Thin White Line Page 2

  She glances at me and her eyes widen. “Ah, yes, and you must be our new student, MacKenzie Parker.”

  “MacKenzie’s my cousin,” Brooke offers, standing back with arms over her chest.

  Mrs. Reynolds’s brows lift high. “What a surprise. I would have never guessed the two of you were related.”

  Brooke smirks, picks up the pencil on the counter, and starts tapping the eraser against the surface.

  Mrs. Reynolds gives a tight shake of the head and Brooke immediately stops tapping.

  “MacKenzie, my name is Mrs. Reynolds, the school secretary. Welcome to Pacific High School.” She over enunciates each word, reminding me of Sister Alexandria at my all-girls school. The nun had a habit of making everyone feel like an uneducated idiot.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds,” I tell her.

  Mrs. Reynolds beams at me and turns to get something off a desk.

  Brooke makes a snorting sound. I glance at her and she mouths the words, “kiss ass”.

  Mrs. Reynolds turns to me. “I’m sure your cousin has told you a little about our school, but if you have any questions, or need help finding your classes, feel free to pop in anytime to ask. I’m always here, except from twelve to twelve-thirty, which is when I have lunch.” She walks to her desk, shuffles through a stack of papers and pulls out a sheet. “I have your schedule here.” She slides the paper across the scratched counter. “The bell is going to ring in about five minutes, so Brooke, will you please see your cousin to Miss Loray’s class?”

  Brooke flashes a smile and I remember that smile from when we were kids. “Of course.”

  Mrs. Reynolds smiles back, flashing grayish-colored teeth. “Now if you’d like, MacKenzie, we can issue you a Pac Buddy. A Pac Buddy is another student who can be a mentor to—”

  “Kenz won’t need a Pac Buddy,” Brooke interrupts, swiping my schedule from the counter.

  I glance at Brooke, who gives me a trust me on this one look.

  “MacKenzie can make up her own mind, Brooke,” Mrs. Reynolds replies in a firm voice, smile still in place. “MacKenzie, if you feel that you need a Pac Buddy, just let me know and I’ll make it happen.”

  I nod. “Thanks.”

  “Well, we gotta go, Mrs. Reynolds.” Brooke pulls me towards the door.

  We start down the long hallway where other students are filtering in from different doorways. “I think you’ll be happy here once you get settled,” Brooke says. “I know it’s not sunny California, but Washington has its own rare beauty. You’ll grow to appreciate it in time.”

  I hope so...“It’s a good move for my mom, so that makes it a good move for me.”

  I can only hope my mom’s first day at work with Brooke’s mom will go smoothly and she doesn’t regret the move.

  My Aunt Shelley has always been overprotective of my mom and I can’t imagine that changing now.

  Brooke keeps talking, but I kind of tune out her voice because students are staring at us. My stomach is in knots and I keep wondering what I will do if everyone hates me. I have never been the new girl before. Back in San Diego, I always felt bad for the new student who was ushered into a room full of strangers, and that was in my private school with small class sizes. Even then, I never went out of my way to make the new girl comfortable, aside from saying hi, and now I’m the new girl.

  “I don’t want to sound lame or cliché, but Pacific is a really good school.” Brooke’s sarcastic tone makes me question her sincerity. “And most of the kids are pretty decent.”

  “Most, huh?”

  She smirks. “If anyone gives you crap, just let me know and I’ll take care of them.”

  I have a feeling that once people find out I’m related to Brooke, they won’t mess with me. “Thanks, Brooke.” I smile, grateful she has my back.

  Brooke stops before a door with a small window marred by fingerprints. “Well, this is it. Miss Loray is one of my favorite teachers at Pacific, even if she’s a bit intense.”

  “Intense in a good way or intense in a bad way?” I ask, taking a step into the room behind Brooke.

  Brooke laughs under her breath. “In a good way, although she talks way too much about her significant other. She’s newly engaged and so fucking obnoxious when it comes to talking about the upcoming wedding. I’m so over it.”

  The walls of the classroom are filled with colorful artwork and a few posters of classic black-and-white movies. There are five rectangular tables lined up around the edges of the room and each table holds six chairs.

  Miss Loray sits in the back of the room behind a dented metal desk. She has wavy, brown, shoulder-length hair that’s going gray and she doesn’t wear any makeup. She definitely has a hippie-chick vibe going on. As Brooke and I approach, she looks up from the papers she’s grading. “Hello, Brooke.” Her dark gaze shifts to me and she stands. She grins and the smile completely transforms her face. “You must be my new student, MacKenzie Parker. Welcome to my class. Your seat is in the back here.” She points towards a table in the very back, beside the window.

  Thank God. I was afraid she would sit me in one of the front tables.

  “My father was in the army, so we moved many times. I know how difficult it is to be the new student.” Miss Loray gives me a conspiratorial wink. “I think you’ll like it here. Everyone is friendly; isn’t that right, Brooke?”

  “Yes, Miss Loray,” Brooke says in a mocking tone. She’s making fun of me and how I talked to the school secretary. “I gotta bounce.” Brooke rushes for the door. “See ya later, Kenzie.”

  The second the door shuts behind her, I feel a surge of panic, but walk to the back row and sit down at the desk. I open my binder and grab a pencil, the task taking far longer than it normally would. I stall for time since students are filtering in the door by the second. I can feel their stares and I hate it. Never in my life have I been so conscious of my appearance...or felt so alone.

  By the time the bell rings, there is only one empty chair. Twenty seconds later, Josh Ryder walks into the classroom.

  My heart leaps to my throat.

  Miss Loray turns towards him and shakes her head. “Mr. Ryder, if this was a job, you would be fired.”

  Everyone in the class laughs.

  Ryder seems completely unaffected as he gives Miss Loray a heart-melting smile.

  Jesus, the man can even make a middle-aged woman blush.

  He slides the backpack off and kind of sprawls into the chair, leaning back and yawning. My pulse skitters when he looks right at me, smiles softly, and nods.

  The breath in my throat catches, but thankfully, I don’t go into a coughing fit. I nod back and notice the glances sent my way by the girls who sit on either side of me.

  I smile inwardly. Vancouver is definitely looking up.

  CHAPTER 3

  I feel like such a loser as I sit in the cafeteria, completely alone, without anyone going out of their way to welcome me to Pacific High. Well, aside from the group of jocks wearing letterman jackets who keep staring my way and grinning. One makes a crude gesture with his hand and mouth and I quickly look away. His friends laugh…

  Dick.

  Out of desperation I take my phone from the side pocket of my backpack and check my text messages. There are six from Ange. Every single one asks if I’m doing okay and if I’ve spotted any hot men.

  I reply, Yes & Yes, adding a smiley face for emphasis. I can hardly wait to tell her about Ryder. He’s the kind of guy we would spend days watching at the skateboard park by the beach. The guy who you watch from a comfortable distance. Who you fantasize about, but never even consider getting involved with because he would break your heart.

  Next, I check the weather and frown upon seeing it’s seventy-seven degrees in San Diego. As if I need a reminder that I’m a long way from home. It has been drizzling for the past three hours and I wish I had worn something thicker than a leather jacket.

  Nearby, someone clears their throat.

  I look up to find the cafeter
ia aide mean-mugging me. She shakes her head and I immediately power off my phone before shoving it into my backpack.

  Part of the school rules includes not using cell phones during school hours, but I don’t care. I need to feel in touch with my old life. I need to feel like I have a friend...aside from my cousin, who will probably drop me as soon as she can.

  Having first period with Ryder had been a great start, but aside from the initial smile and greeting, he hasn’t said a word; instead he seemed completely focused on his pottery project. I spent thirty minutes trying to mold the too hard clay into the beginnings of a mug, and fifteen minutes at the sink trying to get the clay off my hands. I ended up with brownish water stains on my shirt for the trouble.

  The smell of pizza wafts up to my nostrils, making my stomach rumble. Pizza probably isn’t the best choice from the limited buffet, especially considering what red sauce does to my stomach, but I need comfort food right now. After all, I’m sitting alone at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria, just two tables from where Josh Ryder and his buddies sit, and beside the table of leering jocks who are beginning to really creep me out. I feel like I have a target on my head. As the new girl, I expect people to stare, but seriously?

  My heart takes an excited leap when Brooke enters the cafeteria, but she doesn’t spare me a glance. She walks straight to the table where Ryder and his friends are eating lunch. There isn’t another girl at the table. Is my cousin one of those chicks who finds it easier to talk to guys than girls?

  I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.

  I wish I had the nerve to walk over to the table and take a seat, but I don’t and I won’t. I’m not going to push myself on my cousin. She’s been nice enough to bring me to school and I’m sure she wasn’t exactly thrilled to learn her younger cousin was coming to her high school to begin with. I don’t have the right to push myself into her life any further than that.

  If she wants to hang out with me, then she’ll invite me to hang out.

  Also, if this morning was any indication of our differences, then the chances that we will connect are pretty slim.

  I eat my pizza and watch the group from under lowered lids while doing my best to look less desperate than I feel.

  It freaking sucks being the new girl.

  “Another one from California. No doubt L.A. with her fake tan and bleach-blonde hair.” says a short brunette to her friends. I notice the group watching me from the lunch line. Ironically, one of them has bleach-blonde hair.

  Sure, I have highlights in my golden blonde hair and a bit of color, but the tan is compliments of the California sunshine; not a fake-and-bake tanning bed, thank you very much.

  I do my best to let the snide comment roll off my back. The bitchy brunette and her friends now sit at a nearby table, and I’m close enough to hear every word without trying; which makes it obvious that they are the kind of girls who want me to hear them, too.

  “And what the hell is she wearing?” the blonde says in a snarky tone.

  I shift in my seat and refrain from giving her the finger; no matter how much she deserves it.

  “Pathetic,” another adds.

  If anyone at my old school would have been talking shit about another student, one of the faculty would have taken them by the ear into the office and called their parents. The administrators at Saint Catherine’s had a no tolerance policy when it came to bullying.

  But I am a long way from Saint Catherine’s, I remind myself once again.

  Welcome to public school, Kenzie.

  As they continue with their rude remarks, I clear my throat and look right at them.

  The blonde straightens, penciled in brows shooting to her hairline. “Oh my God, I think she heard you.”

  “I don’t care if she did. In fact, I hope she hears everything.” The brunette shrugs. “I mean, seriously...what the hell is up with those jeans? Are they two sizes too small…or are they leggings?”

  The question causes an uproar of laughter at the table.

  “Right!” another girl agrees, smacking her gum with her mouth wide open. The sound annoys me...almost as much as the catty comments. First off, my jeans aren’t that tight. Haven’t they heard of super skinny jeans in Washington? Plus, that bitch has no room to talk. I can see every fat bulge in her back. I bite the inside of my lip in an effort to keep from popping off.

  “Did you see that?” The blonde nudges the brunette. “She just shot you the dirtiest look.”

  “Oh, she did not!” The brunette stands. For a second, I imagine myself in a fist fight on the cafeteria floor, but the image evaporates as the girl’s gaze shifts beyond me to something, or rather, someone else. She sits down slowly.

  “Hey, Kenzie,” Brooke says, smiling at me. That grin doesn’t even begin to touch her eyes.

  I’ve never been so happy to see anyone. I want to hug her. “Hey.”

  “Sorry, I just now saw you sitting here or I would have joined you earlier. How’s your day going so far? You okay?” Brooke’s gaze skips to the table where the brunette and her friends sit, watching us closely. There is nothing friendly in Brooke’s cold stare as she looks at them.

  “It’s going okay.”

  The table of girls has gone silent. I can tell by Brooke’s stance, hands planted firmly on her hips, that she is just waiting for one comment before she leaps over the table to pummel the girl and her buddies.

  Her gaze flicks back to me. “You sure you’re okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks.”

  Please don’t leave me.

  The brunette and her friends put their heads together. A second later, they laugh so loud, the entire cafeteria turns to see what has caused such an uproar.

  My stomach sinks to my toes. Just what I need—more attention directed my way and more drama in my life.

  Brooke sits down. Thank God.

  “So, tell me about your band,” I say, stealing a glance towards Ryder.

  “Ugh, I knew it.” Her voice is tinged with disappointment. “Don’t tell me you have the hots for Ryder.”

  Was I that obvious? “I’m not saying I have the hots for him. I just...think he’s gorgeous.”

  “He’s the bass player in my band, The Frozen.”

  “The Frozen, huh?”

  “Yeah, aptly named after I froze on stage the first time we played at a Battle of the Bands gig.” She flashes a smile and I’m reminded of the girl I knew all those years ago. “So embarrassing, but I guess the name beats Brooke and her Bitches.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I had thrown it out there, but the guys didn’t think it represented the band as a whole.” Her lips quirk. “The Frozen seemed much more appropriate.”

  “What kind of music do you play?”

  “You could call us post grunge or alternative rock.”

  I nod, acting like I know what she is talking about. “Where do you play?”

  “We practice at Curtis’s house and a few local festivals. We’ve even opened up for some pretty solid acts across the river at The Fantasy Ballroom in Portland.”

  I have no idea what The Fantasy Ballroom is, but it sounds amazing. “I’m impressed.”

  “We’re playing a college party in a couple of weeks, so that’s why I was so frustrated with Ryder. He has to show for practice if we’re going to be ready.” She leans forward and motions for me to do the same. “You should come with me to practice sometime.”

  My stomach clenches in excitement. This is how I hoped it would be between me and my cousin. “I would love that.” I’m excited to see her in action, though it doesn’t hurt that I’ll be seeing Ryder again, too.

  “It’s a date then.” She grabs the bag of chips off my tray. “You gonna eat this?” she asks, ripping the bag open before I can respond. She looks at my plate. “Pizza and chips. You’re thin now, but in time, that shit will go straight to your hips. Look at the women in our family if you don’t believe me.”

  She has a point...
>
  I sense someone from Ryder’s table watching me. I glance up and Ryder is looking our way. He lifts his chin a fraction and I have to stop myself from turning around to see if he is watching me or someone else.

  Brooke follows my gaze and then turns back to me with a grin. “Be careful. Ryder doesn’t have a problem in the girl department. Love the boy to death, but he can’t commit for shit.”

  “Is he seeing someone now?”

  Her lips quirk. “Ryder doesn’t necessarily ‘see’ anyone. He goes after what he wants, sleeps with whoever he wants, and then moves onto the next person. In all the years I’ve known him, I don’t remember him ever being exclusive—if that’s what you want to call it—for more than a month. Christ, even in sixth grade he was dating three of us at the same time and not one of us had a clue.”

  My eyes widen. “So, you went out with him?”

  “I was young and impressionable,” she says, looking embarrassed even to admit she’d been interested in Ryder at one time. “Been there, done that.”

  “Do you know who he’s seeing now?”

  “Her.” Brooke nods towards the first set of double doors. “The chick with the long brown hair and skanky black tips is Cicely, Ryder’s current lay...or basically the girl he shags on nights he should be practicing with his band. The girls who’ve been talking shit about you are her friends.”

  My gut twists. Not only is Cicely pretty and tall, she has the tiniest waist I’ve ever seen.

  I try to ignore the stab of envy that rushes through me as I watch Cicely stop at her friends’ table for European cheek kisses (seriously), before passing my table and sliding her butt onto the bench beside Ryder.

  “The black tips are new for her. I call it the ‘Ryder Affect’.”

  I frown. “The ‘Ryder Affect?’”

  “Yeah, every time Ryder starts seeing a chick, the next thing you know she’s changing her looks to be more like him, or rather, what they think Ryder wants. Cicely is morphing from jock girl to rocker chick before my eyes.” She shakes her head. “So sad.”