Chapter 3: 2: Faces, Names

Nobody cares about your armpits, I lectured myself in the halls. Even after changing my shirt post-gym, a thin sheet of sweat clung to my body. They’re only staring because you’re new.

I ran into my school savior again during lunch. After calling out her name, Cheryl sauntered on over and buddied up with me in the lunch line.

“You should sit with my pack,” she suggested. “Plenty of room for an extra body. You don’t have to join-join us, of course. Extra company is just nice.”

Hell if I’d know where else to sit, so I nodded.

We took our lunch (pasta, green beans, and suspicious Jello) to a table on the quieter end of the cafeteria. Already, a handful of people were seated there. One of them was that kid in the nerd shirt Cheryl chatted up in homeroom. Upon seeing us, he scooted over to make room.

“Hey guys,” Cheryl began, “This is Collin. He’s new here.”

“From our first period? Sorry, I don’t think I introduced myself yet,” the nerd shirt kid said. “David M.”

“And I’m David H,” a second guy across from David M said. “I go by Hoffman, though. Hoff for short.”

“Collin,” I introduced myself.

“And that’s Katie,” Cheryl continued around the table, “Leslie, and at the end of the table, our wonderful Selene. There’re more dudes—Sole and Kraig—but their lunch period is later.”

I knew for certain I wouldn’t remember everyone’s names, so I filed each of them in my memory based on their quirky looks. David M was scraggly, like Shaggy from Scooby Doo. Hoff was bigger than him, maybe half a head taller, and a few inches wider. Katie was the shortest and had pink glasses. Leslie looked like, well, a Leslie. And Selene…

I didn’t have to meet the missing two members to know she was the alpha. She radiated an aura of calmness, and had smooth, thick raven-black hair that was braided into corn rows along her temple. She was clean, professional, and didn’t need a lot of words to keep a firm grip on her pack.

It wasn’t hard to tell why each individual here coalesced together; they all looked like honor students who watched SciFi, enjoyed reading overbearing literature outside of English, and attended plays. They were nerdy not in the sense of basement dwelling sedentaries, but nerdy in the sense that they’d definitely graduate high school with decent scholarships, if not full rides.

“Glad to have you,” Selene said. Her voice was enviably smooth and monotone; she could say anything and still sound smart.

“Thanks,” I said as I put my tray down. “’Preciate you guys for letting me chill here.”

“Of course,” she replied. “We don’t mind at all. It’s disorienting, being the new kid in school. Especially as an upperclassman, when everyone else has already settled into their cliques. Glad Cheryl found you.”

“Yeah,” Hoff pitched in. “When I was a freshman transfer from out of state, Cher held my hand for the whole year.”

“And here you are, with your training wheels off,” Cheryl said smugly.

Everyone laughed at the inside joke. Awkwardly, I added a chuckle. As I dug into lunch, the interrogations began.

“Soo, got any hobbies?” Leslie asked. “Favorite games?”

I tried to think of the sort of answer that’d leave a good first impression. “Sometimes I hike.” I didn’t mention that most of the ‘hiking’ was when my parents made me walk around with a gun trying to get me into hunting. “And do you mean, like, board games or video games?”

“Either or.”

“I guess… Call of Duty?”

She scrunched up her face. Wrong answer. Selene shot her a reprimanding look.

“It’s good to get out,” Selene said. “I used to camp with my grandfather. He told me a good hike with a good friend makes a good day.”

“Sounds like good advice,” I joked.

“Where are you from?” Hoff asked.

“Sulphur Springs.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Most people haven’t. It’s a… ways away.” Like, a four-hour car ride away.

We chatted more for a bit, breaking the ice with a variety of little, non-consequential questions. When lunch was almost over, everyone passed their leftovers to Hoff, the table’s resident human trashcan. All the while, I scanned the rest of the lunchroom, trying to discern a rough estimate of how many packs existed. Not that I didn’t like Cheryl’s pack; I just wanted to scope out my options.

There was plenty of social sloppage between tables, a sign suggesting the packs at East Garden High didn’t keep solemnly to themselves. Caught up in the crowd’s complexities, I nearly missed him in the back, sitting alone at a table.

It wasn’t just the fact that he was sitting alone that made him easy to spot--his head of white hair separated him so clearly from the rest. I considered getting up and saying something before lunch ended. I don’t know, like a hello?

Then, the bell rang, and he disappeared into the crowd.

???? | ???? | ????

Day two of class—back to the grind.

“I don’t know his name, and I literally have him in three of my classes,” I told Cheryl at the start of English. I tried to speak quietly, even though the strange kid who sat in front of us hadn’t come into the room yet.

“Well, maybe you should ask,” she said.

“Can’t you just tell me?”

“And take the fun out of it?”

I wanted to say something more, but stopped short when our topic of the day entered the class. Nonchalantly, he resumed his usual seat. I moodily growled at Cheryl; she was proving worse than my sister when it came to nudging me in the ‘correct’ direction.

Not even a week into English, and we were already being assigned our first project. Mrs. Lovett was kind enough to put us in pairs based on our seating arrangements, assigning each group a choice of three dusty novels: Great Expectations, Pride and Prejudice, and Wuthering Heights. There were limited novels of each, so groups had to pick whatever was still available when the sign up sheet was passed around. Fortunately for Cheryl and I, the front half of the class had the best pick of the litter.

“Pride and Prejudice,” Cheryl decided for us. “Shortest of the three. Plus, maybe Jane Austen’s got some good tips for you on being broody and romantic.”

“You think I’m broody?” And/or romantic.

She laughed. I pouted.

A lot of people went for Great Expectations. I couldn’t help but chuckle when the only book left for Pierson’s peers in the back corner was Wuthering Heights. Not that it was a bad book—more so, that they looked like the antonym of thrilled.

“You’ve got two and a half weeks to finish your books,” Mrs. Lovett announced as she passed out the last copies. “Then, a five-page report, and a class presentation. I suggest using a power point-style program. Don’t wait until the last minute to get either done; come up with a gist of a topic while you read, and take diverse notes.”

As everyone divulged into group planning, I examined my edition. The back of my book had been ripped off, taking the summary with it. “Classic,” I complained under my breath. “Public school systems at their best.” I tossed my book on the desk, letting it slap against the wood. On the bright side, I didn’t see any dicks sharpied on the inside of the front cover.

“You can borrow mine.”

I almost missed his voice amidst the swell of classroom chatter. I couldn’t tell if the airiness in his tone portrayed delicateness or disinterest.

“Oh, actually, it isn’t that bad,” I retracted. Not, y’know, in a flustered sort of way. “I can live without the summary. Gotta read the whole thing anyways.”

“I insist.”

“He’ll take it,” Cheryl interrupted. “Because if he doesn’t, I’ll have to listen to him moan about it the whole project.”

Jeez, Cheryl and I just met yesterday, and already she was talking like we’d known each other since childhood.

“Fine,” I conceded to her. “Only because you said so. Thanks—“

“Simon,” he said.

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“Oh…” I swallowed. “Well, I’m—“

“Collin Thompson.” I stared at him a moment—how did he know already? “I do my best to pay attention in class, even if it’s just introductions.”

Someone behind me snickered. David.

“I’ll have it tomorrow,” Simon said.

“Sure, sure, no problem,” I responded.

He didn’t say anything more, turning around to talk to his own partner a row in front of him. I sank in my chair, metaphorical tail between my legs.

???? | ???? | ????

“Why didn’t you just tell me his name beforehand?” I asked, still blushing with embarrassment.

“Because you gotta take initiative, Collin,” Cheryl answered. David was still laughing after retelling the story himself to the whole lunch crew. “You can’t hide behind others.”

“Maybe after you and Simon exchange books, you can exchange numbers, too,” David teased. “Really, though. How many guys just own Pride and Prejudice?”

“Oh, knock it off.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s a classic, assigned read. Men can enjoy dated, musty books of any genre, just like any woman can. And, so you know, Cheryl picked it. Because it just so happens to be the shortest assigned book.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Selene interrupted the dissension. “What other classes does everyone have next?”

“Pre-calc,” Hoff muttered. "Don't know why they call it pre-calculus when its more algebra than actual calculus."

“Astronomy and Astrology,” David cheerfully chipped in.

“Home Ec.” I slumped. Before David had a chance to open his maw again, I cut him short. “Shop was full, alright?”

“Yeah, get a less sensitive manhood, David,” Cheryl snapped.

“Let it up, guys.” The sudden chill in Selene’s calm voice reigned her pack in. “I won’t see any of you for the rest of the day. Don’t start fights or do anything stupid, alright? Every year, first few weeks, everyone’s testing boundaries. Some people will take any excuse to pick a fight.”

Everyone else nodded. As we all gathered our trays to leave, Selene put her hand on my arm.

“Mind waiting a sec, Collin?” she said.

I nodded, waiting with her until the rest of her pack left.

“I’m not your pack lead,” she began. “Take my advice with a grain of salt. But… to say it politely, Simon’s not mean, but he isn’t nice, either. Don't let Cheryl and David get your hopes up about talking to him. And, while we’re on the subject, I advise staying away from Pierson, too.”

I raised my brow. Pierson and I's only, real interaction was in the privacy of the boy’s locker room, which I was pretty sure no one else saw. Selene jerked her chin off to the side, pointing my attention a couple of tables away. Great--there was Pierson, staring back at us with a shit eating grin.

“I swear, we’re not hanging out or anything, he just stares at me and drops one-liners," I defended myself. "What’s his deal, anyway?”

“There's bad blood running through the school, no matter what company you keep,” Selene simply put. “Don’t let him corner you. Take care, Collin. Ears up, eyes open.”

???? | ???? | ????

“How was class?” Amy asked from the kitchen when I got home from school. I dropped my bag next to the couch. The trig textbook I'd recently got made it thud.

“Good. Mostly, at least,” I told her. “Sam still at work?”

“She had to stop at the gas station. I’m making lasagna, you want any? Be done in fifteen minutes.”

“Of course.”

Samantha was Amy’s mother, not mine. Even if we were half-siblings, Amy would always be sis to me, the same way I’d always be her bro. However, my relationship to Sam was a little different.

I didn't know much outside of the fact that Sam had a fling with my birth father years before I was born. They never married, so she didn’t quite fit the stepmom category in our relations. Neither had I seen her very often before I moved to Garden City. The only way I could technically describe my relationship to Sam was as ‘my half-sister’s mom.’

Despite this, once I moved in, Sam acted as if she were my aunt, both personally and in public. Every time I called her by her full name, she reminded me I could just call her by her nickname. With time, I’d probably warm up to it all, though that didn’t remove the awkwardness between us now.

As hesitant as I was around her, that didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful. She took me under her wing right after… well, when shit hit the fan back home.

Despite all the weirdness of packing up my life on short notice and moving into Sam's townhouse, it was nice to be around Amy full time. I craved her company my entire childhood. Hell if I was going to waste it now.

“Did you make any friends at school?” my sister asked. I slid beside her at the sink to help unload the washer.

“Yeah. I met this girl named Cheryl, and she introduced me to her pack," I told her. "I’m not sure if I’m their type, but maybe. They probably see me as the country bumpkin.”

“Oh, don’t look at yourself like that,” Amy tittered. “How about anyone else?”

“Well… there’s this boy named Pierson.” I frowned, thinking about what Selene said of him. “He kind of creeps me out, though. Apparently, he’s the leader of the biggest pack in East Garden. I can’t tell if he’s interested in talking to me or crushing me under his boot.”

“There’s always a bully,” she sighed. “When you’re older, they don’t go away, but they get easier to manage. Helps that the end of the world happens less frequently after high school.”

I considered mentioning Simon to Amy, too. In the end, I decided against it. Not until I knew more about him. Plus, I didn't want me to tease me more than she already was. “You have bullies at your work, then?”

“Of course. I just bear my fangs at them until they go away. All bark, no bite, at the end of the day.”

After Pierson’s offer to wrench my gym locker apart, I doubted the same applied to him.

When the timer went off, I set at the dinner table as my sister pulled the lasagna out of the oven. Her timing couldn’t be better—out on the driveway, I heard Sam’s car pull up.

“Quarter moon’s next week,” Amy mentioned. I nodded idly, listening to the crunch of gravel as Sam approached the front door. “I know shifting on an off phase isn't as fun as full, but it’s been a while. I already told my work and my pack I wanted time off with family, so we can go to the dog park and have a run at it.”

I was happy to oblige. I really didn’t want to shift alone if I could avoid it—one summer in the city wasn't long enough for me to be comfortable on my own.

Sam walked in just as lasagna was served, still in her scrubs. She worked at the same pediatric hospital as Amy did, and though her scrub top was supposed to be jelly bear patterned, it reminded me of the Grateful Dead.

“How was school?” she asked as she hung up her purse.

I repeated what I told Amy in less detail.

“Well, if you ever need any friends,” Sam said. “There’s an arcade in town. And some game shops, if you do that DND thing. Oh, my coworker, Harriet, has a son your age. We can set up a play date, or—“

“I’m not twelve, Sam. Trust me, I’ll be alright. Worst-case scenario, if I can’t find any friends in class, I’ll do some after-school stuff. Maybe join a gardening club,” I joked.

“Oh! I’ll pick up some extra pots and tools for you, then!” she said excitedly. Clearly, I had miscalculated Sam taking me seriously. “There’s a sale at the local hardware store. Potting soil at a quarter of the usual price.”

“Sam, it’s almost fall, that’s probably why they’re on sale. I don’t think there’s anything you can really plant this time of year, anyways—“

“There’s tulips! Bulbs go in during September, right? Or October. I’ll ask my coworkers. The plant bed at the front of the house has some weed issues. Wouldn’t be hard to clean it up, maybe mulch it…”

Amy comically rolled her eyes at me from behind Sam. Maybe I’d get lucky, and Sam would forget our conversation by next week.

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