Everyone agrees to the compromise, and soon enough, we leave the office, all smiles and optimism. I part ways with Mason and Cassie at the main doors. When they’re gone, I set off for my assigned locker in the math wing, navigating multiplying students as I go. A professional new girl, I check out what kids are wearing and note that my hip-length red T-shirt and faded skinny jeans were the right choice this morning.
Like a chameleon, I blend in.
“Sweet TOMS,” a voice says, presumably to me. I step back from my locker to investigate. A pretty girl a few doors down is pointing at my silver glitter slip-ons.
“Thanks,” I say, wiggling my toes inside the canvas shoes. Thoughts of birthday party invitations fly into my brain, and I decide to try to keep the conversation going. “I like your hair.”
The girl runs a hand through her two-toned tresses—golden blond on top and jet black underneath—and smiles with her whole face, from her Hollywood chin to her dark brown eyes. She’s wearing a turquoise sundress and low cowboy boots, and I’m positive she has to be the most popular girl in school. Everything about her is cool.
“Thanks,” she said. “My mom hates it.”
“My mom hates these shoes,” I say, shrugging, which is mostly true. Cassie doesn’t like anything remotely flashy or attention-getting.
The girl laughs.
“I’m Audrey McKean,” she says.
“Daisy West.” I smile.
“You must be new; I know everyone.”
Yep, she’s popular.
“Today’s my first day,” I say. “We just moved here from Michigan.” Another student approaches one of the lockers between mine and Audrey’s, blocking our view of each other. Audrey peeks around him and makes a silly face at me, then slams her locker door and moves around the guy.
“So, what’s your first class?” she asks.
“English,” I say. “With Mr. Jefferson?”
“You’re a junior?” she asks.
“Sophomore,” I say.
“No way.”
I raise my eyebrows in question.
“You look older,” she explains. “You must be a huge nerd.”
I look at her, surprised.
“I’m joking!” she says, hitting me lightly on the arm like we’ve known each other for ages. “I’ll walk you to your class. I’ve got Spanish in the next wing over.”
“Wow, thanks,” I say. “That’s really nice of you.”
“It’s no big deal,” Audrey says. “Come on: It’s this way.”
Audrey and I talk about our mutual love of casual footwear the entire way to first period. She raves about a new pair of laceless runners and I babble about pointed versus round-toed flats. It reminds me a little of the effortless way I chat with Megan, and honestly, I’m bummed when we arrive at my classroom.
“Hey, do you want to go off-campus for lunch?” Audrey asks.
“I…” I begin, confused by the attention from someone who has to have friends lining up to hang out with her. I channel a little of Cassie’s paranoia and eye Audrey suspiciously. “Um…”
“Oh,” Audrey says, her face falling so slightly I barely notice it. “That’s okay if you have other plans. I just thought since you’re new and all…”
“No,” I say quickly, snapping out of it. “I don’t have other plans. I’d love to go. Should we meet at the lockers?”