You Never Know...

approximately 700 words

         
You Never Know...

by
Nathan Hilbert

         

Aliz slouched in the passenger seat of Pappa’s car and stared out the window. Moonlight shimmered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the residential street.  She scowled at the lonely darkness.  By this time, normal girls her age were at home and in bed, but no, not Aliz.  Her Pappa worked nights, so she had to go to night school.  That was bad enough, but this was the worst: her first night at a new school.

         She squirmed in her seat and glared at the gray-haired man driving their ancient Dacia Solenza. Why couldn’t he work days, like normal Pappas?  And his car sucked.  He did too, at least sometimes. It was like he wanted to advertise they were foreigners from Romania.

         He fiddled with the radio and managed to find the dorkiest possible oldies station.  Some idiot singing With a Little Help From My Friends, like it was 1966 or something. Just a reminder that she'd never have any friends.

         He glanced at her and said, “What’s a-matter, my cicám?”

         She snapped, “I’m not a kitty. I’m a girl.”

         He sighed.  “Bocs, kedvesem.”

         She rolled her eyes. Hungarian.  What was he thinking? “Speak English.  We’re in the USA now.”  She didn’t believe for one second he was sorry, even though he called her sweetheart.

          His jaws jumped and his hands gripping the steering wheel turned white. 

         Guilt panged in AIiz’s tummy.  She had to admit he tried to be a good Pappa.  It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t work days.  But it was hard enough to be thirteen without being different.

         She stared out the window and didn’t speak.

         When he pulled into the drop-off for the Branstown middle school, he said, “You’ll see.  A new school is a new beginning. Look at all the girls your age. Soon one of them will be your barát, your friend.”

         They all looked hopeless to Aliz.  Cool girls, with bright sweaters and miniskirts, snickering in small cliques. Well, except for one girl.  The Goth. She wore all black, with long black hair and black lipstick.  She stood at the edge of the drop-off, alone and looking a bit forlorn.  Another loser, just like Aliz.

         Maybe she’d be Aliz’s friend.

         Aliz snorted. “Dream on, Pappa.”

         “Give them a chance, kedvesem. You never know.”

         Right.  Aliz knew exactly what would happen. Not even that loser would have anything to do with her.  “You’ll be here at four to pick me up?”

         “With wings on.”

         Aliz shuddered at the image. He’d do it, too. “Just pick me up in the car, okay?”

         A warm smile creased his features and he ran a knuckle down her cheek. “Okay.”

         She snatched up her backpack and clambered out of the car.  What now?  The bell rang, and the cheerleader types herded toward the doors.  Before long, Aliz was standing alone next to the loser Goth.

         The girl’s voice was low and husky when she spoke. “What a bunch of losers.” She nodded at the giggling idiots swarming into the school.

         “Airheads,” Aliz agreed.

         “I’m Marishka.” She held her palms to her temples and crooned with a heavy fake accent, “I zenze vee are going to be vriends.” She smirked and then asked, “Wanna hang out?”

         Corny, but not an insult.  That was something, at least. “Aliz here.  Sure. Why not?”

         “Awesome. Follow me.”  Marishka pushed through the gaggle of airhead teen-aged girls and into the school.  “We can have a joint in the little girl’s room.  No one will be there this time of night.”

         The little girl’s room.  Aliz hung back.  She couldn’t go into the restroom.  She’d lose her only chance at a friend on the very first night.

         Marishka held the door open for her. “Come on.  Don’t be a buzz kill.”

         Aliz heaved a deep breath and entered. Marishka followed.

         Sure enough, they had the place to themselves.  Just as Aliz had feared, a mirror hung over the sinks. 

         Aliz gaped at the image.  A thrill jittered down her spine.

         Of course, Aliz had no reflection, just like Pappa. But neither did Marishka!  Aliz’s mouth twisted into a grin as she stared at her new friend. Someone just like us.

         Maybe Poppa was right. You never knew.