2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Sloane
M y first class is AP French and for me, a great way to start the day. I love French class and this year, our class should be small since only two years of a foreign language are required and only the truly devoted take it after that. There aren't many of us who stuck with French for five years. I never had a desire to take home economics which most kids took in eighth grade, so me and the dozen or so other kids who started French in eighth grade have made it to AP French.
I slide into a seat in Madame Carney's class, facing the door and take the front seat in the row. This is the same seat I had last year, but I had my best friend Tameka next to me. She's a year older and graduated last year. Madame Carney’s class is set up with one small section facing front and the two side sections facing each other, but angled toward the front, so we can all see each other and our teacher. I love Madame Carney. She's tall and slim like me with a gentle disposition. Her naturally curly hair is a white blonde, just a shade darker than her fair skin. Last year, I was in a class with mostly seniors. That's where I made friends with Tameka Grant, my best friend who is in college in Alabama this year. Tameka and I became fast friends and spent most of the summer together. We are complete opposites in so many ways, but maybe that's why we get along so well. I'm really tall and thin and my skin is pale, and she is really short and curvy and her skin is dark. We joke that she got all the curves and I got none. Literally, none. She also attracts a lot of attention from guys and, you guessed it, I do not.
Kurt Stone ambles in wearing baggie jeans and a white Descendents T-shirt featuring a black line drawing of a guy wearing glasses, a shirt, and tie. He slides into the seat next to mine. "Sloane!" he exclaims as he drops his navy JanSport backpack to the floor. "From French 101 in eighth grade to AP Fran?ais. Can you believe this is our last year?" When Kurt and I sat next to each other in French 101 our freshman year, he doodled band names on my yellow folder. He repeatedly asked me to come swimming at his house, but I repeatedly turned him down. Not because I didn't like him, I did, but because I was so self-conscious of my flat-chested body and didn't want to be in a swimsuit in front of him. Four years later, I'm still waiting to fill out, but Kurt and I are friends, so that's cool. Like most of my school friends, we don’t hang out outside of school, but we have a good time together in class. Kurt's one of the few people in school I know who listens to good music and is goofy like me--two great qualities in a friend.
"You know I can't wait to get out of here." I smile. "I'm so glad we're in class together again. I missed you last year."
"Me, too." He smiles back. "This year is gonna rock."
“You think?” I ask.
Kurt nods. “Senior year is supposed to be way easier than junior year, and we have cool things to look forward to like dances, Spring Break, our senior prank, all the rites of passage.”
I let out a breath. “I think I’m just over the people and cliques, you know?”
Kurt nods, “The cliques are definitely tight here.” He jokes, “If anyone is mean to you, you let me know.”
I smile at his kindness and we both know he’s not going to beat anyone up. Kurt and I have known each other since his family moved here in fourth grade when we were both awkward and wore braces. Neither of us is confrontational. “It’s not like anyone is outwardly mean. Sure, I’ve caught girls talking behind my back or judging the way I look, but generally people are okay. It’s just…” I think about how to define what my experience has been at this school. “That friendliness doesn’t extend to outside of school, you know?”
Kurt frowns. “Well, we’ll have to change that this year.”
I half-joke, “I would just love to get asked to prom. How pathetic would it be if I don’t even get asked to my senior prom?”
Kurt laughs, “You’ll totally get asked to prom.” He pulls a notebook out of his bag, and I notice the band stickers on the front.
I’m not so sure about that but I nod at his notebook, moving the conversation to something lighter. "Did you see any good bands this summer?"
"Yeah—" he starts but is interrupted.
" Bonjour, chats sauvages! " Amber Gates sings the French term for our school mascot, wildcats, as she saunters into the room in her red, white, and blue cheerleading uniform, her long, jet black hair trailing down her back.
" Bonjour , Amber!" Madame Carney says.
"Ugh," I whisper to Kurt. "She’s definitely one who is not so nice. While I missed having you in my class last year, I certainly didn't miss her.”
Kurt chuckles. "I know. I did envy you for that."
"How is she so popular anyway? She's been popular since the fourth grade, and since junior high has gotten more insufferable every year."
Kurt looks at me, "Let's just say you have principles that I don't think she does."
I look at Amber. She is not someone who you would say is pretty nor is she ugly, physically anyway, though she does often wear an expression as if she’s just smelled something foul. Her body on the other hand is much more like Tameka's than mine, petite with curves all over. "I may die a lonely, single woman, but at least I'll have my principles," I joke.
Kurt stifles a laugh and covers his mouth with his hand. "Dude, guys are going to be falling all over themselves to get to you in college."
I let out a jaded laugh. “We’ll see.” I can’t imagine a world where guys would be throwing themselves at me, but I hope Kurt is right and that things are different once I’m out of here.
Derek Cone, a blond boy who was the only other junior in my French class last year walks in and sits behind me. As we exchange a greeting, Ramsey Huff and Diana “Di” Carroll walk in together and sit on the other side of Kurt, closer to Amber. Ramsey, Diana, and I went on a French immersion weekend over the summer and they were really nice to me. Ramsey is a cheerleader and part of the popular crowd, but is super sweet, unlike some in her clique, Amber being the worst. Di is nice as well, and part of the cool crowd who tend to be artsy and into music, stuff like The Who, Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, and Pink Floyd.
I turn around after talking to Derek and Ramsey says, “Hey Sloane,” with a bright smile. Amber’s eyes bulge momentarily, then she rolls her eyes and turns to Ramsey.
“Hey Ramsey, Hey Di,” I say to them as Di smiles and waves before pulling her notebook out. I’m glad there are some friendly faces in the group, but I know that even though I had fun with Ramsey and Di on our trip, that won’t translate to being friends outside of school. It never does. The cliques are so tight, and maybe I’m just not that interesting to my peers. Or, maybe I’m just too much of a goody-goody.
Madame Carney interrupts my thoughts and asks us to tell the class, en fran?ais , what we did over the summer. I kissed a boy for the first time, I think to myself. Yeah, I know, seventeen is a little old for a first kiss, but boys just aren't into me. Of course, I will keep that to myself. The boy I kissed goes to a different school and I think about how nice it would be if a boy from my school wanted to kiss me, but I'm not holding my breath. I think about Tyler Finlay and daydream about what it would be like to date a boy like him. I’m good at daydreaming, but my daydreams never turn into reality.