Carlson Melody: Stealing Bradford

“Chemistry,” said Taylor with a disgusted expression. “Why on earth would you intentionally subject yourself to that?”

“It’s called education,” said Kriti.

“It’s called boring ,” said Taylor.

“Let’s find our lockers first,” suggested DJ.

“Like I’m going to use a locker,” said Taylor with disgust.

“You mean you’re going to carry everything around with you?” asked Rhiannon.

Taylor held up her oversized Burberry bag. “Why not?”

“What about when it’s winter and you have coats and scarves and mittens and things?” persisted Rhiannon. “You’re going to haul all that around with you too?”

Taylor seemed to consider this. “Maybe I’ll look into the locker…”

They quickly found their lockers. After several failed attempts at the combination lock, DJ finally let Eliza take a turn at opening the locker. Naturally, it opened on the first try.

Eliza just laughed. “I guess I have the touch.”

DJ threw her gym bag in and slammed the door shut.

“See you later,” called Kriti. “I don’t want to be late to chem class.”

Taylor turned to Rhiannon now. “Lead me to the music department.”

Rhiannon did a fake salute. “Yes, sir.” And they took off.

“And the English department is this way,” said DJ, pointing in the opposite direction.

“This is fun,” said Eliza as they navigated through the crowded hallway.

“Fun?” echoed DJ.

“Sure…all these new people, new challenges. Don’t you think it’s fun?”

DJ considered this. “Yeah, maybe. I guess I just hadn’t looked at it like that before.”

“Hey, there’s Conner and Harry up ahead.” Eliza waved and DJ cringed. She just wasn’t ready for this yet. Still, there seemed no choice but to paste on a happy face and act as if all was well.

“WELCOME TO CCH,” SAID HARRYas he slipped an arm around Eliza’s waist, “Home of the Mighty Maroons.”

“Maroons ?” echoed Eliza. “As in the color maroon?”

“Well, it is our school color,” said Harry. “But there’s actually a story behind the word maroon .”

“A story I don’t have time to hear,” said Conner. “Excuse me, ladies.” Then he sort of nodded and dashed off.

“Conner doesn’t want to be late on his first day of school,” said Harry in a teasing tone. “Which way you girls heading anyway?”

“English,” said DJ calmly. She was trying to act perfectly natural, as if Conner’s quick departure wasn’t really a rejection, as if it had nothing to do with her, and as if it hadn’t hurt her feelings.

“So am I,” said Harry happily.

“So what is the maroon story?” asked Eliza as the three of them continued toward the English department together.

“Well, maroon is for marooned , as in passengers who are dumped off a ship—apparently this used to happen with illegally gotten slaves. If the ship was being pursued by the law, the captain would dump the slaves on an island.”

“And that’s our mascot?” Eliza was clearly confused. “Like we’re slaves who’ve been dumped here? Not too flattering.”

“That’s not the whole story. The marooned people turned out to be really feisty, and they fought for their freedom when the ship came back to get them.”

“I guess that makes a little sense.” Although Eliza didn’t look fully convinced as they paused by room 233.

Harry grinned. “Hey, I don’t make this stuff up.”

Eliza patted Harry on the cheek now. “Well, you are an awfully smart boy. I think I might like to keep you around.”

Then he leaned over and gave her a little peck on the forehead. “Later.” And he continued on down the hall.

“English lit, I presume?” asked Eliza as DJ headed into the classroom.

DJ nodded, pointing to a couple of seats in the back.

“No.” Eliza put her hand on DJ’s arm to stop her. Then, pointing to a pair of seats closer to the front, she leaned over and whispered. “Back-row seats are for losers or snoozers, dear.”

DJ wasn’t sure that she totally agreed with Eliza’s little rhyme, but she followed her anyway. Who knew, maybe Eliza really had this all figured out. And maybe there were a few tricks that DJ could learn from this rather sophisticated girl. For starters, DJ would like to ask Eliza how one is supposed to deal with certain boys—the kind who liked you one day but not the next. Especially those particularly mysterious ones like Conner. Maybe she would ask her about this later.

DJ tried to pay attention as Mrs. Devin, a teacher who looked like she should’ve retired in the last millennium, droned on about what their lucky class would study this semester. It sounded like a fairly boring overview of the literary works of people who had been dead and buried for centuries. DJ couldn’t even remember why she’d chosen this class in the first place—probably just to knock off one of her English requirements and make sure she could still have PE for seventh period (since that always made it easier for after-school sports). But if today was any sign of what was to come, DJ probably would’ve been better off in the back row because she really did feel like snoozing right now.

Instead, she began to daydream about Conner. But her daydreams were more tormented than enjoyable. And because she felt seriously worried that everything was over between them, she decided to pray. It wasn’t as if she thought she had God in her back pocket now, but she figured that he might be able to help her out some. At least she hoped so.

The morning continued uneventfully. In a way, that was something to be grateful for. Last spring, DJ had desperately wished for uneventful. She had longed to simply disappear into the woodwork, but instead she had seemed to stand out like she had a flashing neon sign strapped to her chest that said, “Pick on the new girl.” For some reason—maybe it was due to her makeover or Eliza’s friendship—that no longer seemed to be the case.

Unfortunately for Casey, the mean girls still needed a target. DJ hadn’t actually witnessed this yet, but right before fourth period, Taylor gave Eliza a detailed report. “You should’ve seen Casey’s face,” she told DJ, “when those girls—the self-appointed fashion police—started tearing into her about her wardrobe choices. Talk about brutal. I wasn’t sure if Casey was going to give it back to them or run. As it turned out, she just stood there and took it.” Naturally, DJ felt horrible for Casey, but perhaps the most disturbing thing was how Taylor seemed to enjoy relaying this pathetic little story.

“She actually got slammed up against the lockers then,” said Taylor. “Hit her head and everything.”

“That’s terrible,” said Eliza. “I hope she reported this.”

Taylor laughed. “Yeah, right. Then those girls would probably really tear into her.”

“Why did they do that?” demanded DJ.

Taylor rolled her eyes dramatically. “Why do you think they did that?”

“Because they’re just plain mean,” said Eliza.

“And because Casey is just plain begging for it,” said Taylor. “You can’t dress and act like that unless you want serious trouble. And she is definitely getting it.”

“Poor Casey,” said Eliza. “I wish we could do an intervention.”

“A fashion intervention,” said Taylor as the three of them went into US History together.

They’d barely sat down when Mr. Myers began taking roll. DJ tried not to worry about Casey, but Taylor’s awful story of Casey slammed up against the lockers kept replaying through her mind. Despite the abuse DJ took last year, nothing like that had ever happened to her. Aside from the fact that it must be completely humiliating to be treated like that, what if this bullying continued or got worse? What if Casey got seriously hurt? Finally, DJ took Rhiannon’s advice again. Instead of worrying obsessively about Casey, DJ prayed for her. She prayed that God would do an intervention. Maybe something like what had happened to her just last night. It was hard to believe that scene on the beach had occurred less than 24 hours ago. But she was thankful for it just the same.