She joins behind a clique of girls in pink, who bully others by shoving them out of their way. The snobbish manner at which they hold their bags above their shoulders annoys Kay. Vanessa Skye and her minions. The Plastic Pinks. These girls always show off and make us feel like trash. I can’t wait for someone to give them a wake-up call. The clique pushes on with no regard for students who stumble to the floor. Kayla makes her way over to help one of them up.
A mousy girl with bangs collects her books from the floor. Kayla helps her gather her belongings. “Thank you,” the girl mutters in a whisper before speeding off. Kayla glares after the pompous clan, glad she has friends who are sweethearts.
Within the juggernaut school, light blue and gray shade the walls. Many teens chat, sitting on window ledges. Heaps of book bags sprinkle the floor. A logo in the center showcases an eagle, shaded black on gray. On the second level, there are banisters of clear glass. The ceiling reaches seven floors. Endless windows showcase the city’s glam. Elevators, staircases, and escalators. All this luxury for a thousand students, who flood the halls.
Kayla removes a lacy yellow tank and white jeans from her bag. “HEY KAY!” two girls shout obnoxiously, causing their friend to almost stumble into her locker. They giggle. One has a caramel complexion with a kinky ginger mane, and the other is tan with sleek brown hair. Both carry clear bags full of school supplies.
“Hey.” Kayla grins ear to ear while opening her locker to grab school supplies.
“I wish we could stay in that?” Jia gestures to Kay’s ballet uniform with a gentle Korean accent.
“We can lie and say our schedules changed and we have no time to swap outfits.” Mya shrugs with a tenor tone.
Kayla closes the locker and heads down the hall; the two follow after like ducks. “Maybe.” She frowns. “It would be cool to make our marks off the stage. But at least we can wear dresses.” Kay eyes the clear bags that her friends carry. “Aww, I forgot my bag! Sorry, guys, I was rushing. Darius…”
“Was outside!” they complete her sentence with teasing giggles. The crew enter the girls’ restroom.
“Hey, don’t make fun of me!” Kay cackles, entering a stall. “I don’t see him enough.”
“You’re holding out. So, you’re telling me you never snuck him in?” Mya interrogates.
“No,” Kay says from the stall.
“I call bull.” Mya’s mouth drops. “No way, you haven’t!”
“You know my parents—no boys unless they’re at home.”
“It’s good to obey the rules.” Jia supports her. “I have the same law. My mom’s new motto is: ‘no boys after 8.’ I’m not even dating. She’s losing it!”
Kayla exits the stall, wrapping her bag around her arm. The bright outfit compliments her cocoa skin. “Our moms had to be separated at birth. I got the same curfew.”
Mya’s eyes fill with disbelief. “My parents gave me rules too, but I don’t follow them. There’s more to dating than kissing. My advice is to sneak off and have fun.” She winks.
“That works… for someone without anxiety.” Kayla points out. “I’m fine with the pace we’re at.”
“At least mess around; doesn’t it get boring?” Mya is skeptical.
“No...”
“I bet it does for him… it’s been months. I’m sure he’s tired of waiting.”
“My dad courted my mom for a year. The right guy will wait.” Jia states wisely.
“Exactly.” Kay jams her dance outfit into the gym bag.
When the bell rings, they all exit the restroom, parting ways. Mya strolls down the hall, joining a maze of students. “We’ll continue our chat at lunch!” Her words irritate Kay, yet she doesn’t show it. I don’t know what there is to continue. Darius and I are fine going slow. Sometimes Mya digs farther than she should.
Jia and Kayla line up behind students who smell of heavy cologne and fruity perfume. Their first period is photography. The classroom has rows of desks pressed together into pairs. Floor-to-ceiling windows preview the lively city. Vents whoosh out air conditioning.
Their teacher, a tall woman in her mid-thirties, wears a yellow dress, her hair in a bun. She draws a smiley face onto the green chalkboard. “Good morning, class!” she sings, all chipper.
“Good morning, Ms. Ruby,” her students respond, taking their seats.
“Today, we will add the 294th photo to our year collage. Remember to capture something different.” Ms. Ruby carries a tray of Polaroid cameras, handing out one to each student. “Go and explore!”
The teens chatter amongst one another. One boy with an afro, groans, “I forgot my skateboard! I gotta choose something else now.”
Kayla, who shares a desk with Jia, accepts the camera from Ms. Ruby. She powers it on, draping her bag across her chair. A list of photos buffer on the tiny screen. Some display clouds, automobiles, rain droplets, concrete, snow, and multicolored butterflies.
“Hmm… I can snap a pic of a bee…. then run.” Jia jokes, mortified by the thought.
“I’m out of ideas.” Kay places the camera down, resting her chin in her hands. “Maybe…”
“The hem of your tutu?”
“I already did that.”
Jia leans onto the desk, her lips perched. “The terrace on the roof. We can try that.” All of the students pile out of the room. Some flash their devices at wall banners, doorknobs, handles, and restroom signs.
“Oh… good thinking!” The two leave for the hall, passing a tiny girl with orange hair who aims her camera at a fire hydrant.
The friends ring the elevator, hitting the button together, their hands sandwiched. When the lift arrives, many teachers step off. “Hello.” A tall, dark-haired man eyes the camera. “Off to add to your portfolio?” The girls nod. “There’s a family of birds on the fifth floor, the third water fountain, on the windowpane.”
“AWW!” the two gasp.
“Oh, perfect, thank you!” Kayla takes Jia by the arm, leading the way into the elevator.
“You’re welcome.” The doors close.
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