Anywhere But Here Read Free Page A

many representatives of the various cliques in my Calculus class since it was a little more difficult, but I was certain that by the time lunch rolled around, I'd have them all pegged.  It was a very small town and an even smaller school.
    I jotted a few notes, browsed the textbook , and watched two girls pass notes back and forth as if they didn’t have cell phones or the capability to text.  Maybe they were old fashioned.  I crossed my fingers that they’d get caught.
    When the bell rang, I hurried off to my next class and pretty much endured the same thing.  I didn’t pay much attention to the people sharing my classes, nor did I notice if they were in any of my previous ones.  I was far too busy doing the best I could to fade into the background.  Tough task in a small school when you’re the new person.
    Lunch did perk me up a little, however.  I was hungry, for one, but I was also sort of anxious to figure out the caste system – even if I wasn’t particularly eager to join society. 
    Selecting a few items from the lunch buffet, I carried my tray to a dark corner and plopped down at an empty table.  I opened my bottle of juice, nibbled on a French fry, and watched the ensuing show.
    I was expecting High School Musical without the cheesy soundtrack, but I was sadly disappointed.  Sure, people congregated in little groups but it didn’t look as though there was a particular ‘in crowd’. 
    I ducked over my tray with a shrug, concentrating only on finishing my food and finishing the day. 
    “Rude Girl,” Damon, the ‘rad’ boy, said as he dropped his tray on the table right across from me.  “You have the whole school buzzing about you.  They’re saying you’re rude and unfriendly.”
    “Dude, he’s right,” Shane, Damon’s buddy , agreed as he parked next to Damon.  “It’s scandalous.”
    “It’s kind of hilarious, too,” Damon said with a slow smile.  He offered me a pickle spear.  “Here – the token olive branch of peace.  Or truce, whatever.”
    His easy-going, laid-back smile sort of reminded me of Jared, my big brother, and I had a hard time resisting.  I grabbed the pickle and took a large bite.  “Thanks.  Guess I am being sort of rude, huh?”
    “That’s all right – they’re jealous of you anyway,” said a short girl with a black beanie crammed over her light brown hair.  “The fake girls think you’re prettier than they are and they can’t stand it.”
    I jumped and gawked at the girl as she dropped to the seat next to me.  I lifted a brow as I appraised her.  She wore baggy jeans, a t-shirt with some sort of intricate design, and no makeup whatsoever.  She was cute in a tomboy sort of way.  “And you are?”
    “That’s Reg,” Damon said, shaking a French fry at the other girl.  “She hangs with us.”
    “Reg?” I asked.
    “ Regina,” the girl said as she crammed her hamburger in her face.  “I hate it. I mean, who the hell names their kid Regina these days? I prefer Reg.”
    “I don’t blame you, I guess,” I said as I pushed my tray away.  I drained my juice, not really sure what to say.  I knew Aunt Franki wanted me to make friends but I just didn’t want people prodding in to my life.  Friends wanted to know everything about you and when they found out your deepest secrets or horrendous heartbreaks, they either smothered you with sympathy or ran for the hills.
    “So, Gina and her friends are a little threatened by you,” Reg continued, absolutely beside herself.  “I heard them talking about it in the bathroom.  They think you’re pretty and are afraid the guys will think you’re prettier than they are.”
    I set my juice bottle carefully on the table so I could roll my eyes properly.  I picked at the label glued to the glass and ignored Reg’s comment.  Sure, once upon a time, I’d had my fair share of male admiration.  Of course, back then, I'd dressed carefully every morning and worked on my hair endlessly.