Chapter 3
Ellie
Idid it. I survived my first day of high school.
Well, almost.
The only thing standing between me and survival is seventh period Spanish. I weave through the desks and take my seat in the middle of the row by the window.
There’s a view of the tennis courts, the practice fields, and the teachers’ parking lot–it isn’t much to look at, but something about gazing wistfully out the window like I’m in a 1999 Mandy Moore music video makes me feel like I’m standing at the precipice of something huge.
That’s exactly what it is, I guess–the beginning of the rest of my life. All of my big dreams about getting out of my small hometown and seeing the world begin with surviving high school.
You’re closer than you’ve ever been, Ellie, I think determinedly as I begin to meticulously lay out my pens, textbook, and journal when my attention is drawn to the door as a group of three very loud (obnoxious) boys stumble into the room, laughing about something that I’m sure wasn’t nearly funny enough to warrant their current decibel level.
To my annoyance, they take the desks immediately surrounding me, still yammering away.
Settling in, they haphazardly yank their textbooks and notepads out of backpacks that look like they’ve been run over by multiple buses, then–almost as if they rehearsed it–they turn to look at me at the same time.
The one on my right shoots me a mischievous smirk and rattles off, “My family’s from Mexico, so I don’t even know why I have to take this class, but if you ever need help, I got you girl. Oh, and I’m David."
He’s about my height, with dark hair and thick eyebrows, and a face that looks like he’s going to be trouble and he’s not going to be sorry about it. In front of him sits Jack, who introduces himself like this is a job interview and not a mandatory language course.
He looks more like a Kennedy than a high school freshman, I muse, taking in his impeccable posture, perfectly ironed khakis and heather gray golf polo as I grasp his outstretched hand.
The boy sitting directly in front of me turns sideways to look at me, stretching his long legs and cowboy boots out in front of him, and I’m met with bright brown eyes and a wide smile.
“Howdy there, I’m Griffin.”
The butterflies in my stomach are as instant as they are foreign.
I’ve never seen someone’s entire face light up like that before, but I know I want to see it again.
His voice is much deeper than I expect–like his voice got a head start over the rest of him in growing up.
His Southern drawl is strong, even for Texas.
“Hi,” I say quietly in return, feeling much more shy than usual, “I’m Ellie.”
“Ellie,” he repeats back slowly, like he’s savoring the word. “Is that short for Elizabeth?”
“For Eleanor.”
“Alright then Eleanor, it’s nice to meet you.”
I double-take, looking back up from where my eyes had dropped to my journal, and say “Oh, no, everyone calls me Ellie.” He doesn’t correct himself, just grins even wider and turns to the front when Senor Flores calls the class to attention.
The class flies by, but I find myself involuntarily glancing at the shaggy brown hair in front of me (and the tall, lanky cowboy it’s attached to) more than feels acceptable.
With the final dismissal bell, I realize that I did it. Officially. I don’t know why I was even nervous to begin with–I’ve gone to school with most of these kids since kindergarten. But still, high school is supposed to feel like a big deal right?
Everyone stands before the bell finishes ringing, gathering pens and papers and bags hurriedly to bolt as quickly as possible, but when I walk toward the door, head down while distractedly shoving my book in my bag, I stumble right into Griffin.
I quickly stammer out an apology, taking a step back and yanking my bag up my shoulder, but he just smiles that smile again, and the butterflies are back in full force.
“No worries. Have a good day, Eleanor.”
I stare at him as he walks out the door without looking back. Okay so apparently the ‘Eleanor’ thing is sticking, I think as I make my way out of the classroom and toward the entrance of Larkspur High.
I spot my mom waving excitedly at me from her silver Toyota Tacoma and push my way through the crowd of students waiting to be picked up. As I approach the door, my eye catches the three boys from Spanish class getting into the car behind me.
I look over and spot the hem of Jack’s khakis as he slides into the backseat of the enormous white SUV. Catching my eye, Griffin’s face lights up, waving before David shoves him into the backseat and clambers in after him, slamming the door.
“How was your day, sweet girl?,” my mom, Susan, asks while I carefully set my things on the floorboard and buckle in. “Was there anything big and exciting? Did you meet anyone new?”
“It was a good day. Nothing big or exciting, it was mostly just teacher introductions and classroom rules, boring first day stuff,” I tell her with a shrug, purposefully ignoring the last part of her question. But in the back of my mind, I’m reeling from big brown eyes and a charming grin.
***
I spend the rest of the semester beginning my last class of the day with “Howdy there,” and ending it with “Have a good day, Eleanor.” Which is totally fine–it’s all the words in between the hello and goodbye that are driving me nuts.
I thought that maybe after the beginning-of-the-year excitement wore off, the boys would settle in. Then I thought that maybe they’d calm down once football season ended. Then I told myself that the combination of the excitement of playoffs and the buzz of the holidays was to blame.
But as we start the second half of our freshman year, I realize I could not have been more wrong. Instead, they’ve cemented themselves as the loudest and most annoying part of my day.
David spends half his time teaching the kids around him every Spanish curse word he can think of, and the other half arguing with Senor Flores because “that’s not the way a conversation sounds in Mexico, you sound like a robot.”
Jack doesn’t talk much, but he spaces out at a level that comes around full circle and distracts me.
I don’t know why I feel even remotely responsible for him, but when I see him zoning out during a lesson that will surely be on the test, I get so stressed out on his behalf that I stop paying attention.
And don’t even get me started on Griffin Hart.
The butterflies I felt that first day have been viciously murdered by the spark of annoyance that flares up anytime he’s in a five-foot radius.
I don’t think that boy has ever stopped talking a day in his life.
If there’s room for a sarcastic comment or a wisecrack, he’s going to take it.
And if there’s not room, he’s going to make it. Sometimes I swear I think he could argue with a brick wall and win.
“Do you ever stop talking?” I hiss at him under my breath. “I can’t hear Senor Flores over your yapping.”
Without turning to fully look at me, he whispers out of the side of his mouth, “Why would I stop talking when everything I say is way more interesting than whatever this is?”
Rolling my eyes, I lean back in my seat again and try to focus on verb conjugation, but I seem to have poked the bear.
“Y’know, if you lightened up a bit I bet you’d actually be fun,” he continues in a hushed tone. “Then again,” he says as he turns around to look me in the eye, “You sure are cute when you’re annoyed with me.”
Scowling, I fire back, “I’m plenty of fun when I’m with people I actually like. You do not fall in that category.”
His eyes light up, like he’s excited at the prospect of arguing with me.
“I think you could like me if you tried hard enough. Maybe we could even be friends.”
“Hard pass. Does this usually work for you?”
I look past him toward Senor Flores, but I can see his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. It makes me scowl even harder.
The last ten minutes of the class are thankfully uneventful, but the moment the bell rings Griffin whips around to face me, continuing our argument like no time has passed.
“C’mon, give me a chance. For all you know, I could be the most darling gentleman in the history of Larkspur.” His face lights up with that stupid smile, and I find myself wondering how I ever thought it might be charming.
“Absolutely not.” I try to sound as unbothered as possible, but I can’t keep the sharp edge out of my voice. “I don’t need more friends, and even if I did, you wouldn’t make the list of people I’d consider.”
David and Jack look at each other quickly, then continue gathering their things and talking much louder than necessary. Griffin’s smile drops a bit, eyes flashing with irritation.
“What have I even done to you?” he snaps. “You can’t hate me this much just because you think I’m loud in class or whatever. I thought we got off on a good foot Eleanor, what am I missing here?”
Slamming my bag down with a thud and putting my hands on my hips, I look him straight in the eye. “Well maybe you’re not as darling as you think you are. Maybe we were never on a good foot, and now we probably- no, definitely- never will be.”
I know I’m being unnecessarily mean, but I can’t help it–there’s something about him that grates on my nerves in a way I’m entirely unfamiliar with.
Our voices have raised enough that David and Jack have given up any pretense about not eavesdropping, looking back and forth between us with their jaws dropped.
Griffin’s smile is completely gone now, and it’s his turn to scowl. “That’s how you want to play it, huh? Well great news darlin’, I no longer have any desire to be on good footing with you anyway.”
“Fine,” I snap, storming my way out of the classroom.
“FINE,” he yells at me as I walk away. I don’t bother to look back at him.