Mr. Davis, satisfied, tells us to run off to lunch before we have no time left to eat.
As we exit Mr. Davis’ classroom, Allison says, “Sit at my table for lunch, and we can talk about the project. I’m Allie Parker, by the way.”
***
The cafeteria is five times the size of the one at my last school, and a hell of a lot nicer too. Looking around, I start to dread the thought of Allison Parker dragging me to a table of people I don’t know. I can already imagine the snotty, too-pretty-for-their-own-good girls eating tofu and celery sticks so they can fit into their tight, super-short shorts. I spent the first half of this morning in a glass fishbowl office near the front entrance of the school with Aunt Claire and my new guidance counselor. While they talked, and went over my multiple school transcripts, I watched dozens of blonde, heavily made-up, over-dressed girls enter the building. It looked as if a crazy scientist obsessed with Taylor Swift had perfected human cloning and delivered them all to Long Beach High School.
“I usually sit over here.” Allie motions to a table that only has a few nerdy looking boys.
I contain my surprise, and give Allie a thorough once over. Her broad smile and pretty face had tricked me into thinking she was a Taylorette. But as I take a closer look, I can see she’s a far cry from a clone. Her sweet smile sits on a makeup-free face. True, she has that flawless California tan and great skin, but she’s naturally pretty, not primped and polished like the girls I saw this morning. Her clothes are also distinct from those of the clones. Wearing a pair of gray leggings and a long, loose white shirt, she stands apart without clothing clinging to every inch of her body.
Allie takes out a brown paper bag with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in it, giving me some relief. Aunt Claire packed me a lunch too. I had wondered if I’d be the only one.
We eat lunch quickly, with Allie chattering away about the project and how Mr. Davis runs his class. The period actually flies by as we talk. There’s an easy flow to our conversation and I have to remind myself I’m not here to get involved with anything or anyone. I need to keep focused on my goal. I’m here to find my sister.
The bell rings, signaling it’s time to head to another room of clones. Allie asks for my cell phone number so she can text me about meeting at the library tonight to pick a topic for our literature circle project. I’m embarrassed to tell her that I don’t know my own phone number. I’ve never even held an iPhone until this week, I’m not sure I can figure out how to add a contact quickly. Thinking fast, I hand her my new phone and say, “Here, call yourself on my phone— it’s faster.” She does and leaves me with a smile and wish of luck for the rest of my classes.
***
After school, I head out the front doors to look for Aunt Claire. I had told her not to take another day off work, that I could find my way home. If only she knew that I’d moved eight times since grade school, the constant changes leaving me with a better sense of direction than the GPS in her Honda CRV. I’ve refrained from telling her too much about my life with Mom. She always looks sad when I mention any of our troubles and I don’t want anyone’s pity.
I survey the line of expensive cars in front of the school, looking for Aunt Claire’s Honda. A chill crawls up my spine, raising the tiny hairs on the back of my neck, even though it’s almost ninety and there is no breeze. I turn, an eerie feeling of being watched, and scan the area. Nothing is behind me. Nothing to the right. Turning left, I freeze, finding a woman staring at me fixedly. She’s just standing there. Alone. Staring. Our eyes lock for a moment. She looks out of place. Her elegant cream-colored suit and two-tone high heels just don’t fit in. The teachers dress nice — I learned that today. But not this nice. She doesn’t turn away even though I’ve caught her staring. Oddly, I feel like she’s staring, yet doesn’t see me.
A car horn catches my attention, breaking the pull I feel toward the woman. “Do you know that woman?” I ask as I slide into Aunt Claire’s car.
“What woman?”
I look back to where she was just standing, but she’s gone. No sign of her anywhere. It’s hard to imagine she could disappear so quickly in those heels. “She was standing over there a minute ago.” I point toward the tree the woman stood under.
“I only see a bunch of students. What did she look like?”
“I don’t know. I guess it was a parent. Maybe she thought she knew me or something.” I shrug, feeling silly that I’d even mentioned it. Sometimes I think maybe I inherited Mom’s paranoia.
Aunt Claire peppers me with questions about my day. Did I make any friends? Did I like my classes? Did I think the work was the right level? How were the teachers? Did I eat the lunch she’d packed?
I guess she eventually spots my discomfort. “I’m sorry, Nikki. I have to remind myself that you’re a high school senior and not a ten year old. I hope I didn’t sound like I was trying to mother you too much.”
Stopping myself just short of telling her that Mom didn’t “mother” the way she thought, I decide to feed her inquisition instead of going down the serious road. “Don’t worry about it.” I smile halfheartedly. “I think I made a new friend today. Her name is Allie and we’re going to be on the same team for an English project. In fact, she asked me to meet the group at the West Long Beach library tonight. Do you know where that is? Can I go?”
Aunt Claire can’t hold back her enthusiasm. “Of course you can go. I’m so happy you made a friend. I was worried. This is such a big change for you.”