Be the Girl

Daunting.

That’s a great word for Eastmonte Secondary.

I knew this last week, when Mom and I came by to finish registering and get acquainted. The principal, squinty-eyed Mr. Keen, announced that I would put their enrollment at sixteen hundred and sixty-six students. “Don’t worry, that doesn’t mean you’re bad luck,” he joked as he guided us out of his office.

Now that I’m standing in the parking lot watching the old building come alive with students—filtering through doors, lingering in groups, their eyes wandering, their laughter and shouts carrying—that number weighs heavily on me. It’s more than double my previous high school.

“I’m nervous,” Cassie announces, adjusting her backpack on her shoulders.

“You don’t need to be nervous.” Emmett reaches into the back seat to grab his backpack, the move stretching his white T-shirt across his curvy, hard chest. “You went here last year, remember? And you have the same teacher. You’re in the same class, with most of the same kids. You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.” Cassie giggles. “I know.”

We begin the slow walk toward the front doors, and I’m so thankful to have both Hartford kids right now. Otherwise, I’d be doing this alone.

“But imagine how nervous Aria must be,” Emmett says, grinning playfully at me. “She doesn’t know anyone here.”

“She knows me,” she says, not catching on to her brother’s gentle ribbing.

“You’re right. She does. And don’t worry.” He winks at me. “With Cassie around, you’ll know half the school in no time.”





“Hi, Mr. T!” Cassie waves at a tall, thin man with a hard face who hovers outside the gymnasium’s double doors.

“Cassie Hartford!” His face lights up. “How was your summer?”

“Good. This is Aria.” She jabs a finger toward me. “She lives with Uncle Merv now. She’s my new neighbor.”

Mr. T nods once to me. “Welcome to Eastmonte, Aria.”

“Thanks.” I smile politely, feeling my cheeks flush, as we keep moving.

“What’s that now? Eight teachers?” Emmett asks, high-fiving a guy as he passes him in the hall.

“Nine. And two janitors,” I correct, tugging at the collar of my suddenly uncomfortable shirt.

He chuckles. “See? They’ll all know you soon enough. ’Kay, Cass, here’s your classroom.”

“And my locker.” She opens the door of 971.

“That’s last year’s.”

“No! This is mine this year, too!” she insists, unexpected frustration flaring in her voice as she pulls out a lock and loops it through the latch with a concerted effort.

He sighs heavily, and then leans into the room to wave at someone. “Hey, Mr. Eason, Cassie’s here.”

A middle-aged man with no hair on his head and too much on his face strolls out to meet us. “Hey, Emmett. Cassie! Good to see you again,” he greets, his voice deep.

“Which locker is hers this year?” Emmett asks.

“Same one. Keeping it consistent.”

“See? I told you, Emmett.” She focuses on unpacking her backpack, that same petulance she used with her mother the other day creeping into her tone.

Emmett holds his hands up in surrender. “I should’ve known better. We’ll see you later, Cassie. Remember, you’re walking home with Aria after school. She’ll meet you here.”

“Oh, Mr. Eason! Have you met Aria?” Cassie asks, distracted from her locker for the moment.

“I haven’t. But you told me about her last week when you came in to visit the classroom, remember?”

“Yeah. This is Aria.” She points to me and says by rote, “She lives with Uncle Merv. She’s my new neighbor.”

Kind, green eyes shift to me. “Welcome, Aria. You have lucked out with the friendliest neighbor you’ll ever meet in your life.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I’ve picked up on that.”

“Have a great first day at Eastmonte. Cassie, come inside when you’re finished up here.” With that, he ducks into his class.

“You good, Cassie?” Emmett asks.

“Yes.” She nods to emphasize.

“Don’t show anyone your code,” he warns, pointing to the push button combination padlock.

“Okay, Emmett!”

“All right.” He turns to walk down the hall. He’s patient with his little sister’s peculiarities and outbursts. I guess he’s used to them.

“See you later, Cassie,” I say.

“At three forty-six. Right here.” She points at her locker.

“Yes.” I guess I need to be more specific.

“Okay. Bye.” She turns her attention back to her locker.

I rush to catch up with Emmett. “So, what’s that class Cassie is taking?”

“It’s a community class. They do life and social skills learning. Eason is amazing with her.”

“Does she not take any regular classes?”

“She takes a couple that are special for kids like her, on the spectrum. Hey, man! How was your summer?” We stall as Emmett shares a few words with a shorter, stocky blond guy who steals several glances my way but never says hi. I’m sure if Cassie were here, I would have already received an introduction.

“Do you think she’ll go to college after?”

He frowns. “Who, Cassie? No, she’ll be here until she’s twenty-one.”

I cringe at the thought of being in high school for that long.

He nods in greeting to a passing guy, and laughs at another. Walking through the halls is probably not the best time to try to carry on a conversation—about anything—with him.

“This is me.” I point at locker number 698.

“That was my buddy Zach’s locker last year. I’m just down there.” He points haphazardly and keeps going.

I split my time between unloading my lunch bag and blank notebooks from my backpack and watching Emmett stroll down the hall, his gait casual, returning smiles and greetings from at least a dozen people. It’s obvious he’s well known. And well liked.

He hooks his combination lock into his locker just as a blonde in a flirty black skirt and wedge heels barrels into him from behind, her arms looping around his waist. In the light of the hallway, I can see how perfect Holly truly is, with her sculpted cheekbones, expressive blue eyes, and wide, pouty lips.

I groan.

“You okay?”

I turn to find a round-faced girl with owlish eyes and an upturned nose at the locker next to me, and realize she’s talking to me.

“I’m fine. Just … life. It’s so predictable.”

“Tell me about it.” She snorts, pushing her frizzy auburn hair off her freckled face. She’s at least five inches taller than me and on the heavy side, with broad shoulders and a slightly hunched posture. The corners of her mouth are naturally curved downward, making it look like she wears a perpetual frown. “I’m Jen. Or Jenny, if you want. Just not Jennifer. You’re Aria, right?”

“Uh … yeah?”

“Mr. Keen assigned me to you,” she explains, and that downturned mouth curves into a reassuring smile. “The buddy system?”

“Oh. Right. I forgot.” He did mention something about a student being assigned to me, to help me adjust. And this student happens to be wearing a beige shirt with a yellow #2 pencil print.

“So, I have a locker beside you.” She points at it. “Plus we have first period and lunch together. I’m here to show you around, answer any questions you have, that sort of thing. Anything you need. I’m in my last year so I know the school pretty well.”

“That’s great. Thank you.” At least now I know three people here, not including the teachers and janitorial staff Cassie introduced me to.

“Where are you from?”

“Out west. Calgary area.”

“Cool. Why’d you move here?” She says that like there’s something wrong with Eastmonte, and I guess maybe to some people, there is. It’s a sleepy town surrounded by a lot of corn and hay. When Mom and I drove along the main street at night, I half expected a zombie to meander out, it was so dead. There’s one Tim Hortons, two grocery stores, and a restored two-screen movie theater. As far as excitement goes, there’s none.