August 29, 2008

*

"Happy first day of school." Startled, I glance over to find Chad, one of my best friends, leaning on the locker next to mine. He looks like he always does: black jeans, flannel tied around his waist, and some sort of music shirt. I've borrowed so many of his band shirts at this point that I've lost track and accidentally stolen a few. Today, his choice is Guns and Roses. In fact, there's only one different thing about him, which is odd, because I hung out with him a lot in these last few weeks and it wasn't there. "You look thrilled to be here."

"You got a lip ring."

"You got bangs," He replies with the same attitude, smirking. "That's an identity crisis in the making, Liza."

I shove my books into my locker and face Chad. "The last few weeks have been rough," I admit, brushing my new bangs out of my eyes. They really were an impulse move. One of those three o'clock in the morning decisions where it was either cry harder or do something I never would have done at three in the afternoon. "I needed to change something to feel like I was still in control."

He softens at this. "I know. You doing okay?"

After I got the news about my parents, I literally ran to his house with tears streaming down my cheeks. He was the only friend I could think to go to, especially because Mandy spent August in London. We stayed up all night talking about what had happened and he ended up teaching me a few guitar chords to take my mind off of things. For a little while, it worked. I stayed in the Markis' guest room until Bruce finally made it home. I remember him cursing under his breath when my brother couldn't get out of the lab until a day before the funeral. I shouldn't have been surprised. Chad's always been protective of me since we were kids. Even now, he's looking out for me, and I'll always be grateful for it.

I shrug. "I'm doing better. I wouldn't go as far as okay."

"Cheer up. We only have one year left in this institution," Chad jokes, looking around at our school fondly. "Then it's off to wherever."

"Did you apply to any colleges?"

"A few local ones. I'll probably go in undecided, but my parents want me to do something with my life, and they seem to think college is the way to get there." He smirks and steals a book from my locker, holding it above my head tauntingly until I hop up and grab it. "You'll be applying to all the smart schools, right?"

"You're smart too," I remind him. "But yeah. I sent in applications to MIT, Stanford, and Princeton so far, so we'll see." I try to play it off like it's not a big deal, but he knows this has been my dream since second grade. Everything has led up to this year.

"Don't be stupid. Any college would be a fool not to want a girl like you. Bangs, inferiority complex, and all."

I whack him with a notebook. "Stop teasing me about the haircut. If it looks so bad, then it'll grow back."

"I'm not hating on it, Banner. The bangs are a good look on you. You should keep it." He winks and thankfully doesn't press me anymore about my emotions. I shut my locker and he slings his guitar onto his back before we start off to Physics in silence. It's not silent in my mind, though.

Too much has happened in these last few weeks. My parents died in a car accident. My brother left right after the funeral. I'm currently living alone, but at least they didn't take our house away. It's still the place I grew up in. It's still the place I can call home.

When I got dressed this morning, I vowed not to let it change me for the worse. With my eighties playlist blaring, I pulled on a dark green top and white skirt, combed out my newly-cut bangs, and smiled into the mirror.

It's my senior year, and it's going to be different. I'm tired of being seen only because of someone else.

My brother's achievements don't define me. I do that myself.

"Have you seen Mandy?" I ask as we file into Mrs. Danport's room. I set my bag on the floor and choose a desk a few from the front. Chad sets his guitar case down with extreme care and shakes his head.

"No, but she's in the Student Council homeroom. She'll probably be here any-"

"You guys didn't wait for me!" A bright voice squeals.

"Minute," Chad finishes, grinning. "You're in a different homeroom, Princess, what do you expect?"

"I expected my best friends to wait for me!" She teases. Dressed in her usual magenta, Mandy practically bounces across the room and takes the spot next to me. "Some friends."

Sometimes I wonder how Chad and Mandy can call each other friends. On one side of me, there's a bubbly blonde chatting incessantly about how the Student Council is already planning themes for prom, and on the other side, there's a lanky boy who keeps quiet in school but plays originals for open mics around town. And yet, these are my two best friends. I'm not exactly sure where I fit in. I don't think I really fit in anywhere. But we're a family, and other than Bruce, they're all I've got.

"I'm good, surprisingly," I say. I pull my books out and scan through the textbook. While I am excited about this, what I'm really looking forward to is the Advanced Biology class I have at the end of the day. I love anything biology related, especially genetics.

That's another thing. Every time I tell someone I plan on pursuing science after high school, they make some cute comment about me following in Bruce's  legendary footsteps. It shouldn't, but it ticks me off all the same. I'm not following in anyone's footsteps. I'm paving my own way, and it doesn't matter how many people walked that road before me. It's still mine.

"Eliza, there are sign ups for the musical in the front hall! You have to sign up! It's our senior year! You could finally be a lead!"

"I don't know..." I glance down bashfully. Other than science and my family, the most important thing to me in the entire world is music. I sing in the school choir and I've been in musicals, but never in a leading role. "Do you really think I could do that?"

"Yes! Do it, I swear, or I'm dragging you to the audition by your bangs." Mandy gives me a wicked smile, and I know she'd do it, too.

"What's the musical?" She opens her mouth to answer but quickly shuts it and points up front.

"When I call your name, please say, 'Here!'" Mrs. Danport commands in a shrill voice from her swivel chair. I study the woman: middle age, ugly red sweater, stern expression. Probably hard to get along with, but probably young enough to never have had Bruce in class. I breathe a sigh of relief, but then regret it. He's my brother. I love him. I shouldn't think things like that.

By now, she's almost at my name. Not that it takes long to get to me. "Eliza Banner?"

"Here," I say, raising my hand politely, hoping to make a good impression. I watch her study me for a minute, and a sinking feeling settles in my stomach. She's trying to recognize me, to put the pieces together. I'm adopted. Bruce and I aren't blood relatives, but with our dark hair and similar bone structure, we might as well be. I brace myself for the inevitable question.

"Do you have an older brother?"

From next to me, Chad looks up from doodling on a scrap of paper to roll his eyes. He's always hated Bruce. I shoot him a reproachful look and he goes back to playing tic tac toe against himself.

I clear my throat. "Yes, ma'am. His name is Bruce."

"I taught him my first year here! Oh, he was wonderful. Brilliant, even. I knew even then what a gifted young man he was and would become. Of course, I'm sure you already know that, dear." She winks, and I try not to shrivel up in my seat.

"Yeah, I do," I reply. Mandy shoots me a sympathetic look and passes a lollipop under our desks. She keeps a stash in her bag as universal pick-me-ups. Yet another reason to love Mandy Johnson. My fingers grip hers for a second and I draw confidence from that. My friends believe in me.

"Let's hope you can live up to him, Miss Banner," Mrs. Danport says conspiratorially, clicking her pen before consulting the list again. "James Cantor?"

I stifle a groan. So much for starting fresh.