Chapter 6: Grayson: Hey, New Guy!

When study hall ends, Isabelle is out of the room before I can grab my backpack from the floor, and by the time I make it to the hallway, she's gone. What is up with that girl? I check my schedule for my next class - Physics. At least it's something I'm good at. I find the room easily enough and claim a seat in the back.

A girl with curly brown hair and blue eyes stops next to my lab table. "Are you good in science?"

"Uh, yeah? I guess."

"Good." She sits next to me. "If I don't pass this class, I don't graduate, so I need a lab partner who knows what they're doing." She laughs, and it's a melodic sound. Not quite as enticing as Isabelle's laugh, but nice nonetheless. "You're the new guy, right?"

"Yup. That's me. New Guy." As much as I move around and have to switch schools, I should change my name to New Guy. It would be easier.

"That's not really your name, is it?" she asks, head tilted.

"No..." I say, drawing out the word. Is she messing with me? This is a joke, right? "I'm Grayson."

"Oh." Her confusion morphs into a bright smile. "I'm Brittany. You can call me Brit, though. Everyone does."

"You got it, Brit." I give her a thumbs-up, and she blushes. She's a pretty girl, but she's no Isabelle. I hope Brit doesn't think I'm rolling my eyes at her. It's Isabelle. I barely know that girl, and I'm positive she hates me. So, why is she creeping into my thoughts like this?

"So, make any friends yet?" Brit props her chin in one hand and drums her bright yellow fingernails against the lab table.

"I've met one person so far. Isabelle Carson."

Brit straightens and scrunches up her face. "Oh, sweetie. No." She shakes her head. "That girl is one freak out away from crazy town."

My first instinct is to defend Isabelle, but I really don't know her. Not that I think she's crazy, but Brit must know more about her than I do. All I want to do is learn about Isabelle, but I have a feeling Brit isn't the most objective person when it comes to the topic of Isabelle Carson.

"Trust me. Stick with me, and you'll have the best senior year ever."

I flash her my best fake smile and give thanks for the final bell, which cuts off any further conversation. Class progresses quickly, and before I know it, the teacher is dismissing us.

"What's your next class?" Brit asks as we leave the room.

"Geometry. You?"

"English." She frowns. "If you want, you're welcome to sit with me and my friends during lunch."

I'm momentarily shocked by her invitation but quickly realize she's saving me from the embarrassment of having to sit alone. I highly doubt Isabelle is going to save me a seat. "Thanks."

We part ways, and I take the four steps to the room next door.

"I don't know you," says a short, plump man with a bald head and beady eyes. "You must be new."

"Yes, sir. Grayson Alexander." The room is currently empty, and I worry that maybe I'm in the wrong class. "This is geometry, right?"

The man rubs his hands over his head. "Yes. I'm Mr. Quail."

"Quail? Like the bird?" I start to laugh, but when he glares at me, I clamp my mouth shut.

"Find a seat, Mr. Alexander."

Head down, I slink to the back of the room and slump behind a desk near the wall. I don't know which first impression is worse - almost running over Isabelle, or calling my math teacher a bird. I really need to think before I speak.

Despite the stern looks Mr. Quail sends my way, class speeds by, and when it's over, I have at least an hour's worth of homework. I check my schedule for my next class - Gym. I rush from the fourth floor all the way down to the bottom floor, where the gymnasium is located. Lakewood Valley High isn't the biggest school I've ever attended, but it's close. I'm going to have to take up jogging again so I can make it to my classes without huffing and puffing.

Unlike other schools, gym here is not co-ed, save for a few units: swimming, hiking, cross-country skiing, and track. I can't wait to get to the swimming unit, but I have to suffer through the other fitness units first. Hopefully, they won't suck too bad. The moment I see my classmates, I realize how athletic they all are and how out of my league I am. This is going to suck so hard. Thankfully, because it's the first day, we don't have to actually do anything strenuous, and I can blend in against the wall for most of the period.

"You're the new guy, aren't you?" asks a guy with shaggy brown hair as I'm leaving the locker room. He's wearing board shorts and a T-shirt with a surfing logo across the chest. I remember seeing him in my gym class.

"Yeah. Grayson." I refrain from rolling my eyes at being called the new guy again.

He sticks his hand out. "Vick Parker."

I shake his hand.

"You headed to lunch now?" Vick asks.

I nod. "If I can find the cafeteria."

He claps me on the back. "It's this way." He pushes through an unmarked door, which leads to a short hallway full of lockers. Turning a corner, he waves his arm to a glass-encased room full of tables. The cafeteria.

"Thanks, man."

"Food is this way."

He leads me around the outside of the room toward two smaller doors that are propped open. A small line has already formed. I grab a tray and get in line behind Vick. He piles silverware and napkins on his tray and moves down the line.

"The sandwiches are always good," he says, choosing a turkey and cheese on white bread. "Salads are decent, too, but avoid the hot foods. They're usually not very hot, and the meat is questionable."

"Got it." I pick a roast beef sandwich with lettuce and tomato and a bag of chips and set them on my tray as I follow Vick down the line.

"All you'll get in here is milk or water. If you want juice or pop, there's a vending machine in the cafeteria." He hands the lunch lady a ten, collects his change, and then waits for me to pay.

The cafeteria is filling fast. I scan the room for Brittany, planning to accept her earlier invitation, but I don't see her anywhere.

"C'mon, you can sit with me." Vick doesn't wait for me to answer before he strides across the room, weaving in between chairs and tables. He doesn't even look back when he walks out the side door.

I glance around, fully expecting to see a teacher chasing him and telling him to get back inside. But nothing happens. With no other options, I follow and catch up with him in a large, grassy courtyard.

"Seniors are allowed to sit out here for lunch," he says over his shoulder. "But once it starts snowing, we're held hostage inside."

A huge tree marks the courtyard's center. Decorative bricks surround the tree trunk and keep red mulch from spilling into the grass. A handful of round, concrete tables fill the space. Flowerbeds run the entire length of the building. It's certainly much cheerier than the cafeteria.

Vick sets his tray on a table, and that's when I notice Isabelle sitting at the same table, deep in conversation with another girl. Score! I happily set down my tray and sit beside Vick. Isabelle doesn't even notice me.

"Hey, Vick," the other guy at the table says. "Who's your friend?"

At that, Isabelle's head snaps up. She narrows her eyes at me. "Grayson." She nearly growls my name.