Chapter 2
Avilyna
LATE AGAIN
I’m late. Again.
Nothing surprising there, I'm always late. We’ve been in this town for a year and a half now.
With my dad’s job, that’s pretty decent since he’s always on the move.
As a trucker, he’s either on the road for long periods of time or at home for shorter ones.
Thankfully, I’m independent and responsible.
I’m not bragging; it’s just a fact, it comes from raising yourself.
And it’s a good thing I am, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to keep that stupid job. Which I wouldn’t be mad about, but I know Dad would be miserable if he had to stay put. A free spirit, they call it, and for that reason alone, I keep my mouth shut.
What’s the point anyway?
It wouldn’t change a thing.
It used to bother me to always be the new girl, to never be somewhere long enough to have friends to invite to my birthday. I don’t know where I would be without my aunt Ruby; she’s always looked out for me. But as the destinations took us farther from her town, it got harder for her to keep up.
I don’t blame her; travelling is brutal when you’re paralyzed from the waist down. She told me that herself, the summer I begged her to come to the cottage.
But she texts me every week to check in, and I do the same.
Ruby’s technically the mom I never had. She taught me everything my dad couldn’t, or was way too clumsy to even try.
I’ll never forget his one disastrous attempt at “the talk.” I was thirteen, and he stood outside the bathroom holding a box of pads as it might bite him.
“Alright, kiddo,” he said, “time to talk about… the monthly thing. The... uh, shark week?”
I just stared at him, completely mortified.
“Dad, please.”
“What? I am just saying, it’s like the ocean, you’re gonna want to make sure you’ve got your lifeguard on duty.”
I almost died of embarrassment, as he chuckled at his own joke. Ruby had to step in. I could’ve stayed with her, but that would’ve meant seeing my dad even less. I already don’t know my mom; I didn’t want my dad to become a stranger, too.
I finally reach my locker as the bell rings. Letting my school bag fall from my shoulder to the ground, I attempt to unlock it. Frustrated, it's already my third attempt, and with a grunt, I slam my hand into the metal.
“For fuck’s sake, are you kidding me!”
Bending down, I look into my bag for my phone. A deep chuckle interrupts me, spinning my head around. Victor Allen is standing right next to me.
With his football jacket making him look a bit broader than what I know he actually is, and his curly, light brown hair… Damn, he's hot.
“Well, I see that you still have trouble with your locker. Need some help?” He says with a smile dancing on his lips.
“Yes, please, I can’t deal with it any longer!” Moving out of the way, I display the combination on my phone. He barely needs ten seconds to open it.
“What the fuck, I’ve literally been trying for ten minutes.”
“I noticed. I should give you my phone number, in case you're having trouble again,” he says with a wink.
Smooth.
He clearly knows what he’s doing, unlike me, who lost my virginity drunk at some lame party my aunt insisted I go to, with a guy who lasted five minutes. Total letdown, but hey, it’s part of the whole ‘living the life’, right?
“Sure,” I say, handing him my phone. “Hopefully I don’t get detention for being late…” I sigh, knowing very well that Miss Lavoie isn’t impressed with my last year’s attendance records.
“Hold up, we’re both starting in French. I’ll add your name to my note; it's no big deal.” He grabs a pen from my locker and starts writing, “ A-V-I-L …”
I can tell that he’s struggling, which doesn’t surprise me; my name is a mouthful and certainly unique. But my mom chose it for its meaning.
Which is ridiculous to me.
Stubborn, okay. Honest, absolutely, even kind, I would have agreed with, but strong?
I haven’t found that yet.
“Y-N-A. You had a good start, which isn’t the case for most people.” A smile teases my lips.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to make a mistake on the paper,” Victor says while he scratches his head.
Cute, he’s shy. That’s surprising, coming from one of the popular guys, and even more so that it’s because of me.
“It’s all good, I’m the one who should thank you,” I say as I grab my French books and close my locker. Walking toward the class, Victor reaches for my arm to stop me before we get to the door.
“While I appreciate your thanks, I'd much rather you go out with me this Friday instead.”
“This Friday?” I chuckle in disbelief, but Victor simply nods. “And what would we be doing?” I ask, nervously tucking a curl behind my ear.
“Well, I was thinking you could come and watch me play. Although I don't recall ever seeing your pretty face in the bleachers."
“Nah, not really my thing.” I almost admit that I bring at least one book with me everywhere I go, and that if I had to attend something like that, I’d be reading the whole time. But I pull back and keep it to myself, being a reader in high school isn’t really the sexiest thing.
“Well, if we win, I would love to celebrate with a cute girl like you, and if we lose, I’ll need to be comforted with good company and a milkshake. So, I was thinking we could go eat at Denny's?”
There it is again, that charm.
I can't help but wonder why he's suddenly talking to me; we’re far from running in the same circles. Skepticism creeps in at the edges of my thoughts. Still, he did call me pretty… and that was kind of sweet.
“Alright, what time were you thinking?”
“7:30? And I can pick you up, just text me your address.”
Agreeing with a smile, we both enter the classroom. Miss Lavoie is clearly unhappy that we are interrupting her lesson on Molière, which, in my opinion, is boring. Why can’t we study more modern pieces of literature?
To my relief, the excuse note looks legit. After a minute of contemplating the yellow paper, she asks us to go take our seats.
I walk to my place, located in front of Aaron and to the left of Vanessa. Victor shoots me a bright smile on his way to his seat in the back of the class.
“Why is Victor smiling at you, and how come you guys came in late… together?” Aaron whisper-yells at the back of my head. I slightly turn to him as I am facing Vanessa, who’s looking at me with interest through her heavy eyeliner, making her blue eyes very intimidating.
“Ugh, he helped me with my locker, which, surprise… didn’t want to open.”
“Mmm mmm, that explains the lateness but not the smile, and Victor doesn’t help… anyone,” says Van with an indifferent tone, which I know is only a facade because her gaze doesn’t budge.
“Exactly!” Aaron adds.
“Mademoiselle Rey, vous m’avez déjà fait perdre du temps en arrivant en retard, et maintenant vous n’écoutez pas mon cours. Dois-je vous envoyer en retenue? ”
“Pardon, Madame Lavoie, je demandais tout simplement où nous étions rendus dans l’?uvre de Molière ; ca n’arrivera plus.”
Grateful that I avoided detention, again, with my lie of asking where we were in the book. I start opening my book to the proper page, thinking that I’m lucky enough to have made two of the greatest best friends, which is a first for me.
I love that we’re always together, text every day and hang out at least once a week outside of school.
When they learned about my living situation, the first thing they did was show up at my house with pizza boxes and a bottle of wine.
I provided the Scream movies and sneaked into my dad’s stash.
It was the first time I felt normal. The pizza boxes were piling up, and the late-night horror marathons were making it feel like nothing else in the world mattered.
I, the newbie who looks very not-white in this very Caucasian school.
Which wasn’t the case at my old school, that’s for sure, but I shouldn’t be surprised this far out of the city.
Then, Vanessa, who loves everything black a practical way to kill your social life in this small town.
Aaron, who loves to gossip even more than he loves his hair, is the perfect school news reporter.
And no one likes noisy people. Together, we’re our own little group of misfits, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
But what makes them very special to me is that they know about my night terrors, and no rumours about me being crazy have made their way through the school, yet.
Which is a miracle in itself. The last people I trusted enough to be vulnerable with didn’t have the same decency; actually, they didn’t wait twenty-four hours to tell everyone I was a murderer.
My phone vibrates in my jacket, pulling me out of my morbid thoughts.
Aaron: Don’t think the conversation is over, we need DETAILS!!!
Van: That’s right! And maybe if Victor is interested in you, Aaron will finally stop commenting on how perfect his shoulders are…ew.
: He does have perfect shoulders!
Aaron: SEE! It’s not just me, Lyna also has good taste!
: I’ll tell you everything after class
Van: You better.
“I still can’t believe that you have a date with Victor Allen! You’d better video call us when you pick your outfit because we both know you love being comfy a bit too much.” Vanessa says as we’re walking out of school.
“Ouch! But she’s right, luv, you can be a bit lazy with your wardrobe. Good thing you’re cute and have a great ass!” Aaron puts his arm around my shoulder, my head barely reaching his chin.
“What does my ass have to do with anything?”
“It makes anything that looks lame look three times better.” He states that as if it’s a known fact, which might be if you’re a celebrity, but that doesn’t work for common mortals. Some days you just feel a bit too round.
“Damn, why am I being attacked? Just because I don’t care about impressing some teenagers with my clothes doesn’t mean I don’t have a fashion sense.” Exasperation leaks through my words.