By her twentieth birthday, there are a few things Valarie Ricci knows for certain.
She knows that her waitressing job barely covers the costs of living out of a beat up old van. She knows she's stuck in the dead end hometown her high school friends...
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Valarie made one last detour on the way to school. She found enough loose change in her cup holder to buy a coffee from the local Tim Hortons. So, fifteen minutes and one trip to a drive-thru later, she was walking into her first period English class with a warm drink ready to be placed on Ms. Izida's desk.
There was some sarcastic clapping from her classmates when she walked through the door. In response, Valarie took a bow, and someone in the back whistled. She could see that Ms. Izida was using a wheelchair today but was otherwise obscured from Valarie's line of sight by a student standing beside her desk.
She immediately knew the student was new based purely on the way the girl held herself. Her back was unnaturally straight, causing a rigidness in her shoulders, neck, and jaw as she held her head up high and faced down twenty pairs of unfamiliar eyes. There was a quiet type of confidence and dignity about it that Valarie liked, as if she couldn't be bothered by any of them.
The boys at the front of the class were exchanging looks and nudging each other, and she knew why when the girl turned around to see what the clapping had been about. It was the same person she'd nearly stepped on outside Theo's party, and she somehow looked even better now that Valarie could properly see all the details of her face. That didn't seem fair. Nobody looked good under the school's yellowed, fluorescent lights. Valarie wondered what lamb she had sacrificed to avoid all the acne and awkwardness that was plaguing just about everyone else.
And now she was looking at Valarie. The girl's eyes—Valarie thought they were brown but wasn't quite sure—lingered on her face for a fraction of a second too long. If it was because the girl recognized her from the party or because Valarie had been staring at her like a crazy person, she couldn't tell. A warm feeling spread through her stomach.
"You're late." At the sound of Ms. Izida's gravelly voice, the girl finally looked away.
Valarie stepped further into the room. "I–"
"No," Ms. Izida said, not looking up at her. "You can stand there until Alice is done introducing herself then you can go to your desk. I won't let you interrupt other people because you're late."
Alice. It was suddenly her favourite name.
"Please continue."
Alice looked around like she wanted nothing more than for a giant sinkhole to swallow up the whole classroom. Her hands balled into fists, which she then hid behind her back. From where she stood, Valarie could see her grip was white-knuckled. "I don't know," she hesitated, looking back at Ms. Izida. "What do you want me to say?"
Ms. Izida waved her hand. "Just tell us something about yourself. Anything."
"Um. My name is Alice," she said, haltingly. Her eyes jumped around the class without landing on any particular face for too long. "I moved to Valentine over the summer. I like movies. And, uh, I'm going to be President someday." She swung her gaze back to the teacher. "Is that enough?"
