Chapter 4: Roxie
I sat slumped at my desk, the fluorescent lights of the science lab humming with a frequency that made my head throb. I was desperately craving a quadruple-shot iced latte, something—anything—to help me tolerate the mundane buzz of everyone else settling into their seats and gossiping about their predictably boring summers. My goal for the day was simple: get through these classes, hit the mall for some retail therapy, and purge the memory of that wannabe goth loser I’d run into earlier.
I didn’t even know him, and honestly, I didn't want to. I don’t usually waste my breath on the "alternative" crowd, but something about the way he’d looked at me annoyed me to no end. It was like he didn't know the social hierarchy he was stepping into.
“Hey, how was your summer? You look like you’re already over this place,” Catherine said, sliding into the seat beside me and setting her pristine notebook down.
“Fine. I spent most days shopping or lounging by my pool,” I replied, forcing a polished smile. It was my default setting. “What about you? Did you actually do anything, or just pine away?”
“I hung out with Aaron every single second before he had to leave for college,” Catherine sighed, her voice trailing off dreamily.
“So, what, are you guys actually trying the long-distance thing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, but he’s only been gone a week and I already miss him so much it hurts.”
“I get that. It’s a total drag,” I said, though my mind was elsewhere. Catherine noticed the shift immediately. She furrowed her eyebrows, studying my face.
“Wait, what’s wrong? You have that 'I want to set something on fire' look.”
I let out a long, dramatic sigh, leaning back in my chair. “It’s nothing, really. Just a minor irritation.”
“Roxie, come on. You can tell me.”
“There was just this... weirdo,” I said, the word tasting bitter. “He annoyed me. He had this vibe like he was trying way too hard.”
Catherine’s eyes widened, shimmering with a mix of horror and genuine confusion. “A weirdo? Here? At East Shore?”
“He tried to talk to me, but he looked like a male version of Julie—you know, with all that thick, smudged eyeliner and the 'I hate the world' energy,” I explained, rolling my eyes so hard I nearly saw my own brain. “He was just so—”
I stopped mid-sentence. The heavy classroom door swung open, and the room went silent. Walking in, looking like he’d stumbled into the wrong dimension, was the eyeliner guy from the hallway. And right behind him was Principal Douglas.
What. The. Absolute. Hell.
“Class, please give a warm, East Shore welcome to our newest senior, Ricky Henderson,” Douglas announced. A chorus of half-hearted "hi's" and "hellos" rippled through the room, but I remained stone-faced.
I locked eyes with Ricky, and I watched his expression shift in real-time. He went from a shaky, awkward smile to a look of pure, wide-eyed shock the second he realized I was sitting right there in the front row.
“Oh my gosh, the universe actually hates me,” I hissed to Catherine, keeping my gaze locked on him like a predator.
“Is that the guy?” Catherine whispered, her voice barely audible.
I gave a single, sharp nod.
"He really does look like Julie," Catherine murmured, leaning closer to me. "The resemblance is actually kind of spooky. Why is he so... dark?"
“I don’t care why, I just hope he doesn’t end up anywhere near me,” I replied, praying the teacher would point him toward the back of the room where the outcasts usually congre
“Well, let’s see,” Principal Douglas said, scanning the room over the top of his glasses. “There’s one open seat right there next to Roxie George. Ricky, why don’t you take that spot?”
My blood ran cold. I felt the color drain from my face as the words hung in the air like a death sentence. No. Freaking. Way.
“Sure,” Ricky said softly. His voice was low, and he moved toward me with a hesitant, guarded gait, as if he expected me to trip him or set him on fire.
He should be scared to sit next to me, I thought, my jaw tightening. I glanced back at Catherine, whose face was a mask of pure shock, her mouth slightly agape. I could hear the rustle of his jacket as he sat down in the plastic chair beside me, bringing the faint scent of old van upholstery and rebellion with him.
"I'll leave you guys to get settled," Douglas said, giving the class a quick, authoritative nod. "Have a productive school year, everyone." With that, he vanished into the hallwa
The silence at our desk was deafening until he leaned over slightly. “Hey, look, I’m sorry for what happened in the hall—I didn't mean to—”
“Please stop talking,” I cut him off, my voice like dry ice. I didn’t turn my head. I just kept my eyes fixed straight ahead on the chalkboard, waiting for the science teacher to start the lesson and save me from this nightmare.