Ana of California Page 16

  Ana rolled up her sleeves and put on some lavender lotion she found in the glove compartment of the van. She nibbled Abbie’s oatmeal-flax banana bread and sipped from a thermos of carrot apple juice. Her old backpack was at her feet and full of books and new supplies.

  “How are you feeling?” Abbie asked.

  “Nervous, I guess. Like I could spew my spleen at any moment.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Abbie said. “I put together quite the brown bag lunch. You’ve got a roasted veggie sandwich on that rosemary bread I made last night, some kale chips—don’t knock ’em, they’re a tryout recipe—a pear, a granola bar if you need another snack, and a thermos of frozen lemonade.”

  “Wow.”

  “There’s enough to share.”

  They drove toward town, sunshine machine-gunning through the pines. Ana closed her eyes and let the light ricochet off her forehead.

  “Gorgeous day,” Abbie said.

  “I’ve lived in perfect weather all my life—doesn’t fool me for a second,” Ana replied.

  They turned down Common Street, and Ana’s stomach lurched. When they stopped at the intersection at Main, she knew the school was just another few blocks down the road. Abbie idled at the stop sign, glancing over at Will Carson’s café.

  “The paper’s off the windows!” she shouted, startling them both.

  They both squinted and stared. The lights were off, but there were new light fixtures and bar stools along the long counter. A piece of brown paper taped to the window read CAFÉ OPEN SOON in bold block letters.

  They both jumped at a loud honk behind them. Abbie accelerated through the intersection, looking particularly shaken, joining the line of cars making its way to Hadley High.

  “How’s Will?” Ana asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When was the last time you were over there?”

  “Last week, same as always, for a delivery.”

  “He seems to buy a ton for a restaurant that isn’t open yet.”

  “He’s testing recipes with a few people he hired. He mentioned something about a sous-chef coming up from Berkeley. He wants to try my cider, but it’s more for friends and not something I think I should sell.”

  “Why not?” Ana said, catching her breath as the cars in front of them rolled forward and the fence around the school came into view.

  “He’s so serious about everything I make, it’s a bit off-putting.”

  “Maybe because he’s serious about you.”

  “What?”

  “About your abilities. I mean, let’s get real; you’re an amazing cook. The new spicy carrot pickles you’re making? They’re insane, like beyond restaurant amazing. Speaking of which, should they be Vic & Rolo’s Spicy Carrots? I’ve been trying to come up with a label.”

  The van jerked to a stop.

  “First-day traffic jam,” Abbie said.

  “I can get out and walk if that’s easier.”

  “We need to park. The main lot is in front, so we’ll pull over there. I promise not to cramp your style or give you too much of a pep talk.”

  Ana pulled her hat down low, peering from underneath it the way Emmett did when he didn’t want to be disturbed. Students began jumping out of cars and waving good-bye to their rides. Ana wasn’t the only one with an oversize backpack. Some carried their books along with just a purse or tote. There was a lot of enthusiasm, kids shouting or embracing as if they hadn’t seen one another in years.

  As they got closer to the school, Ana took in the green grass edging the track and football field, which was larger than she had imagined, and pristine. Beyond it stood the school, a low brick behemoth with small windows and a hanging banner that read WELCOME BACK, STUDENTS! There was a steady stream of them making their way through the double doors. More than a few girls were wearing first-day dresses. Ana was surprised not to see metal detectors at the entrance as she had at her two previous schools.

  “Here we are,” Abbie said, pulling into the crowded lot.

  “Rye said she’d meet me here.”

  “I know Charlie’s dropping her off on his way to the store. Did you specify a place?”

  “No, I guess we didn’t.”

  “You’ll find each other inside.”

  Ana watched as one mother ran around to the other side of a parked car to hug a kid who looked barely old enough for high school. He had a burlap sack presumably containing his books slung over one shoulder, and was wearing an ill-fitting blazer, jeans, and a pair of cowboy boots.

  “Nora! Brady! Hello, you two!” Abbie chirped out the window. Both the mother and son waved as Abbie parked alongside their beat-up pickup truck. “That’s Nora and Brady Lawson. He’s a smarty pants, that one, and I bet his mother wouldn’t mind if you walked him in on his first day.”

  There was nothing Ana could say, and in truth, she was glad not to have to walk in alone. She gave the thumbs-up and hoisted her backpack out of the front seat. Abbie said her hellos before thrusting open the back doors of the van, revealing heaps of flowers ready for the morning delivery rounds.

  “I saved this little bunch for you,” she said, handing Ana a delicate bouquet, which Ana tucked into the brim of her hat in keeping with her summer habit.

  “Still look like a farmhand?” she asked.

  “Not even remotely.” Abbie winked.

  Ana squashed the lunch bag into her backpack and took a deep breath. Everywhere around them students were rushing toward the school. No one seemed to be hanging out in the parking lot or smoking alongside the fence. She debated whether to articulate the tickle in her stomach, as thrilling as it was foreboding.

  “We’re going to shake on this,” Ana said, turning to Abbie.

  “Okay . . .”

  “I may be at the loser table by lunch,” Ana said, “but I just wanted to say thanks for letting me stay. You’re one of the reasons why I hoped I could.”

  Before Abbie had a moment to register the unfamiliar snag in the back of her throat, a bell buzzed loud and low over the parking lot.

  “That dreaded sound,” Abbie said. “Takes me back. You should probably get on in there. Nora! Ana will walk with Brady.”

  “How old is he, by the way?” Ana whispered.

  “Younger than he’s supposed to be and from one of the oldest farming families around. Spends most of his time indoors reading or puffing on an inhaler,” Abbie whispered back.

  “Gotcha.”

  As Abbie and Ana approached, the woman hugged the kid again, wiping away tears and genuinely inflicting a sense of terror into her otherwise determined-looking child.

  “Hey, I’m Ana,” she said, extending a hand toward Brady. “I’m new too. We should do this thing together, right?”

  “Are you a senior?”

  “Not quite. Junior.”

  “I can work with that. I’m Brady and I’m a freshman, even though I should probably be a sophomore. Cool backpack.”

  “Ditto,” Ana said. “You know, I started school a little early too. It’s always good to have a pal on your first day, right? I say that more on my behalf because you’ll be ruling this place in no time.”

  Brady saluted his mother, who already had one of Abbie’s protective arms wrapped around her shaking shoulders. Ana followed his lead and saluted Abbie, who winked back.

  “Get going before you’re late,” Abbie said. “I’m serious.”

  “Wanna race?” Ana asked.

  “He can’t run! He cannot run!” Nora shouted, her eyes bulging with hysteria.

  “We’ll walk, Mom,” Brady said. “And if we’re late, I’ll just take Ana to the nurse and get us both free passes.”

  He turned away from the car and began walking, so Ana followed with a quick reassuring wave to the women they were leaving behind.

  “She’s the most
embarrassing woman on the planet,” Brady said, moving the sack from one shoulder to the other. “Your mom’s way cooler.”

  “She’s not my mom.”

  “Oh, yeah, duh. They only have a dog and chickens at Garber Farm. So, how are you—”

  “Abbie’s kind of my guardian, I guess.”

  “You’re lucky.”

  “Trust me,” Ana said, taking his sack from him and slinging it over her shoulder. “You’re luckier than you think.”

  “Where’s your homeroom?” Brady asked.

  “I missed orientation, so I’m supposed to go to the office first. What about you?”

  “Same. But I need my stuff back before we go in—don’t want to look like I can’t handle this.”

  Ana handed Brady his sack as they approached the front doors.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  “Are you kidding? I was born for this.”

  Ana couldn’t help but laugh as Brady strutted into the lobby of the school, which was teeming with roaring voices and slamming lockers in the rush to class. They followed the main hallway sign pointing to the office, aware of all the curious eyeballs suddenly turned toward them. Rye Moon was nowhere in sight. As they walked, Ana realized she still had her hat on. She imagined they made an interesting duo, kind of like the pair in Midnight Cowboy, one of the movies she’d watched on the recommendation of her friend at the library. “You’re probably not supposed to watch this, but it’s necessary if you ever need to find your Miami,” he’d said, quoting the film.

  They walked through the door of the office and up to a dark countertop guarded by a plant with a ribbon around it and a metal lamp that looked like it had been sitting there since Abbie and Emmett’s era. A woman in glasses with delicate chains hanging alongside her rouged cheeks, her hair piled into a time-machine beehive, gave them both a glance before answering a phone that didn’t appear to be ringing.

  “One sec,” she said. “They’re here, George.”

  She put the phone down and gave them a once-over.

  “There are no hats allowed in Hadley High,” she said. “You can store it in your locker until after school.”

  Ana took her hat off, shaking out her new haircut, checking to make sure the collar of her work shirt was covering the back of her neck. A wooden door opened and a man in a brown suit, wide-striped tie, and thick mustache walked out.

  “Welcome to Hadley High.” He beamed. “You must be Brady and Anna.”

  “It’s Ana,” Brady said, “Ana like you’re turning on a light. You must be Principal Tucker. Pleasure to meet ya. Heard a lot about you from my pop.”

  “I heard a lot about you from your pop. Did you both get your locker assignments and schedule?”

  “Not even a tour,” Brady said.

  “Well, Helen will see to that,” the man said, clearing his throat. “That’s Mrs. Molloy to you both.”

  The woman slid two pieces of paper over the counter without looking up. She flipped a switch and another bell sounded.

  “Those are your schedules, along with locker assignments, combinations, and a map of the school on the back. Brady, I’ll walk you to your locker and homeroom to get you situated, and I’ll let you navigate on your own, Ana. You two have any questions or problems, come right on in here and see us. Pep rally’s on Friday, so I hope to see you both wearing yellow and blue, the official colors of the Hadley Lions.

  “Roar,” Mrs. Molloy deadpanned.

  Ana scanned the map, which didn’t appear too daunting. She checked her schedule. “Excuse me,” she said, “I’m supposed to have art class, but it says I have independent study.”

  “Art is full,” Mrs. Molloy said, shuffling papers behind the counter.

  “I was assured by Abbie Garber that I had a place.”

  “Brady, would you mind waiting out in the hall, please?” Mr. Tucker said.

  They waited for Brady to shut the door behind him. Ana fixated on his diminutive figure outside the window in the hall just as she’d always chosen a point of focus when she knew something was about to be discussed to her detriment.

  “We know your situation, Ms. Cortez,” Mr. Tucker began, “I mean regarding your farmwork before and after school. I had a chat with both Mr. and Ms. Garber, and Mr. Garber and I wondered if you might need an independent hour to get your homework finished with all that you have going on. We always have such an interest in Mrs. Darnell’s class, so I’m sorry to say it’s already full for the semester.”

  “But I need to take art. Ms. Garber understands this more than Mr. Garber ever will.”

  “It’s an elective, Ms. Cortez. You’re welcome to use your free hour however you see fit in the library, which includes doing your own art research or finishing homework. I believe it is more than fair.”

  “I believe it’s incredibly disappointing and never about having a choice because it’s always about you people making the ultimate decision. I’m fully aware that life isn’t fair.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Independent study is fine,” she said. “I accept my fate.”

  Ana headed for the door; Brady saluted her through the window. She heard Mrs. Molloy whistle faintly behind her.

  “Enjoy your first day,” Mr. Tucker said as she left.

  She gave Brady’s shoulder a squeeze before making her way down the dim hallway, her new-old boots clicking along the glossy floor toward the bank of lockers. When she found her locker, she was surprised it was clean and not covered in scratched musings penned by whoever had occupied it before her. Opening it, however, revealed the familiar. Almost every surface was covered in permanent markings proclaiming it the former lair of the football team’s most ardent fan with GO LIONS! or LIONS #1! screaming from every surface. She adjusted her books and wedged her hat in above them, pulling a few flowers out from the brim and poking them through a buttonhole on her shirt. “Same here and same everywhere,” she whispered into the metal.

  As Mrs. Molloy’s voice echoed the morning announcements throughout the empty hallways, Ana followed the map to her homeroom class, which was also the same as her first-period class. Ms. Gregg, her new English teacher, waved to her from the slivered window on the door. She took a deep breath, knowing this was always the hardest part. “The audience will soon tire of the same show,” she told herself. She opened the door as Mrs. Molloy announced Friday’s pep rally over the loudspeaker, which momentarily diverted the classroom’s attention into a rousing round of cheers. Ms. Gregg smiled and pointed to an empty seat in the second row, which also happened to be the seat directly next to Rye Moon, whom Ana barely recognized due to her very new, very short hair.

  “Hola,” Rye whispered in the chaos of everyone catching up with one another around them.

  “Whoa, dude,” Ana said, noticing a few heads turning in her direction.

  “It’s The Little Prince meets breathless French ingenue. You like?”

  “I love! It’s perfect. You’re wearing lipstick.”

  “I know. And check out my jumpsuit,” she said, sitting back in her chair to reveal what looked like an olive green flight suit tailored to her petite frame.

  “You look so different.”

  “Told you, it’s all about the mood of the season.”

  Another bell rang and a portion of the class exited, leaving a few seats empty. Ana took out her notebook as more and more eyes invaded her periphery. She noticed a few of them were watching and whispering in Rye’s direction too. Ana turned toward her, but Rye was bent over going through her bag, making a point not to notice them.

  “Take a seat, students,” Ms. Gregg said.

  Ana listened as those around her chatted about their summer vacations, realizing that she’d never had one, ever. There were also audible whispers about another student, someone who’d gone away for most of the summer, as if this was something pe
ople in Hadley just didn’t do. It was mostly other girls doing the whispering, with a few guys chiming in.

  “I would kill my parents if they made me go away and then grounded me when I got back,” said the long-limbed, long-haired girl who was sitting directly in front of Ana and talking to a group of girls. She sat with one pale leg wrapped around the other under a short blue dress the exact shade of her eyes, her wide, post-orthodontic smile perfectly frosted in pale pink gloss. Every bee seemed to buzz around the girl, every bee except for Rye Moon. Rye rolled her eyes at Ana, who smiled. Ms. Gregg continued to write on the chalkboard, oblivious to the chatter behind her.

  The buzzing reached a fever pitch as Cole walked in, plenty of people in the busy hallway pausing to watch him cross the threshold. Ana suddenly knew whom everyone was tittering on about. Half the room seemed to treat him as a welcomed friend, the other half froze, pretending not to look anywhere near his direction. It was strange, Ana thought.

  Cole slid into a seat nearby to the delight of the girl who curled her entire blue ribbon body in his direction. He said hello as if they knew each other, and then glanced over at Rye, whose body pretzeled back down to her book bag. Ana wished she had her old hair back because it was easier to peek out from behind it without being seen.

  “Ana,” he said, silencing the room yet again. “Hey.”

  She glanced up, careful to meet him eye to eye.

  “Oh, hey,” she said.

  “We meet again.”

  “Indeed.”

  Both the girl in front of her and Rye shifted their attention in Ana’s direction. Another bell rang.

  “All right, everyone,” Ms. Gregg said. “Hope you had a great summer. Let’s jump right in. We’re reading two novels this semester in addition to some plays, and we’ll be doing essays and in-class debates. I’ll know when you haven’t done the reading, so do the work and prepare to be called on. Some of you may have already read what I’ve assigned, but I think it will only add to the spirit of our debates. First up is a book called The Chocolate War. Has anyone read this?”

  The room remained silent.

  “I see one hand in the back of the room. What’s your name?”