Chapter 3
The smell of breakfast wafted throughout the house Monday morning, waking me up and calling to my hunger. Bacon, eggs, and something sweet.
As much as I didn’t want to get out of bed, I was too geeked to have something homemade. The pizza Scott had ordered the night before had been great, but this was probably better.
Finally, something homecooked.
I took the steps one at a time, slowly making my way down to the kitchen.
Scott was singing to himself, an old record by The Beatles. His vocals weren’t bad. I almost wanted to ask if he did backup singing for his band, but then I didn’t want to get too personal.
Scott had two plates at the counter on the pass-through window and two stools pulled out, like some sort of bonding date.
That was not about to happen.
With his back to me, I swooped in and grabbed a plate and sat at the dining room table.
The clinking of the porcelain hitting the table elicited Scott’s attention. He faced the counter, expecting to see me, and then confusion set in.
He searched until he found me.
Scott looked at me, rewarding me with a peppy smile. “Saylor Moon! You’re up.”
I paused. “Saylor what?”
Scott went a little bashful. “I, uh, used to call you that when your mom was pregnant.”
“It’s just Saylor, Scott.”
He bobbed his head, focusing down on his skillet. “Let me get you some orange juice, or perhaps cranberry, apple?”
I forked my eggs. “Does it come with vodka?”
Scott’s silence forced me to look over and find him frowning. He set his skillet down, facing me as he placed his hand on his hip. “You will not be drinking in this house. Or smoking, that goes for cigarettes and bud.”
I rolled my eyes.
But then I saw a way out. Scott didn’t know me, couldn’t handle me, and all it would take was some fun to make him see how this whole endeavor was a big mistake.
One trip to LA, here I come.
Pasting on a big smile, I gave him a thumbs up. “Sure thing, Captain.”
Scott grimaced as he came around from the kitchen over to the dining room with his pan. “I mean it.”
He served me a few sausage links to go along with my plate of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and hash browns.
I ignored his warning and happily eyed the feast before me. This had taken time and effort. “Thank you.” I peeked up at him. “For making me breakfast.”
He nodded as he went and served his plate too. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I figured I’d try everything. Make me a list and I’ll get better at it.”
I shoved a couple forkfuls of eggs into my mouth before nibbling on the bacon and sausage. “This is great, really.”
Scott came and joined me at the table, sitting across from me and setting down a carton of orange juice.
He filled us each a glass before digging into his own meal.
The first five minutes were silent as we ate and sipped our OJ. I knew it wouldn’t last, but I was in a good mood due to the amazing breakfast he’d prepared. He could cook, something that made me anticipate my first dinner here.
Scott sat for a while and then I noticed his eyes on me.
“What?” I asked when I couldn’t take it anymore.
“You have a tattoo,” he pointed out.
I held out my hand, staring at the anchor tattooed on my middle finger. “One of them.”
Scott swallowed. “Them?”
I only had two: the anchor and a compass on my side, along with the quote “I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul” by William Ernest Henley. So three really.
I didn’t know much about sailing or the sea, but I knew that boats provided an escape route. A means of going wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted. When I hit eighteen, I would be the captain of my own destiny, and I couldn’t wait.
“Just three, Scott,” I said.
He blinked. “You’re seventeen.”
“You’re observant.”
Scott shook his head. “What I mean is, how’d you get away with it?”
“I know people.” I gave him a wink to cool him down, but of course it didn’t work.
“Geez,” he mumbled to himself.
“I don’t want any more if that makes you feel better,” I gave in.
This did seem to work. “Good.”
I chuckled as I ate some more of my eggs. If I liked showing off some skin, something told me Scott would have a heart attack if he saw my other ink.
“You want Chinese tonight?” Scott asked. “I’m working a mid-shift, ten to six, and I usually don’t feel like cooking after.”
Cooking was foreign to me, and in that moment, I cursed this fact.
“Or I could pick us up something from the prepared foods department at Marty’s,” he added.
“That sounds better,” I told him.
“Their specialty is fried chicken, but they also do baked, and some fish. They have amazing fish: cod, pangasius, tilapia, and even shrimp on occasion.”
“Chicken, baked, any vegetable, and mash potatoes,” I said.
Scott made a mental note of it and we went back to a silent breakfast.
We finished our food and then it was time to prepare for the worst: school.
I didn’t know what to wear or how to be. I hated everything about this move, and I wasn’t exactly up for forming friendships.
But then, I couldn’t find trouble on my own in this foreign town.
I went for casual: a denim jacket, a gray tank top, and black jeans paired off with my white Chucks.
It wasn’t too showy to stand out, but being that Meadow Grove was a small town, I would probably stand out anyway.
I gathered my messenger bag and met up with Scott down in the foyer.
“Ready?” he asked me, appearing hopeful.
I grumbled out a reply before leading the way out to his truck.
“What do you like to listen to?” Scott asked me once he was behind the wheel on the road to Horton High.
I kept my attention out the window, studying the passing scenery. “Aerosmith.”
“They’re one of my favorites.” He said it with surprise. Like he wasn’t trying to impress me, but was genuinely into them too.
He found a station dedicated to the classic band.
Steven was singing about a woman being his angel and I felt myself relax as I took in the melody. I loved Steven Tyler.
In another moment, we were at the school.
All around me I spotted groups of students talking and hanging about in close, familiar circles as Scott pulled up to the curb.
Dread sank in. It was late October, and alliances had already been formed. I was doomed to stick out.
Beep, beep!
Honking behind us pulled me from my misery.
“Just in time,” Scott was saying beside me. “I won’t be able to pick you up, so I’m having a buddy of mine do it. He’s in my band, and here comes his daughter, Cameron. So, keep in mind, if you ever lose your key, Cameron and Larry should have a spare. They’re family to me.”
Just as he spoke, I heard a car door shutting. In the side view mirror, I spotted a girl approaching us from an orange SUV. She walked with a pep in her step, her blonde ponytail swaying with her movement. By the smile on her face, I just knew she was a cheerleader.
I sank in my seat. Kill. Me. Now.
“Hey, Scott!” Cameron popped up at my window, seeming extra perky as her blue eyes bore into my father.
Scott waved in her direction. “Hey, Cam! This is my daughter, Saylor, and Saylor, this is Cameron Camburn.”
Cameron stuck her hand in the window to shake with me. “Hi.”
I peered at her outstretched hand, taking in her light orange nail polish, before finally shaking with her. “Nice to meet you.”
She stepped back as I went to open my door and get out of the truck. I faced Scott, wishing I were back home in bed. “See you around six?”
He nodded. “You got it. Have a wonderful day.”
“Trying,” I replied.
Scott drove off, and in seconds, the SUV was driving by, stopping so that Cameron’s father could wave to the both of us before driving on.
Soon, it was only Cameron and me.
“Welcome to Meadow Grove, Saylor,” Cameron chirped.
I held up my hand. “Are you the head cheerleader or just a cheerleader?”
Cameron chuckled. “That obvious, huh? I am the head cheerleader.”
Perfect. “And let me guess, your boyfriend’s the quarterback.”
Cameron’s brows knitted together. “Aidan? No way, he’s too busy with math. He’s training for a tournament this fall.”
I lived in a world where the head cheerleader was dating a mathlete?
Good lord, I’m in Kansas.
“If you ever need help with any class, just know I’m your girl.
I tutor after school sometimes,” Cameron offered.
“And Aidan’s your go-to for any help as far as administrators go.
He helps out in the senior office. You have no idea how many kids lose their locker combos and he has to help look them up. ”
No doubt Scott was hopeful things with Cameron worked out. She was a do-gooder through and through.
“What about you?” Cameron asked as we moved more onto school property.
I shrugged as I surveyed the area. “Not really into anything.”
“Oh, well, did you get along well with the cheerleaders at your old school?”
“No, they really didn’t like me much.”
She seemed genuinely concerned. “Really, why not?”
“I sorta kicked all their asses and made out with a few of their boyfriends, you know, the usual girl-on-girl drama.”
Cameron’s eyes grew big as she mumbled an oh my under her breath.
I snickered. Little Miss Innocent would be too easy.
In reality, because I opted to hang out with who society would consider “burnouts,” my little rep at my preppy high school wasn’t the best. In a lot of ways, I was that girl parents told you to stay away from, a loser going nowhere in life.
Funny, Scott had only been joking before about my potentially not going to college and becoming a nobody, but it was more than likely my fate.
We were making our way to the side of the building when I spotted them. Horton High held a fountain in its courtyard, and on it were a group of rough-looking individuals. They were all male, clad in black clothing, and smoking cigarettes as they lingered around the fountain.
There was one in particular who caught my eye, a tall boy who was the only one standing while he smoked. He had dark, long, wavy hair, skinny jeans, and a black muscle tee.
Just by looking at him I knew he was the one. No one approached him. He stood off in his own world as he leisurely smoked his cigarette.