Chapter 1: Welcome to East Hollywood High
East Hollywood High School was located far from the city and financed by wealthy businessman Tom Cartwright. Cartwright had made his fortune in metals and then built a city and school around his extraction plant. The Cartwright Empire continued to expand and employed hundreds of people. Housing was provided for all at a hefty price. Cartwright made huge profits on each unit.
He didn’t care as much about education as he did having his name on the town’s buildings. A statue bearing his resemblance stood in front of the library. It was bought and paid for by the Cartwright Foundation, of which all Great Rapids citizens were required to be members. The dues were taken out of each person’s check on the first of the month. People didn’t mind because they had a job that paid well, and they didn’t complain for fear of being fired.
The start of the East Hollywood High school year brought on its usual first-day enthusiasm. By the third week, everyone was ready for another vacation. This year was different because the state had mandated the school accept students outside the community. The Ridgewood District was dissolved because of declining enrollments. Many parents in that area had lost their jobs and were on public assistance. Students had to be bussed in some twenty miles.
Principal Ratcliff stood by the front door and greeted students as they walked in. “Welcome back, so good to see you.” Some laughed and raised a one-finger salute. He ignored it. He couldn’t do much about it, and in truth, his goal was not to keep the students happy. He answered to Cartwright, and as long as he was satisfied, so was the principal.
Students spoke loudly on various subjects. Morgan Daniels was nervous attending the new school. Her old school did not have two swimming pools, a student lounge, game room, and recreation center. Morgan was a good student, and although she was overweight, her Ridgewood classmates had accepted her.
She moved down the hall with her worn backpack swinging from side to side. Her sneakers squeaked on shiny, hardwood floors. She noted the creamy paint on walls and plush carpet in classrooms. East Hollywood High, she decided, felt nothing like her old school.
“Hey, Ryan, look at that fat ass.”
Ryan Alvarez slapped Kyle Samples a high-five. He looked directly at Morgan when he spoke. “You got a license for that trailer behind you, bitch?”
Morgan heard the words but said nothing. She would not engage with these new students in this strange, overwhelming school. Her legs trembled as she headed for the media center to pick up her schedule.
Ashley Tikay, the school sex symbol, swayed down the hall with her new IPad in hand. Kyle followed her every move. “Hey, Ashley, how about meeting me after school behind the game room?”
Ashley stopped and turned around. She took several steps toward him. When she got in his face, she grabbed him around the neck and kneed him between the legs with such force, he fell to the ground coughing and cursing. “You got anything else to say, Kyle Samples?”
Morgan checked her schedule and headed for her first class. Her eyes opened wide as she thought about the disaster that awaited. Gymnastics? It must be a mistake, she thought. But it was no mistake. All students at East Hollywood were required to complete at least one semester. She entered the gym then took a seat on the mat. All the other girls were standing as they listened to Coach Buck.
His litany stopped when his eyes landed on Morgan. She was still in her street clothes. “Why aren’t you dressed?” he demanded.
“I didn’t know I was supposed to bring gym clothes.”
Coach frowned. “Tomorrow, be sure and wear the proper uniform. If you don’t have it, you’ll wear one of these.” He held up a burlap bag with a rope for a belt. The class laughed and stared at Morgan. “That means you, chubs. Shorts and tee-shirt or burlap.” Morgan held her head low as the tears welled in her eyes.
Coach was interrupted by the sound of stiletto heels on the gym floor. Ashley Tikay walked in slowly. Her skinny jeans drew the attention of all the guys, including the coach. Even though she was late, nobody said anything. Coach didn’t dare. Ashley was hardcore, and hands off. Her father was Polynesian, her mother Korean, and her beauty intoxicating. Somehow Ashley was connected to someone important, and she was feared by everyone, including the staff.
She lifted her sunglasses and looked at the coach. Her smile caught him off guard, and he stuttered and stammered through the rest of his presentation. Never once did he ask why she wasn’t in uniform. Ashley could do anything she wanted.
* * *
Michael Powell was the nerd from Ridgewood District. He wore thick glasses and shiny, polished shoes. His goal was to go unnoticed. When he walked, he made sure his heels never touched the floor. He was a prime target for Kyle Samples and Ryan Alverez.
“Hey, shit face, can I borrow a smoke?” Ryan asked Michael. He stood in front of the boy’s locker, smirking as Michael tried to get around him. “What’s the matter? Are you deaf?” Ryan took Michael’s glasses and held him high above his head. “I asked you a question.”
Michael knew he couldn’t reach the glasses, but still he tried. Kyle and Ryan laughed as they watched him stretch and jump, repeatedly coming up short beside the taller and stronger football players.
“I’m not going to give you your glasses until you answer me,” Ryan said. “I’ll repeat myself one more time. Got any cigarettes?”
Michael finally stopped trying to outmaneuver Ryan. He blinked against his blurry vision. “I don’t smoke.”
Ryan flicked Michael’s nose with his finger. “Bring me some smokes tomorrow or don’t come to school.” He dropped the glasses on the hallway floor.
Michael bent to retrieve his specs, and Kyle used the opportunity to boot him in the ass. Down the hall he followed him, kicking as Michael struggled to escape. The teachers turned their heads, saying nothing. Kyle was an all-star athlete and would be heading to college the following year. He was the pride of Great Rapids.
At last Michael reached his second hour class. He slid into his seat just as the bell sounded and first-year teacher Miss Carter took attendance. Miss Carter was right out of college and gleamed with enthusiasm. “I made a seating chart so we can get to know each other,” she said.
The class stared at each other in disbelief. Cherokee Jones, head cheerleader, swung her leg up on the desk. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m wearing a cheer uniform. If you didn’t notice that, you can see the red star on my shoes.” Cherokee wet her finger and rubbed the star. “If you think we’re going to sit where you want us to, you can kiss that star.”
Miss Carter stared in shock. Nothing in college had prepared her for this kind of disrespect. “I’m reporting you to Principal Radcliff.” The class laughed and carelessly tossed pennies in her direction. They knew the teacher would soon realize she had no friends at this school.
Miss Carter fought for control of the class. “Settle down,” she called over and over. Still they continued their raucous talking and laughter. Finally, out of sheer frustration, she held her fingers to her lips and let out a piercing whistle.
Silence descended. Surprised at the effect, Miss Carter stood in front of her desk unable to speak. Cherokee broke the ice first. “Would you believe this?” she asked her fellow classmates. “The teacher wants to say something.”
“Who cares?” someone called from the back.
Cherokee flashed a smile. “Let’s see what Miss Castor wants.” She turned to the teacher and politely said, “You may speak.”
“It’s Miss Carter.”
Cherokee rolled her eyes. “Just get on with it.”
Miss Carter grabbed a piece of paper from her desk. “For tomorrow’s assignment, I want each of you to share something about yourself.”
“All assignments go through me,” Cherokee replied. She looked around the class. “Isn’t that right?”
The class hooted. Cherokee laughed, reveling in the power she had. She was a senior and had enjoyed this kind of control for four years. Now, at the culmination of her high school career, she had no intention of letting anyone outshine her – especially not a new teacher. “We’ll do the assignment,” she said to Miss Carter. “But no seating chart.” She wet her finger one more time and touched the star on her sneaker. This time, she made a sizzling sound as she circled the star. The class clapped, and she grinned. Nothing would stand in her way this year.
* * *
Aaron Lewis had a great enterprise going. He sold weed and crystal meth at his locker. The heroin users had to meet him by his Hummer. Some of the teachers were users, but Aaron’s customer list was kept confidential. He provided steroids for the jocks and condoms for free to anyone who wanted them. Surprisingly, he was a good student. He loved business management classes. He even had his own business plan: provide samples to any and all and then rake in the cash once they were addicted. He never touched drugs himself, and he laughed when fellow students got sick at parties and vomited on the carpet.
* * *
That year, Kayla Wilson was completing her student-teacher credit hours for a BA in education. Her training teacher was Mr. Brett Lassiter. He was the crush of all the girls and more than willing to fulfill their desires. He wore clothes out of the latest New York fashion magazines and often pulled up his shirt to flash his six-pack abs. Girls offered to meet him anywhere. They loved his casually tousled his hair, his chiseled body and \dark eyes. But Lassiter was selective. He took only the best and had a habit of pointing in class to the one he wanted. Those who met his standards received “A” grades in class; those who didn’t earned “D” grades, regardless of the work they did. Lassiter taught much more than science.
