Chapter 13 (post one)

 Pre-note: Another filler chapter! Mostly anyways. I have learned a lot in the past four months in my creative writing class, and looking back, find that most of this story is terrible. But I keep telling myself that I can make it better, that this is only the first draft and all it's for is getting ideas done. I really want to start writing again during the Christmas break! I am posting all this old work and I want to post NEW stuff! So if I start posting multiple sections a day, it's so that I can get to the point where I'm posting new writing. Anyways, enough rambling, here's so VERY rough writing:

Chapter thirteen, section one:

Monday morning they announced the dance that had been rumoured the week before. It was like a switch had been turned; the whole class instantly buzzed with anticipation. The teacher up front didn’t even try to calm everyone down, instead letting the class go early to lunch.

We streamed out of the school building. Stopping by the cafeteria, we grabbed sandwiches then walked to the front of the grounds, all the while discussing the dance.

One thousand boys; one thousand girls. The front lawn of the boys school, strung with lights and streamers. A huge sound system; a real DJ. Pulsing beats and new faces. The excitement was catching. After we settled into the grass, the chatter turned to boys. Eventually I couldn’t keep up, since they’d been studying these boys for years and I’d only first seen them last week, so I asked the girl beside me, who was sitting quietly without speaking a word, whether she’d run back to the residence with me so I could grab a book I’d forgotten.

She agreed, and as we walked, I got her to talk.

“What’s your name?” I asked, “I don’t remember being introduced.”

“Lulu,” she said, “And I don’t typically eat lunch with this group, that’s why we haven’t been introduced before. Usually I eat with a couple of my friends, but they both joined the volleyball club during lunch on Fridays, so I tagged along with Ella today.”

“That’s cool,” I said, “I’m no good at volleyball either.”

“Ha, neither am I! My arms get way too sore too fast!”

“Me too!” I laughed.

“You know you are really lucky to be hanging out with that group, being new here and everything.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They are the most popular group at our school, as well as some of the richest students. Amy’s dad is the mayor of the city, they are loaded.”

“That actually explains a lot.”

“Like all the brand name clothes, all the latest electronics, everything she could possibly want.”

I paused for a moment, and then worded carefully, “I was never popular at my old school, why would that want to hang out with me here?”

“I typically don’t get involved,” started Lulu, “But I’ll tell you this because I don’t normally hang out with this crowd. They like the fact that you are a little odd.”

“What?” I asked, slightly taken aback.

“No, no,” said Lulu quickly, “In a good way, a really good way. You don’t follow trends and dress they way everyone else does outside of class, but you do it nicely. They like the way you dress and the fact it’s not the same. You don’t wear your hair and makeup the way everyone else does either, but you still look really good every day.”

I blushed with all the compliments. “Really?”

“Yeah,” said Lulu, nodding, “It’s true.”

“Well, I don’t have much makeup or hair stuff because I haven’t gone shopping yet, that’s why I don’t get all nicely done for school like everyone else. And my clothes I picked out all at once, without really thinking, so I just throw things together sometimes.”

“Well, you do it well,” she said as we walked into the elevator, “What floor?”

“Six.”

The elevator zoomed us up to the sixth rec room floor, where Lulu waited as I ran into my room and grabbed my Physics book.

On the way back, we wandered through the garden, since Lulu was meeting her friends outside the gym just before lunch ended.

“Do you ever miss your family?” I asked her randomly.

“Sometimes,” she said. “Elementary school wasn’t a boarding school, so I used to spend a lot more time with them. But I go home every weekend, so it’s ok.”

We came to the doors of the gym, but no one was there yet. There was a bench under a tree nearby, so we headed over to it and sat down.

We chatted about school and family for a little longer. I was careful not to give much away, since I had been taught by Jake not to mention earth. When she asked where I was from, I said it was pretty far away and she wouldn’t have heard of it before, and then quickly changed the subject. She understood that Jake was my Guider, and I don’t think she understood that meant I had come from another world, but she didn’t ask about my family.

When her friends joined us, we walked back to the school building together, agreeing to hang out again sometime.

Chapter 12 (post two)

Pre-read note: This section is try and explain some things, except I don't know if I'm accomplishing that or confusing the reader. Something tells me that this will all be re-written, one day when I have the time. 

Chapter twelve, section two:

I immersed myself in Jake’s tour.

We took his sleek car around the city, from end of town to the others. We toured the neighbourhood where my school was, a suburb full of large cookie-cutter houses, then headed into the city itself. The place divided into districts, as I had noticed on my shopping trip the other day: shopping, business, dining and services.

Jake drove through all three, pointing out places that might interest me. I tried to remember where some of them were, such as the clothing store and drugstore from yesterday, as well as some interesting restaurants, although all the buildings were made of that same reflective gray material, which made them all look the same. We came to a building with red, stylized letters reading, “Sunrise Chinese,” and pulled into a driveway leading to a parking lot in the back.

 The place was modern and sleek, not a neighbourhood Chinese restaurant at all. The tables were tall, black, with matching chairs. Red lanterns hug above each, the only colour in the room. It was the most decorated place I’d been in, and although it was sparse and very modern, I liked it.

“This place is so cool,” I said to Jake.

“Yeah, I come here all the time,” he replied.

As we flipped through menus, large, black and white things with more cheesy, stylized font, I said, “What do you recommend?”

“For vegetarian options....” he flipped the page, “The eggrolls, for sure, and the deep-fried tofu.”

“Those are not the healthiest options!” I laughed, “But, ok, I’ll try those,” I shut the folder and made room for it on the table-for-two. More quietly, so the people around us wouldn’t hear, I asked, “Since here, in this world, people aren’t hungry, how does it work with weight? Can you still lose or gain weight the same way?”

“No,” Jake said, folding his menu and placing it on top of mine, “It’s more of a... choice here.”

“You can choose?”

“If you want your body to be smaller or bigger, it will slowly adapt.” He tried to explain. “Since you are technically a spirit here, you are maluable and don’t apply to the basic rules of a physical body.”

“I think I understand...” I said, but before I could finish my thought our waiter appeared. I was surprised that he wasn’t Chinese or even Asian; he was an average, white man probably half a dozen years older than myself.

“Hi, can I take your orders?”

He took them down on a pad of paper, the disappeared into another room with our menus. It was getting busier as it approached 5:30pm. I wondered how this world worked, whether there were other countries, whether they were like the ones back home or if they were different too. I looked up a Jake, who was checking his phone, but stopped myself. The room was too crowded to ask openly about this world. Instead, I smiled and said, “What is choi meing?”

He described his order for me and my thoughts were pushed to the back of my mind.

When we finished dinner, it was seven, and although I told him that I was going to be late for the curfew, he said that students would often arrive late on Sundays and it was ok, because I was with him. And so we headed off to that the very first place he’d shown me last week: the beach.

Again, it was empty, not a soul for miles. When we pulled up, the clouds in the sky were blocking the moon and the stars, so the ocean looked like an angry blanket of gray.

Jake brought blankets, one to sit on and one for me, without a sweater since I hadn’t thought we were going to be out late.

We settled far from the water, half the blanket on the slope of the dunes and half on the flat of the beach. When we laid back, with the dunes propping us up to forty-five degree angles, I was disappointed in the cloud cover. The view would have been amazing if it was just stars and a moon, but instead it was mysterious black and gray sheets of untouchable fabric.

“Too bad about the clouds,” I whispered.

“They are neat, though, in their own way.”

As I watched them, I could see them move. It was only slightly noticeable at first, then they picked up, and I watched them drift across the sky. I offered some blanket to Jake, and when he refused, pulled it in closer around me.

“We should talk,” Jake said, watching my eyes drift open and closed, “So you don’t fall asleep.”

“Ok,” I said.

“You must have more questions.”

“I did have another...”

“Yeah?”

“Are there other countries?”

“Yes. This world is the same as yours geographically, and most continents are divided up the same way. China is in the same place. Many places are named for their Earth cities and states.”

“Where are we?”

“We are in North America, on the West coast.”

“Like, Canada?”

“North America applies to the geographical area of Mexico, the United States and Canada back on earth.”

“Oh. So what province are we in?”

“Calumbia.”

“With a c-a?”

“Yep.”

“Like California and British Columbia combined?”

“Yes.” He grinned.

I thought about it for a second, then laughed. “Really? Huh.”

The clouds were starting to clear a little; they were drifting apart and little gaps were opening, where the stars were poking out.

“About not gaining weight...”

“Yeah?” He looked me with his hands behind his head.

“How?”

“I know this is hard to understand, but remember, you aren’t you anymore. This body and this world aren’t actually physical; they’re not made up of particles or atoms. You are a spirit – you are maluable, like Playdoh.”

“So how can I change?”

“Just want it.”

“I’m wanting it; nothing is happening.”

“It takes more time than that, give it a couple weeks. But don’t turn into one of those stick figures; it’s not attractive.” He smiled a huge grin.

I laughed, “Yeah, I’ll try to resist!”

I paused, then asked, “Does that mean I can change into absolutely anything?”

“There’s limitations, but only the limitations your mind has.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t even understand it all, but basically, you don’t need to worry about turning purple or growing a tail.”

“And if I wanted a tail?” I respond with a grin.

“Sorry about that, then,” he laughed, “Maybe someday.”

We both turned back to the sky with smiles lingering on our cheeks.

“It’s late,” he said, glancing at his watch, “We should get going.”

“Five more minutes.”

He looked at the sky, saying, “Five more minutes,” as the clouds drifted apart and the moon began to shine through.

Chapter 12 (post one)

Pre-note: If it feels like you've read this already, it's because you have! Pieces of this chapter come from before, and while I was editing and moving those pieces into this chapter, I screwed up the chapter count. So that's why a couple of weeks ago there was some confusion as to what chapter I was posting! So yes, you've read some of this already (if you are reading in order these posts) but it's changed a little as well.

Chapter twelve, section one:  

I slept in Sunday. After we’d come back yesterday, I’d watched Amy, Chantel and Cara be picked up by their family. I’d met their moms and dads, as well as a couple siblings. They were so kind to me, although they never asked if my family was picking me up.

Today, I knew there would be no one around. Everyone spent the weekends with their families, so the library was closed and there wasn’t even clubs to go to.

When I finally stumbled out of bed at 11:30, I found three texts on my phone, each from Jake. He wanted to spend the day with me, show me around and such; I sent him a reply saying I wouldn’t be ready for a while, but sure.

I showered, dressed, sent him another text, then paced my bedroom. I eventually decided to give Jake a call, but he didn’t pick up. Finally, I wandered down the hall to the rec room. It was a large, open room with huge windows and deep sofas. The TV was gigantic, spanning half of the wall, so I made myself comfortable and switched through the channels. I didn’t recognize any of the network names, and I had trouble finding a channel I wanted to watch. At home, I was always watching design shows and cheesy romantic comedies, while here every other network was a news channel or stock show.

When I gave up and turned the television off, the room fell eerily silent. With not a soul on the floor, perhaps in the whole building, it was a quiet I hadn’t heard here before.

Back home, there was never much silence. I closed my eyes and was soon in a day dream.

When I was alive, I used to think of all the amazing universities on the other side of the country I could go to as soon as I graduated, moving far away from my crazy family. Sharing a cramped room with another student in a residence sounded amazing compared to living at home. Who wants to live with their parents when they’re a teenager? Now factor in that my parents were divorced, half my mother’s family wouldn’t speak the other, my siblings drove me crazy every day, and you would be out the door, too. 

That was before they were gone, however.

I missed my mom. She had the long, golden hair that I’d inherited and the same oval face, but eyes a deeper blue than mine. My mother’s eyes had reflected everything she thought; they would tell me if I could ask her to stay out past midnight or if she was having a relapse into the “off days” that came after the divorce.

When I stood on the beach in Heaven all those days ago, it had been memories of her that came back to me. We used to spend the summers at my grandmother’s house up just north of us, in beautiful Muscoka, before my mom and my grandma stopped speaking to one another. When I was little, I’d get up early before everyone else and run down to the dock that looked out over the lake. If I was lucky, I’d find the sun rising over it, and watch as the rays slowly filled the shadowed trees and spread sparkles across the lake. When my mother and grandmother found out where I went most mornings, sometimes I’d find them there waiting for me with a quilt and a thermos of hot chocolate. I’d sit in one of their laps, and they’d wrap their quilt and arms around me as I sipped the warm drink. Once, when I was about six, I had come out a little too late, and only my mother was there. The sun was already over the trees on the other side of the lake, but my mother had sat with an empty mug smelling of almond seasoned coffee and watched the sun sparkle over the water. I had tiptoed to the end of the dock and sat down next to her.

“Do you see that?” my mother had said, pointing off into the distance.

“What?” my tiny self had asked. “What is it?”

“My dad used to say that the reflections of the first morning rays of sun over the lake were people in Heaven waving to us.”

“Oh,” I had said, not completely understanding what she’d said or what she was pointing out, but then, sitting by myself, I understood. I understood, and wished that I was one of those dancing rays of light, watching a smile light my mother’s face.

I remembered, fuzzy but surely, swimming in the lake all day and eating sandy sandwiches on a picnic bench with a view of the dock. My grandma was always kind to us; I remember turning to her instead of my mother when one of my siblings and I got into a dispute because she’d always resolve it fairly, typically with cookies and other baked goods.

My dad never came on these trips. He had something against my grandmother and I never found out what it was. He was a quiet man who kept to himself, yet was involved with his own family, which made the coldness he felt towards my grandma confusing to me. But when I was little, I never questioned anything anyway. Since my mother was a stay-at-home mom with three children, I saw less of my dad than I did of my mom, and so he appeared second in my stream of memories.

When I was in kindergarten, my dad had worked just down the street from my school, so he had walked me there each morning. I remember riding on his shoulders sunny mornings, with my small fingers tangled through his thick dark hair. He would bring a tumbler full of coffee, with the same almond flavour my mom liked, and sip it as he told to me not to pull at his head. I would put my hand over one of his eyes, and he would respond with an, “Arr! Don’t do that mate!” in a pirate accent, which would send me into fits of giggles.

When my phone vibrated in my pocket, I almost jumped. When my eyes adjusted to the room, I was surprised it wasn’t my living room from back home.

My phone vibrated again, persistent, and I flipped it open.

“Hello?”

“New Wings! How was your first week?”

“Good, thanks, Jake.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer my phone earlier, but I’d still like to go out. Feel like Chinese for dinner?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” I said, still groggy.

“Ok, I’ll pick you up at five then. See you then.”

I hung up, taking a deep breath. It had felt so real, each memory. Had it been a day dream, or had I fallen asleep? Either way, I was left with a sinking feeling in my stomach and a hole in my heart, otherwise called homesickness.

Chapter 11 (post 4)

Pre-note: This section is long! Let me know what you think I'm trying to get through in this section :)

Chapter eleven, section four:

Amy owned a gray convertible, complete with leather interior.

“Seventeenth birthday present,” she’d explained when my jaw almost hit the pavement.

We drove through the suburbs to downtown. We headed to the shopping district, although the only way you could tell it was the shopping district was the name on the GPS or the display of clothes and items in the shop windows, since the buildings all looked the same.

Amy parked along the road, in front of a row of clothing stores.

As we got out, she said to me, “You haven’t been shopping here yet, have you?”

“No,” I replied, “Only at a big box store.”

“Oh good!” Chantel smiled as she linked arms with me and began to direct me down the street. “We’ll show you where to go.”

“There’s really only one place to go,” Cara added.

“Well, we’ll show you how we shop. First stop, Sunrise Drugs.”

Sunrise Drugs was a drugstore by that brand I had already started to recognize as better quality, Sunrise. It was located on a corner, between the shopping district and the cafes. As well as being a pharmacy, it carried some books, makeup, hair products and such.

“Oh,” I said as I was lead through the store. “Could I get hair mouse here? And shampoo? And makeup?”

“Yep,” Chantel replied, “But first we have to pick up the catalogue, as we always do.”

We ended up in the magazine section, although it was the smallest magazine section I’d ever seen. The rack must have been only four feet wide, and there was little to choose from. The fashion magazines were the only ones that stood out with colours, professional cover photos and logos. The others looked like small business magazines in comparison.

“This one,” Cara showed me, picking one up.

It was called “Sunshine Magazine.” The cover photo was a girl in a floral dress with thick necklaces, tag lines beside her shouted about latest fads and new arrivals. Compared to the other two fashion magazines, it looked to contain the most expensive clothing. Glancing over, I saw the other were “Sunrise” and “Basics.”

“Why this one?” I asked.

“Basics is cheap,” Amy said, “No one but the people who can’t afford better wear it.”

“Sunrise Magazine is ok,” explained Cara. “But Sunshine is Sunrise Cooperation’s upper-class brand. They have the most amazing clothes, and although they have the higher price tag as well, they are the most fashionable. Everyone wears what they make.”

“So these aren’t magazines, they’re catalogues for Sunshine or Basics or Sunrise?” I wondered aloud.

“Magazines are catalogues, they’re the same thing.” Cara said slowly, as though I was stupid and should’ve known this already.

“Right,” I said quickly, then watched Chantel flip through the book.

“This is the new one, it must have just come out yesterday,” Chantel said, pointing things out. There were some stories about inspiration and such, but the pages were devoted mostly to the “Top 10 Looks.” They would have a model posing in the same outfit for three shots, to show all sides, and then have a write-up about the outfit. After the top 10 were the “Outs,” a list of clothing that had previously been in style but now were not recommended to wear.

“Do you have the pens?” Chantel asked Cara, and then turned to me. “We mark what outfit we like best and which items we’re going to buy right in the magazine, so it saves time.”

We were each handed a different coloured pen by Cara, who told me their colours we pre-assigned, so I would have to pick mine. I chose green. Then, standing in the middle of the aisle in the drugstore, we each marked our favourite outfit. When I chose a skirt and top paired with high boots, Chantel, Amy and Cara were quick to point out it would work for the football game. We went through and picked out what we were going to buy when we got to the store, and I noticed they marked the clothes off with the same carefree manner I did with regards to money. The price of item was listed on the page, but never was it even mentioned by my friends.

After marking-up the magazine, they helped me pick out items I’d forgotten before. I felt much better after buying some makeup, applying lip-gloss as we walked out the door with our purchases. We headed down the street the way we came, dropping by the car to stick my drugstore bags in the trunk.

Sunshine turned out to be a four-level store, larger than Urban Outfitters or Gap back home. For a high-end store on a Wednesday afternoon, it was bustling with people. The first two levels were women’s clothes, and then the top floors were men’s and children’s. Chantel opened the magazine and we begun our search for the clothes we’d already picked out. I quickly noticed, though, that the magazine was hardly necessary. For two levels of clothes, there was a lot of repetition. I found my skirt, top and boots on the first level. Although I liked the colours they’d chosen in the magazine, and they only offered one other colour in each item, I chose to get a light blue shirt instead of the pink one.

“Skinny jeans are really in,” said Chantel, holding up a pair in a navy wash, “And dark washes are too, so these are super cute.”

Amy and Cara both agreed, each adding a pair to the pile of clothes they were holding.

“Yeah, those are cute,” I said, but I picked a pair of black ones to try one, not wanting to look like I was copying them.

Chantel looked at my choice as though she was a little shocked that I didn’t follow her lead, but she covered it up and said, “Those are nice too, New Wings.”

In the change room, I discovered that the size six in everything fit perfectly. I was happy, but I also noticed that they carried absolutely every size, instead of even or odd. It made sense in a way, though, as it was the only high-end clothing store in the city, so they had to make sure that everything fit everyone.

By the time everything was wrung in, I spent over $900 on clothes. I was surprised at how quickly it added up, but then again there was nothing in this store below $50. I ended up getting the outfit I wanted, as well as the skinny black jeans, a bra, knee-high socks and a pea-coat fall jacket. I noted that next time I’d have to pay more attention to the price tag or else I could easily go over my daily maximum.

With big bags swinging at our sides, we walked back down the street. We paused at the car again, stuck the purchases in, then headed towards the drugstore. Just past there was a row of coffee shops; they led me right to Sunrise Coffee, where they ordered “the usual, please,” and I got an iced chai latte. We settled into one of the rounded, cozy booths right by the front window.

“We got some awesome purchases today, ladies,” said Amy, “I think we did pretty well.”

“We’ll definitely have all the ‘in’ looks,” agreed Chantel.

“We typically critique around now,” Amy said to me, “We watch what people are wearing and see if they’re Sunshine and if they’re wearing out clothes.”

“Hence the window seat,” pointed out Cara.

“That’s cool.” I said.

“Look,” Amy said, her eyes darting out the window. “Sunshine.”

A lady walked by our window in a bubble skirt like the one I’d just bought, paired with high socks and a blazer.

“So cute, very in, a look right out of the magazine,” critiqued Chantel.

“Five out of ten?”

“Five,” we all said together.

“Oh, this one’s not so good,” said Amy slowly, careful not to look out the window obviously. We watched as another lady walked by, this one in boot cut jeans and a windbreaker.

“Basics,” said Chantel.

“Last years,” said Amy.

“No points,” said Cara.

By the time a few more people passed, I was able to distinguish the brands myself, probably because I’d been doing this back on earth for years. The Basics ones were obvious; cheap material, cheap colours often ripped or faded. The Sunrise was sometimes harder to distinguish, but by the time they walked by you could tell that the clothes they were not as high quality nor as fashionable as Sunshine, and the logo of a sun was printed on it obviously.  Sunshine’s clothes looked as expensive as they were and I was quickly taught their mountain and sun logo, as well as looped back pocket stitching on jeans.

I had never considered myself very fashionable back on earth, I followed trends for fun, but only after they’d become popular and I could get them for a good price. Here, though, I was caught up in it all. The industry was huge and booming, probably the most creative thing I’d seen here. It was not even limited to teen girls, as even small children and adults dressed in the same trends.

I won’t lie; I was on top of the world by the time we got back to the residence. I’d had a blast and was making friends in this place where I had felt out of place.

Chapter 11 (post three)

Pre-note: I have no spare time to write and I'm really missing it. 

Chapter eleven, section three:

“Oh my, you really do need some things,” Amy agreed.

We, Cara, Amy, Chantel and I, were standing in my room Saturday. I had told them I needed some more clothes and things, and they had said that they’d try to help me find something to wear next Saturday. I had my clothes spread across my bed, piled and paired into miss-matched outfits. When I had picked them out last week, it had seemed like there was a lot more clothes. Now as we looked for something I could wear to the football game, I came short in the short-short and low-cut department.

“We really should go shopping!” said Chantel with a huge smile.

“We can take my car.” Amy agreed.

“Now?” I asked, remembering I had a credit card tucked away, but something else too.

“Why not?” asked Cara.

“Give me a sec,” I replied. I grabbed my phone and dialled Jake’s number. He was sorry he hadn’t returned my call yesterday, and didn’t mind going to the beach tomorrow instead, but I had another question in mind as well.

“Jake, what’s my spending limit?”

“A thousand a day. The government pays the balance, so just get what you want.”

I almost jumped with joy, but instead I answered calmly, “Ok, thanks.”

I squealed as soon as I hung up the phone. I was the first out the door and down the hall, with my credit card tucked in the front pocket of my jeans.

The Next Chapter 11 (post two)

Pre-note: This section is a little random and will be worked on later! Remember, don't pay too much attention to when the football game is, as that's probably going to be changed/clarified.

Chapter eleven, section two:

We were sitting in a semi-circle with a bunch of other girls, a semi-circle facing the boys across the street so we could all watch.

A girl named Ella was talking about the football game. From what I understood, it was a really big deal; it only happened a couple times a year and there were rumours they were going to announce a dance the night after the game, a co-ed dance, which was even rarer than the football invitation.

The whole school was going over. They apparently had a huge football field, with a stadium that could hold up to 2,000 people. It was going to be packed, if both schools had about a thousand.

“They are all going to be in their football uniforms at the dance if they win,” said Ella. “I bet they won’t even shower.”

“That would be gross,” Cara said, scrunching up her face, “I’m sure they’d shower.”

“I wouldn’t care, guys smell good when they’re sweaty.”

“No way,” butt in Amy, “Cologne smells good, but not sweat, especially not guy sweat.”

A couple of us laughed at the serious tone in her voice.

“Oh, look,” Ella said, “Your faves are coming out onto the lawn.”

The football players that they had pointed out before walked out onto the grass in the same group they had that first day I saw them. They were wearing uniforms, but they’d taken off their ties and their collars were undone.

Amy and Chantel giggled loudly.

“68 and 56,” said a girl named Hannah, “They are really cute.”

We carefully watched them, while trying not to make it obvious. The group of four kept looking up at us too, and 68 caught my eye once. I looked quickly at my feet.

“Oh, they are totally watching us,” said Ella, “I bet they have eyes for you guys.” She nudged Amy’s arm, and Amy smiled. Chantel looked up with a smile too.

“I hope so,” she said.

“We know you guys have dibs on them,” said Hannah, “But what about their friends there?”

Then the conversation veered off, as the girls tried to figure out who the other two guys were. They were far enough away that it was a difficult to really see their faces, so there was a debate about whether one of them was number 45 on the football team, and whether the other one was 78 who had dated a grade eleven blonde last year.

It reminded me of lunches and sleepover with my friends back on earth, talking about boys and wondering about relationships. I shook my head, trying to keep it in the moment and not in the past, no matter where it wanted to be.

That's it! I'm just changing the chapter numbers! This is Chapter 11!

Pre-note: SO, just to make you confused, this is actually Chapter 11. I've been posting the chapters based on the numbers they should be, despite the fact I changed them awhile ago now. So the last post was called Chapter 11 (post two), but really in my document, it's Chapter 10, so think of it that way. Basically, don't worry, I haven't not posted anything, it's just that I've changed the numbers on you. Everything is still in the same order. 

Lastly, don't pay too much attention to the "two weeks away" as that may change.

Chapter eleven (otherwise would've been called 12), section one:

I slipped into my seat in the back of English hoping no one noticed I was late. I’d overslept, as I hadn’t turned on my alarm before going to bed at the crazy early time of 6:30 pm.

Amy sat on my left in the paired desks, while Cara sat directly behind me.

“Don’t worry,” Amy whispered, “She hasn’t taken attendance yet.”

I sighed and watched the teacher flip through something one her desk. She hadn’t noticed I was late, or else she was pretending she hadn’t.

I flipped my books open, to make it seem as though I had been here all along, and turned to include Cara in our conversation.

“Sorry I didn’t meet with you guys for dinner,” I said, “I didn’t feel like eating.”

“That’s ok,” Cara replied. “But they did make an announcement last night.”

“What?”

“There’s a boys football game two weeks away,” said Amy, “And our school is invited over to watch!”

“That’s awesome,” I whispered to Cara and Amy.

“Class,” the teacher up front said, and then when no one stopped talking, she cried, “Class! Settle down!”

The chatter quieted down, and I started to copy down whatever the teacher was writing down on the chalkboard.