1
First Week of School
Haddonfield High School
Locke
Question: If someone finds themselves in a ridiculous situation, is it appropriate to simply leave?
Answer: No. Not if one is required to attend something as utterly preposterous as gym class.
“Okay, everyone pair up.” Mr. McSully shouted, then blew on his whistle.
I was not a dog. I did not respond to whistle commands, so I remained still.
“Hi, Locke. Wanna be my partner?”
Reen, the girl who had brought me to her lunch table the other day to join her and her friends, bounced into my view with her dark hair and sex-pot cheerleader uniform.
“Your tenacity to be friends with me is almost adorable. If I found such things cute. I don’t.”
Reen—short for Irene I’d learned—Adler stood in front of me with an impish smile.
She was, in a word, stunning. An exotic mix of races that made it impossible to tell which dominated. Asian, Hispanic, Native American, maybe?
Light brown skin, long dark hair that fell straight down her back, high pronounced cheekbones, with almond shaped eyes that were a tawny gold color I don’t know if I’d ever seen in my life.
Her full lips were sex. Her body was sex. Her hair was sex.
She was so far out of my league as to be comical, except in these early days of the school year when she seemed to be actively working to make me her friend. Or…something.
“Please,” she said, leaning towards me. “If you don’t pick me as your partner, I’ll have to fend off the hoard.”
She pointed over her shoulder, and I could see at least five mates lingering deliberately, even as they avoided the other girls seeking them out. All waiting to pounce on her.
“Fine.”
“He says, reluctantly.” She smiled, clearly unoffended by my curtness, and swiveled to face her admirers. “Sorry, guys. I’m taken.”
I watched their crestfallen expressions and almost laughed out loud.
Interesting. Laughter was not a common activity for me.
“Can I ask you a question?”
She turned back to me. “Sure. Anything you want to know.”
“We’re not seriously about to learn how tododance, are we?”
She shrugged. “Sorry. Welcome to Haddonfield. You see, the Cotillion, sponsored by the Haddonfield Historical Society, is one oftheevents of the school year. Juniors and Seniors are eligible to be invited. The highlight of the evening is, of course, a formal waltz. To ensure everyone knows what they are doing and looks good while doing it, learning the dance is required junior year gym curriculum.”
“But I don’t want to go to this dance. I don’t like them.”
She made a face then. “Oh,youwon’t be invited to the dance. Invites usually only go to the Super Snobs.”
“But I still need tothelearn the dance?”
“Because, you know…equality. They likedto pretend anyonecouldbe invited. The reality is we will not be.”
