As I drive her to her apartment, we argue about what movie we’re going to watch this Saturday, and I keep my voice light and playful. Anything to brighten her mood and lessen the weight on her shoulders.
3
9th Grade
“So, what do you think?” I ask my best friend Preston as we’re filtered into the gym and onto the bleachers. “You see anyone you know?”
“Yeah. Brandon from South Middle is down there.” He points to the other side of the gym. “We go to the same sleepaway camp. And Bobby Flemming goes to church with my cousin. He’s over there.” I swing my eyes between the people Preston just pointed out. “What about you? See anyone?”
I scope out the gym again. It’s the first day of ninth grade, and both local middle schools filter into Morgan County High School. Preston and I both went to North Morgan Middle, so we’re already familiar with the teachers and the school layout, but there are also incoming ninth graders from South Morgan Middle starting today.
“I know Gavin is gonna be here. We played him in baseball this summer.”
“Oh yeah, Gavin. The dorky kid with the braces.” Preston laughs.
“Yup. He’s cool, though. He hit that homerun off Baker Kennedy and Kennedy was pissed for like weeks.”
Preston and I scan the crowd from our seats on the bleachers as hordes of freshmen filter in through the doors for the assembly.
“Hey,” I nudge Preston with my elbow. “Down there. Is that Chris Moore? From the summer soccer camp?”
I’m trying to get a good look at who might be Chris when I feel someone sit down next to me. I glance over my shoulder, thinking maybe it’s someone else I know, to find a girl with a blonde ponytail digging through a messenger bag.
A girl I definitely do not know.
“Hey,” I say to her. “You’ve got your head shoved so far into that bag that you could be wearing it as a hat.”
She startles and sits up straight, whipping her head around and fixing me with a glare.
“Excuse you?” she huffs.
“I said, you’ve got your hea—”
“Yes, I heard what you said. What I want to know is why you felt the need to say it?”
Well damn.
“Sorry,” I shrug. “I was just kidding around.”
“Oh.” Her eyes soften, and her lips turn up into a small, embarrassed smile. “Well, okay then. I get a little grumpy when I’m hungry.” She waves a granola bar in front of her, which must have been why she was digging around in her bag.
“It’s cool. My ma says I get hangry, too. I’m Kelley.” I point to my chest and smile real big. “Everyone calls me Kap, though. I’m from North Middle.”
“Ivy,” she says with a smile and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
Just as I’m about to pester her with more questions, the principal starts talking into the microphone to begin the assembly.
He talks about the student handbook and dress code and conduct expectations. All crap we’ve heard before. I just want to get to my classes so I can see who’s in them with me. I also want to get up with some of the guys from the summer soccer workshop. Tryouts are in two weeks so if I wanna make varsity as a freshman, I need to see who I’m up against, maybe see if anyone will run extra drills with me. My dad tries but he’s terrible at sports. Golf does not count.
Just as the principal is closing the assembly, I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I turn to find the blonde girl—Ivy—looking up at me with determined eyes.
“Kelley,” she starts.
“Ivy.”
“Um, I was wondering if you could show me to the locker bank nine?” She looks a little nervous, but her voice is steady and kind, and I feel weirdly proud of her. My mom always tells me to face my fear and work through my nerves—it’s how I made it through the travel baseball league tryouts two summers ago. It’s not easy. I’m still figuring it out, to be honest. But Ivy obviously can do it, and my chest warms all funny-like.
“Yeah. I’m in eight so you can just follow me.” As we head out of the gym, I tell Preston I’ll catch him later. He’s in bank four so he’s heading the opposite direction of us.