Shadow of a Life, Page 2

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  “Hey,” I yelled after crashing headfirst into someone in front of me.

  “Maybe you should try looking up once in a while,” the figure responded gently.

  I did look up—and saw a stunningly beautiful girl.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  As if my morning hadn’t already been off to a bad enough start, the textbooks and papers I’d been so carefully holding as I walked to the bus stop were now scattered haphazardly across the sidewalk. I guess it served me right for not taking the time to stuff everything into my backpack. I bent to retrieve my things and the girl I’d just barreled into stooped to help.

  “Thanks,” I said, looking up again.

  The blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl didn’t say anything, but she gave me a fleeting smile before continuing on her way. I watched her retreating figure as she disappeared around the corner and wondered how my life would be different if I looked like her. I wasn’t ugly—at least, I didn’t think I was—but I definitely wasn’t gorgeous like the blonde girl. With plain brown hair that fell just below my shoulders, brown eyes, and average height, there was nothing to make me stand out from the crowd. Sometimes I would attempt to style my hair or wear a little makeup, but I always felt like someone trying to cover up a botched plastic surgery. I’m sure most of the problem was that I had no clue what to do when it came to makeup and hairstyles. My dad was raising me alone and it wasn’t like he could give me beauty tips.

  I zipped my quilted jacket as high as it could go, pulled its hood over my hair, and tucked my free hand into my pocket as I trudged the rest of the way to the bus stop. I could see my breath and I lowered my head—this time with my eyes facing forward— to block some of the bitter cold wind from my already reddened face. The weather was frustratingly cold considering it was late May. I’d lived in Massachusetts all my life and was used to crazy weather, but that was just ridiculous.

  The school bus was already at the curb when I arrived and I got in line with the rest of the students waiting for a ride to Old Rochester Regional High School. “I wish I was still in bed,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Huh?” the boy in front of me, Peter Ashby, asked as he pulled buds from his ears and looked at me expectantly.

  “Nothing.” I blushed. I hoped my face was already too red from the wind for anyone to notice.

  “Jamie, there you are.” My best friend, Camille Spencer, waved from the back of the bus. I pushed my way through students and backpacks and climbed over mountains of feet in the aisle as I worked my way to the seat next to her.

  “What took you so long? You’re usually first in line at the bus stop,” she pointed out.

  “I couldn’t sleep last night and I had a hard time dragging myself out of bed this morning.” I sighed. “And, to top it all off, I ran into an Aphrodite.”

  Camille raised her eyebrows. “A what?”

  “An Aphrodite. You know, a girl that’s really pretty and . . . never mind.”

  Camille didn’t question me any further and I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t usually have anything interesting to talk about. She, on the other hand, had a mind that worked a mile a minute and could change subjects faster than I could think.

  “Jamie, did you hear about Anthony Dewitt? He got caught smoking pot behind the school and now they aren’t going to let him graduate. Everybody’s talking about it this morning. You didn’t notice my new shoes, by the way. Mom got them for me yesterday. Want a bite?”

  I glanced at Camille’s outstretched hand clutching a half-eaten Pop-Tart. “No thanks.”

  Camille and I had been best friends since elementary school and lived only a few blocks apart. Her looks more than made up for my plainness. Her green eyes had actual sparkles in them. Of course, she sometimes wore glitter on her eyelids—that probably helped the effect. And did I mention that she was a flirt?

  I’d always been the sidekick. The number two. The tagalong. The “other one.” Maybe I wouldn’t be the “other one” and maybe I wouldn’t blend into the background if my best friend wasn’t so pretty. I should find ugly friends.

  “Heads up,” a voice called from somewhere in front of us.

  My reaction time was slow and I didn’t look up until it was too late to do anything about the football arcing its way toward me. It landed in my lap. For the second time that morning I was yanked from my thoughts by my pile of books scattering—that time all over the nasty bus floor. I jerked my head up to glare at the culprit, but Camille smiled and batted her eyelashes, emitting a giggle that I couldn’t replicate even if I wanted to.

  I should have known. The football belonged to Travis Andrews. Football season ended months before, but he still carried that stupid thing around all the time. Heaven forbid anyone forget that he was one of our school’s star players. Travis was also Camille’s date for Saturday’s prom. And no, I was not going to the dance with anyone. I gathered my books once more, waving away help from Travis who just shrugged his shoulders and continued flirting with Camille, apparently feeling the need to constantly be near her.

  It was Friday and, after the weekend, we only had one week of school left before summer break. My countdown had begun. I both longed for and dreaded summer vacation. It was nice having a three-month reprieve from homework and tests, but I always grew bored long before the hot month of August came to a close, heralding the start of another school year. When I was a little kid, I would spend my summer breaks at Smiley’s Summer Camp. Basically, it was a glorified day care for kids whose parents worked and couldn’t be home to babysit when school wasn’t in session. Needless to say, I was glad those days were behind me.