Starcrossed (3 page)

to the rack. She only locked it out of tourist-season habit and not

because anyone at school would deign to steal it. Which was good

because she also had a crummy lock.

She pulled her ruined hair out of its bonds, ran her fingers

through the worst of the tangles, and retied it, this time settling for

a boring, low ponytail. With a resigned sigh she swung her book

bag over one shoulder and her gym bag over the other. She bent

her head and slouched her way toward the front door.

She got there just a second before Gretchen Clifford, and was obliged

to hold the door open for her.

“Thanks, freak. Try not to rip it off the hinges, will you?”

Gretchen said archly, breezing past Helen.

Helen stood stupidly at the top of the steps, holding the door

open for other students, who walked past her like she worked

there. Nantucket was a small island, and everyone knew each other

painfully well, but sometimes Helen wished Gretchen knew a little

bit less about her. They’d been best friends up until fifth grade,

when Helen, Gretchen, and Claire were playing hide-and-seek at

Gretchen’s house, and Helen accidentally knocked the bathroom

door off its hinges while Gretchen was using it. Helen had tried to

apologize, but the next day Gretchen started looking at her funny

and calling her a freak. Ever since then it seemed like she’d gone

out of her way to make Helen’s life suck. It didn’t help matters that

Gretchen now ran with the popular crowd, while Helen hid among

the braniacs.

She wanted to snap back at Gretchen, say something clever like

Claire would, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she

flipped the doorstop down with her toe to leave the door propped

open for everyone else. Another year of fading into the background

had officially begun.

Helen had Mr. Hergeshimer for homeroom. He was the head of

the English department, and had mad style for a guy in his fifties.

He wore silk cravats in warm weather, flashy colored cashmere

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scarves when it was cold, and drove a vintage convertible Alfa

Romeo. The guy had buckets of money and didn’t need to work,

but he taught high school, anyway. He said he did it because he

didn’t want to be forced to deal with illiterate heathens everywhere

he went. That was his story, anyway. Personally, Helen believed he

taught because he absolutely loved it. Some of the other students

didn’t get him and said he was a wannabe British snob, but Helen

thought he was one of the best teachers she’d probably ever have.

“Miss Hamilton,” he said broadly as Helen stepped through the

door, the bell ringing at exactly the same time. “Punctual as usual.

I’m certain you will be taking the seat next to your cohort, but first,

a warning. Any exercise of that talent for which one of you earned

the sobriquet Giggles and I shall separate you.”

“Sure thing, Hergie,” chirped Claire. Helen slid into the desk next

to her. Hergie rolled his eyes at Claire’s mild disrespect, but he was

pleased.

“It is gratifying to know that at least one of my students knows

that ‘sobriquet’ is a synonym for ‘nickname,’ no matter how impertinent

her delivery. Now, students: another warning. As you are

preparing for your SATs this year, I shall expect you all to be ready

to give me the definition of a new and exciting word every

morning.”

The class groaned. Only Mr. Hergeshimer could be sadistic

enough to give them homework for homeroom. It was against the

natural order.

“Can impertinent be the word we learn for tomorrow?” asked

Zach Brant anxiously.

Zach was usually anxious about something, and he had been

since kindergarten. Sitting next to Zach was Matt Millis, who

looked over at Zach and shook his head as if to say, “I wouldn’t try

that if I were you.”

Matt, Zach, and Claire were the AP kids. They were all friends,

but as they got older they were starting to realize only one of them

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could be valedictorian and get into Harvard. Helen stayed out of

the competition, especially because she had started liking Zach less

and less the past few years. Ever since his father became the football

coach and starting pushing Zach to be number one both on the

field and in the classroom, Zach had become so competitive that

Helen could barely stand to be around him anymore.

A part of her felt bad for him. She would have pitied him more if

he wasn’t so combative toward her. Zach had to be everything all

the time—president of this club, captain of that team, the guy with

all the gossip—but he never looked like he was enjoying any of it.

Claire insisted that Zach was secretly in love with Helen, but Helen

didn’t believe it for a second; in fact, sometimes she felt like Zach

hated her, and that bothered her. He used to share his animal

crackers with her during recess in the first grade, and now he

looked for any opportunity to pick a fight with her. When did

everything get so complicated, and why couldn’t they all just be

friends like they were in grade school?

“Mr. Brant,” Mr. Hergeshimer enunciated. “You may use ‘impertinent’

as your word if you wish, but from someone of your mental

faculties I shall also be expecting something more. Perhaps an essay

on an example of impertinence in English literature?” He nodded.

“Yes, five pages on Salinger’s use of impertinence in his controversial

Catcher in the Rye by Monday, please.”

Helen could practically smell the palms of Zach’s hands clam up

from two seats away. Hergie’s powers for giving extra reading to

smart-ass students were legendary, and he seemed determined to

make an example out of Zach on the first day. Helen thanked her

lucky stars Hergie hadn’t picked on her.

She’d rejoiced too soon. After Mr. Hergeshimer handed out the

schedules, he called Helen up to his desk. He told the other students

to speak freely, and they immediately launched into excited

first-day-of-school chatter. Hergie had Helen pull up a chair next

to him instead of making her stand and talk across his desk.

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Apparently, he didn’t want any of the other students to hear what

he was going to say. That put Helen a little more at ease, but not

for long.

“I see you decided not to enroll in any Advanced Placement

classes this year,” he said, looking at her from over his half-moon

reading glasses.

“I didn’t think I’d be able to handle the extra workload,” she

mumbled, tucking her hands under her thighs and sitting on them

to keep them still.

“I think you’re capable of much more than you are willing to admit,”

Hergie said, frowning. “I know you aren’t lazy, Helen. I also

know you are one of the brightest students in your class. So what’s

keeping you from taking advantage of all that this educational system

has to offer you?”

“I have to work,” she said with a helpless shrug. “I need to save

up if I want to go to college.”

“If you take AP classes and do well on your SATs, you will stand a

better chance of getting enough money for school through a scholarship

than by working for minimum wage at your father’s shop.”

“My dad needs me. We aren’t rich like everyone else on this island,

but we are there for each other,” she said defensively.

“That’s very admirable of you both, Helen,” Hergie replied in a

serious tone. “But you are reaching the end of your high school

years and it’s time to start thinking about your own future.”

“I know,” Helen said, nodding. She could see from the worry

puckering his face that he cared, and that he was just trying to

help. “I think I should get a pretty good athletic scholarship for

track. I got much faster over the summer. Really.”

Mr. Hergeshimer stared at her earnest face begging him to let it

go, and finally conceded. “All right. But if you feel like you need

more of an academic challenge, you are welcome to join my AP

English class at any point this semester.”

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“Thank you, Mr. Hergeshimer. If I feel like I can handle AP, I’ll

come to you,” Helen said, grateful to be let off the hook.

As she went back to her desk, it occurred to her that she had to

keep Hergie and her father away from each other at all cost. She

didn’t want them comparing notes and deciding that she needed to

be in special classes and go out for special awards. Even the

thought gave her a bellyache. Why couldn’t they all just ignore her?

Secretly, Helen had always felt she was different, but she thought

she had done a pretty good job of hiding it her whole life. Apparently,

without realizing it, she’d been sending out hints of that buried

freak inside of her. She had to try to keep her head down, but

she wondered how she was going to do that when she kept getting

taller and taller every damn day.

“What’s up?” Claire asked as soon as Helen returned to her seat.

“Just another motivational moment from Hergie. He doesn’t

think I’m applying myself,” Helen said as breezily as she could.

“You don’t apply yourself. You never do your work,” Zach replied,

more offended than he should have been.

“Shut it, Zach,” Claire said, crossing her arms belligerently. She

turned and faced Helen. “It’s true, though, Lennie,” she told her

apologetically. “You never do your work.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can both shut it,” Helen said, chuckling. The

bell rang and she gathered her things. Matt Millis gave her a smile

but hurried away as they left the room. Feeling guilty, Helen realized

that she hadn’t spoken to him yet. She hadn’t meant to ignore

him, especially not on the first day of school.

According to Claire, “everyone” knew that Matt and Helen were

“supposed” to be together. Matt was intelligent, good looking, and

captain of the golf team. He was still sort of a geek, but because

Helen was practically a pariah ever since Gretchen had started

spreading rumors about her, it was a compliment that everyone

thought she was good enough for someone like Matt.

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Unfortunately, Helen never felt anything special for him. Zero

tingles. The one time they had been shoved into a closet together at

a party to make out, it had been disastrous. Helen felt like she was

kissing her brother, and Matt felt like he was being rejected. Afterward,

he was sweet about it, but no matter how many times he

cracked jokes, there was a weird tension between them. She really

missed him but she worried that if she told him he would take it

the wrong way. It feels like everything I do lately is being taken

the wrong way, Helen thought.

The rest of the morning Helen wandered on autopilot from class

to class. She couldn’t concentrate on much of anything, and every

time she tried to make herself focus she felt nothing but irritation.

Something about the day was off. Everyone—from her favorite

teachers to the few acquaintances she should have been happy to

see—was annoying her, and every now and again while she was

walking down the hall she would suddenly feel like she was inside

an airplane at ten thousand feet. Her inner ear would block up, all

the sounds around her would become muffled, and her head would

get hot. Then, as suddenly as it had come on, the discomfort would

go away. But even still, there was a pressure, a pre-thunderstorm

energy all around her, even though the skies were lovely and blue.

It got worse at lunch. She tore into her sandwich thinking that

her headache was the result of low blood sugar, but she was wrong.

Jerry had packed her favorite sandwich—smoked turkey, green

apple, and brie on a baguette—but she couldn’t force herself to take

more than a bite. She spat it out.

“Your dad make another dud?” Claire asked. When Jerry had

first partnered up with Kate he’d started experimenting with creative

lunches. The Vegemite and Cucumber Disaster of Freshman

Year was legendary at their table.

“No, it’s good old number three. I just can’t eat it,” Helen said,

shoving it away. Claire gleefully picked up the remainder and started

eating it.

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“Mmm, ’is really good,” she mumbled around a full mouth. “Us a

’atter?”

“I just don’t feel right,” Helen said.

Claire stopped chewing and gave her a worried look.

“I’m not sick. You can go ahead and swallow,” Helen assured her

quickly. She saw Matt approaching and chirped, “Hey!” trying to

make up for that morning.

He was deep in conversation with Gretchen and Zach and didn’t

respond, but still came to his habitual spot at the geek table. Both

Gretchen and Zach were so engrossed in what they were saying

that they didn’t notice that they had wandered into geek territory.

“I heard they were movie stars in Europe,” Zach was saying.

“Where did you hear that?” Matt asked, incredulous. “That’s

ridiculous.”

“I heard from at least two other people that Ariadne was a model.

She’s certainly pretty enough,” Zach argued passionately, hating to

be wrong about anything, even gossip.