The End of Innocence: Book 3 of the Kinstone series

The music changes to another album once I neared my high school. Compared to any other high school you might come across, this one is on the rather small side. The student population is only roughly above six hundred, and that’s pulling in from a few other little towns in the county.

So when football season is in full swing, you have a fairly packed stadium. I don’t care much for sports and typically head in the other direction in the fall.

As I ride through the parking lot, I see dozens of students pulling in with their cars, some fighting for parking spots. Mornings here can be a tad hazardous, especially if the seniors are involved.

Some of the football players love to duke it out with the basketball team for the best spots. The school policy was that you had to be at least a junior to drive a car have a spot and even tried to institute assigned parking.

That…turned out to be a disaster when a couple of seniors were assigned the same spot and both got into a massive fight over it. Eventually the policy was changed to a first-come, first-serve basis for reserved parking.

That…seems to be working, but fights still happen. I’m just happy that I don’t have to worry about it. Riding my bike is a lot more fun and Marron could never afford the insurance of a second car anyways.

I roll up onto the bike racks and hop off, looping my chain around the frame and rack, locking it in place. I should be grateful that racks are covered, something the senior class from a couple years ago had added.

I gaze back up into the dark, cloudy sky. The air is rife with the smell of rain, feeling a cooling breeze blow in from the mountains, and howl into the trees. This is normal early-spring weather for the county and with it, tons of incoming storms.

I step out from racks and make my way inside, watching several groups of students talking to each other, with a few playing guitars or occasional stoner bunch. The smell of pot smoke always seems to give me headaches. I snort away the stench and pass into the entryway.

While walking passed the main office, I glance at the clock on the wall, 8:20. I grin, knowing a still have some time to hang out with my friends in the cafeteria before first bell.

But before I did, I had to run by my locker and swap out books for the first half of the day. Better than fighting through hordes of scrambling teenagers, at least that’s what I’ve come to believe. I turn right under the central staircases and down hall B until I come to my locker.

I spin the dial around and unlock it, exchanging my chemistry, art, and math books for English and history. I had Gym during third period, which is right before lunch. I didn’t mind the doing Gym, kinda liking it at times. The coaches however have been prepping us for the upcoming fitness tests, which I find to be grating.

I also like my Tuesdays and Thursdays due to third period being my free period. I often choose to either head to the library and find a nice quiet place to read or study, or hide away out in the woods out behind the school. I love nature so often that I could be found there by friends or the odd teacher who came looking for me for whatever reason.

I could barely hear over the cacophony of voices as they echoed down the hall over my headphones. Really have to thank Marron for gifting me these for Christmas during freshman year, sound dampening, great audio, and best of all…Bluetooth.

The school had a policy allowing us to have them, just not during classes of course. I should also mention that my headphones have fox-ears on them. I don’t know why they do, even Marron didn’t notice until she bought them. This sort of led to me gaining the nickname of “Fox Princess”, as some stated that it was my crown, among other reasons.

I discover under on the top shelf of my locker a note. I roll my eyes, thinking it’s another love letter from some boy, hoping to take me out to junior or even senior prom in a couple months. Although…I have found a couple letters from girls, wanting to do the same.

I sigh, stashing it into my bag. It seems that both sexes were attracted to me for some reason or another. I roll my eyes and close my locker, turning back down the hall and up the stairs.

A couple minutes later I enter the cafeteria, which reverberated heavily with the sounds of a couple hundred students all strewn about. We had a coffee shop that sometimes had a rather busy line in the morning and during lunch.

If I were to snag something from it, I’d go for the hot tea. Their coffee tended to suck at times due to the folks manning it, having that one person who doesn’t know how to blend coffee the right way. But today I didn’t feel like it and the line was busy today, meaning they had the competent ones working today.

“Yo, Aria. Over here.”

I pan over to see a couple of my friends sitting at a table, both with cups from the shop. I walk over to them, “Morning guys.”

One of the two girls sitting there looks up me; phone in hand, “Hey girl, did you listen to the tracks I sent you?”

I place my bag onto the table and plop into the chair, “I did on the way down,” looking to her, “care to tell me why you sent them to me at 2:00 in the morning, Riley?”

She grins, “Maybe because that’s when I found them?”

I roll my eyes, “You complain to me about my movie binges, which FYI…I only do once every couple weeks when Marron is out of town. But you are up past 2:00 scouring the net for new tracks.”

She chuckles, leaning in, “Oh come on, and I’m not that bad.”

I cock my head at her, “No? You were up twice last week, hoping that Charlie Simmons had a new single out.”

She rests her chin onto her palm, “To which I found, just as he released it. But anyway, whatcha think of the singles I sent you?”

I pull out my phone and look both of them up in my history. I roll my eyes as the network connection within the school is beyond the pits and the in-school network tends to have serious filters on nearly every major channel on YouTube.

“The first one you sent me wasn’t bad, the second one sucked majorly.”

She scoots closer to me, “Ah come on, that was Terrance’s best to date.”

I stare up at her, “You need your ears checked. The guy has zero rhythm, not to mention he relies way too heavily on auto-tuning. I still prefer Airedale over Terrance, at least she writes her own music. Plus I got to meet her before New Years when she visited my church.”

Riley groans, “You seriously need to grow out of this love of Celtic music you have.”

I smirk, “And you need to find an artist who actually can sing.” She snorts, plopping her head onto her arms.

I’ve known Riley since eighth grade and usually got placed into couple of the same classes as each other. She loved music more than anyone I knew, hence the late-night net scouring for new singles. She wants to move to either Nashville or New York and become a songwriter for some big name artist.

She has a talent for writing music, hence why she often took a lot of musical theory classes as electives. The school possesses a pretty good music department apart from just Band. So during her free period she’d often be in one of music labs working on new music.

“Hey Aria, you have the notes for Miss Alberton’s class from yesterday?” asks the girl sitting across from me. “I was out with the flu and no one is willing to lend them.”

I look over to her and then dives into my bag, rifling around the contents until I pull out a blue binder, handing to her, “Here Ash. Although I’d steer clear of her next assignment, it managed to piss me off.”

The amber-haired girl looked to me, “Uh-oh, she’s going to assign another one of her ‘special’ books again isn’t she. For as much of bookworm as you are, you sure do hate the ones she gives us.”

I groan, “Hey, can’t help it if her selections come straight out of ‘lets-bore-my-students-to-death’ reading lists,” leaning back in my seat, “wish she’d actually have something decent to read for a change, rather than that boring garbage she hands us.”

Ash looks to me, “Careful Aria, she does have sway in the English department. I still remember the last time you two got into an argument over one of her assignments. She nearly sent you to the principal’s office.”

I roll my eyes, “Yeah…I remember. Still beat her in the end.” She shook her head as she began copying down my notes.

I met Ashely, or Ash, a couple years ago while sniffing through the library for a series I had discovered online. She, like me, is a bookworm, who leans more towards sci-fi rather than fantasy with me. She never speaks about what she wants to do after high school. I think she’d like to become an English teacher herself. That or I could also see her being a painter as she’s always drawing something.

She’s also a huge anime fan who loves the Yuri genre to death. Her room is littered with manga and shelves full of artwork she’s drawn. She goes to Momocon in February, often having Marron make her outfits on the condition of advertising her shop, a simple request that Ash is all too happy to comply with.

These two were among the closest friends that stuck around me since I came to live in Rosland. When I started sixth grade, I had a lot of people calling me a yankee because I lived in New Hampshire for part of my life, despite being born just an hour to the north. I got into a lot of fights with people who wouldn’t let up on calling me that. Never call a southern girl a yankee, it only serves to start a fight.

I had to deal with the reverse while living in Boston when kids would call me a redneck hick. That…really pissed me off. And I hated living up in Boston. Just overly crowded and hated having to live in an apartment. Plus the winters up there were way too cold. I think that’s another reason why Marron fought so hard to get me to live with her.

I reach into my bag and retrieve a book I started back on Sunday, a lovely little fantasy novel, and started reading it.

“Hey, want to hit up the coffee house after school?” asks Riley. “I heard they have a new blend that’s been getting really popular lately.”

I glance up at her, shrugging, “Sure. Just hope we don’t spend too long there, it’s supposed to rain later tonight, and I really don’t want my sister yelling at me for coming home drenched again.”

She fiddles with her phone, “You’ll have time to ride home before it starts getting bad.” I turn a page, pouring over the words.

The sound of first bell rang out over the cafeteria, causing everyone there to rise from their seats and walk towards the door.

Ash hands me back my binder, “Thanks for the notes. See you second period?”

I shove hit back into my bag, “See you there.”

I turn to Riley, “Guess I’ll see you at gym right?”

Her shoulders slump, groaning, “I am not doing dodgeball again. The coaches always fall back onto it when it’s supposed to rain.”

I shrug mine, “They could have just us play basketball instead. You like that more often.”

She nods, “True. Anyway, see you both later.” We bob our heads and walk off to first period.

U.S. History is up first, my favorite subject of the day, aside from my free periods. We had a paper assigned to us by next week, something I wasn’t all that thrilled with. Apart from that, the class went smoothly.

The topic of the day was over the Civil War, Dad’s personal favorite era and the part of history he taught at Boston College as a professor. My teacher knew I was the daughter of a history professor. He and I often would sit around after class and have little debates on history. I’d sit back and listen to him go from subject to subject.

A few times the debates got kind of heated, but only during a pretty tumultuous subject. My grades in his class were the best out of all my classes, with only math and art tied for second. He talked to Marron about enrolling me in the AP course for junior year, which I think would be really fun for me. I could really use the college credits.

After History I had to traverse the nearly entire school just reach English and one of two nemeses that I have to face every day, Mrs. Alberton. Rumor has it that she’s either from Portland or San Francisco, neither is a town I’d visit even if you’d paid a million bucks. But it would explain her reading choices. As I told Ash, nothing but boring garbage.

Last week she assigned us to read Balthazar’s Journey, a story about a young man traveling from Budapest to Rome in search of “truth” only to find out what he sought was in the journal he had been writing in the entire time.

All the book really contains was his journal entries, which were way beyond dry and lifeless. I didn’t even get past the first “chapter” I had gotten so bored. The character was a prick also, making snide remarks about Roman culture and history, referring to them as “ancient useless relics of a failed society”.

I read Journey to the West instead, and that’s a classic piece of eastern literature and considered a freaking masterpiece. Despite the two being the same, Journey to the West is more folklore and fantasy in my opinion. A genre I really love.

I did manage to write something resembling a report on it. I really want to her to assign stuff like Kagawa or Tom Clancy. Those authors I love reading from and whose stories are more widely praised.

She and I didn’t butt heads like usual, well…until she assigned a book from an author I knew had a penchant for putting me to sleep, and not even getting past the first few pages too.

After English it’s Gym. Riley was correct in her prediction that the coaches were going to have us play dodgeball for the period. We crammed into the locker rooms to get changed. There are times when I wish I had chosen a different elective for the spring instead of Gym. Not that I hate physical activity or anything, hell I love running through the trails and riding my bike to school.

No…it’s just that I hate it when I get odd glares from the sports team members, namely gymnastics and track teams. I am very agile, in fact too agile. In nearly any sport I participate in, I can out-maneuver and outrun anyone I come up against. Playing dodgeball is a prime example of this.

It’s almost on instinct how I am able to flip and twirl through the air like the gymnasts, without any known previous training. Some say I have a natural talent, while others seem a bit jealous.

My parents never had me attend any gymnastics classes while in Boston, but somehow I know how the move and almost…“dance”, around while playing. I’m able to flip in the air, catch the ball, land, and hurl the ball back at someone all in the same motion.

I know it sounds OP, but some of the gymnasts will do the same thing, flipping and twirling around in the air. This had led to a friendly rivalry between me and them. They saw it as a way to help with agility on the floor, so we tended to have some fun while doing it.

Soccer is another sport that people have taken some notice of me. Again…total control over my body, able to dodge and weave pass defenders and move around the field as though born to it. Not to mention able to seemingly have a sixth sense while playing. No one could really touch me.

When I started freshman year, I had been approached by several of the coaches to play for them, often inviting me to try out for the teams. This…might’ve stemmed for junior high when I played soccer and helped bring the team all the way to state.

We won of course, which instantly led to me being approached by the high school coaches. I declined, a bit to the chagrin of my sister. She wants me to have every little bit of pizazz for college, so that includes sports.

What I’m getting at is that this all strengthens my title of “fox princess”. A few also say I’m a bit too clever for my own good. Can’t begin to count how many times I’ve gotten into debates with people, which nearly landed me in the principal’s office for insubordination on more than one occasion, not to be able to talk my way out of the problem.

Plus…I possessed the ability to outthink most people. I’m not saying that I portray myself or think myself superior to everyone, just quicker to come up with solutions to problems.

But it’s not all sunshine and rainbows with this trait. A few of the upperclassmen don’t like the idea of someone thinking they are better than they are. It’s why I stay in the shadows, which still has led to me garnering some admirers. Hence some of the letters in my locker often are laced with nasty threats or more subtle ones. I tend to ignore them and toss the notes into the trash.

The matches lasted from start of period to end, with me never once getting tagged. Riley and I were fortunate to be on the same team. If not…she’d get tagged by everyone on my team.

I did my usual thing of running around the gym floor, catching balls, tossing a few back to my team, and scoring several hits. I normally stuck to a small corner where I guarded a few of the girls who let’s just say are a bit…squeamish.

The final two matches the coaches decided to add a couple of bowling pins for added difficulty. This made me slip into a heavier guard mode, while also sparking my competitive nature. Most of the girls were knocked out fast, leaving only those who, like me, were in it to win. We nearly lost the first match, just barely able to defend our last pin.

The final match was…"interesting" to say the least. While stupidly competitive, I am also known to be extremely stubborn. My team had been dwindled down to just me and a couple other girls, with only one pin left. We stood outnumbered five to one, with the opposing team looking hungry for a win.

We instantly lost one girl with a volley from a pair. The other girl took charge of defending the pin which left me in the role of attacker. So I slipped into my “dance”, hopping and twirling through the air, deflecting barrages, catching balls, and launching them back. I managed to catch one between my foot and shin. This…shocked everyone.

The other team cried out that I had been tagged, only for the coaches to declare that since it didn’t bounce off of me, it counted as a catch. I used this tactic in soccer so I felt it could be applied here. I flipped and launched the ball at a girl, tagging her out, while catching another in the same manner, blocking another ball and tagging out a few more with a few on the floor.

In the end, it ended in a stalemate due to the buzzer ringing. We hit the showers and got changed, heading to lunch.

Riley and I met up with Ash at our usual table. Seniors had the option to either stay on campus or leave, since lunch was over an hour long, but most tended to stay. We typically sat in a small corner of the cafeteria, a fair distance from the majority of the crowds.

Although we also could choose to head outside for lunch, but with the weather as it is, inside was best. We went over notes from first and second period while also just chatting.

The group I hate dealing with the most at school are the cheerleaders, and yes there are schools where they reign at the top. They’re often on the arrogant side and love to lord over everyone. The absolute worst of the bunch came in the form of the seniors on the varsity squad.

Seven girls in all made up the leadership of the squad. The worst of the worst is Becky Voorhees, co-captain and bit of a bitch. She typically would be seen with a cadre of boys surrounding her, all waiting on her hand and foot.

I didn’t mingle with her, opting to stay far away from her, which is why my friends and I choose this table. It sat on a raised level and had an amazing view of the forest. It was out of the way but likewise prime real estate during lunch given its seclusion.

“Hello little girls,” I heard someone talking, “do you mind moving along, we’d really appreciate it if you did.”

I look up to see Becky standing in front us, with the rest of the seniors in tow. I roll my eyes and just ignored her. Riley and Ash did the same, still going over notes.

“Are you deaf, little sophomore? I asked you to move.” I turn a page in the book I was reading.

She walks over to me and leans over, “Clearly you can’t hear me, so maybe I need to get your attention some other way,” reaching for my book.

I bat away her hand, “I can hear you just fine Becky, and the answer should be obvious,” I reply, turning another page.

She reels back in feigned offense, “Since when can an underclassman defy their seniors?”

I glance up at her, “Since we got here first? So do us both a favor and move on yourselves.”

She leans over the table and grabs my jacket, pulling me towards her, “You listen here, little girl,” staring at me, “wow…you really are little, like…middle schooler.”

I roll my eyes, “Just go before the teachers see you. We’d really just want to eat in peace.”

She yanks on my jacket more, “Leave, and I’ll let you.” I sigh, shaking my head.

She balls up her fist and holds it to my face. I glimpse at it and up at her, “You really wanna fight me over a table? Geez, just get here sooner.” She pulled back her fist, ready to hit me.

“Miss Voorhees, might I ask what you are doing?” sounds a voice. We turn to see one of the lunch-duty teachers walking up to us, “This group has already claimed this spot, so I suggest moving on before I drag yours off to detention for starting a fight.”

She looks to me, “You got lucky today, kid. Don’t be here tomorrow, or you’ll deal me again.”

I swat away her hand, “Just leave, will you?” She snorts and leaves with her group.

The teacher walks up to us, “I applaud you for not acting, girls, but please do be careful. I would suggest finding a different spot to avoid potential problems in the future.”

We give a nod to him, “Yes, sir,” saying in unison. He smiles and walks off. I watch as he leaves, thinking how I never could understand why some of teachers were so willing to kowtow to the seniors of any of the teams. It just annoys me that they do.

The lunch bell then rings, causing a mass-exodus out of the lunch room. I pack up my things and so do my friends, leaving my table.

“See you guys after school,” I said. They both nod and we go our separate ways.

I hop back downstairs to my locker and open it to swap out the books for my afternoon classes. Out pops yet another note, dropping right in front of my feet. I roll my eyes and pick it up, stuffing it into my bag.

I pull out my history and English books, replacing them with my chemistry, math, and art books. I had Chem fourth period with math afterwards. Art trails last but it usually went by quickly, mostly drawing stuff or sitting through a short lecture.

I plan to take drama in the fall as one of my electives, along with creative writing. I need something a little different for my junior year, plus with drama I could always get Marron to help out with costumes, the idea of which made me grin. I push my plans aside for now. Chem is next and with it, my final nemesis for the day. I roll my eyes and close my locker, heading off the class.

I droned on through chemistry, listening to the teacher prattle on like some college professor annoyed that he had been forced to teach lesser minds.

Dad was never like this. Mom would pick me up from school and take me over to the university to meet up with him. So I got to sit in on several of his lectures. Like the student that I am, I pulled out my own notebook and started jotting down notes. I have to smile because I basically got to attend a college course and was still in elementary school at the time.

I typically sat in the back, a habit I began while sitting in dad’s lectures. I leaned over onto the lab table, thinking of him. I really missed my parents. Even to this day I never understood why they choose to pack up and move up north. Even a kindergartner knows when something isn’t right. But that was a decade ago and I’m here now.

The teacher then started assigning us another lab to start working in the coming week, which meant another paper. This guy really loves his papers for some reason.

I look over the assignment, writing down the requirements he placed on the board. I really couldn’t wait for the bell to ring. But it always seemed to take forever during his class for some reason.

To be honest, I really wanted to take biology this semester. I found studying about plants and animals to be a lot more appealing than lifeless talks on chemicals and elements. Although I am looking forward to stoichiometry, I love math and it was all about converting equations, which I find super easy.

The bell finally rang and with it the end of my nightmare for the day.

Geometry is an interesting class for me. Like my preference for biology as a science, I much rather take algebra. Don’t get me wrong, there are equations aplenty in geometry; but it dealt more with shapes instead general problems.

I’m never bored in the class and find the teacher’s lessons to be enjoyable. I did however want the class to be over with. The weather aside was continually looking worse with each passing hour.

Before the bell rang, the teacher handed us our homework for the night. Just a set of twenty problems out of the book, nothing major, I figure I’d knock it out in an hour once I got home.

Art finally arrived and it couldn’t have gotten here any faster. To everyone’s surprise our teacher had us watch a video on East Asian art. The art room shared itself with the drama room, which was billed like a small-scale theater with three separate levels, each filled with couches and pretty comfy chairs.

There was no drama class during sixth period. The teacher had purposely chosen not to hold classes then, wanting to focus on this year’s senior play. So we had free reign of the room.

I curl up into my chair and watched the video. Never say no to a movie during a class, it really helps the time to go by faster. Plus there’s never any homework afterwards, so another bonus.

Another little tidbit about the drama room is that last spring we had a small tornado slam into the building. This forced everyone down to the first floor while the storm passed. I had computer science at the time and the lab is across the hall from here.

So my teacher had us all pile into the drama room and hunker down. Marron of course was on the phone texting me the entire time. I hid behind a couch on the top level, feeling more comfortable with being surrounded by it and the wall behind me.

The final bell for the day sounded and everyone let out a collective sigh of joy. We got up and filed out of the room and headed down the hall.

Unlike in the mornings, where the corridors are often packed to the gills with students, the afternoons tended to be lighter. Part of it was due to the seniors choosing their free period to be in sixth, meaning they just up and left.

This had been a standing tradition since the eighties and every junior class couldn’t wait to do it. I still had another year before I rose to that decision and it is one that I didn’t exactly have a preference to think about at this time.

I meander through the hall and pass my locker. I open it up and place my art book into it, having no need for it tonight. It would make the ride home just a bit faster without the extra weight. I close up my locker and turn for the front entrance.