Kyla showed me around school, giving me a few pointers. We got to class fifteen minutes late but I was enough of a scape goat to get Kye off the hook. So homeroom was the same old routine like my old school, morning announcements from some chick who dressed like the next CEO of Dollar Tech and an easygoing jock who brought a bit of comedy to her the grim aura she set and a bit of orientation from the homeroom teacher Mrs. Gruff. Who as her name suggested was a caricature of the Grinch. The rest of the classes flew by and my friends were limited to Kyla and some flexible chick in gym who said my backflip was Olympic-level.
There was the cafeteria where everyone was forced to eat either overcooked or undercooked meat, and where most 'atrocious' announcements, as the principal would call it, were made. In other words, it's where people dished gossip and made a fool of themselves when they could.
"If you're on Grace's good side though, she gives you the fried chicken and coleslaw from the teacher's lounge." She explained as she got two trays and handed me one. She winked at the lunch lady with a large hairnet barely covering her mousy hair. "Don't worry Grace, she's with me."
The lunch lady shot me a look and reluctantly spooned some coleslaw onto my tray. I returned her blank stare and took a sandwich going on my way.
She mentioned that the student body was divided into cliques.
"The AP kids." She said pointing to a group huddled at one table with open books. Obsessed with maintaining high grades and not-surprisingly, the valedictorian-to-be, Erik Dawson was seated among them. Tall, dark and handsome type with his dark hair in a crew cut. He looked like he could have been a jock. Kyla explained that he once was but they didn't appreciate his intellectual gifting so they booted him. He found his place with the AP kids after leading the mathletes club to victory.
She gestured to another group. The girls and guys alike all were wearing both camo pants and black pull necks or tanks. These guys were the more adventurous type. This one guy with messy blonde hair and a fitting black t-shirt shot me a wink. He kind of reminded me of Gordon Ramsey for some reason. My eyes went to my sandwich and I picked it up taking a huge bite.
"The rednecks," she said glaring at them. "There's a Lara Croft in there and she's by far the only cool girl I've ever met."
She beckoned a brunette with rim rod straight, copper hued hair to our table.
"Those guys are thrill seekers if I've ever seen any. But they're ridiculously unrealistic. They might be the guys who make up the largest population in the ER at Neilbrooke Hospital." She said.
She explained that when there were school trips though, these guys came in pretty handy. No one could outmatch their survival skills, which is precisely how 'Lara Croft' and her were even so close. Met at a camp, and since Kyla lacked any survival skills, she was in need of rescuing and they hit it off and became friends.
"I see Kye's giving you the grand tour," she said.
She extended a hand.
"Patricia Pembroke." She smiled. "Trish is fine."
I shook her hand with a fleeting smile.
She pointed at another group of popular kids, settled in three different tables, precariously close to each other.
"Now, that is the most interesting group here," she said. "The populars."
"They're divided but present a unified front when one faces a threat." Kyla explained.
"Typical." I blurted out.
So there was still the whole solidarity façade here. Pretending they're there for each other when really all they were going to do was bitch each other behind the scenes. I could see Allison twirling her hair giggling exaggeratedly at some joke that had been made. Already, even from where I was, I could tell the rest were uncomfortable with her having forced her way into their ranks. And that group was a house of cards waiting to crumble.
"I don't think you get it," Kyla cut in. "These guys are like a walking science experiment. We've got our prosocial populars, those who actually treat the rest of us like we're human, sell cookies and doughnuts and fritters and shit and they invite everyone to their parties. Then we've got our aggressive populars who mark their territory by talking like they own the place and mocking the little guy. These guys are smart when they want to be but they're the bad-comeback and suckish-nickname kind. It's a wonder they can even tie their own shoes."
"And finally, the bistrategic populars. These guys are a bit more like fair-weather friends. They're friendly when it's necessary but they are wildcards. They can go all Three Faces of Eve on you." Trisha's face furrowed seriously. "But they're lives are fun to watch from a distance."
"So…on a scale of one to gossip girl, how dramatic can their lives really be?" I asked.
My eyes locked with one of the guys at the popular table. Chestnut brown hair, blue eyes, looked like one of those cover page country club kids on Allison's magazines. He smiled at me and I smiled back.
I felt someone grab my arm.
"Oh no you don't." Kyla warned.
"What?" I asked innocently.
"I saw you eye flirting with Mr. Golfer over there. He's not on the market."
"He plays golf, does he?" I found myself smirking.
"And who says he has to be?" I joked. "Besides, what's the big problem?"
"His life is twelve HBO seasons of drama and he doesn't have a good relationship track record." Trisha said. "I should know."
I turned to her. Her head lowered sadly for a moment and a dense, overbearing silence clouded the air in sheer awkwardness. She swallowed hard. I placed a hand over hers and she gave a weak smile regaining her composure.
"Anyway, anyone interested in Candy Summerton's party this weekend?" Kyla broke the ice. "It'll be a good way for you to see Pepper Pot's student body unchained."
"I'd love to but I can't. I'm busy." I said finishing the last of my sandwich. Kyla spooned the rest of my coleslaw into her tray. I didn't' mind. Even the coleslaw was wanting. My opinion about this school was already waning.
"That's too bad," Kyla said. "I was hoping to spend more time with you two."
"Oh dial up the mush as a guilt trip. Real crafty K."
I laughed.
Maybe a party wouldn't be such a bad thing, if I was with Trish and Kye that is and if I was miles away from Ally. Plus who knows? Maybe Mr. Golfer and I could finally get a proper introduction. I was somewhat…intrigued.
"Okay, okay," I surrendered. "Text me the address and I'll meet you there."
My eyes wandered to the guy across the room, laughing and smiling with his friends. He occasionally looked up and shot me his million-dollar smirk but I couldn't help but wonder what Kyla had meant. Whether I liked it or not though, I could see it, behind that smile, behind those sparkling azure orbs, there was a lingering sadness.