When high school for Simi started that late summer, she rode the small yellow bus with five other teens from Madrid into Santa Fe. Curtis, now a senior, was the oldest of the group, and tough he had once been in close communication with Simi, she now chose not to sit by him. This was not because she was disgusted by his fantasies, which she still eavesdropped upon out of boredom. It was because she felt he didn't and wouldn't like her anymore, following what had transpired involving his father in the store. Looking over at the tall and physically fit boy sitting across from her, Curtis now in his tight jeans and colorful T-shirt, seemed more attractive to her than ever. She truly regretted that their days of talking in the store that summer had been terminated by Mr. Trenton.

In the school bus which followed the Turquoise Trail up to Santa Fe, several other students would be picked up from the towns of Golden and Cerrillos on the route into the City. A total of fourteen boys and girls arrived that first day at Rosemont High to mingle in with the other Santa Fe children beginning their new year.

Insisting on wearing her traditional black clothing and the onyx black moon she never parted with, Simi, though beautiful of face and body, was quickly seen by the other students as being "different." There would no doubt be many girls at the new school who, if she kept up her independent fashion statement, would quickly marginalize and possibly bully her. While all of the new students attending Rosemont were nervous and worried about making new friends and being accepted, Simi was singularly calm and steadfast on who she was and how she would continue to dress.

As she entered her homeroom where attendance was taken and announcements made for the day, several of the other girls across from her could be seen whispering, obviously about her.

"Where you from?" A designated girl wearing traditional tight jeans and a sports sweater asked her.

"Madrid. . . You?"

Simi tried to comply with the group of four girls' curiosity, but was frankly not interested at looking at any of them.

"I'm from here," the girl said. "Santa Fe."

"So . . . are your parents . . . morticians?" another in the group loudly asked her.

The girls all now burst into laughter.

Simi just stared at the front of the room waiting for the teacher to arrive.

"No," she finally and somberly answered. "My parents died when I was a baby." She then looked down seriously at her desk, appearing about to cry. It was all part of her crafty drama to diffuse the girl's game.

To this they did not respond.

"Sorry to hear," one of the girls finally said, quietly and under her breath.

When the thirtyish male teacher arrived, the students all became quiet, quickly and on their own, giving Simi the message that the man was strict and not to be reckoned with.

"How many of you here today are new to Rosemont?" the prematurely balding man with a thin tie asked.

Several of the students raised their hands and Simi slowly complied.

"Please stand up, each of you . . . and tell us your name and where you're from."

He then pointed at the students, one at a time.

"James Minlin . . . Central," the first boy said, reluctantly.

"Sarah Bleacher . . . the Highlands," another answered, wearing an expensive summer dress and colorful new trainers.

An overweight girl who had been on the bus with Simi was questioned.

"Carol Finley . . . Carrillo."

The group of mean girls laughed.

"You?" the teacher was pointing now to Simi.

"Simi . . ."

"Halloween," a boy shouted from the back of the room. Several of his male friends laughed out loud.

The teacher's face turned red with anger while he walked back to where the boys were seated.

"Did I hear something one of you animals just said?"

"No, sir," one of the boys said, apologetically and with obvious fear in his voice.

"Well that's good . . . Because my ears must have been playing tricks on me. See guys, I was about to give all of you a week's detention. Just because you found something funny back here."

The boys were suddenly contrite and silent.

The teacher turned back toward the front. "Now where did you say you were from, Shelly?"

"It's Simi . . . Madrid."

The group of mean girls looked at each other and smiled.

"That's an interesting name. . . Simi," the teacher repeated. "Is it short for something?"

She looked over at the girls, now waiting to laugh or comment on her next words.

"Yes," she said loudly and clearly. My mother named me Simonetta . . . after Simonetta Vespucci of the 15th century. She was a cousin of Amerigo Vespucci . . . the explorer the Americas are named after.

The entire class looked at each incredulously and then back at Simi with delight. Some were even craning their necks now to see her.

"Oh really?" the teacher asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Yes. Simonetta was a sensation in her day. She was a model . . . painted by Italian painters of the Renaissance."

"Yes?" The teacher responded again, inquisitively.

"You can see her in the famous painting. "Birth of Venus" by Botticelli.

"Oh." the befuddled teacher answered.

Simi looked over at the now frozen group of girls.

"It was painted in 1485. The beautiful face is actually hers . . . but not her naked body. She was too modest to pose in the nude. Another model stood in for her in that painting."

All the students were now holding back and explosion of laughter and the teacher was clearly troubled as to what to say next. Finally, after looking around the room in a threatening way, he just continued on with the day's business.

"Well, students. I am Mr. Peters . . . and I'll be your homeroom teacher this year. You freshmen will have to pick up your schedules from the counsellors down the hall. There are tables set up for you there. You'll then report to your first period classes in just . . . five minutes. So have a great year . . . and if you have any questions about school rules or anything else on your mind, this is the place to bring it up. All understood? . . . See you tomorrow, guys."

With this, the class got up noisily with their back packs and started for the door. Many of the twenty-some students made it a point to pass closely by Simi just to get a better look at this very different schoolmate. The group of restive girls stood back and made an effort to give her a final dirty look as she walked out toward the counselling office.

* * *

By the end of the day, Simi had collected her books, not spoken to any other student, and met all her six teachers. Only her art teacher, the young Miss Morgan impressed her as anyone she felt she could to listen to for any length of time. There was something in the way she saw the world and talked about the creative process that kept Simi's attention the whole class period. She also was impressed that the woman was not afraid of wearing Indian jewelry on both wrists and sported red and orange together in her clothing. She also complimented Simi as she left class about her black crescent moon which dangled freely from her neck.

* * *

Returning home that afternoon on the bus, Simi was surprised when Curtis moved up and shared a seat with her.

"So how was your first day, little freshman," he asked her in a friendly tone.

"It was . . . well . . . sort of long, I guess."

"Was it what you expected? Of high school, I mean?"

"Yeah, unfortunately. Totally what I expected . . . a pain in the ass, actually," she made an effort to smile up at him.

Curtis, amused, smiled back, noticing how her breasts seemed to bounce inside her blouse from the poorly maintained road.

"Well . . . just wait till your fourth year in that place," he said. You'll actually want to die."

"Never!" she said, surprisingly. "Because school is only school. Life is life."

Curtis only nodded.

"So how about you today?" she reciprocated. "Meet any new . . .beautiful girls this year? I saw a lot of them for you over there today."

"Why do you ask me that? And what was that thing you used to say . . . about seeing into my thoughts?"

Simi smiled. "Your fantasies . . . Yeah. I still see them sometimes."

"Come on Simi. That's impossible. And personally . . . I don't think you would want to see them."

"Actually. You're right. They're still pretty disgusting . . . but funny sometimes."

"Funny?"

"Yeah. What you imagine girls would like to do with you."

Curtis seemed suddenly to be embarrassed. Once again, he was perplexed by this idea of Simi's boastful power. He just looked out the window at the red desert landscape, rolling steadily by.

"So, really. How did the other kids treat you today . . . as a freshman?"

"Not bad. Sort of what I expected."

Curtis looked again at her closely. It had been over a month since being that close to her. He saw a more cinematic face and an even more mature body. The interest had begun even when she entered the bus that morning. He was also still enamored of her expressive and almost hypnotic eyes. There was also something from before, during the early summer. It was about her curious personality. A quirkiness about her boldness that had always kept him guessing.

As the two sat next to each other on the long ride home, they imperceptibly maneuvered closer together so that their thighs were touching warmly. Both worked hard at keeping this contact alive until the bus pulled into Madrid at around four-ten that afternoon.

"So . . . Guess I'll see you in the morning, hey Simi?" Curtis said, allowing her to pass closely over him while moving into the aisle.

As she stood up outside the seat and prepared to leave the bus, she turned and looked into his eyes once more.

"Yeah, but don't forget," she said softly, flashing her beguiling smile at him. "I may see you before then."

* * *