As the minutes dragged on in Chemistry class, the student body's watchful eyes have been glued on me ever since that "incident" as I'd like to call it. The solace that I expected I would get from this school seems to be far from my reach now if I let this situation carry on. I would undoubtedly care less about social hierarchies and what the student body thinks within the confines of this school if it weren't for Rachel Pines.
Her persistent attention gnawed at the edges of my consciousness, leaving me restless and preoccupied. Her unexpected interest in someone as unremarkable as myself stirred a whirlwind of questions about her motives. She may have stalked me, and may have dug something up about myself, but then again, that would be very doubtful. My past is as clean as a toddler's mind, I have nothing to hide within my social life as well.
Each passing moment only revealed more questions to Rachel's fascination, prompting me to even wonder what hidden qualities she saw lurking beneath the surface. Perhaps there was more to me than met the eye, a complexity waiting to be discovered by those willing to look beyond the superficial. And yet, the idea of unveiling my true self to someone as enigmatic as Rachel filled me with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation.
I have always longed for the comfort of anonymity, to fade into the background and reclaim the semblance of a normal, private life. Rachel on the other hand, is evidently an individual who is far from wanting to have that type of solitude in their life. She seems to want attention and does her best to keep herself in that life-of-a-party state, wanting to be the center of attention and have power.
Now that she has given her time of day to this boring individual, suddenly everyone seems to have taken an interest in me as well. I can feel their stares practically burning into my skin, dissecting my every move and whispering like I'm the latest gossip sensation in this school. It's honestly bothersome how disgustingly boring their business is to care about others' lives.
As the tension in the classroom reached its peak, the incessant ticking of the clock seemed to echo the rapid beating of my own heart. With every whispered conversation and sidelong glance, the weight of scrutiny became almost unbearable, gritting my teeth together with frustration and annoyance. But then, like a beacon of salvation, the sound of the lunch bell pierced through the tension, signaling the much-needed rest from all the meddling.
As the classroom emptied, the sea of eyes that had been fixated on me finally began to disperse, each individual turning their attention to their own lunchtime pursuits. Seizing the opportunity to escape the watchful gazes, I wasted no time in making my exit, navigating the crowded hallways with practiced ease.
With each hurried step, the distance between myself and the prying eyes of my peers grew, until finally, I found myself standing outside the confines of the classroom, the chaotic energy of the lunch hour swirling around me. In that moment of freedom, I allowed myself to breathe a sigh of relief. If it weren't for that bell, I would've lost my rationality that would cause a scene during Chemistry, which will CERTAINLY spiral me down in this hole of unwanted attention even further than I already am.
As I reached for the familiar metal handle of my locker, ready to lose myself in the mundane routine of retrieving my lunch, a sudden presence beside me shattered the fragile bubble of solitude I had managed to carve out. My temper began to rise and my patience shortened as I felt the weight of someone leaning against the locker adjacent to mine, their proximity a stark reminder of the ever-present scrutiny that seemed to follow me like a shadow.
Refusing to meet their gaze head-on, I kept my focus fixed on the task at hand, feigning indifference to their attempts to garner my attention. For all I knew, this encounter could be yet another ploy to draw me into the spotlight, to unravel the carefully constructed walls of anonymity I had so painstakingly erected around myself.
As I swung open the metal door of my locker, a calculated maneuver positioned to shield me from the unwelcome intrusion beside me, I couldn't help but feel a surge of defiance course through me. With deliberate precision, I angled the door in such a way that it served as a silent barrier between myself and the woman leaning against the adjacent locker, a subtle yet unmistakable signal of my reluctance to engage in conversation.
The very moment I did that, she immediately went to the OTHER adjacent locker. Making it so that I wouldn't cover her from my vision, though I commend her persistence, I also find it quite annoying, to be frank. I'm even able to notice the little smirk right across her lips, pouring with that teasing energy.
Seeing so that she won't leave me in peace, I give in to her nerve-wracking actions, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. Her smirk grew and she took out her hand, expecting me to shake it as she started to speak in this smooth Scottish accent.
"The name's Maeve Healy, or O'Healy if you're old fashioned. My friends call me Maevie." She says with a smile.
A familiar aura, reminiscent of Rachel's, enveloped the room, radiating a welcoming warmth that seemed to embrace everyone in its glow. Unlike Rachel's presence, which dazzled and blinded all who dared to get too close, this aura was comforting and inviting, offering a sense of belonging rather than awe.
"Joanne, uhm- Joanne Berkley," I say, as I shake the hand of the woman in front of me.
I wasn't sure what she wanted with me, or why she even approached me the way she did. It was certainly interesting and playful, fun as well if I may add, but motives, are the ones in question.
She seems like an old student who stays in the background, has a friend or two, and is an all-around person. The classic attire consists of Celadon Green joggers with white running shoes, paired with a denim jacket with a creamy white long-sleeved turtle neck underneath.
"I don't want to seem rude, but are you an old student? New student? Exchange student?" I ask doing my best to stay polite, but passive-aggressive as well, earning a chuckle from her.
"You're a craic cailín aren't ye?" She asks me with enthusiasm. "That doesn't answer my question.." I say as I let go of the handshake and place my hands in my pocket with a smile.
"I'm an old student here, my family moved right around here when I was a wee lass." She says with enthusiasm.
"Ohhh makes sense, but uhm, sorry I just have to ask…Are you both Irish and Scottish??? You used slang of both just now, and I just got curious." Showing my genuine curiosity.
She raised an eyebrow and then chuckled after my statement as if she was surprised and pleased that I would notice a change in her use of slang.
"Well spotted! My mum's Scottish, and my dad's Irish. I guess you could say I got the best of both worlds," Maeve replied with a smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Her accent danced between the lilting cadence of her Irish roots and the smoother tones of her Scottish heritage, creating a melody of its own.
The tension in my shoulders eased slightly. Maeve's genuine warmth and openness contrasted sharply with Rachel's calculated charm. It was a welcome change, a breath of fresh air in the otherwise stifling atmosphere of my new school.
"So, how's your first day going, Joanne?" Maeve asked, leaning casually against the lockers, her arms crossed. Her relaxed demeanor made it easier to engage in conversation.
"It's been... eventful," I replied, my mind briefly flashing back to the morning's encounter with Rachel. "A bit overwhelming, to be honest."
Maeve nodded understandingly. "Yeah, it can be a lot to take in. This place has its own rhythm. But you'll get the hang of it soon enough."
Her reassurance was comforting, a lifeline in the turbulent sea of high school politics. As we chatted, I couldn't help but feel a sense of ease around Maeve, a stark contrast to the guardedness I felt with others.
"Hey, if you ever need a break from all the madness, you can always join me and my friends for lunch," Maeve offered, her smile warm and inviting. "We're not exactly the 'in big group,' but we know how to have a good time."
"Well, about—" The ringing sound of the lunch bell cut her off, signaling the end of lunch for both of us.
"Oh shit, seems like we need to cut our conversation short, Berkley," she said as she grabbed my hand. Instinctively, I pulled away, but she gently tugged it back and began writing something on my palm with a pen.
I peeked at what she was doing and realized she was writing a number—her number, to be precise. The ink felt cool against my skin, the digits forming a connection that felt strangely comforting.
"Text me if you need anything," Maeve said with a grin, capping her pen and giving me a quick, friendly wink. "And don't worry, Joanne, you'll be just fine."
As we wrapped up our conversation and headed to our respective classes, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this new school wouldn't be as daunting as it seemed. With allies like Maeve, navigating the complexities of Cornerstone High might become a bit more manageable.
And as for Rachel Pines? Well, I would have to tread carefully. Her interest in me was still a mystery, one that I was both eager and apprehensive to unravel. But for now, I had found a small pocket of normalcy in Maeve's company, and that was enough to get me through the day.