By: RoryKate

Rating: PG-14ish

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Er… um… I do own the story though. -But only that.

Authors Notes: Okay, big deal people: This is my first fanfic EVER. I’m an aspiring writer so I write lots of other stuff but I’ve never written fanfic before. Up until now I’ve been nothing but a reader and an admirer. To tell you the truth, I’m rather petrified at this transition so anything you can do or say to quelch my desire to vomit on my keyboard would be greatly appreciated.
Here goes nothing…



Being new sucks. It’s as simple as that. You arrive in a place completely foreign to you and any comfort or security you may have developed in the last place you lived is promptly ripped away.

New school. New home. New job. New people.

That’s the worst part. The people. I gave up on trying to make good first impressions a long time ago. They’re gonna make up their minds about me before the first word leaves my mouth. It took me awhile but I finally accepted this.

There are three things which will dictate the judgement passed on me, and the personality profile it results in.

1) Where I’m from.

2) What my name is.

And most importantly:
3) What I look like.

If I’m wearing a plaid skirt, a cardigan, and Mary Janes… I’m a schoolgirl.
My name is Mary Anne.
Hobbies: My favorite thing to do is read.
Grades: I get straight A’s.
Relationships: I have a boyfriend but the most we’ve ever done to support that statement is kiss.
Friends: I spend time with a small group of girls who are similar to me but we’re not that close.
Job: I don’t have time for a job because I’m too busy studying and doing other stuff.
Social Status: No one really pays much attention to me unless they want to bribe me to do their homework. I always say no.

If I’m wearing baggy jeans, a sweatshirt, and skater shoes… I’m a tomboy.
My name is Melanie. Everyone calls me Mel.
Hobbies: My favorite thing to do is hang with friends outside the 7-11.
Grades: I get mostly C’s, and a couple B’s.
Relationships: I date guy friends off and on but it’s never a big deal.
Friends: My group of friends is a mix of slacker guys and girls.
Job: I worked at the video store for awhile but got fired for being late all the time.
Social Status: My group looks at me as a sort of leader but everyone else thinks I’m just a loser.

If I’m wearing a halter top, a nylon skirt, and high heels… I’m a socialite.
My name is Missy.
Hobbies: My favorite things to do are shop, talk on the phone, and go to pool parties. I like the beach too.
Grades: I get mostly B’s, and a C or two from my mean teachers.
Relationships: I have a steady boyfriend. He’s on the football team and all the girls want to date him.
Friends: My best friends are all the other girls on the cheerleading squad.
Job: I’ve never had a job and I want to keep it that way for as long as possible.
Social Status: I’m queen and my school is my palace. People either love me because they want to be near me, or hate me because they want to be me.

If I’m wearing overalls, a T-shirt, and sneakers… I’m a cute kid.
My name is Molly.
Hobbies: My favorite thing to do is go to the waterpark.
Grades: A’s and B’s.
Relationships: I’ve never had a boyfriend.
Friends: I have a close-knit group of girls who I’m with 24/7.
Job: I'm a lifeguard at the local swimming pool.
Social Status: Everyone likes me okay. I don’t really have any enemies.

If I’m wearing a tube top, a mini skirt, and platforms… I’m a tease.
My name is Marguerite.
Hobbies: My favorite thing to do is go to parties.
Grades: D’s and C’s. I hate school.
Relationships: I think I made a new record. I actually started running out of decent guys to date.
Friends: They come and go. For some reason my friends tend to be the back-stabbing types.
Job: I'm a receptionist for a hair salon.
Social Status: I’m pretty much the hottest topic on the rumor mill. People like to gossip about me, and I give them plenty of reasons to.

These are the opinions people have had of me. These are the people I’ve been. Every time my mom moves me across the country I reinvent myself... become someone completely different for the world to judge.

My mom doesn’t care. Sometimes I wonder if she even notices.

The funniest part is that she actually doesn't mind the whole name-changing thing. She says it’s a phase and she’d rather go along with it then make it an issue.

She hates making issues.

My whole life is one big f*cking issue.

Mom and I don’t talk much.

So now we’re moving again. I haven’t decided who I’m going to become yet. I’ll think about it on the way there.

I'm pretty sure I've decided on a name though.

Maria. -I like the sound of it.

In two days I’ll be in a new town, attending a new school. Maria will have a personality by then.

Roswell, New Mexico… here I come.

Part Two

~``~``~``~``~

Thursday morning, 6:02 am.

I hate my alarm. It’s completely obnoxious. Every day I get so close to just chucking it out the window but this extremely irritating reality check always whacks me upside the head and reminds me that my stupid, screeching, holler monkey alarm clock is the only thing on this planet that has a chance in hell of waking me up. I’m not exaggerating. I swear. I could sleep through a nuclear war.

Well, today is my first day at my new school. I spent the last two days perfecting Maria. I bought her clothes, cut her hair, gave her a few quirks. I’m actually pretty proud of this one. Definitely bubblier then I’ve ever been before. Hell, I think my mom might even like Maria.

I took my shower, dried and styled my hair which recently became a blond bob, and slipped into my very first Maria outfit.

A deep crimson sweater that’s fitted tightly to me; a dark blue denim skirt that shows a considerable amount of leg; and matching red high-heeled ankle boots. It’s totally crazy… I love it.

---------------

I planned to get to school at 7:30 so I’d have a good half an hour to get my schedule and books and everything.

As I pull into West Roswell High’s parking lot, the clock in my Jetta says it’s 7:44. Close enough.

---------------

The halls are pretty normal looking. Nothing special. Plenty of students are already here and I’m definitely getting looks. I can see them sizing me up in their heads.

They think I look flighty. Yeah, I guess that’s true.

Some of them think I look like an airhead. That one’s wrong. I’ll have to fix it somehow. Maybe I’ll answer some questions in class. But not too many questions. I’m not that smart.

---------------

Alright. I’ve got my books, I’ve got my schedule, now all I need to do is find my locker.

I’ve been down three halls already and the late bell rang two minutes ago. This better be it.

314… 317… 320… 323. There it is.

Okay… it’s... not... opening. This is not good. I’m yanking on the handle with one hand, and precariously holding a massive pile of books in the other.

“Need a little help?”

There went my books…

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He seems nice. Preppy, dark hair, big ears, nice eyes. He's even helping me pick up my books.

“Don’t worry about it. It was an accident waiting to happen.” Story of my life.

“I’m Max Evans.”

I shake the hand he holds out to me.

“Maria DeLuca.” Wow. That rolled right off my tongue.

“It’s nice to meet you, Maria. You must be the new girl.”

“Small school?”

“Small everything.”

I laugh. He’s relatively charming. Not really my type though. Well, not anymore.

“I had this locker last year. There’s a trick to opening it.”

He lifts the locker door up and inch as he pulls it out. Some trick… Color me embarrassed.

“I swear I was about to try that...”

He laughs. I’m charming too.

“Well, I should really get to class, my teacher flips whenever people are late. But it was really great running into you.” Sincere. That’s a good sign.

“Ditto. And thanks for getting my locker open.”

“Anytime. I’ll see you around, Maria.”

“Bye Max.”

I’ve been here twenty minutes and already I’ve made a new friend. Not bad.

Okay, so now all I’ve gotta go is load the books I don’t need into my locker and then find my next class.

Books are in. Now where is Sophomore Literature at? I bet it’s back by the…

Sweet Jesus!

Ladies and Gentlemen: I have just died and gone to heaven.

I swear, ‘The David’ just walked through the front doors.

Holy crap... I’m guessing he’s 6’ 1’’, 170-180 pounds. Gorgeous brown eyes, nice lips, well-defined jaw, and broad shoulders. I love broad shoulders. He’s wearing a tight charcoal colored T-shirt, a black leather jacket, tight dark blue jeans rolled at the ankles, Doc Martin boots, and he has the coolest spiked hair I’ve ever seen!

Ding! Ding! Ding! It appears that we have just found “my type”.

Okay, he’s walking towards me. Just look at your schedule Maria, and try not to drool.

He’s stopping. His locker is near mine! Yes!!

Okay, keep looking at your schedule. Focus Maria. Classes… school… teachers… and… classes… and… gorgeous guy standing three feet away from me!

I look up to glance at him again and I’m suddenly struck by the unfairness of the situation. It almost doesn’t seem right. Why would God create such a perfect looking person? I’m not sure that I understand the logic of that… Oh well. Conversation now, philosophy later.

Okay, step one. Verbalization.

“Hey, do you know where Sophomore English with Ms. Roberts is?” Way to go, Maria. You didn’t even stutter.

“Maybe.” I love his voice.

“Do you think you could tell me?” Or marry me? That could work.

“I could tell you… but then I wouldn’t get to experience the amusement of watching you walk back and forth outside my classroom window looking for it.”

“Excuse me?” Hey… where does he think he’s going?

“Hey, don’t just smirk at me and walk away! Hey! I’m talking to you!”

What the hell… that bastard just left. He made this patronizing little grin at me and then just turned and walked away. Who acts like this? Was he raised by a pack of wolves or something?

Oh wait a minute… now I get it.

Body of a god...

Face of an angel...

Personality of a couch cushion.

-The world makes sense again.

Part 3

~``~``~``~``~

I’ve been frantically searching around for the past eight minutes and I’ve just now found my English class.

After triple checking the door number with the one listed on my schedule (walking into the wrong room is an embarrassment that I’ve previously encountered and would prefer never to again), I take a deep breath and reach my shaky hand out to grab the door handle.

The narrow view I had through the small rectangular window on the door is expanded as I swing the door open and everyone turns to look at me.

Just don’t vomit in front of anyone, Maria.

“You must be the new student." Ms. Roberts, I assume.

-She seems okay. At least she’s not lecturing me yet.

“Yeah, um… sorry I was late. I had trouble finding the room. I asked someone for directions but soon came to the conclusion that their range of knowledge peaked somewhere in the realm of Play-Dough.” Oh God. Just stop talking, Maria. Shut your mouth right now.

“Um… okay. Your name is Maria right?”

“Yeah.” Single syllable. That’s probably safer.

“Alright Maria, why don’t you take the seat in front of Mr. Guerin? Michael can you raise your hand?”

Okay I'm looking around, who’s raising their…

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Maria? Are you alright? You look like you’re going to be sick.” That’s a definite possibility.

“No, no. I’m fine.”

Great, my first class of the day and my teacher is already looking at me like a mental patient.

Just sit down, breathe regularly, and avoid contact with ‘you know who’ at all costs.

----------------

I can feel his eyes boring holes in the back of my head.

I’ve been sitting here rigid as all hell for practically the entire class period, not moving or speaking. Thankfully Ms. Roberts is giving me a break since it’s my first day.

He hasn’t spoken yet either.

Doesn’t seem the type to participate much in class.

Which is probably all for the best. If I had to hear his voice all smug and condescending I doubt I’d be able to resist whipping around in my seat and screaming at him.

I’m sure that would go over really well.

At least class is almost...

::RING::

Thank you! End of torture! Run Maria, run!

----------------

I high-tailed it to the girl’s bathroom the second I got out of the door. The girl's bathroom is like hallowed ground. Nothing evil can trespass here.

By evil I of course mean boys.

I'm just gonna sit here on the edge of the sink for a little while. Who cares if I'm late to my next class?

Uh-oh. Some girl just came in and she has a look on her face like she made a great discovery in finding me. That’s not usually a good sign.

Don’t get me wrong, she seems nice enough. She’s short, brown eyes, brown hair, kinda bookish but still very pretty.

“Hi… I was sorta hoping to find you in here.” Two points for me.

“Why?”

“Well, it’s just that I saw your reaction to Michael in Lit. class and I wanted to talk to you... give you a heads up.” Michael… even his name pisses me off.

“What about?”

“Was he the person you asked for help this morning?”

“That obvious, huh?”

“You gave a pretty accurate description of him.” Ha ha. I’m starting to like this girl.

“So what’s his deal, anyway?”

“No one knows for sure. He lives in this big old mansion about a mile from here with like, thirty servants or something.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope. His dad is one of the richest men in New Mexico. He owns some pharmaceutical company in Santa Fe. Anyway, Michael moved to Roswell in the third grade ‘cause his dad was supposed to build another company here but for some reason he changed his mind and him and Michael never moved back.”

“Where’s his mom?”

“She died when he was a little kid. I don’t know how." "Well, so Michael has been like this total hermit for the past seven years and has refused to make a single friend in the whole town.”

“Why?”

“It’s a mystery. He would be so popular if only he wanted to be. All the guys like him ‘cause he’s got this awesome car and he has the whole “leader” look about him. And the girls… well I think it’s pretty obvious why they like him.” Don’t remind me.

“I guess.”

“I just wanted to tell you that if he was horrible to you and that’s why you looked so uncomfortable in class, don’t take it personally. He’s a creep to everyone. I myself have been on the receiving end of his personality defect numerous times.” How could anyone be a jerk to her? She’s so sweet looking.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m Teflon. It’ll take a lot more then a few lame insults and a smirk to get to me.”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry! I haven’t even told you my name!” Hello subject change!

“Uh… you’re forgiven. Especially since you’re late for class because of me and don’t seem to care.”

“This is more important. I’m Liz Parker.”

“Maria DeLuca.” Second handshake of the day.

“It’s nice to meet you Maria. Welcome to Roswell and the ever-burgeoning ‘I hate Michael Guerin’ Club.”

“Lizzy babe, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Part Four

~``~``~``~``~

I have to admit, from the moment I met Liz Parker my day began to steadily improve. I thought that the bad start I had would inevitably curse the following twenty-four hours, but I’m happy to say that I was wrong.

After our little gabfest in the bathroom, Liz and I compared schedules and were beyond psyched when we realized that we had a total of four classes together! I swear, that like never happens to me. I always end up separated from my “friends”.

Anyhow, besides first period English, Liz and I have Biology, History, and P.E. together. I just got out of Bio and now I’m headed to my fourth period class, Art.

Don’t ask me why I signed up for Art, ‘cause I honestly don’t have an answer. The most I’ve ever drawn is a smiley face.

I guess part of the reason I choose it is that my options were devastatingly limited. It was either Art; Wood Shop; or Drama.

Wood Shop was immediately a big no-no on account of a small accident two years ago involving my next door neighbor and a power saw. Thankfully he was left-handed.

I considered taking Drama since my acting skills have proved to be more than adequate these past several years, but then I remembered what the drama teacher was like at my last school and it kinda scared me off. People didn’t call her “The Drama Nazi” because she was homely if ya know what I mean.

Anyhow, after nixing those two options for what I felt were more than valid reasons, I was left with Art. I hope to god, I’m a fast learner.

---------------------

Maybe Art won’t be so bad after all. I really like the room. It’s big and airy and there are the most beautiful paintings all over the walls.

There is one painting in paticular that really caught my eye. It’s pretty big, bigger then a lot of the others. The entire painting is a mixture of dark blues and black making up a stormy night sky. There’s a couple of thin lightning bolts striking down from the clouds and the air looks like it does when the rain has stopped but is about to start again. And although that fierce scene in it of itself is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, the most amazing characteristic of the painting is a transparent and almost invisible face of a young girl in the foreground. It’s painted in both pale and dark blues and looks like a fuzzy film cover on top of the sky. Her face is sweet but sad and a single tear is rolling down her cheek. I’m completely mesmerized by it and before I know it my eyes are watery just like the little girl’s.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Oh jeez!

Great, I just fell off my stool.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” It’s funny how good people are at the things they do unintentionally.

“It’s alright, that seems to be happening to me a lot today.”

“Must be first day of school jitters. I’m Mrs. Burke, the art teacher. You must be Maria DeLuca.”

“That’s me.”

“I’m so happy to have a new student. For some reason art doesn’t seem to be a very popular subject here at West Roswell.”

Now that I take another look around the room I realize there is only about twelve other students. Wow. Now the room looks really big.

“Well, don’t get your hopes up. I know about as much about art as I do about jellyfish.”

“And how much would that be?”

“Slime. Sting. Bad.”

“Oh boy. Well, I love a challenge so the more clueless the better.”

“You’re gonna regret saying that when I inevitably fail.”

“Nonsense. It’s impossible to fail my class. All you have to do is try. Art is something that’s inside all of us. You just have to make the choice to bring it to the surface.”

“Some things are better kept hidden, don’t you think?”

“That’s the great thing about art. You can bring your deepest, darkest secrets to light and everyone will be none the wiser.”

I just now made a whoosh sound and waved my hand over my head to indicate my need for clarification.

“You see, Maria, the most important thing to remember about art is that it’s completely subjective. You can paint something that is entirely literal and obvious to you, but when someone else comes along and sees it, there is a ninety-nine percent chance that they will see something vastly different. You can put emotions, feelings, secrets, lies, all down on canvas… and still keep everything to yourself.”

“But I thought the whole point of art was to expose yourself. Put yourself on display for everyone to judge.”

“It is. But you can never tell what their judgement will be. When someone looks at a painting it doesn’t necessarily tell them anything about the artist, it might just tell them about themselves. When you paint, you share your emotions. Other people can look at what you’ve created and it will bring out their emotions. But the thing to remember is that while the artist and the viewer are in fact relating to each other on a very personal level, the feelings each of them has can be complete opposites of each other.”

“You are by far the most insightful person I have met here in Roswell, Mrs. Burke.”

“Well, thank you, Maria. But I think you just might be surprised at who you’ll come to meet. Roswell is full of amazing and talented people… they just tend to be a little hard to spot.”

“I’ll keep my eye out.”

“You do that.”

I’m assuming my gaze unconsciously drifted back to the painting up on the wall and Mrs. Burke noticed because she returned to her original topic of conversation.

“That’s one of my favorites too.”

“Who painted it?”

“My teacher aid. Only a sophomore, and already my student prodigy and pride and joy. Come to think of it, he sounded a lot like you when he started in this class at the beginning of his freshman year. He told me he’d never painted a single thing in his life.”

I can relate.

“At first he was hesitant to do anything that resembled school work but I could tell that he was at least a little fascinated with my book on the history of art. I would catch him reading it when he thought I wasn’t looking. From the minute I saw how he glowed when he looked at that book, I knew he was an artist. One month into the school year I got him to start sketching. He would draw the most random and beautiful things. Most beginners and even some professionals rely on pictures or life models to create something, but not him. Everything he drew was in his head.”

I looked back up at the painting in wonder. How could anyone just make that up out of thin air?

“When did he paint that one?”

“Last December. Four months into the year and already his skill surpassed any other student I’d ever had. Most of my colleges too. That was his third painting. He made twelve total last year.”

Mrs. Burke proceeded to point various paintings out to me that were scattered all over the walls. Every single one was magnificent.

“They’re all so beautiful. He must be an incredible person to have all that in his head.”

“That he is. But he’s also one of those people I mentioned earlier, the ones that are hard to spot. It’s like a poker game with him. You have to watch him constantly and with a close eye if you ever want to know if he’s bluffing or not.”

I turn to look at my teacher amused.

“You really do like challenges, don’t you?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I’m looking forward to picking you apart bit by bit and revealing the hidden Maria immensely.” Oh joy…

“Maybe I’ll ask this protege of yours how to fend you off for a little while.” Or indefinitely.

“I’ll introduce you to him tomorrow. He’s my aid this class but I’ve got him running errands all period.”

“Is he still in one of your art classes?”

“Much to my dismay he’s the one and only student in my advanced art studies class…”

She laughs lightly at the patheticness of the situation before calming herself to continue. Just looking at her makes me want to smile. She’s so mom-like. It’s comforting.

I just realized that she’s talking to me and I haven’t heard a word she’s said.

“He just works on his own during my seventh period beginning class and also in this one when I don’t have anything for him to do which is almost always.”

::RING::

“Oh wow, my classes have been going by so quickly today.” Lucky you.

“Well, it was great talking to you Mrs. Burke. I’m almost excited about revealing my lack of talent to you tomorrow.”

“We’ll see how untalented you are, Miss. DeLuca. Have a nice lunch sweetheart.”

“Thanks, you too.”

Part Five

~``~``~``~``~

Well that was certainly anything but ordinary.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a class where I felt like I was in therapy before.

And I have to say, I’m not sure how I should feel about it. I mean, part of me loved how open and natural Mrs. Burke was with me, but the logical half of my brain is on high-alert.

I’m looking forward to picking you apart bit by bit and revealing the hidden Maria immensely.

Sure, it may have been a harmless, playful statement to her. But I can’t shake the feeling that she’s going to stand by her word. Boy, is she in for a world of surprise… I’ve got more layers then a rhino’s ass in winter.

-------------------------

Liz and I made plans during Bio to sit together at lunch. I damn near kissed her shoes, I was so grateful. The absolute worst part of being the new kid is having nobody to sit with on your first day.

Problem solved. Liz is officially my new best friend.

Anyhow, she said that she always just sits with her best friend under a tree at the edge of the quad. Apparently her circle of friends isn’t exactly expansive. That’s sort of a relief. The less people there are around, the less uncomfortable I have to feel. Besides, as far as I can tell Liz Parker is one of the only worth while people in this whole damn school. That guy Max that I met this morning was cool. And hopefully Liz’s friend will be too. But otherwise, -pretentious snobs… the whole lot of ‘em.

--------------------------

I’m out in the quad now and I swear I can almost see the lines of segregation weaving through the lunch tables.

Jocks to the left.

Geeks to the right.

Cheerleaders…                Yearbook.

Student council…        Academic clubs.

I feel like giving the ‘I Have A Dream’ speech.

This is just sad.

How can a town so small have such powerful cliques? You’d think it would be just one big blob of people, but it’s not. I’m almost surprised to see a void of electric fences and warning signs dividing the two main sections.

None of the groups look all too inviting and I’m even more thankful that I have alternative plans. I’m looking around, trying to find Liz. There’s like forty trees…

So far the only familiar face I’ve seen is the Ice Queen from my Math class. Tall; blonde; well-dressed; perfect face; I hate her. Her air of superiority is so thick it feels like cheese-whiz.

Speaking of Satan, the Polar Princess is glaring at me right now.

If I was the weak little warble I used to be, I’d have become a human Popsicle by now. But alas, those days are gone. I do want I want, say what I want, and I don’t take shit from anybody. Not even Barbie doll replicas.

I used to be one, you glacial cow.

Miss Switzerland’s cronies are starting to give me looks too. It’s failing at its obvious intention to intimidate me but to be perfectly honest, it’s starting to piss me off. Maybe I should just walk around till I find Liz.

Whoa, there she is. And for reasons I can’t fathom her and the guy sitting next to her are waving their arms around like crazy people. Either they want me to steal home or they’re calling me over with extraordinary enthusiasm.

------------------------

“Hey Lizzie. Why the frantic summoning method?”

“Oh god, Maria. You came, like, two steps from the lion’s den.”

“Pardon?”

“We saw you headed towards the center of the quad. That was so close. ” I’m starting to wish I had a translator…

“And?”

“No one ever goes into the center of the quad. It’s like sacred turf or something. Each group goes to their designated hangout by walking around the outside. You go in the middle and it’s like wearing a bull’s eye on your chest. Anyone and everyone will make it a point to ruin your life.”

“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m in a teen version of ‘The Godfather’?”

“You are.” The silent boy speaks.

“He’s not mute after all. What a relief.”

“Sorry, I’m Alex. Alex Whitman.”

“I’m Maria. It’s nice to meet you, Marlon Brando.”

He has a nice laugh. Even the previously paranoid Liz cracked a smile.

“It’s true though. This school has rules. Lots of them.”

“Well, Alex, maybe you should help bring me up to speed.”

-------------------------

Lunch was decidedly eventful. Liz and Alex spent the whole time filling me in on all the warped little regulations and such -of a school that I’m starting to believe has cult tendencies.

Liz and I are in fifth period History and although the teacher (Ms. Haggle, or something equally evil sounding) has chosen not to teach us anything, she has given the strict command that we not say a single word for the duration of the class period. Well, I guess that means she doesn’t have any problem with the ever-silent form of communication otherwise known as note passing…

Liz-
Who shoved the ray of sunshine up her backside?
-Maria

Maria-
Some questions are better left unanswered.
Why do people wash their dishes by hand before putting them into their dish washer ?
Why can’t dogs be like cats and walk themselves?
Why hasn’t anyone assassinated Christina Aguilera yet?
And the ultimate do-we-really-want-an-answer-question: ‘Should we be at all concerned about the green sparks that emanate from our mouths when we chew wintergreen Life Savers in the dark?’
-Liz

L-
Question withdrawn.
New question: What do you know about Max Evans?
-M

Did you talk to Alex when I wasn’t around?
-Liz

No.
-Maria

Why do you want to know about Max then?
-Liz

You have a secret, don’t you? Hee hee… gossip.
-Maria

I don’t know what you’re talking about.
-Liz

Then why did you choke on your gum when you read the word ‘Max’? Huh?
-Maria

Okay… so maybe I have a little crush on him.
-Liz

Want me to set you up? Me and Maxie go way back…
-Maria

You’re full of crap.
-Liz

Seriously, I met him this morning. Instant bonding. I could drop your name or something.
-Maria

Pass.
-Liz

Chicken.
-Maria

Nag.
-Liz

I’ll bug you about it later.
So, gimme the scoop on everyone. Who are the designated king and queen of this institution?
-Maria

That’s easy. Kyle and Isabel.
-Liz

Don’t be cryptic. Details. Last names. Shampoo brands.
-Maria

Isabel Evans. Max’s sister. You had to have seen her by now. Tall; blonde; well dressed; perfect face; I hate her.
-Liz

You’re not talking about who I think you’re talking about. The ice tray? No way is she related to the nice dude that I met this morning…
-Maria

Fraternal twins. Born three minutes apart.
-Liz

Excuse me while I pick my jaw up from the ground.
I take it you and her highness don’t get along…
-Maria

I’ve called her Isa-bitch to her face on more then one occasion.
-Liz.

Three cheers for you. You’ve got moxy, babe.
-Maria

A certain other nemesis of mine has given me loads of practice.
-Liz

I’m gonna take a wild stab at who you’re referring to…
-Maria

I’m actually surprised that I didn’t see him at lunch today. He usually swings by and harasses me on his way out to the parking lot to smoke, or sell contraband, or do whatever the hell it is that he does out there everyday. Maybe your presence scared him off. You just might be my lucky charm.
-Liz

Don’t you worry. He tries to pull any of that crap when I’m around and I’ll be anything but charming.
-Maria

My hero. We can gang up on him together. It’ll be fun.
-Liz

It’s a date.
Hey, you never told me about this Kyle guy.
-Maria

He’s a total jock; captain of the basketball team, son of the sheriff… and he’s sitting right in front of you.
-Liz

You’re not gonna believe what he’s reading…
-Maria

Do tell.
-Liz

‘Spiritual Enlightenment for Athletes’.
-Maria

You’re joking right?
-Liz

Nope. And in fact I recognize the author. I actually have a few of his books. -Don’t ask.
-Maria

You being spiritual I get, but Kyle Valenti? I didn’t think he could spell ‘enlightenment’ let alone read about it.
-Liz

People can surprise you. Someone smart told me that.
The bell is about to ring. Please tell me we’ll be able to talk in P.E.
-Maria

Yup. Talking is allowed. It isn’t too bad, with one exception.
Besides us, the sixth period girls’ gym class enrollment list also includes none other than Isabel Evans and her evil mini-me, Tess Harding.
-Liz

Oh holy hell…





Part Six

~``~``~``~``~

Is it just me or is physical education in high school just some bizarre, demented torture treatment with no other purpose but to humiliate you during the most vulnerable period in your life?

I just finished talking to the gym teacher Ms. Vishnicki.

Keep in mind that I’m using the term “talking” very lightly.

I couldn’t understand a single word she said. The only thing I was able to deduce from her diction salad is that I’m actually expected to wear the horrible workout clothes she just gave me. But then again, ”Change into this uniform” may have very well been: Buy a plane from a unicorn.

Suffice to say, I’m taking a lot on faith here.

---------------------------------------------

So now I’m sporting an obnoxiously bright blue and yellow T-shirt with a baggy pair of gray sweatpants and I’m making a vain attempt to put my hair in a ponytail.

This is so depressing.

I forgot to ask Liz if the PE class is co-ed.

God, I hope not...

---------------------------------------------

“Hey Maria.”

“Oh, Liz. Just the brunette I was looking for.”

As if I’m not embarrassed enough Liz has gotta give me a once-over and smirk.

Smirk… Damn. Now my heads all infested with stupid Michael thoughts again…

“Nice ensemble.” Good, Liz. Bring me back to reality. Must stop Michael thoughts. They might make me violent.

I’m taking a look at her identical catastrophe of an outfit and much to my dismay it doesn’t seem to look half as bad on her as if does on me.

Thankfully some of the girls milling around us in the locker room look even worse then I do. Hurray.

“Yeah, it would appear that they’re all the rage.”

“In theory it’s supposed to unite us or something… Conformity and all that, you know? Although I hardly see how that holds true when they allow Isabitch and Mini Iz to ‘altar’ theirs.”

“What are you talking about?”

“See for yourself.”

Liz grabbed my hand and she’s dragging me out of the locker room and into the main gym area.

We stumble into the room and immediately my eyes land on the famed Ms. Evans and her clone.

Holy crap.

Isabel’s got her shirt tied in a knot just below her bust line and her sweat pants are rolled down and hanging as low on her hips as they can without falling off. Yeah, you have a stomach. Congrats. So do the rest of us. Who the hell is she trying to impress, anyway?

But here’s the real kicker: her friend Tessy or whatever… get this… actually turned her sweatpants into a skirt. A freaking skirt. She must have taken them apart at the inner seams and then sewed each of the legs together.

Un-freaking-believable.

What whores.

“What whores, huh?” Well, that’s funny…

“My thoughts exactly, Lizzy.”

“I swear, sometimes I just wanna smack her.” Sounds reasonable to me…

“How long have you been resisting?”

“Since the first grade. That’s when the Evans’ moved here from Arizona. Wasn’t always so bad, though. I used to just take all my aggression out on Mi… uh, a friend of mine. He a… he moved away.”

“For his safety?”

“It’s possible.”

“Okea, gurlz, sittin’ in zee floor fa varming up.” Um… yeah. That’s Ms. Vishnicki. But you probably figured that out on your own.

Well, I guess it’s time to “varm up”.

--------------------------------------------

I’m not eavesdropping.

I’m not.

Really.

I just happen to be doing my sit-ups about six feet away from two particular blondes, and at the request of my new friend Liz, I’m keeping my ears open.

That’s all.

Honest.

“So, what did you and Kyle do last night?” That’s the little one. The perky one. The savoring every last breadcrumb that Isabel throws her one.

“Oh, you know. Same as always. I went to his place, ‘cause his dad was out. We watched some movies. Cuddled. You know… same as always.” Awh, is the poor little Ice Queen trapped in an unfulfilling relationship? How very sad.

“You cuddled? No lip action? No nothing?”

“Nada.”

“He’s been weird with you for a little while now, huh? What’s his deal anyways?”

“I don’t know. Ever since he got hurt a little while back and had to be benched for three weeks he’s been acting… strange. Two days ago he asked me if I believed in reincarnation. -Morbid much?”

“What’s morbid about flowers?” Please tell me she didn’t actually just say that…

“Not carnations you ditz. Reincarnation. You know, like, dying and coming back as something else.” Theology For Dummies.

“Oh, you mean like a gopher, or something?”

“Yeah, I guess. Anyways, he says weird crap like that to me all the time now. I think I’m gonna break up with him. Finder a better model.”

“Better then Kyle Valenti? I’m having trouble believing such a thing exists…”

“Believe it, Tess. And he’s gonna be mine.”

“Are you talking about someone in particular?”

“Maybe.”

“Isabel…”

“Oh come on, who do you think I’m talking about?”

No response from Tess.

What a surprise.

I think she’s on overload or something.

Better check her batteries.

“Come on, Tess. Who’s got a super-hot bod, a car to die for, practically more money then anyone in New Mexico, and is always wearing a sexy leather jacket?” Oh shit.

“No way. Mike Guerin?”

Isabel nods.

“Holy crap, Isabel. That’s like… I mean, that’s just… it’s so…” See. Overload. Told ya.

“Calm down, Tess. I mean, I can’t believe you didn’t see it coming. It’s so obvious. Mike and I are like, perfect for each other.” On what planet?!

“But he’s all, you know, mean. And he’s hates everyone. ‘Everyone’, like, means you too, Isabel.” -Reference number two to The Moron Dictionary.

“It’s just an act. A smart one two. By shutting out everyone he doesn’t have to deal with all the losers who would try to hang around him if he was popular like me.”

“Speaking of losers, did you see the new girl?” Did I mention that they have their backs turned to me? Well, it’s obviously crucial. So, now you know.

“Yeah. And worse even, Max was actually nice to her this morning. Helped her with her books or something. I swear, I can’t take him anywhere anymore…”

“Well, Pam told me that she was talking to Marlene at lunch and she said that David Jenkins, you know, the one with the eyes, was talking to her in Bio and he said that Nikki Ferris was ditching first period when she ran into Brooke Daniels who was also ditching first period, and she told her that Christy Hooper saw the new girl and Mike Guerin talking in the hallway.” Wait, I know this one, Christy Hooper was in a movie with Kevin Bacon, right?

“I couldn’t care less. She poses no threat whatsoever. I mean, did you see who she was sitting with at lunch? Midget Liz Parker and Alex Whimp-man. Yeah, I’m shaking in my boots.”

“But you’re wearing tennis shoes…” Oh, for crying out loud…

“Tess?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking.”