Page 8 of Fake Skating

An enormous poster of the school’s hockey team hung from the rafters of the high ceiling, and posters of individual players were slapped up all over the walls.

I understood school spirit, but it was laughable that a bunch of high school boys were taped up all over the place like they were actual celebrities.

I opened the office door, only to see even more hockey signage inside the bustling administrative area.

IT’S PACKER GAME DAY!!

Calm down, people.

“Can I help you?” asked the woman behind the desk, who was holding a phone up to her ear.

“Hi, um, my name is Dani Collins, and I’m new. It’s my, um, my first day,” I stammered.

“Well, good morning, Dani,” she said with a big smile, her tone laced with familiarity, like she’d been expecting me. “You’re a little early, so if you want to take a seat in one of the chairs, I imagine Cassie will be here in the next ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Cassie?” I asked, wondering if I was supposed to know who that was.

“The student who’ll be showing you around,” she explained. “You’ll love her—Cassie’s a doll.”

“Oh,” I said, nodding. “Good.”

“She knows everyone and everybody loves her, so she’ll be a great point of contact for you.”

“Awesome,” I said, nodding again.

I sat on one of the chairs and looked out the office window, where it was getting busy in the hallway.

Students yelling to each other, groups walking together… God, I hated it so much.

Because on day one, there was no way to know who the threats were.

The group of four girls who were laughing, with their pretty hair and perfect teeth? At this moment, they looked harmless.

Nice, even.

But they could actually be the girls capable of making someone’s life hell.

My life.

And the same went for guys. The four dudes standing by the trophy case, smiling and looking cute—they could either be nice guys, or the ones with the potential to ruin everything.

There was no way to know, no warning signal to give you a hint of danger.

A group of dudes in hockey jerseys walked by, strolling down the hall like they were icons. They walked past the multiple banners with their own images on them, moving like they ruled the world.

Which wasn’t shocking after the hockey-themed dinner Saturday night.

It was clearly the culture.

Still… spare me .

To be fair, I knew that I was prejudiced when it came to jocks. It was wrong to judge an entire group of humans by the actions of a few, but over the years, it’d been my experience that the overconfidence that accompanied athletic successes created narcissistic social monsters.

If mean girls were a thing (and they were), then cocky jocks were even worse.

Because they wielded ridiculous amounts of power.

A jock could offhandedly say “the new girl is hot,” and even if he meant it in a complimentary way, it just led to all his friends feeling the need to contribute their opinions as well.

No she’s not.

She looks like a bitch.

Her nose is weird.

Those nerdy glasses, though, come on.

“Just breathe,” I told myself, trying to keep the anxiety at bay.

Watching the hockey players strut down the hall, I noticed another huge banner hanging from above. This one was strung all the way across the common area, and it had an image of the back of a hockey player on it, the name ZEUS stretched across the broad shoulders.

Ridiculous.

I took another deep breath, slowly inhaling through my nose.

Everything is going to be fine.

As if on cue, a girl with long brown hair walked into the office. She was wearing black leggings and a black SOUTHVIEW HOCKEY crewneck, and she went straight for the secretary.

“There you are, Cassie,” the woman said. “This is Dani.” She gestured toward me and added, “Dani, this is Cassie.”

Cassielooked over and smiled like she was happy to see me, which was better than her looking irritated, I supposed.

Of course, it was also my experience that the student who volunteered to show new kids around was usually either (A) a genuinely nice person who liked their extracurriculars, or (B) a control freak who was insane about their extracurriculars.

Hopefully she was the former.

“Hi,” she said with a grin. “Do you have your schedule yet?”

“Yes, they emailed it to me,” I said, gesturing toward my pocket like she would somehow know my phone was there.

“Same, and I’m in awe of the way you’re taking AP and honors everything,” she said. “By the way, I love your sweater—it’s very Harry Burns rolling out the rug with Sally while discussing dating.”

“Thank you,” I said, wanting to smile at the reference but knowing it was better to keep my mouth shut.

Because another important rule?

Don’t share personal information with the volunteer who shows you around on your first day. No matter how nice they might seem, you don’t know where they fit into the school’s social hierarchy.

One minute you could be sharing with someone you think is friendly how When Harry Met Sally is still your comfort-watch, only to discover two days later that she mockingly told all her friends that you are a loser who still watches old rom-coms with your mother on DVD.

The less you share, the better.

Cassie led me out into the hallway and immediately turned on her tour-guide persona. She pointed out everything we passed, and I did my best to focus on her while being very aware of people looking at us.

Just as she was showing me where in the cafeteria you could get breakfast, we walked by a few more hockey players, and one of them yelled her name.

“What?” she said with a smile. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Yeah, but we have a question,” the red-haired guy said.

“And it would be…?”

“Where did you go Saturday night after you left the bonfire?” he asked. “One minute you guys were there, the next second you were gone. And we couldn’t help but notice Kyle was gone too. So we were wondering…”

“So don’t do that,” she said, rolling her eyes and kind of pushing him a little bit, but in a teasing way. “I have no idea what Kyle did after the party—don’t be an ass.”

“I’m not an ass,” he said around a little laugh. “I just wanted to make sure you both got home safely.”

“Sure you did. By the way, this is Dani—she’s new.”

“Hi,” I said.

“This is Richie,” she told me, pointing to the redhead. “And this is Vinny.”

Vinny had a blond mullet that was so long it went halfway down his back. As if that weren’t jarring enough—what was with that hair—he was ginormous.

“Wait—your name is Dani?” Vinny asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah…?” I replied, my cheeks warm as they looked at me.

Richie said, “Oh shit—are you Mick Boche’s granddaughter?”

Okay, this is weird.

“Yes…?”

How would he know that already?

“Do you guys know each other?” Cassie asked, looking back and forth between me and these strangers.

“No, but Zeus mentioned her the other night at the party,” Richie said.

What?

“You know Zeus ?” she asked, her eyes wide like this was a very big deal.

“No,” I said, unsure why this dude thought I did. “No, I think he must have me confused with someone else. I have no idea who this Zeus person is.”

Richie said, “Yes, you do! He’s—”

But then the bell rang and all I could hear from Richie was… absolutely nothing.

Because it was like we were standing inside the bell, it was so loud.

“Later, Cassie! Dani”—Mullet Boy smirked before bowing—“it was a pleasure.”

What the hell…

And with that, the hockey guys immediately dispersed, leaving me with unanswered questions.

How would some puckboy named Zeus have ever heard of me?

“Okay, let’s get you to class so you’re not late on your first day; no one likes being the center of attention that way, right?”

Oh, thank God she gets it, I thought. “Right.”

“Okay, so I’ll walk you to your first class, and then I’ll be waiting when it ends to get you to second period. Cool?”

“Perfect,” I said. “Thank you.”

But as we walked and she pointed out classrooms and hallways, I couldn’t shake the annoyance that some hockey jock had mentioned me. Like, howwww ? I mean, it didn’t make sense, because I’d literally met no one since I’d been here, but I supposed the tie-in to my grandpa made it possible.

Maybe Richie’s dad was one of Big John’s friends.

It irked me because I just wanted to be invisible. I needed whoever the hell Zeus was to forget he’d ever heard my name, if he had actually heard my name at all.

“Here we are: AP Lit,” Cassie said, interrupting my thoughts by pointing to a classroom. “That’s Mr. Hunter and he’s really cool, so I’m sure you’ll have no problem with him. Actually, let me help you.”

She grabbed my arm and pulled me into the classroom.

“Hey, Mr. Hunter—this is Dani, and she’s a new student.”

He looked down at the piece of paper Cassie was holding out, which pretty much just had my name and schedule on it, and he narrowed his eyes.

I tried my best to pretend the people in the classroom weren’t looking at us, even though I knew they were.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Dani Collins,” he said.

I nodded and smiled, wishing he would lower his voice and let me go sit down.

“There’s an open desk in the back of the room—have a seat. I’ll get you a textbook as soon as the final bell rings.”

“Awesome,” I said, my face on fire.

“I’ll be back when it’s over,” Cassie said with a smile.

I was torn between being relieved she was leaving, because she was outrageously perky in a way that made me feel like a noncommunicative boob, and wanting to grab her arm and beg her to stay and protect me.

“Cool—thanks,” I said, then headed toward the empty desk in the back of the room.

Where I would do my very best to become invisible.