Young Blood; Part II

              "Yeah, I think I'll pass on that, thanks."
     Colin frowns at my response and whines, "Come on, Sia!"
  It's seventh period. The teacher, Mr. Brunren, finished his lesson early and let the class spend the last twenty minutes as study hall. So really, everyone is just talking or doing homework for other classes. I sit all the way in the back corner, just behind Colin, who has turned in his seat to face me. Under other circumstances, I'd think it was cute that he always turned to talk to me, even though I'm sure he has other friends in this class, but at the moment he's not at the top of my favorites list. Mainly because he's trying to talk me into befriending someone, something I'm not very good at.
      "Just give her a chance. She's pretty awesome, really!"
    I shake my head. "I've been here two days. Can I at least have a week to decide who I want to have as my friends?"
      "No. By then it'll be too late."
      "And why's that?"
 He flashes me a grin. "Because then, you won't be the new girl anymore. You have to make your friends soon, cos right now, you've got everyone's attention."
    I shrink a bit in my seat. "That's the opposite of what I want."
   He gives me a look that tells me he wants to take back what he said. "I mean, people want to know you now. Later, they may not be interested. No offense."
     "None taken," I mumble, straightening and making a pained face. "She's a journalist?"
  "You say it like it's a terrible thing," Colin notices. "Besides, she's just...head of the journalism team. It's not that big of a deal."
 I scratch gently at my arm absentmindedly. "If she's the head of a club, wouldn't that make her popular? She should have a bunch of friends."
   He gives me a pleading look. "She's just...she can sometimes seem a little overwhelming, that's all."
"Great," I mutter.
   "She's just forward," he finishes, "She's not that bad, I promise. Just give her a shot? This afternoon, at the game."
      The bell rings. While students wander out of the room, I swing my bag over my shoulder and look at Colin. "Promise me that I'll like her?"
    "Of course not," he responds. We walk into the hallway together and he faces me and begins to walk backwards. "See you at the game!"
    "How am I supposed to find her?" I call after him.
He grins and winks at me. "Don't worry about that. Let her find you."
~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~   ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~    ~  
     This is why I hate baseball games.
 Well, sports games in general, really.
I'm surprised to find a reasonably sized set of bleachers along the gated field, probably enough seats to hold around two hundred people. At the moment, half of the seats are full. Who knew baseball was so popular? This school is weird.
    I maneuver a ways past the student section, which is pretty packed, even though it's half past five on a Thursday. I find a row of empty seats and sit myself on the end of one, trying to blend in with the metal. Bad day to wear red, I tell myself, glancing down at my white sweater adorned with cherry-colored stripes.
   The home team emerges from their dugout, and I notice a familiar face. Colin scans the bleachers as he walks into the field, and his eyes find mine. He smiles and pulls his white baseball cap over his dark hair before winking at me. I give a small wave before placing my hands between my knees.
  "Kendrick!" Someone yells, and Colin breaks eye contact with me and rushes to the coach's side, along with the rest of the players. The other team has appeared from inside visitor's dugout and they walk onto the field. Figuring the game won't really start for a couple more minutes, I take a chance to look around.
  This is the first time I've been this far from the school building. Between this ball field and the main building, there are a few separate fields, most likely for football and soccer and stuff like that. Beyond the baseball field, woods stretch a mile or two. In the distance I can see the aligned roofs from a neighborhood along the outskirts of the forest.
  Even with Colin's helping me learn the campus, I'm still really overwhelmed. My dad always prefers me attending large schools, but this one is by far the most impressive. The whole school is enormous. I almost got lost on my way to the classes I didn't share with Colin, those classes being the first, second, and sixth periods. To add to that, there's a large number of students in each class. Even so, I didn't have many people offering to befriend me. Well...that's not necessarily true.
  When I wandered into second period this morning, I was surprised, and pleasantly so, to say the least. Second period is elective period, and at the extensive list of activities, I just picked one at random and ended up with wood shop. Now, I'll never say I'm terrible at constructing things made out of wood. I've built many a birdhouse in my day; I'm pretty sure I can handle some nails and a hammer. I'd never taken wood shop at any of my other schools, so I was kinda embarrassed when I walked into room R23 and found it almost only occupying teenage boys. Around twenty of them, actual, when I took the time to count, and four girls, including myself. When I walked into the huge warehouse that served as their workroom, the whole class was milling about large constructions of wood and metal. "Perfect timing, you getting here," the shop teacher told me, glancing at my schedule, "We're building the sets for our fall play. Hope you're handy with a drill."
  I wasn't. Whenever I tried to drill on part of one of the sets, the drill would shake violently in my hands. I was about to give up when someone behind me spoke.
 "You've gotta put more pressure on it. You can't hold it so loosely."
   Elliot moved beside me and took the drill out of my hands. "Here." He placed the tip of the device onto the screw and pushed hard, and the screw rotated easily into the wood. "There. Now you try."
       A blush comes to my cheeks as I recall this morning. I shake my head. Sure, Elliot saved me from total embarrassment, but that didn't make him my knight in shining armor. Just...an opportune hero, of sorts. I focus back on the game that's about to start. Brierfield players are in the outfield, while Woodrow Academy is up to bat. I watch a boy in pale blue step up to the home plate. He taps his bat against the side of the white plate, a grin on his face. Out in the field, I spot Colin, the shortstop. He leans down, elbows on his knees, eyes on the pitcher, waiting for him to pitch the ball.
  "Oh good, I haven't missed it!" I turn my head as a girl falls into the space beside me. She sets her messenger bag on the bleacher seat and lets out a relieved sigh before tucking a strand of lavender-streaked blue-black hair behind her ear. She grins at me. "You're alone, so you must be Sia. I'm right, aren't I?"
   She holds out a hand clad with a good number of silver-banded rings, and I take it. The rings are cold against my skin, but her palm is warm.
   "Yeah," I tell her, "Colin didn't tell me your name. Apparently, it would 'ruin the experience'."
She laughs. "Colin. Correct, as always. Denison Hill, but most call me Deni. Please to meet you."
  I take a moment to study her. In her lap she sits a large black camera bag, most likely one she borrow from class. There's her journalism side, but I have yet to discover the stuck-up prick side that I'd been expecting. I figure Colin has enough character to know a cool friend when he sees one. From the looks of it, she's the kind of person that warms up to anyone. Heck, she's the only girl I've been comfortable being around in who knows how long. If Colin is such good friends with her, then I can do the same, right?
    Deni turns to the ball field, where the game has started without us. The batter from before is now on first base, and another has taken his place at the bat. Colin is in the same position as before, close to the ground with his catcher's mitt almost touching the dirt.
  "So, you didn't to sit in the student section?" Deni asks, bringing my attention back to her.
I shrug. "I don't know. It seems a bit overwhelming. The whole school is, actually."
"I prefer the term 'extraordinary'," she says, laughing after the words leave her mouth. I peer around her and look at the student section, where students sit calmly, watching the game. It's almost amusing how intent they are towards a silly game like baseball.
   "Come to think of it, why are so many students here, anyway?" I ask, straightening back up and looking at Deni. "I didn't think baseball was ever that big of a deal, especially in high school.
   "Oh, they don't come all the time. On any other day, there wouldn't be nearly this many. But this isn't any other day."
  I blink at her. "Why do you say that?"
"Because we're playing Woodrow, and they're known for pitching fast and far. There's this one batter that almost always sends the ball over the fence." She gestures to the tall wooden wall, the same dark green as the Brierfield uniforms, marking the barrier of the ball field. "They're one of the best teams we've ever played."
  I roll my eyes. "They came for that?"
"Not for that, Sia," Deni winks at me with lavender iris' that are too insane to not be contact lenses, "but because we have the coolest outfielder in the universe."
  I immediately assume she means Colin, but then she points far out on the field to the edge of the back wall, where another boy stands. His right hand casually grips the gloved left. He has his head bent, but as the cracking sound of tough leather against wood splits the air, his head snaps up. The baseball flies nowhere near him, keeping low to the ground on its way towards the space between first and second base, but before he can focus on the pitcher again, I get a look at his face.
  The 'coolest outfielder' just so happens to be Elliot.





((Wow I didn't mean for that to seem so suspenseful, but daaaang. Haha corny, I know, but it gets better, trust me. I didn't originally want Elliot to be the 'mysterious hottie hero' cliche, and I don't even think I want that now, but a girls gotta write what her brain tells her to write. So apparently I started working on this shortly after I posted the first part, which makes me feel pretty terrible, since that was so long ago. >.<  But it's here now! Hopefully I can keep it up. School has gotten pretty stressful, though, sucking up my inspiration and such. Wish me luck!
~Squiggs))

Young Blood;

"Put on your war paint..."

           If there's one thing I hate, and know that I despise a great many things, it's transferring schools mid-semester. I already hate transferring schools, which I've had to make a habit of due to my dad's work, but doing it in September is worse. I don't even see the point of it, as I take extra classes online, mostly because of what I miss moving from school to school, but my dad insists. I'm pretty sure it's part of his curriculum of screwing up my life. And no matter how much I argue, I'm always right back here, sitting in an office chair waiting to be handed my schedule. I sigh and hug my backpack to my chest, resting my chin on it's button-clad fabric.
    "Miss Kiselev?"
I look up at the secretary standing in one of the doorways and slowly raise my hand. She smiles mechanically and hands me a sheet of paper. "Here's your schedule, locker number and password. Don't lose it, now."
 "Thanks," I mutter, not really meeting her eyes.
"Do you need a guide to help you to class?"
  I glance at the sheet. "I think I'll be alright."
With that, I leave the office, letting the door shut soundlessly behind me. I wander the halls, looking for the room my third period class is in. Luckily, my flat-soled converse make almost no noise at all against the floor, making no echo to float down the eerily comatose halls. When I make it to the room, I peer through the thin rectangular window set into the wooden door. I see the teacher, a man probably in his early thirties, talking at the board. Not good. I hate disrupting the class. Not because of the fact I'm disrupting, but because when I do all eyes are on me. Taking a deep breath that suffocates me anyway, I turn the knob and open the door.
  Bam. As if a bomb goes off when I open the door, every head turns to me. The teacher, Mr. Penman, looks surprised for a moment before softening and asking, "Are you our new transfer student?"
Trying not to look at the rest of the class, I nod and hand him the pass the office secretary had given me before I left. He looks at it, then smiles and says, "Welcome to Brierfield, Miss Kiselev. You can have a seat over there by Mr. Kendrick."
 I face the class and panic for a moment before a boy near the back of the class raises his hand in a sort of half-wave. I don't look at his face, only clutch the corner of my schedule and make my way down the aisle to the desk I'm assigned. I sit, and finally the weight of the eyes on me lifts, and I take a deep breath and try to let the fluttering in my stomach settle down. Mr. Penman has started teaching the class, informing at me without turning from the board that the class is studying the fourth chapter of a book called The Great Gatsby. I feel a wave of relief when I realize I had read that book already, having read many of the books typically read by high school classes. I don't have the book with me, but after hearing a bit of the teacher's lesson, I realize where they are in the book and know what's going to happen next, so I relax in my seat and study my schedule. I glance from it to the clock and back, and I notice that there's only five minutes left of third period. I sigh softly at the fact that I'll have to do all of that again fourth period, then fifth, and so on.
 Someone taps on my desk, and I look to see the boy Mr. Penman had identified as "Kendrick". He smiles at me, and I think I try to mirror it but I'm not sure how it looks because the nervous butterflies are back. He points to my schedule, and I realize he wants to see it. I slide it to him, and he lays it on his desk and reads it. I focus on my desk for the last few minutes of class. When the bell rings, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and get up from my desk. The Kendrick boy does at the same time, handing me my schedule.
  "Alright, you win the prize of 'most difficult names'," he says, still smiling. My face feels hot, but I manage to ask, "Why's that?"
 He points to my schedule, where the name "Athanasia" is printed. My name. "Oh, that."
  "I don't even know how to pronounce that."
  "It's not that hard. Ah-thahn-ay-see-uh."
  He raises an eyebrow at me, and I shrug. "My dad calls me Sia."
  His smile widens. "Much easier."
  He holds out his hand. "Colin Kendrick."
  I manage a wholehearted smile and take it. "Sia Kiselev."
  He shakes his head, still smiling. "That's one crazy name. Anyway," he starts toward the door, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. I find myself following close behind him, "We actually have a few classes together, including fourth period. I can walk you there, if you want, and show you around the rest of the school."
  We're in the hallway now, and he's turned to face me, that never-faltering smile still on his lips. He has nice, thin lips, and dark blue eyes widened under black shaggy hair. He's a good foot taller than I, but that's not surprising since I'm generally short for my age. I give him a small smile and say, "Sure."
  He gives a small breath of happy laughter and tosses his head, motioning me to follow him. I trot the short distance to his side and match his pace as he starts a conversation about me.
 Where am I transferring from? A public school in Michigan.
 Why the sudden transfer? My dad's work causes us to move a lot.
 What's my dad do? He's a sort of scientist. Computer science or something like that.
 I don't know what kind for sure? He doesn't like to talk about his work, and he's busy a lot, so when we do talk, that's not the desired subject to talk about.
Colin thinks about that for a moment, then says, "I know how that is."
 I cock my head at him, but he just continues with questions.
 "Do you do any sports?"
 I shrug. "I'm good at sports, I guess, but I don't participate in any teams. I like watching."
 "Sweet!" He says, grinning, "Maybe you can come see my baseball game Thursday? It's one of the last ones of the season."
 "Sure, I'll try to make it."
     He stops in front of a classroom and bids me enter. I smile and walk past him, and I take a look around for two empty seats. There, two rows back, near the window. I motion for Colin to follow me and weave my way through the desks before taking a seat. Colin sits to my left, but there's still an empty seat to my right. Colin continues talking to me, but I'm too busy smiling to reply. I feel awesome! I've finally managed to make something of a friend on the first day of school. I laugh at something Colin says before I hear someone move into the desk beside me. I turn and see a boy there, setting his backpack against his seat, and he catches my eye. He nods to me, smiling slightly. Colin leans around me to see the other boy. "Oh, hey Elliot. This is new girl, Sia."
  The boy, Elliot, straightens and holds out his hand to me. "Elliot Hynes."
  Just like with Colin, I took his hand and shook it. "Sia Kiselev."
  He has a nice smile, not constant like Colin, but nice. He let's go and turns to the front of the room, and Colin goes on to tell me that Elliot is on the baseball team like him, then quiets as the teacher walks in. I'm silent through all this because I'm wondering why, when I shook Elliot's hand, he was intent on staring at my arm.



((Author's note: Hey y'all! Just a little something I whipped up when I was bored. Funny that inspiration finally comes at the beginning of the busiest school year ever. >.< but I'm actually having a really good time. It's nice to finally be an upper classman, and going off campus for lunch is thrilling -even if it is only a few minutes down the road to where we eat. Anyway, just a little snippet of a story I intend on continuing :) thanks for reading. Comments are welcome. ))