greeting one another, shouting hello; the girls giggling and hugging, the boys horsing around. It was an excited bustle, and everybody seemed to know everybody else.
Except Cassie. She stood looking at the fresh haircuts of the guys, the brand-new clothes of the girls, smelling the scents of too much perfume and unnecessary aftershave and feeling more alone than she ever had in her life.
Keep moving, she told herself sternly. Don't stand around looking for that girl-find your first class. Maybe you'll see somebody there who's alone, and you can talk to them. You've got to look extroverted if you want people to think you are.
Her first class was writing for publication, an English elective, and Cassie was glad she had it. She liked creative writing, and the Program of Studies had said that the class would offer opportunities for publication in the school literary magazine and newspaper. She'd worked on the newspaper in her old school; maybe she could here, too.
Of course, the Program also said you had to sign up for writing for publication the previous spring, and Cassie still couldn't quite understand how her grandmother had gotten her enrolled just before school started. Maybe her grandmother had special pull with the administration or something.