Meet Alora Grace Petrella

Senior year. A light at the end of the tunnel. Most likely an oncoming freight train, by a light, no less. Twelve years of school in the books, if you count kindergarten. Which you can't get held back from, so yeah. I count it. Around the 4th grade, my life became a waking nightmare. That's around the time the kids I went to school with noticed I wasn't normal. That I had a congenital disability that physically deformed me. By my senior year, I had had 40 surgeries and had been hospitalized approximately 200 times. Yes, no exaggeration, 200 times. If I wasn't recovering from surgery, I was in for a Cellulitis infection that localized in my leg.

The bane of my existence. When I was born, the doctors gave my mom and dad the look you never wanted to see when you're handed your brand-new baby. I was handed off to a nurse as the doctor finished the cesarean procedure, and my parents asked to see me.

"There is something wrong with her leg," the doctors told them.

"What does that mean? The ultrasound never showed anything wrong." My father's voice was shaking.

"From what we can tell visually, she has three small tumors on the side of her calf. She also has an enlarged leg."

"What?" My mother asked.

"Her right leg is twice the size of her left. It looks swollen, but it's permanent."

My parents were confused, and unfortunately, so were the doctors. "We don't know what it is. We need more tests. We can't guarantee she will make it through the night," the doctor said, looking uncertain.

I spent the first three months in the hospital being poked and prodded with X-rays, ultrasounds, MRIs, and antibiotics. I survived.

They told my parents I would never walk. I took my first steps at nine months, even though I had had six surgeries by then and a cluster of benign tumors lodged in my calf muscle. They found further issues in my abdomen. I have been told children are not possible. I was not supposed to make it to one. Then five, thirteen, eighteen, yet here I am.

Walking around in high school hell. I had a small group of friends. When I met them, their first question was what's wrong with your leg? I should have taken a page out in The Plain Dealer and published my medical diagnoses. I did my best to put it in preteen terms so they would understand. I knew so many technical terms that I could have been an RN by the time I turned sixteen.

I loved all the nurses who took care of me. A nurse takes care of the person. A doctor takes care of the condition. I Dislike most of the doctors who saw me. Don't ever get me started about the Med students. They saw parts of me that they should have at least bought me dinner first.As long as I was wearing pants and a shirt that covered my ass, I could get away with appearing normal.

My parents put me in shorts and bathing suits and told me there was no reason to be ashamed. That's how I looked. But kids are cruel, so now and then, I jump on the pity train and go for a ride. I spent many nights praying to wake up with a perfect body or have the ability to run or jump or to wear shorts or skirts and bathing suits without comments and stares or looks discussed.

I had a girl in high school tell me that if she looked like me, she would hide in a closet all summer or kill herself. I told her to go to hell. No one would miss her, and don't sit in my seat. Though I tried to play it off, it hurt like a thousand knives shredding my soul.

I never wanted a serious boyfriend. I didn't want the embarrassment of him seeing my body or my vulnerable side. I carry myself with confidence. Sometimes, it's real, and other times, it's false. People with the biggest smiles have the darkest days.I couldn't participate in a standard gym class, so I took weightlifting with the guys for four years. By my junior year, I could bench press my body weight. I am in no way super built, but I can at least look halfway decent.

But alas, I love sweets, and Italian carbs are my primary source of sustenance. I had the stereotypical Italian grandmother who always thought that I looked too thin and needed to eat something. I'm 5'8 and weigh 140 throughout my entire high school career.

I'm not popular. I'm not unpopular. No one ever fucks with me. I guess when you can bench 140 and leg press 500 pounds, people would be a little intimidated.

I think I can best be described as a poltergeist—an invisible entity that could cause damage if provoked but went unnoticed when I wasn't.

The funny thing is, I never got into a physical altercation. I'm not saying I never got into verbal altercations. I never back down. OK, let me be honest... I'm a bitch... when I need to be. Otherwise, I am just scorned. You know what they say: hell hath no fury.

So here I am, ready to take my place at a desk and breathe my share of oxygen.

I was an above-average student. I never dropped below a 3.8, except for my freshman year when I cut 47 days of school and ended the year with a 1.43 GPA. By the time they gave the juniors an IQ assessment, I scored 148. My practice AC T score was 38, and my SAT score was 1483. Of course, my father gave me speech after speech about applying myself. Nothing was ever good enough for him.

My father is a Lieutenant at the Richmond Heights Police Department. I wanted to be a cop, but my congenital disability said, ahh, no. Try again. I wanted to join the military, but again my body said no, try again. I wanted to be a nurse. Nope. I have a compromised immune system. If I sit too long, I hurt. If I stand too long, I hurt. I've acclimated myself to the idea that I will, in fact, live a lonely, useless, and meaningless life. But right now, I just want to get the fuck out of high school in one piece. One damaged, worthless piece, like the end of a loaf of bread.

🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞🍞

"Hey bitch, what's going on?" Chesney asked.

Chesney Johnson, we met in 8th grade when. You guessed it. She asked me what was wrong with my leg.

I started public school at Memorial Junior High in Lyndhurst. I went from eight years of Catholic school to public education. Talk about a culture shock. I had to deal with a thousand new people looking at me and starting all recent gossip.

The first time I crossed paths with her, I didn't like her, and she didn't like me. After we got close, we tried to figure out why, but we came up with absolutely nothing. Been close ever since.

She's also one of the reasons I cut forty-seven days of school. My father was not a fan. Chesney was a take-no-shit kind of person. The two of us together were unstoppable. And no one would dare fuck with us or any of our friends. And she could get any guy she wanted.

"Hey, Ches, same shit, different year. I should have taken my parents up on the GED offer my sophomore year."

"I sure would have. Not that would have been able to pass. On the other hand, you could have passed and been done here a year ago," Chesney said, rolling her eyes.

"I know, but there were a couple of classes I wanted to take and. Do the college hybrid program," I said.

"Fuck, that's right, you're going to be leaving me alone after third period to go over to Lakeland. You suck harder than Willow Simmons."

I let out a snort. "Oh, Chesney, that was not nice. Funny as fuck but not nice."

Our chemistry teacher, Mr. Scrambling, came in and dropped his briefcase on the desk. "OK everyone, take a table and a partner and...." Chesney and I sat down at the same table. "Nope. Johnson and Petrella, there is no way you two are sitting together. Mr. Mikes told me all about you two."

"What? Us?" we asked in unison, pointing back and forth at each other.

"The names Thelma and Louise were mentioned," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Totally not cool, Mr. Scram," I said.

"Noted. Now move."

I scoffed and moved to the empty table. I ended up sitting alone. At least I won't have any dead weight to carry. I am more of a solitary person. That way, I know whatever I am doing is done right," I said under my breath.

Chesney was sitting next to Brian Margrave before Scram even finished his sentence.

I shot her a look. "Wow, didn't even hesitate. Scathing," I said. I guess I can't blame her. Brian was 6'8 and played basketball for the Arcs varsity since his freshman year, and a couple of NBA teams were already scouting him. They hooked up at a party over the break, and she said his dick was the size of a summer sausage. So, really, who can blame her?

As Mr. Scram went on and on about the joys of AP Chemistry, I found myself singing In the End by Linkin Park in my head, at least until Chesney threw a pencil at me.

I snapped out of my private concert and looked at her mouth. What the hell?

She jerked her head towards the front of the class. It was like all of the air was sucked out of the room. Have you ever seen someone so good-looking that it hurts to look at them? No. Well, neither have I, up until two seconds ago. This guy was so handsome that I had to look away because I couldn't handle the sight of him. He approached Scram, who looked at his schedule and then pointed.

Ohh shit. See, this is what happens when you don't believe in God. He was pointing to an empty seat next to me. "Please shoot me," I murmured, looking out the window.

He sat down on the stool. The smell of Drakar Noir filled my nose. We called the cologne; lay me down and fuck me.

"Hey," he said with the sexiest smile I have ever seen.

"Hey," I replied.

"I'm Hudson Kelly." He put out his hand.

Congratulations. I thought, rolling my eyes. I turned to look at him. The son of the bitch was not only unbearably handsome but had an Australian accent. Holy fuck. I need to change my panties. I am positive I am going to leave a puddle on my fucking stool. I just sat there, unable to speak.

"This is the point in the conversation where you tell me your name. It's going to be hard to talk to you for a year not knowing your name... or I can call you Darling."

"Her name is Alora." Chesney butted in. "She's thrilled to meet you. I'm Chesney, and this tall drink of water is Brian."

"Nice to meet you, all of you. I'm Hudson Kelly," he stretched out his hand, and Brian shook it.

"You know there is a city called Hudson. Awesome haunted house there. We should all go."

I hated haunted houses. I slapped one of the employees the last time I was at one. He wouldn't back off even though I told him to. I smacked him right in front of a cop. The guy said, "Did you see that? She hit me!" To which the cop said, "She also told you to back off."

"I love those. I love all types of American entertainment," Hudson said with excitement in his voice. "I just moved here from Sydney."

"Really. Fresh off the boat, huh?"

"Oh, for the love of God, Chess! What is wrong with your filter!" I blurted out.

"You know me. No filter. On Snapchat or in person." She stuck her tongue out at me.

"She speaks," Hudson turned to me and said.

"On occasion," I said, looking into the most beautiful violet-blue eyes. I didn't even know that color existed in nature. His blonde hair was perfectly quaffed in a textured cut. His jawline was so sharp it looked like it could cut paper. He had a prominent brow, high cheekbones, hooded eyes, and a perfectly symmetrical face. And he was totally not my type... and I am positive I was not his. 

"So, Darling, do I get to know anything about you? Let's start with, do you have a---?"

The bell rang, cutting him off. Oh, thank you, sweet baby Jesus. I'm saved by the bell. "Gotta go; my next class is all the way in C-wing." I gathered my books and took off, but not before gracefully tripping over the stool.

"Did I say something wrong?" he asked Chesney.

"No, Alora is an enigma. Many have tried to figure her out, and many have failed." She gathered her books. "Look, she said more than one word to you. Take the win, Hemsworth."

He cocked an eyebrow. Hemsworth? Oh, I get it. "Well, it was nice to meet you both. Can you point me toward the C-wing?" he asked.

"Sure. Follow me. I'm going that way," Brian said, patting him on the back. "So, how are you liking America so far?"

"OK, I guess. I really haven't done much. We just recently moved in, and we're still trying to get settled."

"Do you have any idea how much snatch you are going to get with that accent? Not to mention, Chesney is right; you look like the fourth Hemsworth brother. Girls are going to be throwing their pussies at you."

Hudson looked at him, slightly horrified. "What do you mean, Mate?"

"You have a lot to learn. You got a cell phone?" Brian asked.

"Yeah," he said hesitantly. He took his phone out of his pocket.

Brian snatched it, put his number in it, and then texted himself.

"Now you got my number. Text me if you need anything or have any questions. Catch later."

Hudson looked a bit confused. "O-K. I'll catch you later."

I entered my AP English class and looked around. It was like the school took every person I despised the most and stuck them in this one class. "Fuck my life," I said under my breath.

I took my usual seat if I could get it. I liked the back corner, closest to the door, at the end of the row. I wasn't hiding. I could see the entire room from that point and all the people I despised the most. They always took the seats closest to the windows. I was scrolling through my phone when I heard sudden chatter coming from the girls on the other side of the room.

I looked up, and my eyes met Hudson's. There were more than enough empty seats on the other side of the room. That seemed to be more his crowd anyway—the beautiful people. I'm sure the only reason he sat by me in chem was the lack of options.

"Hey, new hottie. Come sit," Willow Simmons said, patting the desk beside her.

He took one look at her. "Thanks, but My Darling saved me a seat already."

She looked at him, confused. Nobody ever turned down Willow Simmons.

He started towards me. "Isn't that right, My Darling?" He put his bookbag down and sat at the desk beside me.

"I don't assign seats. Sit wherever your heart desires." I went back to my phone.

"So, Alora, that's a pretty name. Does it mean anything special?" He propped his head on his hand and stared at me.I put down my phone.

"It has many different meanings," I said nothing more. After a few seconds, he spoke.

"Can you share a few of them?"

I sighed an exaggerated sigh. "It means... umm... generous and intelligent being. It means to entice, as far as the French meaning, oh, and wreath."

"A wreath?" he asked. He was confused.

"Yeah, like the thing you hang on the door or the wall. You know, a decoration."

"Something beautiful you use to decorate with," he said, the corner of his mouth curled up.

I couldn't help but blush. What the hell is going on? I don't blush. "I guess so."

"Generous, intelligent, enticing and pretty. I think your parents were spot on."

"Yeah. I guess," I mumbled. I went back to my phone, trying to calm down the rush of blood continued flowing to my cheeks.

Hudson leaned forward, the smell of cinnamon hitting my nostrils. "Do you not like me? Did I say something that offended you? I hope I didn't. I don't want to lose a friend before I even make one."

I put my phone down. "Look, Hudson, I'm sure you're a really nice guy, but I..."

My sentence was cut off when our teacher, Mr. Levine, entered the room. He was a short white-haired man with glasses and a large nose and was about five foot nothing.

He started handing out the books we would be reading: As I Lay Dying, The Great Gatsby, and Pride and Prejudice. Hudson looked through the books. He had read all of them—twice.

"They're all outstanding books. We will read one a month for the next three months. Then, at the end of the semester, we will do a project." I said, flipping through As I Lay Dying. "I was really hoping we would read Beloved. I've read Pride and Prejudice three times."

"You've read them already?" he asked.

"Yeah, I like to read and listen to audiobooks when I can't read books."

"Would you help me if I have any questions? I'm not too familiar with classic American literature," he smiled.

He had perfect teeth, a fantastic smile, and dimples. The boy had dimples. How much more cuteness can he possess? I squeezed my thighs together. I was getting horny in the middle of my AP Lit. class. This is going to be a long fucking year.

"I think Mr. Levine has an after-school study group on Wednesdays," I told him.

He looked at Mr. Levine. "I would much rather look at you than him."

"I would hope I am slightly better looking than a 60-year-old Jewish man," I said, giggling. What the fuck am I doing, giggling? What the fuck is wrong with me.

"Mr. Kelly, I'm not sure how you do things in Australia, but here in the States, we don't have full-blown conversations in class," Mr. Levine said, looking up from his desk.

"It's my fault. I was trying to offer him some help if he needs it," I said. It was true.

"I'll help you, new guy," Willow said, batting her eyelashes and licking her lips. "I would be happy to offer you my services."

"Miss Simmons, calm your hormones," Mr. Levine said, rubbing his forehead.

She sunk into her seat. "Sorry, I was just trying to be nice." She rolled her eyes.

After Mr. Levine assigned a six-page essay for us to write comparing American classic literature to contemporary literature, explaining how they differ and which we prefer, I packed up and headed out of the classroom. 

"So, where do you go now?" Hudson asked, throwing his bookbag over his shoulder.

"I'm in the college hybrid program. I go to Lakeland Community College in Kirtland. I'm taking three classes there. Class orientation is today. I did it last year, too. I already have 12 college credits; hopefully, I can get 12 more this year. Give me a head start." I stopped at my locker and discovered his was directly across from mine.

"Hey, look at that, we're locker mates!" He smiled that sexy smile.

I couldn't help but smile. Snap out of it. You vowed no relationships this year, and there is no way this gorgeous Aussie would really be interested in you. I bet they call everyone Darling Down Under.

"So, I was thinking," he rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know exactly where I am going. Maybe we could ride together."

"To where?" I asked.

"I'm in the hybrid program, too. Isn't that great!"

Fan-fucking-tastic. "Wow. We seem to have the same schedule, don't we? What do you have first period?"

"Weightlifting. I'm on the diving team, so it serves a dual purpose. Phys. Ed and conditioning."

Oh God. What did I do to you? "You sure. You weren't there this morning."

"I was in the office getting all my paperwork straightened out," he explained."I have a feeling you have it, too?"

"Phys. Ed first thing in the morning absolutely sucks balls. I take baby-wipe showers, and the involuntary muscle spasms are a pain in the ass. And my ass is already in pain."

"What?" he asked, confused."

What?" Realizing what I had just said. "Didn't you ask me something before?"

"Yeah. I asked if you wanted to ride together to the college. What do you think? I'll drive." He jingled his keys.

I shrugged. "Sure, why not."

"I'm in the Welser lot."

As we made our way through the school, I stayed silent. I didn't know what to say. Actually, I didn't want to say something stupid. 

"I'm right over here." He hit his fob, and I saw the lights of a white Audi blink.

"Wow, nice car."

"My dad got it for me when we moved here. I think he felt guilty, uprooting our family."

He opened the passenger side door for me, and I slid in. The car was amazing. It had that new car smell. Black leather interior and all the bells and whistles.

"This is a beautiful car, Hudson."

He started the engine, and it purred like a kitten. "What do you drive?" he asked as he exited the parking lot.

"I don't have a nice car like this. I have a used Pontiac Grand Am. It has a sunroof. It's purple," I said, trying to talk it up. 

"That sounds pretty cool. I didn't get to pick my car. At least you got to pick yours."

I looked out the window. A light summer rain had started to fall. "Yeah, I chose it, but I also work to make payments, insurance, and gas. I didn't have it bought for me. So, forgive me if I don't feel bad for you." I didn't mean for it to come out like a snotty bitch, but it did. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like it sounded." I bit my bottom lip. I felt him staring at me. I smiled.

"You might want to watch the road. I won't look good anymore if you crash the car and fuck up my pretty face."

"Got it," he said. His voice was smooth and deep.

I listened to his drawl. I shifted in my seat, trying to ease the ache between my thighs. I wanted to touch myself so badly but thought that maybe it wouldn't be a clever idea, considering I just met this guy two hours ago.

The rain started to pick up. I knew it would rain today—I had known it since I woke up this morning. My leg had started to hurt, and the wet weather seemed to make it worse. I had just been diagnosed with arthritis.

"So, have you applied to any schools?" he asked.

"I have. I want to get into Case. I have a couple of backup schools. How about you? Are you going to... you guys call it University, right?"

"I might. I need to see how things pan out for me."

"Should I ask? I mean, you can't say something like that and leave me hanging."

"I have a goal. I need to obtain it. I have been preparing for it for most of my life," he said.

I could tell he didn't want to elaborate right now. So, I didn't push. We drove the rest of the way in silence. I only spoke to give him directions. I spent most of the time staring at his side profile. Occasionally, I would see him give me a side eye to look at me, and I would immediately look away. A couple of times, when he caught me looking at him, he smiled. His dimples were prominent.

A piece of golden hair had broken loose from the rest and was now lying on his forehead. He was trying to put it back by blowing puffs of air towards it.

"Christ, he is so fucking hot," I said under my breath.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You just said something." He was insistent.

"No, I didn't."He smiled and let out a little laugh.

"Alora, I heard you."

Holy hell, when he says my name, fuck me. I poised myself and said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He parked, and we made our way to the building. He had started running since the rain had gotten heavier, but I couldn't run unless a serial killer was chasing me or if I saw a child about to get hit by a car, so I started absorbing the water. It's not like I put a ton of effort into my appearance anyway. First-period gym, remember? If anything, I got my shower.

He stopped and turned to me. "Why aren't you running, Darling? Come on, you're going to get soaked."

"You go ahead. I can't run."

"I'm not going to run off and leave you here. Do you have any idea what my mum would say if she found out?"

He walked with me. I could walk fast like a speed walker, but my feet do not pound pavement.

When we made it inside, he looked at me. He moved the hair that was stuck to my face and tucked it behind my ears. His touch instantly warmed my skin."You look pretty when you're wet," he said with a smile.

I let out a snicker. "I didn't mean it like that, My Darling."

My stomach was doing little flips. "I'll meet you back here after two. OK?" I asked, trying not to smile. The last thing I wanted to do was show him any weakness or vulnerability or interest or the slightest clue that I wanted to drag him into the bathroom, drop to my knees, and---"

"I'll meet you back here at two. Don't leave without me."

"You drove," I said as I smiled and shook my head.

"Oh, right. Umm. Well, then, I have nothing to worry about."

We stood there for a few seconds, looking at each other. Neither of us seemed to want to leave the other.

"See you soon." I walked off towards my first class.

"Oh, Darling!"

I turned back to face him.

"You're pretty fucking hot, too," he winked and smiled.

I turned around as my face became candy apple red. I'm blushing again! Get your shit together, Alora Grace! I looked behind me as I walked away, and my eyes met his as he looked back, too. My mom once told me that if they look back, that means that they are totally into you. I guess I am totally into him too.