YA Fiction: Chapter 1 Revamp 2

I needed to stop biting my nails.

All ten of them were jagged, ragged, and at the point where one more bite would make them bleed. The dark red polish did nothing to hide the ruined tips and it wasn't the best thing I'd ever tasted.

It probably would've been strange if I started biting them there in the principal's office and they started bleeding all over the place.

Sighing, I slid my hands into my sleeves, cupping the points of my elbows, and looked out the window at the falling rain as the principal talked to my mother.

Going to a new school halfway through the year sucked. Everyone already had their schedules and their friends and their favourite spots to hang out, and I was about to walk the halls with them, clueless and lost.

Perfect.

I didn't want to move and go to a different high school, but it wasn't like I had a choice. After my dad died, my mom couldn't handle living in our old house. She said there were too many sad memories there, ones that would make her cry all night and sleep all day.

When Dad first died I cried with her. I missed him just as much as she did. It really sucked, losing him, but after a while it didn't hurt as much. I hit that acceptance/ healing process point about a year after we lost him, but Mom never really moved on.

I don't think she could move on. She and Dad were best friends. I could tell they really loved each other, and when he died some part of her died, too.

"Samantha? Are you okay?"

"What?" Pulled away from both the rain and my memories, I turned towards the principal, Mr. Ward, a tall, middle-aged man sitting on the other side of a large wooden desk. He didn't look like any principal I'd ever had, wearing faded jeans and a black t-shirt. He looked more like a teacher, or one of those fake-cool TV principals. "Sorry."

"That's alright. I just wanted to make sure you were still here with us."

Was I ever. "Ok. And it's Sam."

"I'm sorry?"

"My name. I go by Sam."

"Of course." His eyes drifted down to the papers sitting in front of him. "And your last name?"

Confused, I glanced over at Mom, my thumb pausing. "Isn't it on those papers?"

"Yes, it is, but I wanted to talk to you about that. To both of you." He nodded at Mom, turning slightly to face her. "I asked you here to discuss what you wanted to do about Sam's last name. Whatever she uses with influence who will talk to her and who won't, and I wanted to know if you wanted to change it."

Mom lifted a trembling hand up to her hair and drew in a shaky breath. "Why would we want to change it?"

"I know O'Reilly is listed as Sam's last name on her transcripts and other papers, but since you're her only parent, you can have her name changed to match yours."

"When Sam's father and I got married, we knew we might come back here, but we hoped it would be when she was grown up. Besides, it's up to Sam. It's her name."

Both of them looked at me, and I felt the blush creep up my neck and into my cheeks. I ducked my head to hide my pink face, but since my hair was short it didn't do much good. "Look, I know how things are around here with names, but I've been Sam O'Reilly for sixteen years and I'm not about to start using a different name. If people don't like it, then they're going to have to deal with it."

"Okay, then. I'll make sure your student account is under the name you want." Mr. Ward stacked up the papers and put them in a folder, then pulled out another from one of his desk drawers. "I've got your class schedule, your locker info, and a list of other various things that might help you out during the next few days."

He slid the folder across the desk towards me. "Welcome."

"Thanks. I'm sure I'll have a blast."

Mom turned and shot me a dirty look. "Sam."

"What?" I moved in my chair to look at her, the flush still in my cheeks. "Look, Mom, I get it, it's the same place you and Dad went to with the same cliques and groups and lines that shouldn't be crossed, but I really don't see the difference between this place and the one I used to go to. It's just a school."

Mr. Ward chuckled, shaking his head. "No school is just a school, Sam. They all have secrets. Why do you think the town is so isolated from others, so surrounded by the large trees?"

"I know why the town is in the middle of nowhere. Forgive me if I'm a little bitter, sir, but I didn't want to move here in the first place. This was my mother's decision, or my grandparents'. Take your pick."

Annoyed and tired, I stood up and took the folder from the desk. "If that's it, I'm going to find my locker before class starts. Wouldn't want to be late on my first day, would I?" Picking up my black messenger bag, I hooked it over my shoulder and headed out of the office, stopping in the hallway to look through the folder with my schedule and a map of the building.

Someone grabbed my arm and spun me around. I wasn't at all surprised to see Mom's annoyed face. "What's gotten into you?"

"Why'd you make us move here? Everything was fine back home. We had lots of friends. We could've moved into a smaller house, or even an apartment. I don't see why we had to come here."

"Your grandparents want us here. Since your father's gone, you're their only connection to him."

"I'm Gramps' only grandkid, too. How come he wasn't involved in this gong show?"

"All of your grandparents care about you, and they want to get to know you." Mom's face looked strained behind her layer of make-up, and it looked to me like she worked to hide the worry in her eyes. "Now, try to have some fun today. I've got to go to work." She gave me a quick, rare smile. "Wouldn't want to be late on my first day, would I?"

I scoffed, shaking my head as I bit back a smile. "Way to steal my joke, Mom."

She smiled again and pulled me into a hug, squeezing tight for a split second. "Sorry." When she pulled back, she smiled like how she used to when Dad was still alive. "Have a good day, Sam. I'll see you when I get home from work. I love you."

"Bye, Mom."

I watched her walk out of the school, smiling a bit when she waved. I waved back before looking down at the folder in my hands.

The name of the school was printed on it in black letters, the words above and below the school's crest, a wolf with its head pointed up in a silent howl.

High schools were the same, no matter where you were in the country, or even on the planet. So what if this one looked like had a few more secrets hidden behind its walls than others?

Shifting the strap of my bag on my shoulder, I turned and started walking down the hall towards the lockers and the classrooms. With every step I cringed, the soles of my sneakers squeaking and squealing as they made contact with the floor.

The inside of the school was as boring as the outside. Beige linoleum covered the floors, the tiles in an obvious grid pattern under my feet. Light blue paint travelled up the walls from floor to ceiling, hidden by bulletin boards covered in reports and projects. Doors and trim were both black, voids of darkness in an otherwise pale setting.

Lockers were the same dark colour, broken up by silver locks and various personal items stuck to the doors with colourful magnets. Post-it notes with e-mail addresses and cell phone numbers shared space with pictures of smiling faces in classrooms and at concerts. Earbuds from an MP3 player were sticking out at the bottom of someone's locker, like they were trying to escape their dark and cramped home.

It looked like one of those schools where you get the same locker as long as you're enrolled there, so if you didn't have any classes in that area you were screwed.

Stopping, I flipped open the folder and looked through the papers to find the one with my locker number and lock combination on it. I found the number on the sheet and glanced around, trying to figure out which hallway to head down to find it.

"It's down that one on the left."

My head whipped around when I heard the principal's voice, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up when I realized he'd basically snuck up on me without me noticing. "Thanks." I headed down the one he'd pointed out, and turned my head to look at him when he fell into step beside me. "You going to show me how to open it up, too?"

"Just want to make sure you find it." The hallway was silent, except for the few nerds and honour students who liked being in school before everyone else. Mr. Ward nodded at the kids who called out his name, joking with them for the few seconds we walked past or giving them a quick high-five.

It looked like he was one of those easy-going 'I'm here for you guys, let's be friends' kind of principals. I didn't have a problem with it, but I wondered if the teachers were going to be like that, too.

I stopped in front of my new locker and turned the dial, not surprised when it took a little door jiggling to open it.

I don't know what I was expecting when I looked inside, maybe someone's old sandwich or gym clothes, maybe a bag of dog crap, but it was empty.

My jacket went onto the hook at the back, I figured I wouldn't need it during class, and I turned to look at Mr. Ward. "Well, thanks."

"No problem. Have a nice day, Sam. It's really not so bad here."

I blushed as he walked off down the hall and turned back to face my locker. It wasn't that I immediately hated the school. It was more that I'd been forced to move almost all the way across the country without being consulted.

Dad dying in a car accident wasn't the only reason, but it started a massive landslide of other reasons. First, Mom lost her old job because she was depressed and would rarely leave the house, then she couldn't afford to keep the house, and then my dad's parents called her out of nowhere and asked her to move us back to the town where she and Dad grew up.

I thought it was odd. I'd grown up with stories about how Mom's parents and Dad's parents didn't get along, how they had to sneak around in high school, how they ran off after they graduated, and how they drove a bigger rift between their large, extended families.

Standing in front of my empty locker, I was upset, annoyed, and possibly more than a little punchy. It was hard to be happy and make a joke when I wanted to find an empty space and scream until I my voice disappeared.

I tucked back the flap of my bag and pulled out a small mirror with a magnet on the back, sticking it on the inside of the door. Looking into it, I found a pale face staring back at me, surrounded by light, curly hair. A face with freckles sprinkled across a nose that was a touch too big. A face weighed down at the bottom with a full mouth.

A face with big, green, sad eyes.

Inhaling deeply, I looked away and rubbed at my cheeks in an attempt to force some colour back into them.

More kids started to arrive, and I used my locker as a cover to flip through the folder. The map was easy to understand, the school was pretty much a big rectangle, and the classes looked like the ones I'd been taking at my old school.

Same stuff, different package.

Some of the people with lockers near mine would glance over at me when they thought I wasn't looking, but they looked harmless and smelled normal. New kids were always fascinating for a few days, until they were absorbed by one of the many social groups. Then it was like they'd always been there.

I stuffed the folder into my bag but left out the paper with my class schedule on it, thinking I'd need it out to figure my way around.

"Need some help, O'Reilly?"

My heart thumped hard in my chest when I heard someone call my name, and I turned in time to see a jock-type guy in jeans and a sweatshirt advertising the school basketball team walking towards me. I was confused because I didn't know the guy, but he walked right past me to the other end of the hall where a similar jock was standing.

Sighing, I shook my head and closed my locker. I was the only O'Reilly at my last school, but at the new school it was a popular name. It was possible that most or all of the others with the last name O'Reilly, or Fletcher, were related to me.

I took a deep breath after the bell went off and looked down at the sheet in my hand to make it look like I fit in with the rest of the faceless crush known as 'teenagers trying to make it to class on time.'