Don't Give up on Me

"Do you want to go in now?" Violet asked from the backseat of the Mustang, her head beside my shoulder.

"Not particularly," I replied, eying our school from my new parking spot. Of course, it was right in front of the security office, thanks to Mr. Lowe. Beside me was Zack's, Matt's, and Serena's. I was sure Charlotte and Brian would have the next two that completed the row, had they not transferred to Costa Mesa. At least they didn't have to deal with constantly being watched.

"You get to see the new art studio, though. That's good, right?" she urged, trying her hardest to get me out of the car.

"Yeah. But being watched by Lowe every second? Not so much."

Jimmy still dozed in the passenger seat. The three of us were all tired; I woke up at four in the morning to go get Jimmy from Cara's place, because of a reason neither would share. I knew it was because of the fact that they both wanted to spend every last possible second together, and I didn't mind the drive. But, not even an Eye Opener from Starbucks could energize nor motivate me enough to deal with today.

A knock on the window startled me, and I turned to see none other than Lowe standing there, his face it's usual shade of red due to his fair skin. It seemed that his bald spot had grown more and the skin exposed there was red, too.

I pressed the button and let my window halfway down. "Can I help you?" I asked, taking a sip of my water in the cup holder beside me.

"Class starts in fifteen minutes, Miss Dawson. You still need to collect your books and schedule before then, as do your two compadres," he says, his tone condescending. I hated that he always made it a point to almost make fun of my Hispanic side.

"I think we'll manage. Goodbye," I said with as much patience as I could muster, then let my window back up.

"Can we go now? I really don't to get in trouble on our first day," Violet sighed.

"We may as well, since we don't have any other choice,"I sighed, making eye contact with Lowe again as he approached Matt, most likely about to make the same speech from before.

I gently shook Jimmy awake before moving to let Violet out of the car. Opening the trunk of the car, I retrieved my new school bag before closing it and locking the car, putting the alarm on for extra measure. Zack pulled in right after that, and after greeting everyone, we all joined together and went in the direction of the senior meeting we missed three fourths of.

Quite a few changed had been made to HBHS while we were out for the summer. The tile had been replaced with a pearly white over the dull blue from before. The old lockers from before were also replaced, and much larger in size. Other than those two major cosmetic changes, the white cinderblock walls remained the same, as did the signs and other things with it.

Since we were the last group of seniors to arrive, we were forced to stand in the back of the auditorium. "One of the last changes we have made this year is our school day. We no longer have the block system from before. While you had an hour and a half of instruction every other day and alternated classes, we have decided that it was not beneficial to truly mastering the material needed. So, instead, we are on an 8 credit schedule, meaning, we have nine fifty minute class periods per day instead of four 90 minute periods," the assistant principal, Ms. Santos, droned, shocking me considerably. The reason why I loved art class so much was that we essentially had 5 hours to work per week, not counting if we stayed late. Now this would be cut in half, and Lord knows I don't excel in a time crunch.

"Nine classes? Are you trying to kill us?" someone shouted over the buzz of disdain our class as a whole shared.

"We know you may not favor it right now, but we chose to do this in your best interests in mind," Ms Santos smiled, almost as if she was keeping a good joke from us all.

"So you've shortened my work hours in my art classes? Thanks for the consideration," I couldn't help but shout in frustration. This time, the whole room went silent, and all eyes landed on me. A pang of self-consciousness washed over me, and my heart quickened in pace slightly.

"Don't worry, Andi, I said the same thing," Mrs. Jackson said from the stage, and even though she was far away, I could still see her reassuring smile.

"We're sorry that your class time to work on extracurriculars has been cut short, too, but with this new system, you can spend more focus on your studies," Ms. Santos said curtly before moving on.

"'Extracurricular'? Is she fucking stupid?" I said, not at all attempting to lower my voice.

"Do you really need an answer to that? Of course she is," Zack replied, putting his arm around me in an attempt to calm me down.

"Now, you may go collect your schedules and books and head to class. Last names A-M will need to go to the cafeteria to collect theirs, and N-Z will need to go to the old gym to collect theirs. Have a great first day back, guys!" Mrs. Jackson says warmly into the mic, sending us off.

When I received my schedule, I couldn't believe what I saw.

Art IV -- 1st period, Mrs. Jackson, RM 104
AP Studio Art -- 2nd period, Mrs. Jackson, RM: STUDIO, EAST WING.
Dual Credit Art History -- 3rd Period, Mrs Jackson, RM 104.
Lunch: 11:48-12:24
Economics, Mr. Childers, RM 200.
English IV, Mr. Green, RM 201
Pre-Calculus, Mrs. Ashton, RM 110.
Physics, Mr. Carraway, RM: LAB, NORTH WING 2ND FLOOR.
Study Hall, Mrs. Ashton, RM 201 (MANDATORY FOR ALL STUDENTS.)

Not only did I skip Art III altogether, I gained three art classes in its place-- and I wasn't qualified for any of them. Especially Dual Credit; it was a college level course that I was sure I would never be ready for, even if I could earn college credit through it.

"We have lunch together," I brightened slightly while Zack and I examined each other's schedules.

We both laughed when we saw we had Green together, yet again. "History has a habit of repeating itself when it comes to us, doesn't it?" I grinned.

"Looks like that's really it, though, aside from Study Hall. I wonder how you got put into Dual Credit, though. Your GPA qualifies you, but you have to choose that in the summer, and get a teacher reccomendation," he comments.

"I didn't know you were taking baseball again, either," I sighed.

"Neither did I."

"It's Lowe's fault. He's trying to split us all up," Serena says from behind us. "But, it seems we all have lunch, English, and Study Hall together, so he didn't do that great of a job."

"Idiot," we all collectively muttered as the bell rang.

"We're being watched," I murmured to Zack when he leaned down to kiss me. I didn't have to turn around to feel Lowe watching us like a hawk and its prey.

"Do I care? Nope," he shrugged, kissing me anyways before we parted ways.

Alone, I took my time getting to the art room, considering that chances were, Mrs. Jackson would be just as late as I, and she wouldn't care about recording tardies, anyways.

With my prediction correct, she walked in at the same time as I, carrying a white box that smelled like doughnuts. "This is why you're my favorite teacher," I sighed as she offered me a chocolate one.

"This isn't my first rodeo. Cranky teenagers aren't my favorite things, so why not give out free food? Besides, I gotta keep Salazar's spirit alive, since he doesn't teach here anymore," she replied, sighing at the end. "Between you and me, he left because of the principal that insisted that you not take art anymore."

My eyes widened. I was glad it was still just the two of us, since the others were always late, too. "You're kidding."

She shook her head. "He thinks you're a bad kid, who deserves punishment. You remember that I'm also the senior sponsor and coordinator, right?"

I nodded. "Well, this entire summer I fought him tooth and nail to make sure that you and your friends at least had a decent last year here. If he could, you'd all be in In School Suspension all nine periods," she sighed, shaking her head once again. "I can't stand that man. Rude and disrespectful, that's what he is," she muttered under her breath as the other students started to trickle in.

"Thank you," I told her genuinely, and she smiled in response, letting me know she accepted my thanks.

"Alright guys, how does it feel to be seniors?" she asked as she walked to the front of the room, passing the doughnuts around.

"Relieving," one girl said, carefully touching up her lipstick after she finished her food at the same speed as I had. She had bright, cherry red hair and lipstick to match. She curled it in a pin-up girl style, and had the vintage clothes to match as well.

As irritated I already was today, I knew that I was finally back in my realm.

"Who wants to see the studio?" she asked, and we all eagerly raised our hands. "Let's go, then."

She gave the keys to the other redhead, whose named I had yet to learn, and let her lead the way. "Andi, could you hang back and help me carry a few things?"

"Of course," I replied, stopping and turning back around.

"It's just paint. A new shipment just arrived, thank God," she said, handing me the light box.

"Thank God, indeed," I replied, peeking through the small opening and eying my favorite acrylic paint color-- Emerald. And I saw at least six tubes just from looking inside.

When we finally arrived at the studio, I almost dropped the box at the sight of the room. Before it became the studio, it was a "common area" (similar to the one in the courtyard, only larger) that hadn't been used in nearly ten years. Miraculously, the school received an anonymous donation to renovate it, and now we had more space than ever before. Easels with all ten of our names on notecards were arranged with at least five feet of space between them, and a table accompanied each one. Shiny cabinets, empty right now, lined the walls. Filing cabinets with our names on each drawer, too, lined the wall parallel to the wall of cabinets.

It was Paradise.

"You guys like it?" Mrs. Jackson asked, walking in as if it weren't anything out of the ordinary.

"I think I just might cry," I said, honestly. One of the things I missed most about my father's house was my art space. Although it was tiny, it was my sanctuary, a place with many memories that I was fond of. The apartment basically made it impossible for me to work due to a lack of space.I now had the opportunity to work in a great space for nearly 2 hours every day.

Mrs. Jackson gave my shoulder a squeeze and said, "Good. I was hoping someone would shed a tear on the first day."

I laughed, composed myself, and wandered around with my classmates. My favorite thing about the whole room was that there was a wall of floor length windows overlooking the fields behind the school, and my easel just so happened to be facing it all.

Mrs. Jackson then passed around the syllabus and ran over the new guidelines pertaining to the studio. Since we all had Studio Art as well, we were the only ones that were going to be using this space for most of the year. After that, we all just hung around and talked, discussing our summers and such. Rachel, the redhead, talked about how she transferred from New York and missed it terribly. For some reason, I couldn't help but ask her what it was like in the Big Apple, and for the rest of our second period, she told me details that drew me closer and closer to wanting to move there. It was odd; I was so laid back and absolutely loved California. But as soon as she mentioned the art scene and all of these other cool things, I just felt so drawn to the city that never sleeps.

The bell for third period rang, and everyone aside from myself left. "Who else is in the art history class?" I asked after the bell had rang and still no one showed up.

"Just you. It's technically an online course, but I'm 'teaching' it this year. You have an assignment once a week, and you've got an essay due every six weeks along with a test to make sure you're actually the work. You don't even start until next week, since the system hasn't even been activated yet," she explained

"So, what do we do until then?"

"Put away the old and new supplies, if you don't mind," she replied.

"No, I don't," I said, and grabbed the box of paint I had carried in earlier. I started organizing by color, even though I knew that by this time next week, everything would be out of place.

"You never told me that you knew Jourdan," she said a few moments later, startling me slightly.

I gave her a blank look; I hadn't been paying proper attention to what she had said. "Who?"

She chuckled. "Jourdan Jackson, my daughter. Ring any bells?"

A wave of realization hit me. No wonder she seemed so familiar on my first day. "She's you're daughter?!"

"She sure is. Going on 20 years now," she joked.

"She never mentioned her last name, I swear, or else I'd have known. Wow, I feel stupid," I lamented, shaking my head.

"Don't feel that way. She may be brutally honest, but she doesn't talk about her family often. It's a trait she got from her dad," she waved it off. "But, she told me about a few things that happened this summer... you're doing alright, aren't you?"

Most people would feel betrayed about someone sharing their business with their parents, but this was a special case. I was going to tell Mrs. Jackson anyways, and Jourdan basically saved me a sob story. I was actually slightly relieved.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I replied after a few moments. "What all did she tell you?"

She gave me a maternal, all-knowing look. "Everything! Wow. Okay. Should've expected that. Thank God. Saves us an hour."

She laughed. "Anyways, she told me that you live with your brother now, and didn't have a real space to work in anymore, correct?"

I nodded carefully, unsure of what she was getting at. "She was worried about you, because she really thinks you need the space so you can, let's say, decompress, from the day. So, we thought about it together, and what's a better place than here?"

I stared at her, not following at all. "I'm confused.."

"This is for you," she said, pressing a silver key into my palm. "I know I can trust you with this. Use this space wisely. You can come here at anytime and work, just as long as you are careful and remember to lock up when you're done. Also, I'm supposed to actually give you this, so please don't tell anyone about this."

"Mrs. Jackson, I really can't take this. I don't deserve it," I replied softly, staring at the key in awe.

"Jourdan has a key, too, so you're not the only one that will be using this space after hours. I trust that you both will not abuse this privilege. I just know that this is your passion, Andi. I want to make sure you succeed and chase your dream," she said, smiling softly.

"Thank you," I said once again. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. Now, let's get this place organized. These empty cabinets are driving me crazy," she said, picking up a box of Prismacolor pencils and placing it inside the cabinet gently.

Lunch finally rolled around, but due to the new rules (and our unfortunate parking spots), we couldn't go anywhere for lunch like we used to. None of the school food looked appetizing, either, so we all decided to just skip eating and to hang out in the courtyard instead. I held my keys in my hand, the newly added silver key to the studio gleaming beside the others. I couldn't believe that I had access to such a space, all because Jourdan told her mother I needed one. She and I weren't the closest of friends, but it only made me appreciate her more.

"You're in a good mood," Zack observes, taking me out of my thoughts. "Good day so far?"

"Exceptionally good day," I replied, about to tell him why when I remembered that I couldn't. At least, not with everyone around. It wasn't as if I didn't trust everyone, but I wasn't really supposed to tell anyone, and even telling Zack would break that rule. He was going to be the only one that knew, and that's how it was going to be.
"And yours?"

"Good, too. I'm a little rusty, but it's no big deal."

"Too bad the season's almost over. I'm gonna have to wait until Spring to see you play, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't be able to handle all of this skill now, anyways," he grinned. I rolled my eyes.

The lunch period was over quickly, and I was soon off to Economics, where I could tell it'd be the class I slept in, due to how utterly monotonous Mr Childers's voice was. English wasn't too bad, though. We were seated in alphabetical order, Green's attempt to keep us all separated, but since it jumped from Baker to Dawson in this arrangement, his plan didn't work, nor did it work to separate Violet, Matt, and Jimmy.

"Are you gonna curse at him again so we can get detention like last time?" Zack asked while Green rummaged through his desk. I didn't even have to look over to know that he was smirking.

"Not when it could mean that you get kicked out of baseball on the first day," I replied.

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"So?"

Mr Green cleared his throat. "I guess my punishments from last year didn't get through to either of you, did they? Would another detention prove my point to either of you?"

I glared at Zacky, and on the outside, he was calm and collected. His mouth kept twitching, trying to smile. If looks could kill, I swear...

"No, sir, I'd rather not have another," I sighed, crossing my arms on my chest.

He turned to Zack expectantly. "Same here," he muttered.

"Then both of you need to refrain from talking in my classroom," Green snapped before continuing to hand out the syllabus. I heard Jimmy and Violet snicker in the back, but I didn't dare turn around.

My last three classes were just as boring as Economics. Not to mention that every time we all turned a corner, Lowe was there, watching us with his beady brown eyes, slowly wearing my patience thinner and thinner each time I saw him. I couldn't even touch Zack's freaking arm as we walked down the halls, or else a teacher would try to write us up for PDA. The new rules were specifically designed to make us miserable, and I was already sick of it all.

We were in for a hell of a year.