Check Yes, Tinkerbell

“But Mom! I don’t want to go to school! Why can’t I just keep getting home schooled? That way I could just stay home and be with you!” I could hear my little brother, Frankie, whining all the way down stairs. And in this house, let me tell you, that’s a real accomplishment. But at seven AM, it was way too early for him to be screaming. It may have been the morning of my first day at Westlake Academy, but I was very sure that it was completely inhumane to make someone wake up this early on any day, much less a Monday. I groaned and rolled out of bed, standing up and looking in the mirror.

“Ugh.” My hair was horrible. Instead of the soft brown curls it was usually in, it was a frizzy mess. I slowly walked out in the hallway, just as Joe walked out of his room. I saw his face, and he grinned just as he ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. In my face. And this would be why I hated having three brothers. “Dang flabit. Joe, get out of there! I need to take a shower!” I banged on the door, and Joe opened it slightly.

“Nick, you hang out with Mr. Cyrus too much,” he said, and then closed it again. Well sorry, I thought. It’s not my fault he was always around when I was with Miley. They don’t call it parental supervision for nothing. I banged on the door again.

“Joe, come on!”

“Dude, the eighties called. They want their hair back.” I turned around to see Kevin, fully dressed, his hair curled to perfection. I rolled my eyes.

“Sorry, Billy Bob. Ye old western shop needs their clothes first.” I flicked his vest clad shoulder and ran back to the other bathroom before Frankie could grab it. Mornings suck.

***

“Piper, you have to go to school! I’m sorry your daddy’s not here to get you ready, but he’ll be back by the end of the month! I promise.” I heard Piper burst into tears and start screaming. For a nine year old, my little sis has some lungs. I rolled over in bed, groaning. Mornings are not my thing. But, that would be why God invented caffeine. And aspartame. I turned off the alarm that was vibrating on my side table and sat up in bed, flicking my bangs out of my face. Another Monday. Another fresh start. I stood up and automatically reached for my Chi on my vanity, and remembered that I had straightened my hair in the hall bathroom yesterday, and went to go get it. That’s when I saw Rosmy banging on the bathroom door, her towels and clothes in hand. Her long, dark hair was tied up in a ponytail that was way too neat for me to even comprehend this early in the morning.

“Mi, come on! It’s been twenty minutes! I need to get ready! If I’m late again I drop a grade level!” I smiled at my sisters. Both of them love me, but they hate each other sometimes. Like most sisters, I guess. I put my hand on Rosmy’s shoulder.

“You can take a shower in my bathroom, Rose. I just need to grab my straightener from in here.” She smiled appreciatively and walked back towards my room. I knocked on the door. “Mil, I need my Chi!” The door opened quickly, and my silver bag containing my Chi came hurdling towards my face, managing to hit me square in the eye. “Ow!” I muttered expletives under my breath as I walked back into my room. Mornings bite.

***

“Nick, calm down, you can do this.” I kept telling myself that over and over again as I walked into the office at Westlake Academy. My car-well, not really my car, but a car I had rented for the purpose of driving to and from school, as the convertible would have been a little too flashy-was parked outside in the student parking lot, and when I walked in, clad in my newly pressed uniform and sunglasses, the attendant automatically pointed to a hallway without even saying a word. I walked along until I saw a name I recognized. Principal McAdams. Mom had told me that I needed to meet him in his office. Well it was now or never. I walked in slowly, sucking in a breath.

And ten minutes later, I was walking right back out, schedule in hand. Mr. McAdams clapped me on the back. “Don’t worry, son,” he said. “You’ll do fine. And Mrs. Benson will introduce you too your student guide next period.” As the bell rang, he sent me off to class. This school was huge. I was walking around aimlessly, trying to figure out where 101 A was, and all of the sudden, I walked straight into someone, knocking their books out of their hands. I bent down to grab them.

“God, I’m so sorry,” a female voice said.

“No, it’s my fault,” I replied, grabbing each book. GT Physics and French III, and there was a little purple sketchbook thrown next to them. As I picked each of them up, I realized they were my two first classes. I looked up at the owner, and the most dazzling pair of hazel eyes met my still sunglass covered ones. I stood there, dazed and unable to move. Oh dear lord.

***

“What’s new chica?” I about had a heart attack as I closed my locker, its ugly green door slamming against the opening. I heard my holder for my pencils drop and spill all over the bottom of the one foot rectangle. Remind me to pick that up later.

“Jesus, Vee.” I pulled my books closer to my chest. “You scared the crap out of me.” She laughed. Go figure. VeeJay would think a sudden heart attack at my expense was hilarious. I took a long, heavy sip of my Diet Coke as we started walking down the hallway towards my first period. “Not much,” I said, my hard-bottomed metallic purple flats hitting the floor loudly with every step. “Why aren’t you at practice?” I asked. By this point in the morning, she’d usually been at school for about two hours, and was generally doing laps in the pool with the rest of the swim team.

“Got canceled today. Some Junior decided that the week before the meet against Temple would be a good time to pour purple die in the lap pool.” The sip of my Coke I’d just taken went down the wrong tube as I laughed, and coughing loudly, I leaned against the wall.

“G-God,” I sputtered. “That s-sucks.” And that would be when I head the sound of running, and then a loud crash from around the corner.

“Ouch!” screamed a female voice. “Get off me you fag!”

“Sorry!” This was a voice I knew all too well. Matt came running around the corner, his backpack bobbing up and down behind him. He came to a screeching halt in front of us, and I stood there, my jaw dropped, while he grinned at VeeJay.

“What the hell did you do?” I asked, looking down to the end of the hall, where Sam, one of Jade Justin’s bitch posse, was now tucking her white shirt back into her blue and black plaid skirt, our uniform. Matt blushed and looked down at his feet, shifting his weight from his toes to his heels.

“Nothing…” I just rolled my eyes. That’s Matt for you. The second most clumsy person in the world, the first being me. “Sorry I’m late. I had to take Lindsey to grab breakfast.” He rolled his eyes at his little sister as she passed with her freshmen friends. I laughed, looking back down the hall to where Sam and her friends were still adjusting.

“I’ll see you at lunch, k?” I nodded, and VeeJay walked down the opposite hallway towards Algebra II. I turned back to Matt, who was waving at VeeJay, grinning. He’d forgotten that he didn’t have any of his stuff out of his locker.

“Just go grab your crap. I’ll meet you in Benson’s.”

“Save me a seat.” He started walking down the hall.

“As always.”

“Ta ta, my darling!” I laughed and looked back to see him blowing me a kiss. I caught it and blew one back, rolling my eyes and rounding a corner, when I smashed into some guy wearing sunglasses. In school. Uhm….fashion statement? Maybe. Weird? Yes. His hair was curly, shorter on the sides and longer at the front so it hung in his face. He looked oddly familiar, but I shrugged it off. I was a little too busy averting a crisis.

“God, I’m so sorry!” I said as I bent down. He was already picking up my books.

“No, it’s my fault,” he said. He leaned up to hand me my books, and looked me in the eye. And then he stopped moving. Ok? After a few seconds, I moved my hand in front of his face and then tapped his glasses.

“Uhm…hello? Earth to stranger.” I laughed and took my books from him as he snapped too.

“Whoa, sorry. It’s just that…” He looked at me again and stood up. “Your eyes are really pretty.” I could feel the red slowly seeping into my cheeks as I organized my books in my hands.

“Thanks.” I smiled, and extended my hand. “I’m Phoebe. Phoebe Holloway.” He shook my hand, smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Pheobe.” He didn’t say his name, and when he shifted where he stood, I could tell he was a bit uncomfortable. I looked at the schedule in his hands. I knew he looked familiar, but I was damn sure that this guy had never been in this school. I glanced back at his face, and his strong cheekbones pressed against the bottoms of his glasses. This guy looked hot. But with the glasses on, I couldn’t see his eyes. Where had I seen him before? “So….” He smiled. “You have Benson’s first period Physics?” he said with a questioning tone. I nodded and took a step towards the hall where Mrs. Benson’s room was, and gestured to it.

“Yep.” I smiled. “You too?” He nodded back. “It’s right down here. First day, huh?”

“That obvious?”

“Pretty much.” I laughed. “I know almost everyone here, with the exception of a few seventh graders.” Those who I knew were generally siblings of classmates, or I’ve helped with a fashion crisis. When the school paper hired me to do the fashion column last year, it kinda surprised me. You’d think they’d get a teacher to do it, or someone older with more experience. But people from every grade, both boys and girls, started sending in TONS of emails once I was signed on, asking my opinion on certain pieces, good clothes for body types, etc.

“That’s pretty cool,” he said. He followed me into Mrs. Benson’s room, where she was sitting at her desk typing furiously on her laptop. Probably writing next month’s lesson plans, knowing her.

“There’s an advantage to being talkative.” I smiled. It was true. When you talk to everyone, you know everyone. I lifted my bag off my shoulder, careful not to get it caught on my silver HBP pin on my blazer, and set it on the floor by my usual spot in the middle of the room. Purple metallic flats, blue and black plaid skirt, Metro Station fan club (from back in 2007) tee and my dark RL blazer. Crazy, but cute. I was one of the few people (aside from Taylor and Jade, sometimes Matt and the rest of the Cheer Whores both for other reasons) who actually got away with changes to our uniform. Mostly because of the column, but also because I helped design the Drill Team’s uniform’s last year and the coach pulled a few strings for me.

“Mind if I sit next to you?” The guy gestured to the seat next to me in the two seat table, and I bit my lip. Ok, so I either help the new guy, who I might add is ridiculously cute, or sit with my long time best friend (whom I love like a sister) and listen to his nose whistle when he falls asleep behind his binder.

Screw Matt. I’m sitting with the new guy.

“Sure.” I pulled out the chair and he slammed into the seat. He had no books yet, and the only things he had with him it seamed were his cell, keys and wallet, which I saw in his pocket, and then his schedule in his hands. Boy, was this kid gonna have to learn fast. Most guys at Westlake carried a messenger bag or something. I had my Juicy over the shoulder bag with me. With all the crap you have to carry around TAKS time, it’s generally a good idea to have a bag of some sort stashed at the bottom of your locker somewhere.

“So you got any friends in this class?” he added, running a hand through his curly hair. I smiled and pointed to the door as Matt slouched in, looking more tired than he had in the hallway. Less than a second later, the bell rang, and at the same time, he looked over to where I sat, and raised a brow. I knew he was gonna kill me for not saving him a seat.

He slowly walked to where we sat, and stood glowering over the new guy.

“Uhm, Matt,” I started. His dark navy polo clung to his torso and arms, making him look buffer than he actually was. “This is….” I trailed off, realizing for the first time that the guy hadn’t given me his name. “What’s your name?” I asked. He smiled and looked back at me, pulling off his glasses. Something clicked. I don’t know if it was his eyes, his hair, or just the way he said his name, but the four letter word that came out of his mouth made everything click inside my head.

“Nick.” As Mrs. Benson called us to attention, and Matt sullenly grabbed a seat in the back of the room, throwing a secondary, knowing glance at the boy next to me, I realized for the first time who the new guy was. I realized that Nick Jonas, the boy who was wanted by millions of girls (and probably a few guys, including Matt, I think), was sitting next to me, smirking cockily as I stared straight forward, my jaw hanging open.

“Class, class, come on, sit down.” Mrs. Benson waved her hands, and the rest of the class started filing into their seats, downing the last of their Starbucks and Cokes. I sat there, in a momentary state of shock, trying not to act like an idiot. Nick. Nick Jonas. Mr. Nick Jonas. Sitting next to me. In physics. Holy. Shit.

*****

Phoebe just sat there, looking straight forward. Crap. What did I just do? She seemed so normal, and I thought that maybe she wouldn’t freak. At least she isn’t screaming. That’s a plus. As everyone finally sat, I looked over towards the other side of the room, where the seats faced us. Bad idea. Most of the people over there were staring at me, jaws open. One girl looked like she was about to have a heart attack. Oh God. I looked back at Phoebe, and she seemed to have snapped back to. She was digging in her Messenger bag, and pulled out a green pencil and a book. I looked it over.

Wow. She was actually reading the unofficial J.K. Rowling biography. I seriously thought I was the only person on earth who’d read that. Of course, it was only out of sheer boredom during a week of bed rest after an insulin spike, but still.

After she set those on the table, she reached back in and pulled out another pencil and a few pieces of bright green notebook paper. I fought the urge to laugh.

“Here.” She set a piece of paper and the pencil on the table in front of me. I blushed.

“Thanks,” I whispered back. She smiled, nodded, and then looked back towards the front before picking up her book and tearing it open. She seemed to be really into it. The teacher started calling role.

“Brecken, Olivia.”

“Here.” My eyes slid over to look at the lanky blonde that raised her hand. She looked pretty cool. At least she wasn’t staring. I noticed a group of girls next to her, talking, and one of them, a thin, curly-haired brunette kept looking at me every couple of minutes. Uhm, creepy much? The teacher went all the way from Olivia to “Garber, Tara.”

“Hanson, Matt.” A loud whistle came from the back of the room, and a few people glanced back, like I did. Where Matt sat, there was a textbook propped up, and there was a steady sound of heavy breathing. I looked back to the front and tried not to laugh, and I saw Phoebe rolling her eyes. I guess this was a daily thing. Mrs. Benson rolled her eyes too. “Here, I take it. Phoebe, I trust you’ll wake him before bell rings so he’s not late to fall asleep in French.” She nodded and glanced up from her book.

“Of course. Oh, and here.” Mrs. Benson smiled at her and checked her off. Holloway must have been the next name on the list.

“Justin, Jade.” The brunette raised her hand, and then pointedly looked over at me, smiling even wider. I just tried to sit lower in my seat and crossed my arms. Before I knew it, she was done with role. My name wasn’t called. Yet.

“Before we start class,” Mrs. Benson started, “I’d like to make an announcement.” Oh God. Those are the words I’d been dreading. I’d hoped that no teachers would feel the need to make my arrival at Westlake a huge spectacle. I side glanced over at Phoebe, and then back to the front, praying that Mrs. Benson wouldn’t say the words I dreaded she would. “Principal McAdams would like to see all students in the lecture hall at Three O’clock. This means we’re on Pep Rally schedule, and as such, we need to get to work.” With that, she turned around and pulled a white projection screen out from its roll on the ceiling. I sighed in relief, and slumped back down in my chair. It seemed she wasn’t going to call me out in front of the class.

***

Same old Matt. Of course he fell asleep.

But that wasn’t the issue at hand.

The issue was that I was sitting next to an international teen heartthrob, whom currently every girl (give or take a few uber nerds in the front staring at the board) in the room was staring at. As I slid down further in my chair, I saw him glance at me out of the corner of is eye. He was lower in is seat than I was, and I was worried if he sat any further down he’d fall. I just want this class to be over. Now.

I prodded Matt with Mrs. Benson’s meter stick. Again.

“Come on, Matt.”

And again.

“Matthewwwwwwwwwww…”

And again.

“Matt, if you don’t wake up, I’ll make Taylor throw you in the back of her car and take you to a Metro Station/Miley Cyrus concert.”

He stirred, and for a second I thought he would wake up, but he didn’t.

“Mind if I help?” I turned around, and Nick was standing behind me, a large textbook in his hand. I smiled

“You can try. He’s really out of it.” He smiled back and held the book over the desk. By this point, people were staring again. The last five minutes of class were usually reserved for starting homework or silent reading, but for me, this time generally allowed me to wake up Matt up so we won’t be late to French. I knew what Nick was planning on doing, but before I could react, he’d said loudly:

“If you’re sensitive to loud sounds you might wanna cover your ears!”

And that’d be when he moved the large book over the table, about a foot to the side of Matt’s head, and dropped it. His pencil jumped up in the air and landed on the floor, and Matt sat up, his eyes blurry, hands up in the air.

“Whoa. Who pulled the trigger?”

Everyone laughed, even Nick.

The bell went of loudly, a resounding chime and music to my ears. This had to have been one of the most awkward class periods of my life. After the whole porn star incident, of course. The one where I flashed my underwear to my entire seventh period back in middle school? Yeah. That’s definitely in the top five. “Ms Holloway, Mr. Jonas, would you see me after everyone leaves, please?” I heard Mrs. Benson call from behind her desk.

***

Of course. She calls me out now.

“Sure, Mrs. Benson,” Phoebe said, setting her stuff down on the table next to us, avoiding the puddle of drool left by Matt. We both walked up to where she sat, typing quickly. She stopped when we got to her desk, looking at us over the top of her glasses.

“Phoebe,” she started. “In the past you’ve expressed your apparent lack of interest in celebrities and your relative calmness when it comes to dealing with them. Correct?” She looked stunned when I looked over at her.

“You mean the thing with my dad and…his friends?” Mrs. Benson nodded. What thing? And dealing with celebrities? I needed to be dealt with? “I mean, yeah, I don’t freak like Taylor or anything but…” I think she realized she was rambling, because she trailed off. “Yes ma’m.”

“Then I assume you won’t have a problem being Nick’s student guide?” She looked stunned again, and stared at Mrs. Benson. I glanced between both of them, trying to grasp what’s happening.

“Me?” she asked. “Me? Why me? Wouldn’t someone like…I don’t know, Melissa, be better?” This is all getting a bit too confusing. Who’s Melissa?

“While, given the situation of a new student, Melissa would be the proper choice, I think for this,” she glanced between us, “particular situation, you would be better suited as a guide.” She looked back down at her computer. “I’ve already spoken with Mr. McAdams, and he agrees that with you as Mr. Jonas’ guide, things might go a little more…smoothly.” Phoebe still looked a bit shell shocked, but nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “If you think that’s best.” She sounded defeated, like she didn’t really want to deal with this. I felt a little pang in my chest, maybe just a little annoyance, and turned to her.

“If you think this is such a bad idea, maybe we should find a different guide. I mean, if you’re not up for the challenge.” Mrs. Benson looked stunned, Phoebe even worse, and she turned to look at me, her mouth open.

“I-I…” she sputtered. She took a deep breath, seeming to come together, and then started again, her eyes going dark. “Jonas, I’m up for the challenge. But be warned, I’m not gonna treat you special just ‘cause you’re a multi-millionare with billions of screaming fan-girls.” It’s my turn to be shocked. First off because of her bluntness, but also…I don’t think I’ve had a girl (besides my mother) talk to me that way in years. Most of them are all “Oh Nick, you’re so sweet!” or “OHMIGOD ITS NICK JONASSSS!” Except for maybe Miley, who likes to pick at every imperfect little piece of hair or clothing that I have, which annoys me to no end.

“I wasn’t expecting you too,” I said plainly.

“Good,” she said.

“Good,” I replied.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Oh Lord, was this really going to turn into some bad episode of Demi’s show?

***

“Bonjour Madame. Désolé nous sommes en retard. Voici nos passages,” I rattled off as we stepped into the room, handing Madame Hall our passes from Mrs. Benson. There was an intake of breath from the female percent of the class, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes for what felt like the billionth time that morning. This morning, Madame was dressed to the nines as usual. Dark skirt, silk blouse, pearls. She looked like she belonged in France, as she always did.

“Il est très bien, Marie-Claire. Qui est votre nouvel ami ?” Before I could answer who my new friend was, Nick took a step forward.

“Mon nom est Nick, Madame. Nick Jonas. Heureux pour vous rencontrer,” he said with perfect enunciation, shocking most of us. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I knew he’d toured the globe time and time again. But he spoke with such perfect alliteration… I glanced at Matt, who was already seated in his usual spot, and he was staring at me with one eyebrow raised.

“Do you have a French name, Nick?” Madame asked in English, this time.

“I don’t believe so, but I could find one.” He smiled, and Madame smiled back.

So he was a kiss ass, eh? Well, he was dealing with the one student every teacher and most kids in every grade knew and loved, so…Bring it on, Jonas, Bring it on.

***

“So what do we have next, tour buddy?” Nick asked, poking me in the shoulder as we made our way to the stairs after French. This is how he’d greeted me for the last three hours. Tour buddy. Like I was some kindergarten field trip partner that he was supposed to hold hands with. He didn’t even know me. Hadn’t asked me a meaningful question (other than “What’s the RNA sequence for Metholine?”) since we’d me. I was okay with that, I guess. When people ask me things, I tend to ramble. But the fact that I knew some about him and he knew none about me made me feel kinda like a stalker. Wow. I now know how Vee feels every day with Blake.

This time, I smirked. He was in for it now.

“Just look at your schedule,” I said, heading down the stairs. He took a few steps, looking at his schedule, and almost tripped. I giggled slightly, and then stopped, remembering the façade I was putting on. The tough guy. Or girl. Whatever.

“It just says ‘Des&Mer.’” I laughed as we made it down the stairs and rounded the corner, and into the hallway where the Theater rooms were. Matt had left us when we went down the stairs for computer class (even though he REALLY wanted to be in M&D with us, he had to get a computer credit and this was the only time he could fit it in).
VeeJay, as I’d seen when we passed the auditorium doors, was already running lines with Peter and Mili on the stage. And I was sure Taylor was already waiting in the classroom for me. But when we walked in, not only did she scream, but the sounds of the sewing machines and clicking mousses stopped entirely. Something I don’t think I’ve ever heard in this room.

“Nick,” I started, a grin separating my face. “Welcome to Design and Merchandise.”