Chapter 10: Arch-nemesis

AS OUR DRAMA TEACHER went over the classroom rules, I had to keep my hand over my mouth so that I didn't burst out giggling. Isaac mimicked the teacher with amazing accuracy. If he didn't go anywhere with his singing, he definitely had a career in acting. But apparently, the rest of the class wasn't as talented. Their reactions eventually tipped off the teacher.

"I'm glad to see that we have such a natural entertainer in our class this year," said Mr. Romano, looking pointedly at Isaac, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Perhaps Mr. Efoti can put that charm to good use and begin our game of charades."

Thankfully, Mr. Romano seemed to know how to handle Isaac's playfulness. The rest of the period showed us who the real hams were in the class. I was not one of them, and thankfully the bell rang before my turn arrived.

As I started to rise, Isaac blocked me by crouching down beside my desk. His face was so close to mine I could see every eyelash surrounding his golden brown eyes. He smelled woodsy and minty.

"Tru, uh, I just wanted to say that I'm glad you're back to normal this year."

I felt my face heat up, remembering last year. Isaac noticed my immediate discomfort and quickly backpedaled.

"I know it was awful and everything, about your mom. I just wanted to say that I'm glad to see you smiling again."

I thought he was very sweet to say so, but I really did not want to talk about my mom or my horrible existence last year. So I pasted on a smile and said, "Life sucks sometimes, but eventually you move on."

That's what my dad said to me, and even though I did not feel like I was "over it," I agreed that I had to get on with my life. One corner of Isaac's mouth turned up, and he grabbed my hand and squeezed.

"I've got Mr. Dao's class next," he said. He'd have to hurry to reach his next class; it was on the other side of campus. "But I'll see you after school!"

I shook my head with bemusement as I watched him stride away. Students and teachers alike moved out of his way, his sheer size bringing out their sense of self-preservation. Top that off with his soft brown skin, sun-kissed hair, and rippling muscles. I was surprised he didn't have a crowd of groupies pursuing him already. It was just the first day of school, though. It was only a matter of time.

My thoughts strayed to Zander as I headed to my next class. Although he wasn't the hulking hotness that Isaac was, he was sure to attract his own "whore horde," which is what Ruthie called the girl packs who hung out at guys' lockers and followed them everywhere. I scowled at the thought.

PE wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Phoebe sat beside me on the gym bleachers as we listened to the teacher make her first-day-of-class speech, followed by locker assignments. Although we weren't friends, she didn't treat me as if I were a plague victim like the other kids did. I dared to think we could even be friends.

Evidently, if Phoebe Efoti could stand sitting by me, then I must not be too bad. Most of the other girls eyed Phoebe warily, almost like they were scared of her. Perhaps that's why she sat with me. We both seemed to be outsiders. I could see why Phoebe put them off, though. She was almost too confident and had little patience for idiots, demonstrated by the number of times she laughed at the questions. Admittedly, they were lame, but she certainly wasn't winning any friends by pointing that out.

We were finally left to our own conversations while the teacher handed out locker numbers. I was desperately trying to think of something to say to Phoebe, when Brianna, a girl that I knew from middle school, sat down next to us.

"Tru, I love what you did with your hair this year! Where do you get it highlighted?"

When I said it wasn't highlighted, several other girls joined in to tell me how lucky I was. They went on about how their hair was too frizzy, too straight, wouldn't curl, and so on. Girl talk. And that was it. Last year was forgotten. Go figure.

I saw Phoebe rolling her eyes and pulled her into the conversation. "How'd you get such straight hair, Phoebe, when Isaac's is so curly?" All the other girls looked enviously at her ebony curtain.

She raised an eyebrow at me as if to say, "really?" But with a sigh she finally replied. "Well, if you didn't already notice, we aren't identical twins."

Everyone laughed, even me. I could see that sarcasm was her style. "Hilarious," I said.

She smiled slyly. "My mom has really straight hair. I ..." She paused with a frown. I wasn't sure why her hair type would bother her. It was certainly enviable hair. "I take more after my mom," she said. "Isaac takes after my dad."

I sensed that there was more to her revelation, but couldn't fathom what it would be. At least she was talking. But then the other girls started asking questions about Isaac, talking about him as if he were some rock star. Phoebe rolled her eyes again and shut up. The chatter moved back to hair and what kind of shampoo everyone used. Honestly, even though Phoebe looked bored, it was nice that everyone wasn't ignoring me or talking about me behind their hands.

By the time my last class arrived, the day had taken a bizarrely positive turn, and my heart felt light as I walked into Mr. Mac's English class. I caught Zander's eye immediately. There was an empty desk next to him. I headed toward the back of the class where he was sitting, but Zena Taylor, wearing a skirt that redefined "mini" as "micro" and a low-cut blouse, slipped into the chair ahead of me, which said a lot for her dexterity because her platform heels were at least five inches. As much as I disliked her, I couldn't help admire the way she got around without killing herself. She immediately leaned toward Zander, ignoring me standing in front of her. A few pens toppled to the floor as several guys pretended to retrieve them just to get a peek up Zena's skirt. Disgust tightened my lips even as an embarrassed blush spread across my cheeks. Meanwhile, Zena didn't seem to notice. She was too busy giving Zander another kind of peep show.

"Hi! You're new here." She cast a sultry look toward Zander, held out her hand, and then started reeling him in. "Welcome to Scotts Valley High," she continued in her best kitten voice.

He shook her hand politely, although it seemed to take an absurd amount of time for his gaze to reach her face. That ought to teach me, I thought. Boys were all the same.

I cleared my throat, tempted to tell them to get a room. Zena didn't acknowledge me in any way. She just dug her heels in and whipped her long brown hair over her shoulder with the hand that wasn't clinging to Zander's. Her eyelashes dipped in appreciation as she tilted toward him, almost drooling. I needed a vomit bag. Maybe I should retreat down the aisle and find another way past them, I thought. I should have known Zena would be in this class. It had all been too perfect.

Okay, everyone has an enemy, and although I wasn't sure she was my arch-nemesis, she was definitely on my list of least favorite people. She and her groupies had bullied Ruthie and me all through middle school. Basically, every bad memory of those awkward years involved Zena Taylor, the self-proclaimed gift to Scotts Valley. Gag! I told myself she couldn't help it. What chance did you have with her parents? They were the biggest snobs in town.

However, I loathed any time Zena and her entourage crossed over into my sphere of school. How did she get into this class anyway? Then I remembered that it wasn't AP Literature like I normally would have taken. The school counselor thought I shouldn't push myself with Advanced Placement classes this year, which meant I was stuck with Zena and her stupid cheerleader friends.

But right now, I felt more peeved that she was sitting next to my blue-eyed guy from lunch, whose introduction had seemed to turn my terrible day around - until now. My distaste must have been visible. Zander's hand was still held captive by Zena, but he was looking at me questioningly, a guilty redness stinging his face. I blinked. Where had this possessiveness come from? Who was I to claim his attention? He looked more like Zena's type anyway - gorgeous. Hoping that I looked indifferent, I smoothed my features and shoved my way over to the aisle on his other side. There was an open seat toward the back. As I tried to squeeze through the narrow aisle, my arm brushed up against him. We both jumped a little from the contact, and he finally escaped Zena's grip. There was that warm hum again. It was not static electricity, but it seemed to cause the same reaction.

"Sorry," I muttered and quickly found my seat. What was wrong with me?

When I settled into my seat and looked up, Zander's head was twisted around toward me. Next to him, Zena was giving me an "artful" finger gesture behind her back. Whatever. Maybe she was my arch-nemesis. I had a feeling that if I had to watch her plastering her boobs in his face every day this year, she was definitely going to be enemy number one. I almost growled at the mental image. At least Zander didn't seem mad at me. He was still looking at me, and one corner of his mouth tilted up adorably, giving me fluttery heart spasms. He was really good-looking.