Chapter One
“Bye Dad,” I say, opening the car door and swinging my legs around to ease myself out.
New state, new school, new start.
New state, new school, new start.
New state, new school, new start.
It really helped when Maddie (aka best friend and one person who knows nearly all my innermost secrets) and I were singing it the other night on the phone, but now it’s doing absolutely nothing to quell the nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I couldn’t sleep a wink last night worrying my butt off about today. What if they all hate me and won’t talk to me? I’ll be a total Larry Loner. Or what if everyone there is really weird? I mean, if the uniform is anything to go by I’m in serious trouble. I glance down at my way-too-long green and grey checked skirt, which no-one at my old school would be seen dead in, and shudder. And having to wear a tie really sucks. It feels like I’m choking.
Maddie would laugh herself senseless if she could see me. Ever since I told her my new school, St Peter’s Academy, is where all the religious rich kids go she’s been teasing me about having to dress like Deirdre our school librarian.
I’m really going to miss Maddie. Dad’s secondment means most of our contact over the next year will be cyber. Why they couldn’t train someone else to do the job I don’t know. It’s not like he’s some sort of nuclear physicist. There must be plenty of structural engineers in San Francisco who would be suitable.
“Have fun. And be good,” Dad says as I close the car door behind me.
I fling my bag over my shoulder, wave in Dad’s direction, and put my best foot forward. I took so long getting ready this morning we were almost late—not good on my first day.
Walking in front of me toward the entrance are three really cool girls. It’s easy to tell; confidence oozes from every pore. Nothing to do with the uniform, as we’re all dressed the same. It’s just the way they stand tall while walking and the way people part to let them through. Maybe if I tuck in behind everyone will think I’m one of them.
I push open the entrance door and follow the arrows to the school office. When I get there I knock on the door and wait, while my foot taps nervously on the wooden floor.
No answer.
After a few seconds I knock again.
Still no answer.
Panic sets in, as according to my watch school started exactly two minutes ago. This is so not good. Just as I lift my hand to knock a third time the door opens and a tiny grey haired woman stares out at me.
“Yes?” She says tersely, peering over the top of her gold rimmed, half-moon shaped glasses.
“I’m Suzy Green. I start today.”
“You’re late,” she says looking pointedly at her watch and frowning.
Old Suzy would have quipped in a flash that if she’d answered the door sooner then being late wouldn’t be an issue. New-start Suzy however-
“Sorry, I lost my way.”
“Well never mind that now. Follow me.” She rushes off with such speed that a trail of dust rises behind her, and it takes me all my time to keep up as these disgusting black regulation lace-up shoes they force us to wear are murdering my feet.
We go along a corridor, up some stairs, along another corridor, and around a corner - by which time I’m so sure I’ll never find my way back I give up even trying to remember the way.
Finally we stop outside a class with 7D on the door. She gives a sharp knock and walks in, with me following close behind.
My jaw drops as everyone stands up. Not only that, they’re all quiet.
“You must be Suzanne,” says the teacher standing at the front. She smiles at me. Phew. Thank goodness they’re not all like school-office woman (whoever she might be). “I’m Mrs. Richardson, your House Mistress. Take a seat over there,” she points to an empty desk by the window, “and I’ll talk to you at the end of the tutorial.”
I sit down and pull out a pad and pen from my bag, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. I’m sensing all eyes are on me and I can feel my cheeks colouring—not a good look. Will someone tell me why I agreed to come to this school? Hypothetical question. It was Mom and Dad’s idea and I wasn’t in a position to say no. And there isn’t a better place to be if I want to stay out of trouble.
The forty minute lesson goes by in a flash and I’m surprised that when the bell rings nobody jumps up and races to the door. Instead they wait for Mrs. Richardson to tell them to go. All except me and another girl—who only happens to be one of the cool girls I saw earlier—as we’re asked to stay behind.
“Hi,” says the other girl. “I’m Lori.”
There’s something really familiar about her but I can’t quite work out what. Maybe it’s something to do with the preppy blond hair tied up in that couldn’t-care-less look, which probably took at least half an hour to perfect. Not that I don’t like it. I’d kill for hair like that, rather than the dark brown mass of curls I inherited from Mom that frizz out at the slightest opportunity.
“Suzy,” I say smiling back at her. My mouth freezes for a second as I worry my smile is too Cheshire-cat-like. First impressions count and I mustn’t screw up.
“Suzy. You prefer that from Suzanne?” Mrs. Richardson asks as she comes over to where we’re standing. I nod my head. “Good. I’ll try to remember. Here’s your timetable.”
She hands me a small piece of paper, and I take a quick glance. Oh, no. Period one is biology. I hope there’s nothing to dissect. Last term we dissected a sheep’s head, and all I can remember before coming over faint was someone throwing the eye across the class and it splattering in my face. Gross.
“Lori is your allocated buddy,” Mrs Richardson continues, reminding me I’m at St Peter’s now and not Carlton High. “She’ll show you around and take you to all your classes during your first week. Anything you need to know, ask her.”
Someone, somewhere is looking out for me. I can’t believe she’s my mentor. This is my big chance. I’ve got a week to get her to like me, and maybe I’ll get to hang with the in-crowd all the time.
“Um. Thanks.” I look across at Lori, who’s smiling at me. Thing is I don’t know if it’s a wanting-to please-teacher smile, or whether it’s a genuine I-want-to-get-to-know-you smile. “I’ve got biology next.”
“Great, same as me. We can sit together. You can meet the rest of the gang.” Gang? I’m liking this more and more. Not sure if gang in St Peter’s vernacular has the same meaning as gang in Carlton’s—not that I was a gang member in the past. Not exactly.
Lori and I chat all the way to class which is another hike - well, to be honest, she does more chatting than me. What is it with this school? Is this their underhand way of getting us all to exercise?
It turns out we take all the same classes, except she’s in the AP class for math and English—can’t see that happening to me somehow. I’ve never been known for my high-flying academic ability—studying used to be well down my to-do list.
***
Well, I’ve survived the morning. Now it’s lunchtime. At the moment I’m standing in line at the school cafeteria waiting to see what culinary delights are on offer. No-one brings their own lunch it’s included with the school fees. I’m starving, but judging by what’s on Lori’s plate eating a lot is passé. So I best follow her lead and take a salad, if that what it takes to belong. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for being healthy. As long as a few hamburgers and lattes are thrown in for good measure.
“Lori, over here,” calls a girl sitting at a table by the window, as we walk away holding our trays.
Lori grins and turns to walk in her direction, with me following. But as I get closer I notice there’s only one spare seat. Oh. That’s me dumped then by the looks of it. Typical. Just as everything was going so well. As if sensing my dilemma Lori stops and calls over her shoulder. “You don’t mind sharing the seat, do you?”
Yay. Forget those last thoughts.
“Sure.”
Especially if I can sit on the left because in the next seat is the hottest boy I’ve seen since moving out here last week. Okay, that’s not hard seeing as I haven’t actually been anywhere—not counting the supermarket. But even so, he’s really cute.
I place my tray on the table in such a way as to angle myself next to hot-boy—Maddie would be way proud of me.
“Hey,” he says, flashing a brilliant white smile and causing my knees to go all weak. “I’m Guy. And you’re new.”
I try to reply but somehow my voice and brain have slid into unconnected mode, and no words make it through my open mouth.
“Guy,” says Lori leaping to the rescue. Not that I think she realizes. “This is Suzy. And you’re right. She’s new. And this is Jana, Mark, Rachel, Lulu and Sam.” Lori introduces the rest of them before I have time to respond to Guy. Which is good because I still can’t do anything other than nod and smile—a bit like one of those nodding dogs you see in the back of cars. Which is so weird. I’m not normally known for my reticence in speaking. My old school reports wax lyrically about my inability to keep quiet.
“Suzy, you into badminton?” asks one of the girls. Rachel, I think. “The girls’ team is desperate for some good players. Especially since she,” Rachel nods in the direction of Lori, “has chosen to play netball instead.”
Help. Me and sport have never been best buddies. I could lie and say yes, but I’m recovering from a knee injury. Or I could tell the truth and wreck my chances of being part of the gang.
“Give her a chance, Rach,” says Lori. “It’s her first day. Suzy has plenty of time to decide what sport and clubs to be involved in. Although,” her voice drops to a loud whisper and she looks from side to side before continuing. “See the girl with black skanky hair over there, two tables behind Jana and sitting with a girl with short hair?” I scan the room behind where Jana’s sitting and see who I assume she’s talking about.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Well keep clear. That’s Janey North and one of her entourage.”
“Why?” I whisper back.
She looks perfectly okay to me. And to be honest I wouldn’t call her hair skanky, I quite like it. Not that I can tell what it’s like down as she’s tied it up.
“It’s not that they belong to any official clubs, or anything. But, as my mother would say, ‘not our kind of people’. If you get what I mean.”
Oh yes, I more than get what she means.
“Gotya.” I reply.
“Tarts,” says Lulu, clearly not caring about being overheard.
The other girls giggle, and the boys shuffle uncomfortably in their seats—at least I think that’s what they’re doing, if it’s not—well, let’s not go there. Meantime, I sit there not sure how to respond to this Janey North revelation. If I laugh they’ll think I’m a bitch as I don’t even know anything about this girl and her friends. And if I try and stand up for them (though, why would I?) they’ll think I’m one of them. And even if I was once, which is debateable, I’m certainly not now. Nor do I intend to be.
“Oh right. Thanks for letting me know.” Hopefully that response did the trick, not too interested and not too dismissive. “Tell me about the clubs. Any in particular I should join? Or not join?” I glance around the table.
Rachel meets my gaze then reaches into her bag, which is hanging from the back of her chair and looks remarkably like the three hundred dollar one I was drooling over last week and Mom refused to buy me because ‘no-one in their right mind would pay that much for a school bag’, and pulls out a glossy leaflet.
“Here,” she says handing it to me. “This is where we all hang out.”