Plain Jane (Chapter1)

Hello.  I’m Kate. I’m the girl no one saw, and this is my story.1

1. New Girl
I stared at my face in the mirror. Shoulder-length, straightened light brown hair, one bobby pin holding back my bangs. Brown eyes. Heart-shaped face. I took a look at the overall effect. Dark denim skinny jeans. Flowing pink shirt. Pink flip-flops. Black North Face backpack. In other words, a Plain Jane. I sighed. As I grabbed my lunch and blew my mom a kiss while walking out the door, I wondered what my first day of school in Orange, California would be like.
I got into my black Volvo and tossed my backpack into the passenger seat. I couldn’t wait for my younger brother and sister to be at the high school so I wouldn’t have the lonely ten-minute ride every morning, but today quiet was exactly what I needed.
I didn’t want this school to be like the other ones. I told my mom it would happen – I’d be the new girl that everyone talked about for a month, but no one talked to. Eventually, I would no longer be the hot topic of the school. I would make a new friend who I would sit with at lunch and hang out with on Friday nights. She would become my best friend, but we would only have each other. We would never be the ones invited to the parties, the ones sitting at the crowded lunch tables. I didn’t want that anymore. I’m not saying I wanted to be popular, but I didn’t want to be a loner, either. In fact, I didn’t really know what I wanted, I just knew that I didn’t want what I had already had.
I pulled into the school parking lot, grateful my mom had let me borrow her GPS. I took the spot I had been given a week before and got out of the car, looking around.
The school wasn’t big. It was of a modest size, definitely smaller than my old school of 3,000 students, but bigger than the one before of five hundred. I thought I remembered my mom saying that there were a little under 2,000 kids. I followed where a majority of students were headed, and saw a sign that said “Main Office.” I walked in.
“Excuse me,” I said warily to a woman at the front desk. She had a short black bob and diamond-studded glasses. She wore an expensive-looking suit. I was surprised at first, but then remembered I was in Orange County, California, not Hickory, Alabama. As she looked up, I told her that my name was Kate Clark and I was a new student, who was wondering where I could find my schedule. She rummaged through some files in her desk, and then handed me a paper with seven classes on it – Advanced Spanish IV, Jazz Ensemble, AP European History, British Literature, Physical Education, Pre-Calculus, and Physics. I got a little nervous at the sight of all the advanced classes, but I did my best not to show it. I asked her where we were supposed to go first, and she answered that we had a homeroom period every Monday and Thursday – and today was a Thursday. Then she gave me general directions as to where my homeroom and locker were, and hoped that I had a wonderful first day. I thanked her and walked out the door.
The school was pretty easy to navigate; I found my homeroom a few minutes before the bell rang. I must have gotten there way too early, because there was only one other person in the room, whom I assumed to be the teacher.
“Excuse me,” I quietly interrupted his writing. As he looked up, I asked, “Is this Mr. Hunter’s homeroom?”
He smiled and stood. “You must be Kate Clark. I’m Mr. Hunter. Pleasure.” He reached out his hand, and I shook it as I nodded. I noticed that he seemed pretty young, with blue eyes and short sandy blonde hair. “Take a seat, anywhere you like,” he instructed. I looked around the room and decided on a seat in the third of five rows, in the fourth of five columns. He nodded approvingly.
“Where you sit tells me a lot about you, Kate,” he explained. I waited for him to analyze my seat, but he offered no other words. By that time, about three more people had filed into the room. They sat down together, about two columns away. I looked down, getting the dreary feeling that this place was going to be like all the others.
As the bell rang, all but two seats had been taken – the two on either side of me. I sank down into my chair; I was so embarrassed that I wanted to sit out the rest of the day in the nurse’s office, if not ditch completely. However, I reminded myself that this was only homeroom, that I was only here two days a week. I straightened my back and waited for Mr. Hunter to begin.
“Welcome back, class. I’m glad to see we’re all here on time,” he said, walking over to the door to close it. But before he got the door fully closed, he dryly added, “Almost. Jacob Ryland, I should have realized you would be ruining my chances of having a punctual class for the third year in a row. It scares me to think of how much you will be abusing your privileges as a big bad senior next year.” Mr. Hunter raised an eyebrow as he waited for the last student to walk in, who shrugged carelessly.
Jacob Ryland. He was gorgeous. He had deep green eyes and dark brown hair, which was short and a chestnut color. He was tall, and an athlete – which I could infer immediately upon seeing his blue jacket with gold leather sleeves that read “OPHS SOCCER TRACK LACROSSE” on the back, and had eight or nine pins on the front. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. As he scanned the room, his eyes locked with mine. I was the first to look away. Seconds later, he took the seat to the left of me, glanced in my direction, moved his head in that nod girls love, said “‘Sup,” and then took his phone out discreetly and began texting under the desk. I quietly sighed.
“Well, ‘class,’ welcome to a brand new year. You’re officially upperclassmen. Woop-de-doo. You all deserve a pat on the back.” He rolled his eyes and my fellow classmates smiled. I could tell that he was respected by the students, probably because of his sour humor that many of us used ourselves.
“But before you do that, there’s someone you should meet.” Still looking down, my stomach dropped. This was the part I hated. You either had to stand up and introduce yourself (“Hi, I’m Kate.” “Where are you from, Kate?” “Uhm, well I moved from Alabama.” “Why did you move here?” “My mom’s job.” “What does she do?” And so on and so forth) or the teacher would gesture in your direction and say, “Class, this is Kate Clark. If you see her in the hallways, say hi – no one likes being new.” But this was different.
I waited for Mr. Hunter to give me the unwanted spotlight as I finally looked up, but instead he pointed to a girl in the front corner of the room by the window. She looked confused. “Tell us about yourself,” Mr. Hunter prompted.
Still confused, the girl stood up and answered. “Hi everyone, if you don’t already know me, which I highly doubt, I’m Ashley Granoth. I’m a junior, and this summer I went to Switzerland to ski and it was, like, really awesome. I met so many boys who ski, and I thought that was, like, really cool, how people everywhere know how?” Everyone stared at her, dumbfounded, and she sat down smiling. My label: Popular ditz.
As the introductions continued, I put a label on everyone in the class. There was a band geek, an emo chick, and nerd, an artist, a blooming politician…the list went on. I realized that I fit nowhere. As always. And then it was my turn to speak. I decided to go with the usual speech, the one I had used for the past four times I had moved, with slight modifications.
“Um, hi. I’m Kate-”
“Are you new?” A ghetto Latino interrupted.
Mr. Hunter put his index finger in front of his mouth. “Shh…let her finish.”
I continued. “Yes, I’m new here. I moved here yesterday from Hickory, Alabama. I lived there for a year and a half.” I sat down. The room was quiet. I could feel people’s eyes on me. I cast my eyes downward. The girl seated in front of me turned around, and, sensing my discomfort, sprang up.
“Gee, thanks, Kate, for the awesome introduction. If you ever need help with anything, you can ask any of us. So. I’m Maddie, I’m a junior…” And she continued with a long, detailed description of herself to the class, so by the time she was finished, everyone was blatantly staring at her.
The bell rang. I stood up quickly, trying to get out of the room as quickly as possible. Looking down at my schedule, I bumped into someone, losing my balance. Strong hands steadied me, though, and I looked up. “Thanks,” I said breathlessly to Jacob Ryland.
“No problem,” he smiled, showing a set of perfectly straight pearly whites that absolutely made my heart melt. “What class are you going to?”
I told him, and he laughed. “Ha, so you’re a smart new girl. We normally just get the rich, stupid ones. I’m in there, too, I’ll take you.” He jerked his head to the right, meaning “follow me.” And I did.