A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1) - Darynda Jones Page 0,9
a pop quiz.
—SIGN AT DEL SOL HIGH SCHOOL
“Aurora?”
Auri had just taken a hit off her inhaler. She put it away and smiled at the administrative assistant behind the counter. “That’s me.” She didn’t bother giving the woman her nickname. She doubted they’d talk often.
“Ah yes.” Corrine Amaia, if her nameplate was to be believed, gathered a few papers and handed them to her one at a time. “Okay, the top one is your locker number and combination. Put that somewhere safe.”
“Gotcha.” Auri took the paper and stuffed it into her binder.
“This is the handbook with the school song and dress codes and such.”
“Thanks.”
“And this one is your schedule.”
Auri brightened, excited to see what her classes were. The usual suspects, of course, but she’d been hoping for a couple of electives her private school hadn’t offered.
Trying not to look overly enthusiastic, she took the paper and perused it. She had the state requirements, as expected—English, history, geometry, physical science, and social studies—along with visual arts and American Sign Language.
“Nice,” she said, more than pleased. She’d requested three electives, but had only really wanted ASL.
Her old school, a private school in Santa Fe, which also happened to be the home of the New Mexico School for the Deaf, didn’t have ASL as an elective, a fact that astounded her. It was only one of several reasons Auri had agreed to transfer here.
Corrine finally stopped long enough to get a good look at the new recruit. “Aren’t you lovely,” she said, her tone part surprise and part matter-of-fact.
“Oh,” Auri said, embarrassed. “Thank you.”
“My daughter, Lynelle, is a freshman, too, if you need someone to show you around. Help you find your classes.”
“I had an offer over break, but thanks so much.”
“Of course. Let me know if you have any questions.”
Auri nodded and headed out for her first day at Del Sol High. She glanced around for the girl she’d met at the party, then walked to the vending machines by the front office. They’d made plans to meet there, but the deputies came and everyone scattered. She hoped the girl, who was a freshman as well, a redhead as well, and new as well—though not quite as new as Auri—didn’t forget. But that scenario was looking likelier and likelier.
She waited until first bell, but the girl was a no-show. She could hardly blame her. Auri was now officially an outcast. A pariah. A persona non grata, if the glares of hostility were any indication. Squelching her disappointment, she decided to get on with her day.
As she searched for her first-period class, she got the occasional curious glance, and even the outright gawk—she blamed her coloring, which was odd even for a redhead—but if she had to put a number to it, she’d guesstimate that more than half the looks directed her way were full of a venomous kind of resentment.
Who knew denying high school kids the ability to get wasted was such a big deal? If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought she’d set fire to the football uniforms. While the players were still wearing them.
Just as she started down the hall, she happened to glance back through the open doorway and into the principal’s man cave. She saw a girl lift a wooden carving of some kind off his desk and stuff it into her jacket pocket.
The principal was in the hall, joking around with a group of kids, so Auri didn’t understand why the girl was in there. But she recognized her from the party. Dark hair. Huge gray eyes. Supermodel attitude.
So, while the looting was strange enough, the girl turned, looked right at Auri, and winked at her before walking out.
“See you later, Mom,” she said to Corrine.
“Bye, sweetheart. Don’t forget about lunch.”
“I won’t.” The girl, who must have been Lynelle, smirked at Auri as she walked out, and Auri couldn’t help but feel there was a joke hanging in the air and she’d missed the punch line.
Drawing in a deep breath, she turned to the swarm of kids in the hall half a second before the tardy bell rang.
She could do this. She’d done it before when they’d moved from Albuquerque, where her mom had been working and going to college, to Santa Fe, where she’d gotten her first job in law enforcement as a patrol officer for SFPD. That had seemed like so long ago, but she owed it to her mom to do her best. To go with the flow. To never—ever—be a burden.