Bree ran toward me with Jane and Kenna in tow, waving around a piece of paper. “Ara.”
I stopped just beside my classroom, for some reason making it look like I was walking past it not to it. “Hey, guys.”
“Hey.” Bree stopped, a bit puffed out, and handed me the paper as explanation. “Birthday party,” she huffed. “Mine. Next weekend.”
I studied the printed sheet of paper that informed me I, Ara, had been invited to Bree’s 18th birthday party at ‘Bree’s House’. But it didn’t tell me anything else, like what to bring, and what sort of gift I should buy or… I looked at Jane. Did birthday invitations usually list that sort of thing?
“Never been to a birthday before, huh?” Bree said, folding the paper and stuffing it in my shirt pocket. “Just bring yourself—”
“And a date if you have one,” Kenna added.
“And what about a present?” I cringed. “I’m sorry to ask, but people on TV bring presents and I’ve never actually bought a present for anyone before. I wouldn’t know what to get.”
“I have a list for her,” Jane said.
“A list?” Was it a long list? Was I supposed to bring everything on it?
“We’ll explain at lunch,” she said, clearly finding this whole thing amusing.
“Say hi to Cal for me,” Bree said.
“And for me,” Kenna added with a wink as she backed away, falling into step with the others. As I watched them leave, laughing and having fun, I wished I could go with them. But I still hadn’t mastered anything other than writing my name. I wasn’t sure why I’d expected to be able to read and write in the first week of school. It was clearly going to take a long time, and as much as I liked sitting next to Cal, I really just wanted to be in the mainstream school with my other friends. I had a life to live after I finished school, and I wanted that to happen as quickly and with as high a score as possible.
When I walked into class, Cal moved his bag off my seat and grinned at me, waving.
“Hey,” I said, sitting down and dragging the chair in with my feet. “And Bree says hi. So does Kenna.”
He laughed. “Kenna too, huh?”
“Yeah. Why? Is there a story there?”
He just laughed again, opening his pencil case to take out a pen and a ruler. He turned then and placed a pen on David’s desk, even though he wasn’t here yet. “We dated once.”
“Oh. And I take it things didn’t work out.”
“They don’t usually at our age, Ara. It was just a bit of fun.”
I nodded, recording that on my mental list of things I needed to know about boys and relationships. “So, note to self: don’t get too serious about a guy until you leave high school?”
“Something like that.”
“You’re starting to sound like Brett.”
“Brett?”
“My brother.”
“Oh.” Cal nodded. “He’s on your case about that stuff, huh?”
“He just doesn’t want me to get hurt.”
“Why not?” he scoffed. “That’s a part of growing up—of finding out who you are.”
“How?”
“Well, I guess… because you don’t really know yourself until you know how you handle rejection or heartache or betrayal.”
I looked at him for a long time, even though he didn’t look at me. Sometimes he just sounded so mature and worldly.
The teacher set us to our tasks for the day then and, after promising to return and help me learn my letters and sounds, she wandered away, leaving Cal and me to talk quietly between ourselves.
“So, how come you never asked me?” Cal stood for a second and then sat back down, taking his phone from his back pocket.
Across from us, the teacher pored over the lesson with another student—one worse off in the mental department than Cal and I put together—so, certain she wouldn’t catch us talking in class, I leaned in and whispered, “Asked what?”
“Why I was sent to juvie.”
“Oh.” I felt the hot rush of social awkwardness flood my veins. “Was I supposed to?”
“It’s just… most people do.”
“Does it matter?” I shrugged. “They let you out, so you can’t be too bad a guy.”
He laughed. “They let murderers out too, Ara.”
“After they’ve served their time.”
He studied me for a moment, as if he was trying to figure me out.
“So?” I prompted. “What did they lock you up for?”
“I stole a car,” he stated, “but it was a cheap piece of shit and I did it on a dare. Although, technically, that’s not why they locked me up.”
“Then why did they?”
“I told the judge to go fuck himself.”
I covered my mouth, trying not to laugh out my shock.
“Safe to say, I’ll never do that again,” he said, turning to face the front as the teacher moved to the board.
“And six months in juvie was enough to land you in Special Ed classes? You missed that much in six months?”
He extended his legs, crossing his arms behind his head. “Nah. I’m playing dumb so I don’t have to do as much work. You’ve seen what Bree gets.”
I nodded.
“As long as I’m in here, I can get an A in all my assignments, and I ain’t gotta do jack to achieve it.”
I laughed. But secretly I was angry at him. I’d give anything to be intelligent or educated enough to get real homework. “Bree thinks you’re in here to avoid being in the same classes as your sister.”
“She would say that.” He sat taller, picking up a pen. “Because she’s stupid.”
“Cal!” I elbowed him.
“Ara, I’ve been in the same classes, same room, same matching stupid clothes as her since I was born. Why would it bother me now?”
“You share a room?”
He laughed at the horror on my face. “It’s the least of my worries, believe me.”
“Then what’s the worst?”
“Ara. Cal,” the teacher gently reminded us, directing our attention to the whiteboard.
When she turned away, Cal leaned in again. “Wanna catch up after school—at my house? Maybe I’ll tell you then.”
I nodded, looking up as David walked in and handed the teacher what I assumed was a late note. He looked wrecked today, like he hadn’t slept in a week or had maybe just run ten miles in heels with a homeless man wrapped around his neck. As he sat down behind us, he didn’t say a word—no hello, no smart-ass remark. I turned in my seat and tried to catch his gaze.
“You okay, new guy?”
He seemed caught off-guard for a moment, looking up like he’d forgotten anyone else was here. “Uh—” He sat taller and straightened his notebook. “Fine. Why?”
“Why are you late?”
His eyes went to Cal and then landed on his desk. I got the sense that something was bothering him—something he didn’t really want to talk about—so I turned back around and left him to his ‘new guy woes’. He had a tendency to be overly friendly and stare at me a lot, so I didn’t really want to encourage a close friendship with him, which is exactly what asking questions about his bad morning would do.