Sunspots and Raindrops

In a way, when Monday rolled around the week following my and my mother’s arrival in Las Vegas, I was grateful. School offered a means of escape from my own head. And even though in exchange I would be torturing my mind with academics that I either already knew or didn’t seem to care for anymore, it was better than lying around the house, tormenting myself with painful memories and an overly inquiring imagination.

The school I would be attending was about the same size as the one I had gone to back in Chicago, so I was comforted by the fact that it wouldn’t be such a shock in size. But I still felt beyond out of place once I got there.

It was the beginning o fall in Vegas and to the natives of this desert niche, it was cooler than usual. People were wearing jeans and hoodies in the school. But being from the chilly northern part of the central area of the country, what I knew as cold and what Nevada knew as cold were not equivalent whatsoever.

So when I walked into the school wearing gym shorts and a short-sleeve T-shirt, I got a few odd glances. It was after I had gotten my class schedule and locker information that I noticed the looks coming from the students as they passed me in the hallway.

I told myself that I didn’t care and after I had found my locker and my fist period class—which was history—I started believing myself. Whispers carried from behind my desk in first period, and I could hear the words “new student” and know that they were talking about me.

I sighed and lowered my chin onto my notebooks on my desk, wishing myself to o unnoticed for the rest of this first day.

I heard movement and then felt more eyes on me. Already regretting the decision to gaze around before I did so, I raised my eyes and immediately met those of two girls in front of me.

“Hey, you’re new here, aren’t you?” one of them asked. She had that inversed hair that’s really dark on the top layer but bright blonde on the bottom layer. Her eyes were blue and she had braces.

When I thought her question over a few times, I decided that a smart-ass remark was unnecessary. I was one for first impressions. “Yeah, I am.” I say.

“I’m Courtney,” the girl said at a piercing decibel.

“And I’m Rachel.” My eyes slid to the side and met another pair of equally electric blue eyes. This girl was platinum blonde and just one look at her was enough for me to get a pretty good idea of the kind of girl she was. Her roots were dark which implied that she dyed her hair that color; I could see her belly button ring through her very low-cut v-neck shirt; and she was wearing jeans with very high heels. I wasn’t one to judge a book by its cover, but it’s hard not to when the cover of the book is screaming “tramp”. “What’s your name?”

“Where are you from?” Courtney followed up Rachel’s question with another question.

It was like I was being interrogated.

“I’m Sonny,” I say without emotion. “I’m from Wilmette.” Both girls looked at each other obliviously and then turned their icy eyes back to me. “It’s in the Chicago area.” I tried to clarify.

Then the lights clicked on. “That’s awesome,” Courtney says with a sharp smile. “I always loved Chicago. There are so many places to go shopping there!”

It was like she was trying to connect with me on some shallow girly-girl level.

“Yeah,” I tried to empathize with her. “I guess there is.”

“Why did you move to Vegas?” Rachel asks. Her face was set into a forcefully innocent look of curiosity. But I had a feeling she was up to something.

I had a feeling she and I would not get along well.

“Work,” I lied for the sake of not wanting to open up to anyone anytime anywhere. Especially not either of these girls. “My mom got a job here and we decided to move.”

They both made ‘o’ sounds and looked like they were about to ask more questions when the bell rang and cut them off short. I was beyond relieved when they walked back to their desks and sat down, leaving me alone at last.

The teacher walked in and introduced himself as Mr. Tanner. I wondered if he introduced himself everyday, but before I had time to ponder too long, he looked at me.

He opened his mouth and started to say something, but was cu off when the door to his classroom opened and a boy walked in. Mr. Tanner’s attention was diverted for a second. “Well, I was going to say that we have a new student here today, but it would appear we have two. Class, this is Mr. Tardy.”

The class chuckled together and finally, I raised my eyes from my books to look at this Mr. Tardy, but to my surprise, I knew who the by was. It was the vocalist from the garage band next door.

He walked straight to Mr. Tanner and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you mister…” he trailed off, waiting for Mr. Tanner to introduce himself in return. The boy’s eyes read the nametag that sat on the front of Mr. Tanner’s desk. “…Tanner. Nice to meet you, Mr. Tanner.” He took Mr. Tanners hand and shook it vigorously, seemingly provoked by the class’s laughter.

Mr. Tanner did not seem amused, however.

He pulled his hand out of the boy’s grasp and narrowed his eyes at the back of his head as he walked to his desk and plopped down. He sat in the row behind me across the room. I could see him from my peripheral vision as he adjusted his books on his desk and then opened a notebook, writing in it as he leaned on the heel of his hand.

He made it seem like what had just happened was an everyday occurrence.

Maybe it was. I didn’t know.

“Now, as I was saying,” Mr. Tanner jumped right back on his original train of thought. “We have a new student here now,’ Oh no, I thought. “Miss Daniels, would you like to introduce yourself to the class?”

I was a teenage girl in eleventh grade in a brand new high school in a brand new city in a brand new state in a brand new time zone and area of the continent—of course I don’t want to introduce myself in font of the class.

I stood reluctantly and turned to face everyone. I slid my hands into the pockets of my shorts and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Speaking in front of people was never really my thing…especially when the topic was myself and it was to a bunch of strangers.

“My name is Sonny Daniels and I moved here from Will--…” I paused, wondering if any of them would know where Wilmette was since the first two people I’d spoken to hadn’t “I’m from Chicago.” There were murmurs among the students. “I moved here with my mother because she found a business opportunity.”

I didn’t want to go any deeper than that any time soon.

“What part of Chicago are you from?” Mr. Tanner asks, obviously having picked up on my change of thought halfway through saying Wilmette.

“Wilmette.” I answered simply as I sat back down in my desk.

Mr. Tanner nodded and I heard someone clear his or her throat from my right. When I turned to look, I saw “Mr. Tardy” looking at me with big, dark intrigued eyes. I quickly looked away and down at my notebooks.

“And what business opportunity was your mother offered, if it’s okay to ask?” Mr. Tanner asked.

Shit, I thought. I hadn’t anticipated being asked that. “Uh…I’m not very sure on the specifics. All I know is that she has a few old friends in these parts that said they’d take care of her.” That wasn’t necessarily a lie.

Mr. Tanner accepted this as a good enough answer and then began briefing me on what I had missed from the first few weeks of the school year. The rest of the class had engaged in conversation between each other, but I kept my attention on Mr. Tanner strictly because I didn’t want to have to face any more unwanted or unanticipated questions from my fellow classmates.

I could feel people staring me down and that was bad enough for me.

The bell finally rang and I stood and walked out of the class, keeping my eyes on my schedule to avoid any conversation with anyone. I just wanted to get through my first day so I could be in the swing of things before I made a complete ass of myself.

My second period class was choir. I couldn’t go without talking in this class, obviously, and after introducing myself the exact same way I had in Tanner’s class, I sat down in my designated seat along with the rest of the sopranos.

Again, the neighbor boy was in my class and his dark eyes never seemed to leave me.

There was a girl next to me and she nudged me halfway through class. I looked over at her.

“Sonny is a nice name,” she says with a genuine smile. “It reminds me of New Found Glory.”

That caught my attention like a slap to the face. No one had made that connection before and openly commented on it. “I love New Found Glory.” I say, giving a small smile.

“So do I!” the girl says with exhilaration, but still managing to whisper so as to not antagonize the teacher. “They’re just the best.”

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Charlie,” she answers. “Charlie Ann Harbison.”

“What grade are you in?” I asked.

“I’m a junior like you,” she answers and I was pleasantly surprised by how much close attention she’d evidently been paying. I nodded with a smile and then turned my eyes back to the teacher, but from my right, I could see the boy from next door looking at me and Charlie.

When he caught me looking back at him, however, he looked away and pretended to be looking at something behind me before turning his eyes back to the front.

I gazed at him curiously before nudging Charlie and nodding his way. “Who’s that?”

She smirked and gave an eye roll that said she wasn’t surprised that I’d asked. “That’s Brendon Urie,” she replies.

I wondered if she wondered why I’d wanted to know. Before she could go into a in depth description of him, I said, “He’s my neighbor.”

She looked at me and her smirk grew more sideways. “Lucky.”

As I tried to not delve that deeply into what exactly Charlie meant by that, the class lined up along the black chairs on the risers in the classroom and as I listened and attempted to sing along with the class to songs that they knew in their sleep, I couldn’t help but be distracted by the beautiful voice of the neighbor boy.

I knew his name. But I thought it was a little strange to call him by it when he didn’t know mine…

I found myself glancing over at him every once and a while. He had this air about him as he sang like any trouble that may be weighing him down was lifted off of him, if only for the short time of which he was singing.

It was the fourth time I glanced at him that his eyes turned to me. Flustered by being caught looking at him, I turned my eyes forward and looked at the teacher.

Charlie laughed quietly beside me and to my immediate surprise, my lips curved upward too. She nudged me again like she had earlier.

“I think I’m pissing him off,” I murmured under my breath and Charlie laughed again.

“I’d say otherwise,” she replied, her eyes darting to him and causing me to glance one more time.

He was smirking as he sang.

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The rest of the day dragged on. I had a few more classes with Charlie, but only lunch and choir with Brendon.

He had a rather advanced schedule of classes for a senior. He was in all honor classes, as far as I could tell.

I was taking all of the honors classes offered as well, and as far as I could tell, they were simple.

When the dismissal bell rang, I’d be lying if I said I was upset. I walked outside and immediately found my mother waiting for me in the parking lot. That brilliant malevolent vehicle stuck out like an Eskimo in the Sahara amongst the other cars in the parking lot.

As I got in the passenger seat, I felt the eyes of the students around me driving into my backside. My mom greeted me with a smile and then revved the engine and peeled away. She was trying to show off, I could tell. She’d never owned anything so flashy before.

I found it bittersweet and kept my eyes down as we drove past some of my classmates, Courtney and Rachel among them, their mouths hanging open in envious shock.

We started toward our house (which didn’t quite feel like home yet) and were only a few blocks away when I saw Brendon (See? It just feels weird to say…) walking along on the sidewalk, little white earphones in his ears, singing away.

Was that all he did, I wondered as we drove past, the less-than-elusive purr of the engine grabbing his attention and causing his windpipes to cease working. His eyes caught mine through the tinted passenger-side window and again, I looked down and away from him.

“Who’s that?” my mom asks, looking in her rearview mirror.

“A boy that goes to my school,” I say, wanting to keep it as simple as that but when my mom looked at me expectantly, I knew she would look too far into it if I kept it that vague. “He’s a senior and he actually lives right next door.”

“Really?” she asks evenly. “He’s the one that was making that entire racket the other night?”

I couldn’t help but smile. “I think he’s part of a garage band, so he was making part of that racket the other night.”

“He’s cute,” she said offhandedly and I looked back out the window to hide the fact that my cheeks were burning red.

My mom turned into the driveway and pulled the car into the garage. I gathered my things and went straight to my room, cherishing being able to be alone with my thoughts for a while. When I glanced out the window, Brendon had crossed to our side of the street and was just walking past my and my mother’s house. His eyes were latched to the garage door, and then he was taking in the entire house. He looked straight at my window but my shades were drawn and I knew he couldn’t see me…right?

And with that same half-smirk on his face as the one he had had in choir, he disappeared into his house and I didn’t see him for the rest of the day.