"If it continues," Mr. Hersh said firmly, "you might find no towels in the bathrooms. Then you'll all be wiping your hands on your clothes, and
considering how expensive some of your outfits are, girls, you should think about that."
If that's the biggest problem here, I thought, this will really be a new experience. The girls' room in my school always smelled of
smoke and had towels crunched and thrown about, graffiti on the walls and mirrors, and often toilets overflowing or full of cigarette butts, gum wrappers, and even tampons.
The bell rang, and everyone stood up. The darkhaired boy gazed back at me and then started out. The pretty brunette stepped toward me.
"I'm Germaine Osterhout," she said. "I'm the senior class president. Welcome to Dickinson," she blurted.
"Thank you," I said, but before I had finished, she had turned away and started out of the room.
"That's more than I got when I entered this school for the first time," said a very tall girl with long, straight, brown hair. "It was weeks before anyone would say hello or even recognize I existed."
I stared for a moment, and then she laughed.
"C'mon, stupid, I'm just kidding you," she said, seizing my arm and starting us after the others. "I'm Lynette Firestone. My mother and your cousin are good friends."
"Oh?"
Ami had never mentioned her, but she had never mentioned anyone for that matter, and what was again surprising, she hadn't mentioned that she had told our fiction to anyone else already.
Lynette paused and turned to me in tile hallway. I noticed that just about everyone passing by us looked at me with some interest.
"Sony about your parents. Lucky you weren't much younger when it happened. It's really nice of your cousin to take you in like this," she recited, "even though it makes you feel like a refugee."
"Pardon me? A refugee?"
"Just kidding. It's nice of her to care about you, and nice of me to volunteer to help you get
acclimated."
She had a long mouth that dipped in the corners, as though her facial muscles collapsed with fatigue around her lips. Her dark eyes were a little too large for the narrowness of her face, and her nose had an arrogant turn that looked recently constructed by a plastic surgeon. She was shapely, but not pretty enough to become a model. Her height, which looked to be at least six feet, had to be a detriment
considering the rest of her, I thought.
"You could say thank you," she added drily when I didn't say anything in return.
"What?" That's all I need, someone to remind me of when to say thank you, I thought.
"Nothing," she said, smiling. "Just kidding. No one says thank-you much around here. And no one apologizes for anything, so don't expect it."
"I don't," I said. "I don't expect anything from anyone. That way, if something good happens, it's a wonderful surprise."
She smiled.
"Actually, my mother made me promise, hand on the Bible, to be your friend. She had promised that to your cousin!'
"Oh, don't worry about that," I said, glancing at my schedule card to confirm the classroom for my first period. "I don't expect to make any friends here."
"Huh?" she said, her mouth opening with surprise.
"Just kidding," I told her, and walked on.
"Nicely done," I heard on my right and turned to see the dark-haired boy flash me a smile and walk on toward the same classroom. I had no idea he had been standing nearby and listening to our
conversation.