Simone de Beauvoir wrote, “There is something in the New York air that makes sleep useless.” Honestly, I hadn’t found that to be true – until today. For the last half hour, I’d been fighting a wave of exhaustion. Even the driver’s enthusiastic commentary on New York landmarks couldn’t penetrate my haze.
“Just five more minutes,” Dad said, echoing the same promise he’d made twenty minutes earlier. It offered no real comfort.
My eyelids felt heavy. I looked out the window, watching clouds drift against the darkening sky. They looked like cotton candy. A silly thought, and I chuckled at my own whimsical imagination. Leaning back, I closed my eyes for a moment, and the next thing I knew, someone was gently tapping my shoulder.
“Mmm,” I murmured, yawning widely. I opened my eyes to slits, finding Dad already halfway out of the car. Stretching, I followed him. My eyes landed on a two-story house that looked significantly smaller than our Florida home. Maroon walls were dusted with grime, and the gate sagged with neglect.
“Not this one, Ali,” Dad called, turning back towards a beautiful, cozy house bathed in moonlight. The beige walls gleamed, and a sleek, metallic gate separated it from the street.
Dad unlocked the gate, revealing a small but beautiful lawn. I followed him inside. A short hallway led to a TV lounge. Three walls were paneled in mahogany, the fourth painted white behind the large LCD screen. A seven-seater sofa dominated the space.
“There are three en suite bedrooms, one on each floor. Which one do you want?” Dad asked, dropping his suitcase beside the sofa and slumping against it.
“I’ll take the one on the second floor,” I said, already heading towards the stairs. I stopped before a beige door and pushed it open. The room was plunged into darkness. I pulled my phone from my pocket, activating the flashlight. The dim light revealed the switchboard.
As soon as I flicked on the lights, a small gasp escaped my lips. The room was breathtaking, ripped straight from the pages of an architectural magazine. Deep violet walls contrasted with pristine white furniture. A white upholstered bed dominated the room, a chaise lounge beside it and a wardrobe with an attached dressing table on the other side.
A small window beside the wardrobe was draped with white silk curtains. I walked towards it, sliding the curtains apart. The street was eerily silent, not even a bird chirping.
I was about to close the curtains when something caught my attention – someone in the window of the maroon house. A man, or a boy, maybe. I couldn’t see clearly because his back was facing me.
My mouth gaped open as I watched his muscles flex as he punched a punching bag hanging from the ceiling. Every curve and crevice of his back was visible under the moonlight. He paused, stretched his arms, his biceps bulging as he ran his fingers through his brown hair.
Damn.
“Ali,” Dad’s voice startled me. It was as if I’d been caught stealing my favorite candy. I turned swiftly, my eyes still wide.
“Y… Yes?” My throat felt dry.
“Do you like your room?” he asked.
“Yes. It… It’s beautiful,” I managed to say, my voice barely a whisper.
He studied my face, searching for the reason behind my flushed state. “Okay. Good night,” he said, glancing around the room.
“Good night, Dad.” I managed a small smile.
After he left, I turned back to the window. To my disappointment, the window was now closed, a brown curtain drawn tight. Letting out a low groan, I flopped onto the bed, burying myself under the duvet.
It was Saturday night. Just one more day of freedom before starting at Redwood High on Monday. I closed my eyes, already making plans for my new life in New York.
…
The next day, we settled for cereal for breakfast, the only food in the refrigerator. After cleaning, Dad and I went grocery shopping. It took the entire afternoon to stock the kitchen and prepare dinner. Dad made beef casserole while I tossed a salad.
After we’d eaten our fill, Dad did the dishes while I sprawled on the couch and turned on the LCD.
“Okay, sweetie, I have some work. I’ll be back before midnight,” he said, kissing my forehead.
“Bye, Dad,” I answered, eyes glued to the screen.
By the time I finished the second season of “Modern Family,” midnight had arrived. I switched off the TV, changed into my pajamas, and headed to my room. As I stepped out of the bathroom, my eyes involuntarily moved to the window.
A wave of disappointment washed over me as I opened the curtains. The room was empty. Pouting, I lay down, waiting for sleep to come.
…
“I must say, Mr. King, your daughter is an excellent addition to our school. We are lucky to have her,” Principal Brown said, looking like he was in his fifties. His serious expression and professional tone suggested a man of strict principles.
Dad looked at me and smiled, pride swirling in his gray eyes.
“So Alicia, are you ready to start your senior year at Redwood High?” he asked me.
“Yes, sir,” I replied confidently.
He nodded and handed me a schedule. “You’re starting a little late, so I’ll ask the teachers to provide any help you need.”
I nodded and glanced at the schedule. My first class was English Literature and Composition, starting in fifteen minutes.
I didn’t need to look around much. The Literature class was on the same floor as the principal’s office. To my relief, no one glanced my way. I sat down in the first row beside a redhead girl engrossed in a novel.
“Hi,” I said softly.
She lifted her eyes from the book, assessed my face, then returned to her reading. She didn’t introduce herself.
I didn’t say anything further, waiting for the teacher to arrive. After five agonizing minutes, an Asian woman entered the class. She was petite, her black hair pulled back in a tight bun.
“Who can tell me what homework I assigned on Friday?” she asked. No one answered.
“Anyone?” she asked again, her voice expectant.
Still silence.
“Well, I asked you to write a paragraph about Jane Austen’s views on marriage in *Pride and Prejudice*. Did anyone complete the assignment?”
Silence.
“May I?” I asked, raising my hand.
“And you are?” she asked.
“Alicia King. I just joined today.”
“Oh yes. Mr. Brown told me about you. My name is Mrs. Seo-yun Cooper, and if you need any help with my subject, I’ll be there.” She smiled. “Now, are you going to give the analysis?”
“Yes, Mrs. Cooper. In Jane Austen’s view, mutual attraction is the most important aspect of marriage. Elizabeth Bennet, the heroine, is a staunch believer in following her affections. She encourages Jane to pursue her love with Bingley and disagrees with Caroline’s notion of marrying for wealth and fortune. She refuses Mr. Collins’ proposal because she knows he doesn’t love her, only sees her as a suitable wife based on character and appearance. Here, Elizabeth expresses Jane Austen’s views about the importance of true love in marriage.” I spoke in a rush, barely pausing for breath.
“Very well, Alicia,” Mrs. Cooper smiled. “At least someone takes an interest in my subject.” She cast an annoyed glance at the class.
I could feel stares burning into my back, but I refused to succumb to peer pressure. The concepts of “cool” and “nerd” always felt foreign to me. If I studied diligently and prepared for every test, I saw no reason to be ashamed.
After that, Mrs. Cooper briefly analyzed chapters 10-14 of the novel. She assigned homework: a character review of Fitzwilliam Darcy within three days. As she left, I pulled out my schedule. My next class was P.E.
Ugh. Why do we have P.E.? I don’t want to be fit and active. I just want to roll into bed, eat Nutella, and binge-watch seasons.
With hesitant steps, I searched for the gym. Each second of the next hour felt like torture. When the bell finally rang, I rushed out.
My next class was AP Biology. Again, I had to sit in the first row as it was the only seat available. The seat beside me remained empty until a blonde girl entered the class and stood beside me.
“Hi,” I said to her.
She raised her eyes from her book and looked at me. I expected her to introduce herself, but she didn’t bother and turned her face back to the book.
“What’s your next period?” Emily asked as she stood up to leave.
“I have a free period.” I replied.
“Me too.” she said excitedly. “Do you want to spend it together?”
“Why not!” I followed her out of the class but not before casting a look at that hooded boy. He hadn’t raised his face from his book yet though all other students were leaving the class.