Summer Days 2
This is a story I've been working on for years and years. I mostly focus on eighth grade and that's called Summer Day's Ain't Coming Back. It's entirely through Kella's pov and is currently unfinished. Lately I've been playing around with ninth grade and I decided to rewrite it in SVJH style (alternating pov between the main characters each chapter). Technically this is a sequel to Summer Days so I'm just calling it Summer Days 2 till I come up with something better.
This is a sequel but you don't really need to read the first one to understand what's going on. Basically, there are five kids that are outcasts and losers that call themselves the Outlaws and they get into a lot of trouble in the early eighties. During the summer after eighth grade one of them died. Now they're dealing with the aftermath. It's basically an angst-fest. Blame it on a childhood spent reading Sweet Valley and Fear Street. ^_^
Kella
I stood before the full length mirror bound to my closet door modeling my new clothes for school. Not that you could be too stylish given the white tops and black bottoms dress code our district followed, but I thought I looked very chic in a fitted button-up white top and flowing black skirt that fell halfway to my knees, making it the shortest skirt I’d ever worn. I had gotten shorter skirts--mini skirts, even--when my daring side took over while shopping, but I wasn’t brave enough to wear one of those today.
It was the first day of school. After spending the last month in sheer misery I was finally looking forward to something again. When one of your best friends loses their lives you think the light’s somehow gone from the world. It’s only now I see the sun poking through the clouds, reminding me how the world goes on, unaware of the little deaths that ruin lives every day.
But it had been long enough. Bobby wouldn’t want us all moping around like we were.
This year was going to be different. Not only was this my first year of high school, but this year I would be attending classes with people I hadn’t known since kindergarten. Those who hold the powers that be had closed the high school in the neighboring town of Newburg, and their student population would be transferred indefinitely to New Haven High due to its’ having better facilities and both schools only being half full. It made sense looking at it from that point of view.
Another thing that was different that rather annoyed me was they were implementing school buses for the Newburg transfers, but we lowly New Haven-ites would still have to walk. But even if we did get buses I’d still probably have to walk the furthest living at the edge of civilization, the last house on a long narrow gravel road that cut into the woods up the hill. Orleans Avenue. It was still the only road in town that had yet to be paved.
I hesitated when it came to choosing socks. You could wear any kind of socks you wanted; it was our “loophole” that allowed some creativity. Only now they had it listed in the student code as “Any non-offensive socks,” after my friend, Vic Abernathy, had written in black marker “FUCK YOU” on a pair of white socks two years earlier, and had proudly worn him to gym class with shorts so he‘d be sure to get noticed. He’d gotten suspended for it.
Since grammar school I’d worn knee-high plaid grandfather socks as my rebellion, but now that seemed so childish. I was almost fourteen. It was time to grow up. I chose a pair of white socks and finished off the outfit with my Mary Jane’s and my mothers silver cross.
I pulled the brush through my hair and fixed it up into a bun, curling black tendrils hanging down on either side of my face. Vic had said the hairstyle looked good on me. It was probably true and I decided it would be the best one to make a good impression on my first day at a new school. I could tell myself till I was blue in the face that I didn’t give a damn what Vic thought of me, but the fact was I was starting to care, even if I hadn’t a year ago.
I hoisted my new book bag full of new school supplies onto my shoulders and left my room. I was all set to go down the stairs but on a whim I passed them and continued to my older sisters room.
Genni was sitting before her vanity applying the finishing touches to her makeup. It was the first time I’d seen her do so in weeks. Her black hair had finally regained it’s former luster and the eye shadow she wore brought out the deep blue of her eyes, but it didn’t hide the dead look they held.
She’s never gonna be the same, I thought.
Her hair was long and the same deep shade of onyx as mine, and straight from root to tip. Her complexion was pale without being sickly, and her eyes deep cerulean pools I utterly envied. I honestly thought she was a lot prettier than me but I’d been told enough otherwise to think it could just maybe possibly be true.
“Hey, Gen,” I said without entering. “Do you want to walk to school together. I’ll wait for you.”
“No,” she said without taking her eyes off the mirror. “Richie’s taking me.” Richie Dickerson was her ex-boyfriend, a handsome half-Japanese guy who was obsessed with martial arts, motorcycles, and his band. If I’d ever had a crush on anyone it was him.
“Didn’t he graduate, like, two years ago?”
“He’s taking some college classes this year,” she explained. “He has to drive out to San Francisco so he said he’d take me to school on his way.” She didn’t offer for me to go. Even if she knew I would just say no anyway the offer still would’ve been nice.
“Alright. I’ll see you at school then.” Well there was my attempt at sisterly bonding for the year. Genni and I just weren’t meant to get along.
My younger sister Jayne was already seated at the table devouring her Cheerios. I hated cold cereal. My dad was at the stove making steak. An open beer can was sitting on the counter. What a healthy breakfast.
“That for me?” I asked, helping myself to drinking Jayne’s milk. She glared at me before getting up to pour another glass.
“No. It’s my dinner. I just got home.”
“Who is she?” I asked with unrestrained contempt.
“None of your damn business.”
In the midst of tragedy and depression it was nice to know that some people didn’t change.
“Denise?”
Without giving me an answer he put the cooked steak (rare, of course) on a plate and seated himself at the table with us.
“Stay out of trouble today,” he told me in a warning tone. “You got into enough last year, don’t you think?”
“Most of that wasn’t even my--”
“And if I catch you doing cocaine again I’ll whip you myself, you understand me.”
“It’s only breakfast,” Jayne whined. “Can you two not fight even over stupid breakfast?”
“It’s not like you’ve never done it,” I couldn’t help but fire back.
“I’m thirty-nine years old, Kella. You’re thirteen. You listen or I will make you wish you had. I don‘t give idle threats. You know that.”
I stood from the table. “Are you walking with me, Jaynie?” I asked her coolly.
“You go ahead,” she told me, staring at her breakfast, now mashing it with her spoon.
“Fine. Thanks for wishing me good luck on the first day of high school. I’ll be sure to have a good day.”
I felt my father’s eyes watch me leave. So what if I’d done drugs a few times? Everyone I knew did drugs. But ever since Bobby’s death and everything had come out about the cocaine use Daddy had treated me differently. Like I’d disappointed him somehow. This, from the father who had cheated on both his wives and driven the first to suicide.
I slammed the door behind me.
xXxXx
Sarah
“Stan!” I shouted at my brother as he walked into our room in nothing but his underwear. “Get dressed in the bathroom for God sakes!”
“I’m trying!” he yelled back, ruffling through our shared dresser for something. He threw no less than three pairs of my underwear on the floor.
“Get out of my stuff!”
“Well you’ve got your crap all mixed with mine. Where’s my new black jeans?”
“We’re not allowed to wear jeans.”
“We’re not allowed to wear blue jeans. There’s nothing in the handbook about black jeans. I checked.”
I shook my head. Boys. Even after nearly a year of sharing a room with my fifteen-year-old brother we still hadn’t worked out the kinks of this arrangement. He walked in on me changing all the time and I walked in on him with his girlfriends. On my bed because it was the bottom bunk. The absolute worst was when I walked in on him jerking off. Talk about awkward! Having grown up with six brothers I had made up my mind that I never wanted to live with a man again.
And our house was much too small for ten people to begin with. I left the room for breakfast. My younger brothers were already running around trying to kill each other. My sister-in-law Alexa was attempting to feed her brat of a child, a boy given the unfortunately nickname of Sandy. My other brothers sat around the table like starving wilder beats as my mother passed out bowls and spoons for cereal. We couldn’t afford anything fancy. Dad was already at work. He was the manager at the local Stop and Shop.
“Come sit down, Sarah,” she called to me.
“I’m not real hungry. Did you make my lunch?”
“It’s on the counter with the others.”
“Hold still, Sandy,” Alexa said to her son, squeezing his cheeks so he’d open mouth and she could slip in the spoon. The poster child of teen pregnancy. Her parents had kicked her out upon finding out she was knocked up and my parents had taken her in. At first she had shared with me, but after her and my brother Alex got married when she turned eighteen my parents had the gall to give them my room for them and their little demon spawn. And I was stuck with Stan. Adam was the lucky one. He moved out last year.
There was a knock on the door. “I’ll get it,” Michael’s voice rang out, racing Sam to the door to let in the poor victim waiting outside. It was probably Kella. Jimmy and Vicki had long since stopped bothering to knock.
And I was right.
“Good morning, Kella,” my mother greeted, pouring the cereal. “You hungry?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Carsen,” she said politely.
Kella Coffield walked into the room, her hair pulled up in a fancy up-do I’d never seen on her before. It really made you notice how striking her features were. Especially her eyes. They were ice, some color between gray and blue. I used to wonder where she got them from. Her dad’s eyes were green and her moms had been the same dark blue her sisters had inherited.
But that was sort of like me. Both my parents, all six of my brothers, and even Alexa, all had brown hair and brown eyes. I had somehow managed to end up with hair that was a dark blond. The brat Sandy, who was only five months old, so far had only light blond wisps. I was kind of hoping he’d be blond. Then I wouldn’t be such a freak.
My parents thought Kella was kind of weird. Her family wasn’t the greatest and she was always really quiet. But who the hell were they to judge? With everything that had happened last July I kind of got the feeling from them they didn’t want me hanging around my friends anymore, though neither of them had said anything about it. But even if they had I would’ve just ignored them and did what I wanted anyway. Maybe that’s why they called me a spoiled brat.
“You excited for high school, Kella?” my mother asked, trying to make conversation.
Kella smiled slightly. “Yeah. I can’t wait.”
It was then I noticed she was wearing plain white socks. And they weren’t knee-highs! She’d always worn knee-highs to school! “What’s with the socks?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I thought the white looked better.”
“But that’s our thing! We wear crazy socks. We always have.”
She shrugged again, giving me that look that said, “Grow up, Sarah.” Well I didn’t want to grow up! Not yet.
“Are you ready?” she finally asked.
“You always come early, but yes, I’m ready.”
“Good. Because I’m sure we need to wake Jimmy up.”
We said bye to my insane asylum of a family and headed next door after I grabbed my lunch. I’d known Jimmy Harris and Vicki Abernathy as long as I’d known Kella. I’d moved here when I was four and they accepted me into their clique with open arms. A couple years later in first grade we were approached by Bobby Valentino, who became the fifth member of our little group. We called ourselves the Outlaws. Outcasts and outsiders shunned by everybody else because of the stupid people we were born to. And then Bobby went and died on us. It made me depressed to think about it. I knew his parents blamed us. But I hadn’t even known Bobby was doing heroin.
Kella didn’t knock at Jimmy’s. Denise, Jimmy’s mother, called out a good morning to us from the kitchen over her wake-up cup of coffee. I said hi back but Kella ignored her, going up the stairs. I wondered if she was screwing around with Kella’s dad again. Kella’s family was pretty messed up. Not as bad as Vic’s though. I swear if you looked up white trash in the dictionary you’d see the a picture of the Abernathy-Moyerson clan.
Jimmy was still asleep when we entered his room., wearing nothing but boxers and an old t-shirt. I almost blushed. Even if he was my friend I was starting to notice how good boys looked. Jimmy was long and lean, his skin tanned from a summer spent outdoors. His hair was wavy and light brown. It was longer now than he usually wore it, spread around his hair like a furry pillow. His eyes, when open, were a bright green.
Kella sat on the bed and hovered above him, stroking his cheek softly. She was so mean. “Jimmy,” she cooed into his ear. “Wake up.”
Jimmy opened his eyes into slits first, then jolted upright, colliding his head with the wooden headboard. “Jesus Christ, Kella! You gotta be so close?”
She laughed, pushing herself off the bed and onto her feet. “Get dressed. We’ll meet you in the hall.”
“Do you think Vicki’s gonna meet us?” I asked her as she closed the door behind her.
She shrugged. “Who knows. I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks.”
A couple of weeks? I hadn’t seen him since the funeral a month before. So she’d seen him since then. And hadn’t told me. That thought didn’t rest well with me.
Victor Abernathy was the love of my young life. He was blond and beautiful but a far cry from the handsome prince young girls dreamed of falling in love with one day. Vicki was short, no more than a hair of an inch taller than I was, and much too skinny. But he had the chiseled face of an innocent angel. His hair was long and a very pretty shade of light blond, and had once reached past his butt. But a stint in Juvenile Hall a year and a half ago had gotten him a crew cut and it was still growing out from that. The last time I’d seen him it was just brushing his shoulders, but he’d told me he’d never grow it out that long again. A pity. He had such beautiful hair.
He’s fourteen now, I couldn’t help but think, watching Kella chew on her thumb. It was a nervous habit of hers.
And I’d missed his birthday yet again. Last year he’d come home from Juvy just before his birthday in August, but none of us knew he was back until right before school started. And this year…
I’d tried calling him that day and a couple times since, but his brother’s phone was disconnected. And I was way too much of a wimp to head into that part of town by myself. Especially since Bobby had been killed. His present was still sitting wrapped in my closet.
I liked Vic. A lot. For the past two years I’d deluded myself into thinking I was in love with him. But sometimes I got the feeling he liked me, too.
Jimmy finally opened the door, looking as though he’d just pulled on the first items of clothing he’d found crumpled on the floor.
Kella gave him a warning look with those cool blues of hers. “Jimmy, we’re in high school now. Go find yourself something decent to wear or I will.”
He knew better than to argue. Rolling his eyes he muttered something about her being a pain in the ass and went back into the room. When he opened the door for the second time I saw he hadn’t bothered to change his pants, but at least the shirt he now wore wasn’t stained.
It wasn’t thirty seconds before Kella pounced on him with a brush. “We’re going to make a good impression this year. We’re cooler than everyone else and we’re going to look it.”
“This is gonna be just like Junior High,” Jimmy moaned, trying to grab the brush from her hand. “You’re all excited now but when we get there and things don’t go like you want you’re gonna go hide in the bathroom again.”
She popped him upside the head with the brush. “Hold still.”
“Have you talked to Vic?” I asked him as he finally submitted to Kella. Jimmy was closer to him than anyone.
“No. I tried calling but the phone’s disconnected. I called his dad’s house and his dad told me the same thing.”
“Oh.“
Vic lived with his older brother now. He didn’t get along well with either of his parents. I didn’t really know the whole story to that.
We headed out the house for school, rushing out before Jimmy‘s little sister decided to tag along on her way to Junior High..
Orleans Avenue, the road we three all lived on, was really long and winding, cutting up into the mountain. It was far quicker to cut through the cemetery behind the houses down to Anne Street below. The graveyard was as old as the town and surrounded on all sides by an old, rickety, wrought-iron fence that we had learned to scale by the age of five.
I threw my backpack over to the other side and proceeded the climb after Jimmy, the fence wailing beneath me. I was waiting patiently for the day it would finally break under our weight. Kella came behind me. It was annoying having to climb over in a skirt, but I had long since stopped caring who saw what, and I’m pretty sure Kella had, too.
We’d climbed over the fence without thinking, out of sheer force of habit. But it struck me then that this was the first time any of us had been in the cemetery since Bobby’s funeral. And I think they realized it too; they both paused. Taking a deep breath Kella stepped ahead, picking a path through the stones different from our usual that took us in a roundabout route out to the gate facing Anne Street. She was avoiding us having to see Bobby’s grave.
I remember when we were very young, the five of us used to play Hide and Seek in the graveyard, hiding behind the stones and thick old trees without a second thought. But then Kella’s mother died and she didn’t want to play there anymore. I could understand now though I hadn’t at the age of seven.
None of use said anything till we were outside the black gate and met the cool gray asphalt that was Anne Street. I don’t think I’d even taken a breath.
Now here was the part where Vic would normally meet us, sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette, he would look up and wave with a smile. Part of me was half expecting him to be there, but he wasn’t.
Jimmy yawned with a stretch, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He’d gotten new ones the week before.
“I think they look good on you,” Kella told him as we walked. “They make you look intelligent.”
“As opposed to looking stupid without them?”
“You know what I mean,” she was quick to say.
He shrugged.
“You okay, Jimmy?” I asked. He was being unusually quiet.
“Yeah. This is just weird, you know. Everything seems so different.”
“Because everything is,” Kella wisely pointed out.
He was quiet again.
She sighed and walked ahead.
Is it always going to be like this? I wondered. Awkward. Tense. Would we ever be able to move past that Saturday night in July?
xXxXx
Vic
It was deceivingly sunny and bright my first day of high school. I wore a baggy pair of black pants I’d borrowed from my best friend Jimmy the Halloween before, a wife beater, and an open button-up shirt that had a couple coffee stains on it. What I always wore.
I’d known for a long time this was going to be unlike any other school year before. The merging of New Haven and Newburg High had me unsettled. A rough crowd ran at Newburg, of which I had no doubt made enemies of by being involved with the beautiful Pamela Young, psycho-extraordinaire. Speaking of the bitch I was dreading running into her. We…well, we had parted on bad terms. I think she tried to kill me, actually.
I was also apprehensive toward seeing Jimmy, Kella, and Sarah again; the remainders of the Outlaws. Sarah I hadn’t seen since the Funeral; Kella I hadn’t seen since my birthday two weeks earlier, and Jimmy I hadn’t seen for a month. Save the time I spent in foster care and Juvenile Hall, it was the longest I’d ever gone without seeing them.
One other thing was weighing on my mind. It was the first time I’d ever felt it in my life. Guilt. Beautiful, gut-wrenching, guilt. The kind that made you want to crawl into a ball and die.
I knew damn well what I was getting Bobby into when I’d introduced him into Pamela Young’s Circle. I had lured Bobby to the Pointy Harlot the night he died, giving him Genni Coffield as bait. And I would have to live with that the rest of my life.
The old marble building came into view, an imposing structure that looked more like a church than a school. It looked so out of place among the quaint shops and houses of Maine Street, the--you guessed it--main street of our “quiet mountain town.” New Haven High had started life as New Haven Academy, a prestigious Catholic school built to educate the children of the “Social Elite,” the oldest and richest families in the town. And it’s kind of ironic to think that my mother’s family, the Moyersons, were once among them. But due to the ever decreasing student population it was turned into a public school.
I didn’t know my way around the school. I’d only been there a handful a times and most of those had been football games the year before to watch Genni Coffield’s cheerleading routines. And freshman orientation had somehow drifted to the bottom of my priorities. I’d been lucky not to lose my schedule.
I walked through the front entrance, giving my hair a little flip and sauntered off to find my locker, or at least somebody I knew. The hustle and bustle through the halls was loud and more crowded than New Haven Jr. High had ever been. I saw plenty of people I recognized but no one who I actually knew enough to go up to. It was intimidating. It also seemed like everywhere I went there were whispers and pointed fingers in my direction. I didn’t like it.
It took forever to find my locker assignment. It was on the third floor, near the bell tower. And it turned out Jimmy’s locker was right across the hall. I’d tried out the combination, turned around, and there he was standing with Kella and Sarah. Kella had her hair done up in a bun, with curly tendrils falling on either side of her face. Her ice blue eyes were bright with excitement. She wore the typical white top and black skirt but I was surprised to see her in plain white socks. The “dress code” never specified what type of socks and shoes to wear and a lot of kids used this “loophole” to show their rebellion. Wearing socks and shoes that don’t match your outfit. What a rebellion. Note the sarcasm. But everybody did it. Even I did it.
I hadn’t anticipated on being so happy to see them. I let my guard down. Without a thought I ran up behind Jimmy and jumped on his back, like I’d done a million times before. It never occurred to me that this was high school now, and what might’ve been okay in Jr. High would NOT be okay here.
I’d never given much thought to sexuality. What I knew was, that though I’d had sex with more men than women, I’d enjoyed being with the women a hell of a lot more. I figured that meant I wasn’t gay and that was that.
Jimmy didn’t yell at me. He pushed me off him like he’d always done and said, “Would you please stop doing that?”
I just grinned and turned to Kella and Sarah. Sarah’d decided to brave the new school without the water balloons in her bra that had become her security blanket the year before. She had a funny look on her face. “Hi, Vic,” she said softly.
That surprised me. She’d always called me Vicki, even after I’d asked her a million times to just call me Vic. I hated my nickname.
She took a deep breath. “I’ll see you guys later,” she told us quietly, turning and walking off.
“What was that about?” I asked.
Kella shrugged. “We don’t think Sarah likes us anymore.” She stared at me for a moment, those brilliant blues piercing me. I always felt as though Kella could read my mind. Certainly, she almost always saw right through me. “You’ve lost weight.”
“Where?” Jimmy said, poking me and I let out a girlish squeal. “He’s a stick. He’s skinnier than you are.”
Kella didn’t say anything for a moment, just kept her unflinching gaze on me for a few seconds more. “Let me see your schedule.”
I handed it to her wordlessly.
She smiled. “At least we all have the same lunch. And we’re all in the same drama bell, too! This is too cool!”
I’d signed up for Introduction to Theatre Arts only through Kella’s insistence. My one and only experience with the theatre was our fifth-grade play where we put on a production of “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.” Kella was the Queen of Hearts, Sarah was the White Rabbit, Bobby was a card, and Jimmy and I had been cast as the Mad Hatter and the Mad March Hare. (I was the Hatter). Fitting, since we were the two worst behaved kids in the class.
Kella had said since there was only one intro class we were sure to be in there together. I guess she was right.
I glanced at Jimmy since he was silent, trying to determine if he was mad at me or not. He got new “fucking” glasses, I noticed. Thinner frames. They looked a lot better on him. If there was one thing Jimmy hated, it was his glasses. I knew Jimmy hadn’t been mad at the funeral, and he hadn’t seemed mad at me a month earlier when he’d come over Snakes, and we’d spent two hours drinking Scotch and watching MTV, not saying a thing to each other. For a moment, I wondered if they had found out exactly what part I’d played in Bobby’s death. But that was impossible.
I guess my emotions were showing because Kella asked, “Something wrong?”
I shook my head, smiling brightly. “No, not at all. Do I have any other classes with you guys?”
Kella nodded. “You have the same math and English as Sarah, science with me, and gym with Jimmy.” So at least one of them was in all my classes except history and study hall. That I could live with. I would probably be spending the following summer in history since I didn’t have anybody to cheat off of.
“From what I gather,” Kella went on, “it seems most of the freshman have pretty much the same schedules depending on what elective and advanced courses they’re taking. I guess it’s pretty much the same thing with all the grades.”
The warning bell rang and we parted ways, only after Kella had given me explicit directions to my first period English class. She’d gone to orientation.
As I went through the door, for the first time I really noticed the sea of new faces. People were judging me. I didn’t like it.
I spotted Sarah sitting towards the back beside pretty, red-headed Elsie MacNicols. Elsie had been notorious at New Haven Jr. High for her “risqué” choice of clothes and that she let guys put their hands down her pants on the first date, though she never went further than that. I’d never gone out with her, but I did make out with her at a party once. Jimmy had gone out with her twice.
I hurried back there and jumped into the seat behind Sarah. “Hi,” I said, leaning up and kissing her quickly on the cheek.
Her face blushed tomato red and cracked a small smile. “Hi.” People were watching us.
“Are you mad at me about something,” I said in a mock serious tone.
She shook her head. “No. Not mad. Not here.”
I understood. We’d talk another time. I sat back and turned to Elsie, who was beside me. “Hi, Elsie,” I said, flashing her one of my charming smiles. “Did you enjoy your summer vacation?” I asked, making myself sound like a little kid.
She smiled slightly. “It was all right, I guess. I heard you guys had a wild one, though.”
I shrugged.
“That’s crazy about Bobby.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe it.”
I thought back. “You weren’t at the funeral, were you?”
“No. I was out of town. I heard about it when I got back. Never figured him for a druggie.”
Sarah’s face darkened.
The bell rang then, ending our conversation and the last few cockroaches--did I say cockroaches? I mean, kids--scurried in. Then the teacher came in. I glanced at my schedule and saw that her name was Craille. I could tell right away we weren’t going to like each other. She was fat. And her fat rolls jiggled as she walked. She had a twitch, too. She was always glancing around nervously and twisting the gaudy string of pearls she wore around her thick neck.
I’ve always tried to be open-minded and unprejudiced (because I‘m certainly not one to talk), but fat people just nauseate me. I hated her on sight.
“Hello, class. I am Miss Craille, and I will be your teacher of English this year.” Miss. So she wasn’t married. Not surprising. Who’d want to marry that fat, disgusting hog? “I know the merging of schools is difficult on everyone and it s going to be full of compromises you weren’t expecting to make. Each of you are my students. It matters not what school you came from.”
And on and on she went. She talked through the whole period, barely stopping to draw breath. I put my head on my desk and spent the bell staring at the sky through the wide window, only saying “Here,” when my name was called during roll. She stopped me on my way out the door.
“Mr. Abernathy, if you plan on spending the rest of the year sleeping through my class, don’t bother showing up.”
I said nothing. I left with a smirk on my face, deciding to break my little vow to miss as many days as possible just to come to her class and sleep.
xXxXx
My conversation with Elsie had me realize one thing, though. We, Jimmy, Kella, Sarah, and myself, were Bobby Valentino’s inner circle. The boy who, to the outside world, died from doing heroine, stealing a car, and driving it off a cliff. There was bound to be speculation about us. And I wondered exactly what was being said.
xXxXx
This is a sequel but you don't really need to read the first one to understand what's going on. Basically, there are five kids that are outcasts and losers that call themselves the Outlaws and they get into a lot of trouble in the early eighties. During the summer after eighth grade one of them died. Now they're dealing with the aftermath. It's basically an angst-fest. Blame it on a childhood spent reading Sweet Valley and Fear Street. ^_^
Kella
I stood before the full length mirror bound to my closet door modeling my new clothes for school. Not that you could be too stylish given the white tops and black bottoms dress code our district followed, but I thought I looked very chic in a fitted button-up white top and flowing black skirt that fell halfway to my knees, making it the shortest skirt I’d ever worn. I had gotten shorter skirts--mini skirts, even--when my daring side took over while shopping, but I wasn’t brave enough to wear one of those today.
It was the first day of school. After spending the last month in sheer misery I was finally looking forward to something again. When one of your best friends loses their lives you think the light’s somehow gone from the world. It’s only now I see the sun poking through the clouds, reminding me how the world goes on, unaware of the little deaths that ruin lives every day.
But it had been long enough. Bobby wouldn’t want us all moping around like we were.
This year was going to be different. Not only was this my first year of high school, but this year I would be attending classes with people I hadn’t known since kindergarten. Those who hold the powers that be had closed the high school in the neighboring town of Newburg, and their student population would be transferred indefinitely to New Haven High due to its’ having better facilities and both schools only being half full. It made sense looking at it from that point of view.
Another thing that was different that rather annoyed me was they were implementing school buses for the Newburg transfers, but we lowly New Haven-ites would still have to walk. But even if we did get buses I’d still probably have to walk the furthest living at the edge of civilization, the last house on a long narrow gravel road that cut into the woods up the hill. Orleans Avenue. It was still the only road in town that had yet to be paved.
I hesitated when it came to choosing socks. You could wear any kind of socks you wanted; it was our “loophole” that allowed some creativity. Only now they had it listed in the student code as “Any non-offensive socks,” after my friend, Vic Abernathy, had written in black marker “FUCK YOU” on a pair of white socks two years earlier, and had proudly worn him to gym class with shorts so he‘d be sure to get noticed. He’d gotten suspended for it.
Since grammar school I’d worn knee-high plaid grandfather socks as my rebellion, but now that seemed so childish. I was almost fourteen. It was time to grow up. I chose a pair of white socks and finished off the outfit with my Mary Jane’s and my mothers silver cross.
I pulled the brush through my hair and fixed it up into a bun, curling black tendrils hanging down on either side of my face. Vic had said the hairstyle looked good on me. It was probably true and I decided it would be the best one to make a good impression on my first day at a new school. I could tell myself till I was blue in the face that I didn’t give a damn what Vic thought of me, but the fact was I was starting to care, even if I hadn’t a year ago.
I hoisted my new book bag full of new school supplies onto my shoulders and left my room. I was all set to go down the stairs but on a whim I passed them and continued to my older sisters room.
Genni was sitting before her vanity applying the finishing touches to her makeup. It was the first time I’d seen her do so in weeks. Her black hair had finally regained it’s former luster and the eye shadow she wore brought out the deep blue of her eyes, but it didn’t hide the dead look they held.
She’s never gonna be the same, I thought.
Her hair was long and the same deep shade of onyx as mine, and straight from root to tip. Her complexion was pale without being sickly, and her eyes deep cerulean pools I utterly envied. I honestly thought she was a lot prettier than me but I’d been told enough otherwise to think it could just maybe possibly be true.
“Hey, Gen,” I said without entering. “Do you want to walk to school together. I’ll wait for you.”
“No,” she said without taking her eyes off the mirror. “Richie’s taking me.” Richie Dickerson was her ex-boyfriend, a handsome half-Japanese guy who was obsessed with martial arts, motorcycles, and his band. If I’d ever had a crush on anyone it was him.
“Didn’t he graduate, like, two years ago?”
“He’s taking some college classes this year,” she explained. “He has to drive out to San Francisco so he said he’d take me to school on his way.” She didn’t offer for me to go. Even if she knew I would just say no anyway the offer still would’ve been nice.
“Alright. I’ll see you at school then.” Well there was my attempt at sisterly bonding for the year. Genni and I just weren’t meant to get along.
My younger sister Jayne was already seated at the table devouring her Cheerios. I hated cold cereal. My dad was at the stove making steak. An open beer can was sitting on the counter. What a healthy breakfast.
“That for me?” I asked, helping myself to drinking Jayne’s milk. She glared at me before getting up to pour another glass.
“No. It’s my dinner. I just got home.”
“Who is she?” I asked with unrestrained contempt.
“None of your damn business.”
In the midst of tragedy and depression it was nice to know that some people didn’t change.
“Denise?”
Without giving me an answer he put the cooked steak (rare, of course) on a plate and seated himself at the table with us.
“Stay out of trouble today,” he told me in a warning tone. “You got into enough last year, don’t you think?”
“Most of that wasn’t even my--”
“And if I catch you doing cocaine again I’ll whip you myself, you understand me.”
“It’s only breakfast,” Jayne whined. “Can you two not fight even over stupid breakfast?”
“It’s not like you’ve never done it,” I couldn’t help but fire back.
“I’m thirty-nine years old, Kella. You’re thirteen. You listen or I will make you wish you had. I don‘t give idle threats. You know that.”
I stood from the table. “Are you walking with me, Jaynie?” I asked her coolly.
“You go ahead,” she told me, staring at her breakfast, now mashing it with her spoon.
“Fine. Thanks for wishing me good luck on the first day of high school. I’ll be sure to have a good day.”
I felt my father’s eyes watch me leave. So what if I’d done drugs a few times? Everyone I knew did drugs. But ever since Bobby’s death and everything had come out about the cocaine use Daddy had treated me differently. Like I’d disappointed him somehow. This, from the father who had cheated on both his wives and driven the first to suicide.
I slammed the door behind me.
xXxXx
Sarah
“Stan!” I shouted at my brother as he walked into our room in nothing but his underwear. “Get dressed in the bathroom for God sakes!”
“I’m trying!” he yelled back, ruffling through our shared dresser for something. He threw no less than three pairs of my underwear on the floor.
“Get out of my stuff!”
“Well you’ve got your crap all mixed with mine. Where’s my new black jeans?”
“We’re not allowed to wear jeans.”
“We’re not allowed to wear blue jeans. There’s nothing in the handbook about black jeans. I checked.”
I shook my head. Boys. Even after nearly a year of sharing a room with my fifteen-year-old brother we still hadn’t worked out the kinks of this arrangement. He walked in on me changing all the time and I walked in on him with his girlfriends. On my bed because it was the bottom bunk. The absolute worst was when I walked in on him jerking off. Talk about awkward! Having grown up with six brothers I had made up my mind that I never wanted to live with a man again.
And our house was much too small for ten people to begin with. I left the room for breakfast. My younger brothers were already running around trying to kill each other. My sister-in-law Alexa was attempting to feed her brat of a child, a boy given the unfortunately nickname of Sandy. My other brothers sat around the table like starving wilder beats as my mother passed out bowls and spoons for cereal. We couldn’t afford anything fancy. Dad was already at work. He was the manager at the local Stop and Shop.
“Come sit down, Sarah,” she called to me.
“I’m not real hungry. Did you make my lunch?”
“It’s on the counter with the others.”
“Hold still, Sandy,” Alexa said to her son, squeezing his cheeks so he’d open mouth and she could slip in the spoon. The poster child of teen pregnancy. Her parents had kicked her out upon finding out she was knocked up and my parents had taken her in. At first she had shared with me, but after her and my brother Alex got married when she turned eighteen my parents had the gall to give them my room for them and their little demon spawn. And I was stuck with Stan. Adam was the lucky one. He moved out last year.
There was a knock on the door. “I’ll get it,” Michael’s voice rang out, racing Sam to the door to let in the poor victim waiting outside. It was probably Kella. Jimmy and Vicki had long since stopped bothering to knock.
And I was right.
“Good morning, Kella,” my mother greeted, pouring the cereal. “You hungry?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Carsen,” she said politely.
Kella Coffield walked into the room, her hair pulled up in a fancy up-do I’d never seen on her before. It really made you notice how striking her features were. Especially her eyes. They were ice, some color between gray and blue. I used to wonder where she got them from. Her dad’s eyes were green and her moms had been the same dark blue her sisters had inherited.
But that was sort of like me. Both my parents, all six of my brothers, and even Alexa, all had brown hair and brown eyes. I had somehow managed to end up with hair that was a dark blond. The brat Sandy, who was only five months old, so far had only light blond wisps. I was kind of hoping he’d be blond. Then I wouldn’t be such a freak.
My parents thought Kella was kind of weird. Her family wasn’t the greatest and she was always really quiet. But who the hell were they to judge? With everything that had happened last July I kind of got the feeling from them they didn’t want me hanging around my friends anymore, though neither of them had said anything about it. But even if they had I would’ve just ignored them and did what I wanted anyway. Maybe that’s why they called me a spoiled brat.
“You excited for high school, Kella?” my mother asked, trying to make conversation.
Kella smiled slightly. “Yeah. I can’t wait.”
It was then I noticed she was wearing plain white socks. And they weren’t knee-highs! She’d always worn knee-highs to school! “What’s with the socks?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I thought the white looked better.”
“But that’s our thing! We wear crazy socks. We always have.”
She shrugged again, giving me that look that said, “Grow up, Sarah.” Well I didn’t want to grow up! Not yet.
“Are you ready?” she finally asked.
“You always come early, but yes, I’m ready.”
“Good. Because I’m sure we need to wake Jimmy up.”
We said bye to my insane asylum of a family and headed next door after I grabbed my lunch. I’d known Jimmy Harris and Vicki Abernathy as long as I’d known Kella. I’d moved here when I was four and they accepted me into their clique with open arms. A couple years later in first grade we were approached by Bobby Valentino, who became the fifth member of our little group. We called ourselves the Outlaws. Outcasts and outsiders shunned by everybody else because of the stupid people we were born to. And then Bobby went and died on us. It made me depressed to think about it. I knew his parents blamed us. But I hadn’t even known Bobby was doing heroin.
Kella didn’t knock at Jimmy’s. Denise, Jimmy’s mother, called out a good morning to us from the kitchen over her wake-up cup of coffee. I said hi back but Kella ignored her, going up the stairs. I wondered if she was screwing around with Kella’s dad again. Kella’s family was pretty messed up. Not as bad as Vic’s though. I swear if you looked up white trash in the dictionary you’d see the a picture of the Abernathy-Moyerson clan.
Jimmy was still asleep when we entered his room., wearing nothing but boxers and an old t-shirt. I almost blushed. Even if he was my friend I was starting to notice how good boys looked. Jimmy was long and lean, his skin tanned from a summer spent outdoors. His hair was wavy and light brown. It was longer now than he usually wore it, spread around his hair like a furry pillow. His eyes, when open, were a bright green.
Kella sat on the bed and hovered above him, stroking his cheek softly. She was so mean. “Jimmy,” she cooed into his ear. “Wake up.”
Jimmy opened his eyes into slits first, then jolted upright, colliding his head with the wooden headboard. “Jesus Christ, Kella! You gotta be so close?”
She laughed, pushing herself off the bed and onto her feet. “Get dressed. We’ll meet you in the hall.”
“Do you think Vicki’s gonna meet us?” I asked her as she closed the door behind her.
She shrugged. “Who knows. I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks.”
A couple of weeks? I hadn’t seen him since the funeral a month before. So she’d seen him since then. And hadn’t told me. That thought didn’t rest well with me.
Victor Abernathy was the love of my young life. He was blond and beautiful but a far cry from the handsome prince young girls dreamed of falling in love with one day. Vicki was short, no more than a hair of an inch taller than I was, and much too skinny. But he had the chiseled face of an innocent angel. His hair was long and a very pretty shade of light blond, and had once reached past his butt. But a stint in Juvenile Hall a year and a half ago had gotten him a crew cut and it was still growing out from that. The last time I’d seen him it was just brushing his shoulders, but he’d told me he’d never grow it out that long again. A pity. He had such beautiful hair.
He’s fourteen now, I couldn’t help but think, watching Kella chew on her thumb. It was a nervous habit of hers.
And I’d missed his birthday yet again. Last year he’d come home from Juvy just before his birthday in August, but none of us knew he was back until right before school started. And this year…
I’d tried calling him that day and a couple times since, but his brother’s phone was disconnected. And I was way too much of a wimp to head into that part of town by myself. Especially since Bobby had been killed. His present was still sitting wrapped in my closet.
I liked Vic. A lot. For the past two years I’d deluded myself into thinking I was in love with him. But sometimes I got the feeling he liked me, too.
Jimmy finally opened the door, looking as though he’d just pulled on the first items of clothing he’d found crumpled on the floor.
Kella gave him a warning look with those cool blues of hers. “Jimmy, we’re in high school now. Go find yourself something decent to wear or I will.”
He knew better than to argue. Rolling his eyes he muttered something about her being a pain in the ass and went back into the room. When he opened the door for the second time I saw he hadn’t bothered to change his pants, but at least the shirt he now wore wasn’t stained.
It wasn’t thirty seconds before Kella pounced on him with a brush. “We’re going to make a good impression this year. We’re cooler than everyone else and we’re going to look it.”
“This is gonna be just like Junior High,” Jimmy moaned, trying to grab the brush from her hand. “You’re all excited now but when we get there and things don’t go like you want you’re gonna go hide in the bathroom again.”
She popped him upside the head with the brush. “Hold still.”
“Have you talked to Vic?” I asked him as he finally submitted to Kella. Jimmy was closer to him than anyone.
“No. I tried calling but the phone’s disconnected. I called his dad’s house and his dad told me the same thing.”
“Oh.“
Vic lived with his older brother now. He didn’t get along well with either of his parents. I didn’t really know the whole story to that.
We headed out the house for school, rushing out before Jimmy‘s little sister decided to tag along on her way to Junior High..
Orleans Avenue, the road we three all lived on, was really long and winding, cutting up into the mountain. It was far quicker to cut through the cemetery behind the houses down to Anne Street below. The graveyard was as old as the town and surrounded on all sides by an old, rickety, wrought-iron fence that we had learned to scale by the age of five.
I threw my backpack over to the other side and proceeded the climb after Jimmy, the fence wailing beneath me. I was waiting patiently for the day it would finally break under our weight. Kella came behind me. It was annoying having to climb over in a skirt, but I had long since stopped caring who saw what, and I’m pretty sure Kella had, too.
We’d climbed over the fence without thinking, out of sheer force of habit. But it struck me then that this was the first time any of us had been in the cemetery since Bobby’s funeral. And I think they realized it too; they both paused. Taking a deep breath Kella stepped ahead, picking a path through the stones different from our usual that took us in a roundabout route out to the gate facing Anne Street. She was avoiding us having to see Bobby’s grave.
I remember when we were very young, the five of us used to play Hide and Seek in the graveyard, hiding behind the stones and thick old trees without a second thought. But then Kella’s mother died and she didn’t want to play there anymore. I could understand now though I hadn’t at the age of seven.
None of use said anything till we were outside the black gate and met the cool gray asphalt that was Anne Street. I don’t think I’d even taken a breath.
Now here was the part where Vic would normally meet us, sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette, he would look up and wave with a smile. Part of me was half expecting him to be there, but he wasn’t.
Jimmy yawned with a stretch, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He’d gotten new ones the week before.
“I think they look good on you,” Kella told him as we walked. “They make you look intelligent.”
“As opposed to looking stupid without them?”
“You know what I mean,” she was quick to say.
He shrugged.
“You okay, Jimmy?” I asked. He was being unusually quiet.
“Yeah. This is just weird, you know. Everything seems so different.”
“Because everything is,” Kella wisely pointed out.
He was quiet again.
She sighed and walked ahead.
Is it always going to be like this? I wondered. Awkward. Tense. Would we ever be able to move past that Saturday night in July?
xXxXx
Vic
It was deceivingly sunny and bright my first day of high school. I wore a baggy pair of black pants I’d borrowed from my best friend Jimmy the Halloween before, a wife beater, and an open button-up shirt that had a couple coffee stains on it. What I always wore.
I’d known for a long time this was going to be unlike any other school year before. The merging of New Haven and Newburg High had me unsettled. A rough crowd ran at Newburg, of which I had no doubt made enemies of by being involved with the beautiful Pamela Young, psycho-extraordinaire. Speaking of the bitch I was dreading running into her. We…well, we had parted on bad terms. I think she tried to kill me, actually.
I was also apprehensive toward seeing Jimmy, Kella, and Sarah again; the remainders of the Outlaws. Sarah I hadn’t seen since the Funeral; Kella I hadn’t seen since my birthday two weeks earlier, and Jimmy I hadn’t seen for a month. Save the time I spent in foster care and Juvenile Hall, it was the longest I’d ever gone without seeing them.
One other thing was weighing on my mind. It was the first time I’d ever felt it in my life. Guilt. Beautiful, gut-wrenching, guilt. The kind that made you want to crawl into a ball and die.
I knew damn well what I was getting Bobby into when I’d introduced him into Pamela Young’s Circle. I had lured Bobby to the Pointy Harlot the night he died, giving him Genni Coffield as bait. And I would have to live with that the rest of my life.
The old marble building came into view, an imposing structure that looked more like a church than a school. It looked so out of place among the quaint shops and houses of Maine Street, the--you guessed it--main street of our “quiet mountain town.” New Haven High had started life as New Haven Academy, a prestigious Catholic school built to educate the children of the “Social Elite,” the oldest and richest families in the town. And it’s kind of ironic to think that my mother’s family, the Moyersons, were once among them. But due to the ever decreasing student population it was turned into a public school.
I didn’t know my way around the school. I’d only been there a handful a times and most of those had been football games the year before to watch Genni Coffield’s cheerleading routines. And freshman orientation had somehow drifted to the bottom of my priorities. I’d been lucky not to lose my schedule.
I walked through the front entrance, giving my hair a little flip and sauntered off to find my locker, or at least somebody I knew. The hustle and bustle through the halls was loud and more crowded than New Haven Jr. High had ever been. I saw plenty of people I recognized but no one who I actually knew enough to go up to. It was intimidating. It also seemed like everywhere I went there were whispers and pointed fingers in my direction. I didn’t like it.
It took forever to find my locker assignment. It was on the third floor, near the bell tower. And it turned out Jimmy’s locker was right across the hall. I’d tried out the combination, turned around, and there he was standing with Kella and Sarah. Kella had her hair done up in a bun, with curly tendrils falling on either side of her face. Her ice blue eyes were bright with excitement. She wore the typical white top and black skirt but I was surprised to see her in plain white socks. The “dress code” never specified what type of socks and shoes to wear and a lot of kids used this “loophole” to show their rebellion. Wearing socks and shoes that don’t match your outfit. What a rebellion. Note the sarcasm. But everybody did it. Even I did it.
I hadn’t anticipated on being so happy to see them. I let my guard down. Without a thought I ran up behind Jimmy and jumped on his back, like I’d done a million times before. It never occurred to me that this was high school now, and what might’ve been okay in Jr. High would NOT be okay here.
I’d never given much thought to sexuality. What I knew was, that though I’d had sex with more men than women, I’d enjoyed being with the women a hell of a lot more. I figured that meant I wasn’t gay and that was that.
Jimmy didn’t yell at me. He pushed me off him like he’d always done and said, “Would you please stop doing that?”
I just grinned and turned to Kella and Sarah. Sarah’d decided to brave the new school without the water balloons in her bra that had become her security blanket the year before. She had a funny look on her face. “Hi, Vic,” she said softly.
That surprised me. She’d always called me Vicki, even after I’d asked her a million times to just call me Vic. I hated my nickname.
She took a deep breath. “I’ll see you guys later,” she told us quietly, turning and walking off.
“What was that about?” I asked.
Kella shrugged. “We don’t think Sarah likes us anymore.” She stared at me for a moment, those brilliant blues piercing me. I always felt as though Kella could read my mind. Certainly, she almost always saw right through me. “You’ve lost weight.”
“Where?” Jimmy said, poking me and I let out a girlish squeal. “He’s a stick. He’s skinnier than you are.”
Kella didn’t say anything for a moment, just kept her unflinching gaze on me for a few seconds more. “Let me see your schedule.”
I handed it to her wordlessly.
She smiled. “At least we all have the same lunch. And we’re all in the same drama bell, too! This is too cool!”
I’d signed up for Introduction to Theatre Arts only through Kella’s insistence. My one and only experience with the theatre was our fifth-grade play where we put on a production of “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.” Kella was the Queen of Hearts, Sarah was the White Rabbit, Bobby was a card, and Jimmy and I had been cast as the Mad Hatter and the Mad March Hare. (I was the Hatter). Fitting, since we were the two worst behaved kids in the class.
Kella had said since there was only one intro class we were sure to be in there together. I guess she was right.
I glanced at Jimmy since he was silent, trying to determine if he was mad at me or not. He got new “fucking” glasses, I noticed. Thinner frames. They looked a lot better on him. If there was one thing Jimmy hated, it was his glasses. I knew Jimmy hadn’t been mad at the funeral, and he hadn’t seemed mad at me a month earlier when he’d come over Snakes, and we’d spent two hours drinking Scotch and watching MTV, not saying a thing to each other. For a moment, I wondered if they had found out exactly what part I’d played in Bobby’s death. But that was impossible.
I guess my emotions were showing because Kella asked, “Something wrong?”
I shook my head, smiling brightly. “No, not at all. Do I have any other classes with you guys?”
Kella nodded. “You have the same math and English as Sarah, science with me, and gym with Jimmy.” So at least one of them was in all my classes except history and study hall. That I could live with. I would probably be spending the following summer in history since I didn’t have anybody to cheat off of.
“From what I gather,” Kella went on, “it seems most of the freshman have pretty much the same schedules depending on what elective and advanced courses they’re taking. I guess it’s pretty much the same thing with all the grades.”
The warning bell rang and we parted ways, only after Kella had given me explicit directions to my first period English class. She’d gone to orientation.
As I went through the door, for the first time I really noticed the sea of new faces. People were judging me. I didn’t like it.
I spotted Sarah sitting towards the back beside pretty, red-headed Elsie MacNicols. Elsie had been notorious at New Haven Jr. High for her “risqué” choice of clothes and that she let guys put their hands down her pants on the first date, though she never went further than that. I’d never gone out with her, but I did make out with her at a party once. Jimmy had gone out with her twice.
I hurried back there and jumped into the seat behind Sarah. “Hi,” I said, leaning up and kissing her quickly on the cheek.
Her face blushed tomato red and cracked a small smile. “Hi.” People were watching us.
“Are you mad at me about something,” I said in a mock serious tone.
She shook her head. “No. Not mad. Not here.”
I understood. We’d talk another time. I sat back and turned to Elsie, who was beside me. “Hi, Elsie,” I said, flashing her one of my charming smiles. “Did you enjoy your summer vacation?” I asked, making myself sound like a little kid.
She smiled slightly. “It was all right, I guess. I heard you guys had a wild one, though.”
I shrugged.
“That’s crazy about Bobby.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe it.”
I thought back. “You weren’t at the funeral, were you?”
“No. I was out of town. I heard about it when I got back. Never figured him for a druggie.”
Sarah’s face darkened.
The bell rang then, ending our conversation and the last few cockroaches--did I say cockroaches? I mean, kids--scurried in. Then the teacher came in. I glanced at my schedule and saw that her name was Craille. I could tell right away we weren’t going to like each other. She was fat. And her fat rolls jiggled as she walked. She had a twitch, too. She was always glancing around nervously and twisting the gaudy string of pearls she wore around her thick neck.
I’ve always tried to be open-minded and unprejudiced (because I‘m certainly not one to talk), but fat people just nauseate me. I hated her on sight.
“Hello, class. I am Miss Craille, and I will be your teacher of English this year.” Miss. So she wasn’t married. Not surprising. Who’d want to marry that fat, disgusting hog? “I know the merging of schools is difficult on everyone and it s going to be full of compromises you weren’t expecting to make. Each of you are my students. It matters not what school you came from.”
And on and on she went. She talked through the whole period, barely stopping to draw breath. I put my head on my desk and spent the bell staring at the sky through the wide window, only saying “Here,” when my name was called during roll. She stopped me on my way out the door.
“Mr. Abernathy, if you plan on spending the rest of the year sleeping through my class, don’t bother showing up.”
I said nothing. I left with a smirk on my face, deciding to break my little vow to miss as many days as possible just to come to her class and sleep.
xXxXx
My conversation with Elsie had me realize one thing, though. We, Jimmy, Kella, Sarah, and myself, were Bobby Valentino’s inner circle. The boy who, to the outside world, died from doing heroine, stealing a car, and driving it off a cliff. There was bound to be speculation about us. And I wondered exactly what was being said.
xXxXx