Transcendence (3 page)

I glared at him. “Thanks, Jere.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he tried to
cover up the comment. “But maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you
to switch out of AP.”

His words made me freeze in place. “I’m not
that
bad at French,” I defended myself, even though I’d said
the same thing to Drew a minute earlier.

He picked the textbook off my desk and
handed it to me. “Don’t take it so seriously,” he said, smiling as
I took the book and shoved it into my bag. “It’s just not your best
class. And regular level French is at the same time, so you
wouldn’t have to change around your entire schedule if you
switched. Plus, you would get an A.”

“I’m staying in AP,” I insisted, not in the
mood to argue in the middle of the near-empty classroom. Mrs. Evans
was speaking with another student at her desk in the corner, but
she was still close enough to hear our entire conversation. “But
third period’s starting soon. I’ll see you at lunch.”

The entire way to my next class, I thought
about the short conversation with Drew. It was no secret that
French wasn’t my strong point, and he had no reason to think
otherwise. Still … he sounded so confident. Maybe he was just being
nice, but even though he had no reason to think I could do well in
the class, it seemed like he believed every word he said.

My next two classes, genetics and English,
went smoothly, except I couldn’t get Drew’s dark eyes with the
golden specks out of my head. It felt like he was everywhere I
went. I spent most of third and fourth periods trying to figure out
why he seemed so familiar, but every time I felt close to
remembering, the thought disappeared. I wondered if I should ask
him the next time I saw him, but I resolved not to say anything. It
would sound so strange. I had no choice but to let it go.

A return to the normal routine of meeting
Chelsea in the cafeteria before going to eat lunch in the commons
seemed like the perfect way to focus on my life at school instead
of my non-existent relationship with Drew. She waited for me like
we agreed, but after we bought our food, Jeremy called my name from
the center table in the cafeteria filled with his fellow varsity
teammates. There was a huge smile on his face as he motioned us to
join him.

“Looks like we have a new table this year,”
Chelsea said with a smirk, waving at Jeremy to let him know we were
on our way. She started walking towards the long rectangular table,
holding her head high as she strode through the crowd.

I wanted to sit with some of our other
friends in the commons, but Jeremy and Chelsea both seemed happy
switching locations, so I would have to deal with it for the day.
When we got to the crowded table, I somehow managed to squeeze into
a small space between Jeremy and the edge of the bench. Chelsea sat
across from us. I crossed my legs in discomfort and looked around
the table, which consisted of varsity athletes and their
girlfriends. The guys were muscular from their workouts, and each
one had a large amount of food in front of them, opposed to the
salads on the girls’ plates. They were all seniors except for
Jeremy, Chelsea, and me.

“You know the guys on the team, right?”
Jeremy asked me, a huge grin on his face. He seemed happy to move
up in the world, if “the world” meant high school and “moving up”
meant sitting in the center of the cafeteria.

“Yeah,” I answered with a timid smile. I’d
seen them around school and knew most of their names, but hadn’t
had a conversation with any of them before. Jeremy was aware of
that, but he turned away to continue a conversation with one of the
other soccer players, not attempting to make any further
introductions. The other girls didn't make an effort to be friendly
either, so I took a bite of my sandwich and listened to them talk
about their summer vacations, doubting they would be interested in
my experience as an art counselor at a summer camp in
Pennsylvania.

“Drew just walked out of the cafeteria line
with Danielle Parker,” Chelsea said to me, stabbing a piece of
cantaloupe with her fork. “I guess she’s fighting with Brandon
again and is using Drew to make him jealous. How typical.”

I turned my head to look, and just as
Chelsea said, Drew stood near the far wall of the cafeteria with
the tall senior girl. He looked bored with whatever they were
talking about, and he glanced around the room like he was looking
for someone to save him from the conversation.

His eyes stopped when they reached mine. My
head started spinning like it did the first time I saw him in
history class, and the strange feeling of déjà vu refused to go
away. But the far-out look in his eyes was different from earlier.
He looked almost like he was in pain, opposed to his relaxed
attitude from that morning.

“Oh my God, he’s totally looking at me,”
Chelsea said, breaking the spell between us. When I turned back
around, he was situating himself at a table by the wall with
Danielle and her friends, not acknowledging the fact that he’d been
staring at me a moment before. He didn’t appear to be looking at
Chelsea, either.

“Isn’t that the new guy you were talking to
at the end of French?” Jeremy broke into the conversation. “The
transfer from New York?”

I looked down at my plate and moved a tomato
around with my fork. “Yeah,” I said, shrugging like it didn’t
matter.

Chelsea widened her eyes and leaned over the
table. “You talked to him?”

“He just had a question about the homework,”
I lied, wishing she would let it go. “No big deal.”

Jeremy laughed, looking at me in shock. “And
he asked
you
?”

I paused, not knowing how to reply. It did
seem unlikely that anyone would ask me for help in French, but
Jeremy didn’t have to announce that to the entire table.

He took a bite of his sandwich and resumed
talking about the upcoming vote for co-captain with the guy next to
him before I could say anything. Aware of the fact that the entire
table had listened to our conversation, I sat back in my seat and
tried not to look at Drew again. I doubted that he would ever
embarrass me in front of everyone like Jeremy had just done.

Chelsea popped a grape in her mouth and
rested an elbow on the table. “Since you know Drew, maybe you could
introduce us,” she said, looking over at him without bothering to
be inconspicuous. “He’s totally my type.”

“Sure,” I said sarcastically. “He asked me
about the homework, and now we’re best friends.” I managed a small
laugh, but her comment bugged me. She couldn’t know if he was her
type—she’d never even had a conversation with him. Then again, it
wasn’t like I knew him, either.

I spent the remainder of lunch trying to act
engulfed in listening to Shannon Henderson, one of the senior
girls, tell everyone about her month-long trip to Europe this past
summer. She took full command of the table, speaking loudly and
making huge gestures to get attention. Her stories were only
vaguely entertaining, but her two best friends Keelie and Amber
hung onto every word like she was giving a presidential speech.

At least listening to her talk provided an
adequate distraction from Drew and prevented Chelsea from
discussing him any further.

I checked my schedule at the end of lunch to
see what class I had next, glad to find that it was drawing.
Chelsea and Jeremy weren’t in the class, and it probably wouldn’t
be one that Drew would sign up for either, since it tended to be
mostly girls.

When I arrived at the art room it was only a
quarter full, and I smiled when spotting Hannah Goldberg sitting by
herself at one of the four tall tables. Her peasant shirt looked
like it came out of the sixties, and she barely wore any make-up.
She was a quiet girl—short, with mousy brown hair and a few
freckles. She used to be best friends with Chelsea and me, but in
the beginning of freshman year she started dating Sheldon, the star
of most of the school plays, and the two of them started to isolate
themselves from everyone else. I missed talking with her, but at
least she seemed happy in her relationship.

I sat on the stool next to her, saying hi as
I placed my bag on the ground.

“Hey,” she said, smiling and placing her
pencil on her desk. “Where were you at lunch today?

“Jeremy decided to sit in the cafeteria with
the guys from the team, so Chelsea and I ate there today,” I
explained, hoping she didn’t take it the wrong way. Last year we
always ate together in the commons.

“Oh.” She looked disappointed. I felt bad,
since the only times we saw each other any more were during lunch
or classes we shared, but at least we had drawing together.

We discussed what we did over the summer
until our teacher entered the room and handed us all empty
sketchbooks. He told us that by the end of the semester we had to
fill them up however we wanted. It didn’t matter what was in them
as long as they were full, which wouldn’t be a problem for me. I
knew it would be easy for Hannah as well; she was an excellent
artist.

Talking with her during class was a nice
break from thinking about Drew, Chelsea, and Jeremy, but it was
soon time for my final class of the day—trigonometry. I never found
math interesting, but at least I shared it with Chelsea, which
would reduce my boredom.

The classroom contained five small clusters
of desks seating four students each. Chelsea sat in the back with
her books on the desk next to her, and she moved them over when I
walked into the room. I sat down and pulled my notebook out of my
bag, glad that the day was almost over.

“You’ll never guess what happened in
chemistry,” Chelsea said, tapping her pencil on her desk in
excitement. Her eyes were wide and she leaned forward, looking like
she was about to burst if she didn't tell me soon.

“What happened?” I tried to look
enthusiastic, despite how tired as I felt. “I hope you didn’t make
something explode on the first day.”

She rested her hands on her desk and took a
deep breath in preparation to share the news. “I arranged it so I’m
lab partners with Drew!” she squealed, a huge smile forming on her
face. “Now we’ll be working together every day for the rest of the
semester.”

Disappointment flooded my body, and I sat
back in my chair, somehow managing to force a smile so she wouldn’t
get suspicious. “How’d you manage to do that?” I asked.

“Easy,” she said with a smirk. “I sat next
to him. When Mrs. Sullivan had us pick lab partners, I asked him to
be mine. It’s not like he knew anyone else, but all the other girls
were totally jealous.”

“That’s great,” I said, trying to muster up
some excitement. “Mr. Roberts assigned us partners in my genetics
class.”

Mr. Barton, one of the math teachers at the
school, walked into the room to begin class before Chelsea could
continue. I tried to focus on trigonometry for the entire
fifty-five minutes, but it was impossible to shake the image of
Chelsea and Drew working together in chemistry.

At least she would be stuck wearing those
huge goggles that left strange marks on people’s skin
afterwards.

The bell signaled the end of the longest
first day of school ever, and I wanted nothing more than to go home
and collapse on my bed from exhaustion. But since Jeremy drove me
to school and he had soccer practice, I had some time to kill. The
two-hour practice was at the same time for the varsity and JV
teams, and I never minded going to the library to do my homework
for the evening or read a book while I waited for him.

I walked past the lines of computers and
aisles of books until reaching the back room. It was my favorite
place to do homework. There were a few beanbags scattered around
the space, and a large glass window overlooked the lake behind the
school. Most students gravitated towards the desks in the center of
the library, and the peace and quiet in the back was nice compared
to all the commotion of the day.

I rummaged through my bag and searched for
my planner, glancing at the short list of assignments and debating
which to do first. I ultimately decided to read the first four
chapters of
Pride and Prejudice
. I’d always wanted to read
it, and it was one of the books my English class was reading for
the semester.

I opened the small paperback and turned to
chapter one. The first line caught my attention: “It is a truth
universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good
fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

My thoughts wandered to Drew. From what
Chelsea had said earlier, he certainly was “in possession of good
fortune,” and it probably wouldn’t be long until he had a
girlfriend. Unfortunately, with the way things were going it seemed
likely to be Chelsea.

I finished the first four chapters in under
an hour, and despite wanting to read more, I had other homework
assignments to complete. I placed the book on the floor next to me
and took my sketchbook out of my bag. There was no better time to
start filling it up than the present. I opened it to the first page
and placed the tip of my pencil on the blank paper, beginning to
draw.

The scenes from the book remained in my
mind, and by the time 5:15 rolled by, I was staring at a
half-completed sketch of a girl with long blonde hair in a
high-waisted flowing ballgown from what I assumed was the early
1800’s. Long satin gloves traveled up to her elbows, and a
headpiece adorned her curls. Her hair flowed all the way down her
back, just how I imagined mine might look if I grew it longer. She
looked into a mirror, and it appeared like she was preparing to
attend a ball much like the one described in the chapters that I’d
just read in the book. It looked and felt so familiar—almost like
I’d drawn it from memory.

I traced my fingers upon the image as I
examined it, wondering what inspired me to draw someone who looked
more like me than the main character, Lizzy. Her name was the same
as mine—except for the slight variation of spelling—which could
possibly explain why I merged us together, but I still couldn’t
quite make sense of it. She was the only figure on the paper
besides the mirror, and I lifted the pencil again, beginning to
sketch the background so it didn't look like she was floating
randomly on the page.